Work Text:
Subspace was NOT a weird person. Of course he wasn’t. He was BLACKROCK’S GREATEST MIND! How could he of all inphernals be the ‘weird one’? It was just one little search because he was curious, that’s all!
Now, what was he doing? Ah, that’s right. Browsing.
Hm. I think I left my oven on. Gotta go check.
He doesn’t own an oven.
Subspace got up from his crusty-ass laptop and left his room, leaving his door ever-so cracked as he went to go check. He whistled a jazzy, bossa-nova tune as his steps echoed away.
. . .
Medkit hadn’t been snooping. He was simply looking for the company stapler that Subspace has taken from him in their youth and never returned. He looked around, suddenly realizing that he had no good notion as to where anything was.
Huh. I’m lost.
Medkit stood there like a deer in headlights, turning and facing a door that had a big, fat ‘DO NOT ENTER!’ sign on it. He entered anyways because he’s a man of free will.
The room was already illuminated when he walked in, a giant, unorganized stack of papers and a laptop that looked like it had seen better days greeting him upon entry. He gently shut the door behind him and glanced about, ignoring the rather pungent smell in the room.
Medkit wasn’t one to judge— really, he wasn’t. But looking to a laptop and seeing ‘medhammer yaoi’ as the first tab is where he draws the line.
“What the hell?” He muttered, looking at the open window.
Just then, the door opened because Subspace realized he didn’t own an oven.
“…”
“…”
“Submissive, what the hell is this.”
“…”
Medkit lifted the laptop up to show Subspace the screen. He stared blankly at Medkit.
“It was Biograft 1828, not me.”
“What.”
“Biograft number 1828 searched that.”
“There’s 1800 of those things?” Medkit questioned.
“Duh. They’re mass-produced, Meddy.”
“Why do you have a tab titled ‘medhammer yaoi’ open, Subspace T. Mine.”
“It was the Biograft, not me.”
Medkit and Subspace (won’t stop phighting) stared at each other for a moment, the passive ticking of a clock and the laptop’s fans the only thing audible as the silence stretched.
“So, hypothetically, if you and Banhammer were to kiss and you were to send me a picture—“
“And why would I do that?”
“For a friend!”
“You have no friends.”
“For Biograft 1828, of course,” Subspace said quickly, snatching his laptop back and slamming the lid shut, “what were you doing in my room anyways?”
“Looking for the company stapler you took from me.”
“Wha—? Meddy, I stole that like two years ago.”
“Yes, and I want it back.”
“No.”
“It’s my stapler.”
“And it’s my lab, so buzz off!” Subspace tried to shove Medkit out the door, but his malnourished, petite, Y/N frame was too scrawny and could barely push Meddy an inch.
“What are you doing.”
“OH MY SWORDS JUST GET OUT!”
“Nah. I don’t really feel like it. Where’s my stapler.”
“If I give you the damned stapler will you leave?”
“Yes.”
Subspace groaned, leaving the room with Medkit in tow to go dig up the stapler.
“I wouldn’t do it, anyways.” Medkit said suddenly.
“Do what?”
“Send the pictures of me and ‘Hammer kissing.”
“Yeah, because no one wants to see that.”
“Except Biograft number 1828?”
“Yes. Definitely, totally. It’s the only one who wants to see that gay ass shit.”
Medkit eventually left when Subspace chucked the stapler at his head and then stole his right eye. But, later that day, he did receive a text message from and unknown number with an Apple Pay gift of $6 with the message:
Beep boop. Yaoi pics pls.