Pencil in a solution to the problem, eraser at the ready, eyes narrowed in concentration.

S/O, Scott over Owen, what does it mean you might ask?

S/O= ?

Need the solution to find the problem. Now what?

Scott divided into Owen, everything he needs and everything he wants all in one little equation. So simple? Not quite.

They are stolen moments in shadows, exchanges behind closed doors, hidden from the world, contradicting everything Scott has been taught over the course of his life. Too good to be right, too right to be good.

So.

S/O=x

They are anything they want to be, unclassifiable to a fault. The world to each other even while meaning nothing to the world. Everything and nothing and whatever lies in between.

Basically, x.

Which leaves the question, S is equal to what?

They are a little bit of this and that, a little more of give and take. Slow burns and fireworks that leave Scott gasping as he clutches the sheets and begs for more. Sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G as if they were five. Owen held in the palm of Scott's hand, neck strained as he attempts to keep still. They are quiet when needed, loud when wanted, Scott is Owen and Owen is Scott and nothing else really matters.

So?

S is equal to O.

Therefore

S/O= 1

Which, essentially, means...

Not a damn thing.

-

Owen peers over Scott's shoulder, grinning crookedly at the page full of notes and equations.

"We really have to find you a better hobby."


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