Archive of Our Own ^beta

“around early  december, we got an anonymous email, from someone that witnessed what they described to be,” dr. chang looks at her notes, reading from her tablet directly, “a series of inappropriate incidents, between dr. theerapanyakun and mr. kittisawat, on several occasions, during the conference in dallas. there were behaviors that gave them reason to believe there was a relationship of a romantic nature between the two parties, which also gave them cause for concern, considering the nature of the relationship that you two have professionally,” she puts her tablet down, and stares at him, and kinn stares back; the thing about jennifer, jenny to her friends, who has seen him through so much of his career, who sat with him when he got divorced, and popped the champagne that tawan had bought to the signing of the papers, who knows him, and who trusted him, and who still got blindsided, is that she does not pull her punches.

“i remember that conference, kinn, i remember that, because i told you there was a problem, and you stared at me and told me it was nothing. and then, not just once, but on three separate occasions, someone, the someone who sent us this email, caught you,” she checks the tablet again, like she doesn’t already know, but kinn knows her, there’s a chance she has it memorized, “kissing passionately in a hallway, as well as porsche entering your room dressed, and leaving it half-dressed in what they recognized as one of your shirts, and not much else, looking post-coital, not to mention seeing him in your clothing throughout the conference, with photo evidence of two separate incidents. does this sound familiar to you, kinn?”

she pauses, and looks at him; everybody in the room shifts uncomfortably, none of them can look him in the face; he looks at jennifer, and he smiles, he's sorry, for her, for what it means for their friendship, but the reality is that he’s got nothing to lose, he knows it, they know it, and this kangaroo court isn’t going anywhere, except to be crammed into a file folder and ignored for the next decade. he leans forward, over the small mic in the desk, to make sure he’s heard.

“that sounds about right.”

the dallas incident(s)

when kinn’s alarm goes off, he doesn’t even bother with trying to get more sleep; he knows that the only thing he should do is get up immediately.

but there’s a bit of a problem; a clingy one hundred and eighty centimeter tall problem, that is currently wrapped around him and snoring; he loves porsche, he does, but sometimes he wonders how he’s made it this far in life, when he’s so dedicated to being asleep as much of the day as possible, and reacts so horribly to being woken up.

kinn runs soothing hands over his back, pressing kisses to his hair as he snuffles and whines, not wanting to be awake, but he doesn’t have a choice.

they’ve got a five o’clock flight to make, because he’s got to get across the country for this conference he’s not particularly excited about going to, and porsche wanted them to fly together, which meant an early flight, and a guarantee they didn’t run into anybody they know, that would find it weird that they show up together, or check in together.

he sits up, bringing porsche with him, cradling him in his lap; even as he fights to stay asleep, all of the motion has woken him up, and he blinks awake, annoyed and squinting in the dim purple lighting of the lamp as kinn unlocks his phone and flips all of the lights on through the weirdly convoluted app, squinting at the screen before giving up and putting on his glasses; he doesn’t know how porsche does it, with how everything in his condo is linked to something, and none of it is something kinn understands; he lives in a house with light switches, porsche does not.

“i know this was my idea,” he says, voice cracked and groggy, raspy with sleep, “but this is so stupid and why did you listen to me?”

“because you wanted to be airport boyfriends, i think is the phrase you used,” kinn says, standing porsche up in front of him, tugging down his sleep shorts, and helping him out of his shirt; porsche leans against his knees, hands braced on his shoulders, half in kinn’s lap, like he’s thinking of curling up and going back to sleep, so kinn holds him by the hips at arms length before he gets any ideas.

“it sounded romantic when i said it,” he whines, and kinn takes pity on him, pressing a kiss to the tattoo over his hip, right over the ear of the bunny.

“there’s never anything romantic about being awake this early,” kinn says, standing up and picking up porsche’s pajamas, before he pads into the bathroom, rubbing at his eyes, underneath his glasses, yawning and grimacing.

it takes time, but eventually they get downstairs to the lobby of porsche’s building, bags packed and in the car, courtesy of the doorman and kinn's driver, big; porsche leans against his shoulder, his sunglasses digging into kinn’s arm; he’s got his hood up, and a black mask over his face; he looks half-alive, so kinn wraps him up in a hug, picking him up off of his feet and squeezing him until he lets out a soft oof.

“ready, sir?” big peeks his head out, and kinn nods, tugging porsche upright, and opening the door to help him into the car, before sliding in behind him, buckling his seat belt. he’s not looking forward to an entire weekend plus of having to keep his hands to himself; he’s not looking forward to watching porsche navigate the meat market, for a job kinn would rather he didn’t take, if it means moving, or more lying, but he knows that porsche didn’t work this hard for nothing, so that means letting go and being supportive, not possessive.

it’s just hard, when all he wants is to keep him close.

they finally make it to the airport, and kinn takes care of the bags while porsche waits around, doing sudoku on his phone; they breeze through security, bypassing the lines, and finally, finally, they make it to the lounge, where porsche collapses into a chair and promptly tries to go back to sleep, only for kinn to poke at him, waking him up again.

“why are you waking me up?” he whines, pulling his sunglasses back down over his face, and removing his mask long enough to take a drink from the bottle of water that kinn offers him.

“because you should sleep on the plane, baby,” porsche rolls his eyes, but kinn keeps going, “and you won’t sleep if you keep dozing off, and then you’ll keep me awake the entire time when you get bored, and then—” porsche waves a hand at him, cutting him off mid sentence.

“okay, i’ll stay awake, fuck, you’re such a dad—” kinn shoots him a look, and he rolls his eyes like an insolent teenager, before going back to his sudoku.

the flight is nice; and he doesn’t end up sleeping, even though he needs to and he wants to; instead, he endures the quiet rushing of the engine, and porsche’s low, soft snoring; he’s got a fancy neck pillow clutched in his hands that he could be using, but instead he’s leaning on kinn’s shoulder, drooling; he’s got a sleeping mask on that says diva in sparkly pink cursive, something he’s clearly stolen from his mother; he’s got a collection of stolen things, a bracelet from his younger brother, the beads chipped and the leather cord frayed, made at summer camp years ago, that he rarely takes off, and his father’s old wedding ring, tucked underneath his shirt on a chain; he’s made up so much of the people who love him, kinn thinks, with a rush of fondness.

the second they land, porsche sits up, turning to look at him blearily, eyes glassy and exhausted; there’s nothing kinn wants more than to just let him sleep, but it’s time.

“can i at least have a kiss before we have to act like we barely know each other,” he says, trying for joking, but failing, because kinn feels like he’s been punched in the gut when he hears it, the sadness at the edge of porsche’s voice; four days and three nights of them being away from each other, days of having to keep his hands to himself, so much time spent with watching eyes, and consequences if they see something they don’t like, whether it’s true enough or not.

“porsche,” it feels unnatural, but he might as well get used to it, even if it hurts, “i know, i know it’s hard. trust me, i know it’s hard.” he can’t give him much, but kinn leans over and presses a kiss to his hair, trying not to linger and failing, pressing another kiss to the tattoo just below his ear, right over the sloping, fading script.

“we’ll be fine, i promise.”

they part at the terminal; kinn goes to wait for about twenty minutes, like they planned, until he’s gotten a text from porsche that he’s made it to the baggage claim; he follows after, and they stand on opposite sides; porsche has his sunglasses on, now, and he’s chatting with a student from another school, who is wearing a dark orange lanyard, covered in tiny white print; kinn looks away, just in time to find his bag coming around the carousel. 

he doesn't want to watch as porsche leaves. 

it takes about twenty-five minutes to get from the airport to the giant block of hotels they’ll be holding the conference in; as the city comes into view, he sees a maze of glass and concrete beyond a sprawl of suburbia. the car pulls up to the hotel, and the driver opens the door to a rush of noise, from the people, the city, and the light rail overhead, rattling and industrial; a bellhop walks up and takes his bags away, and he pauses for a second, taking everything in.

out of the frying pan, and into the fire, then.

immediately, kinn barely gets a second to breathe; he showers and changes into a suit, something comfortable enough for the fact that he’s not going to get to sit down until he goes to sleep, but nice enough that he doesn’t catch any passive aggressive comments about how he’s fallen down on his looks since the divorce; it’s his least favorite thing about this cross section of academics that cut their teeth in industry; they smell blood in the water and they go after it, even now that he’s established; he can always be kicked down when they see fit, when he has something they want.

and he’s never been so weak to it; being with porsche has softened him, and it takes about six jabs to his ego from someone before he even realizes he’s supposed to either get mad or respond in kind, instead he ends up just blinking at the guy, with a placid smile, as he adds pins and stickers to his badge.

each year, the more roles he takes on, the longer the stack of flags gets at the bottom; he’s the president of so many organizations he doesn’t even know if he’s going to make it to half of the meetings he’s helped plan, which is why he has the army of assistants and advisees running interference while he runs the main show.

across the lobby, at registration, he sees porsche finally get his badge and beckons him over; he’s dressed smartly, in a soft green cardigan sweater and neat grey slacks; when kinn realizes the sweater is his, he smiles, as he hands over a an enveloped keycard to his suite, with the bedroom door code written on the back of it. porsche slides it into his back pocket; kinn can see in real time as he holds himself back from leaning in for a kiss in greeting.

“when did you steal that,” he asks, voice low, as they wait for the other advisees to show up. porsche looks down at himself and laughs.

“i don’t know, but i’m very sure you wore this to teach a seminar a few weeks ago.” it’s a problem that kinn just laughs, instead of feeling any shame; there’s a warmth that settles over his skin; it’s too late to do anything about it now, and surely nobody will notice.

finally, the rest of the students wander over, having collected their lanyards, and programs, and free swag-bags; each of them looks lost, save for the older students, who just look frazzled and day three level annoyed, even though they’ve just gotten here.

“so, welcome to the best-worst four days of your life, aka the one hundred and sixty-sixth annual national business, information technology and management association conference. as your current association president, i want to welcome you to this magical, not at all stressful event,” he says, laughing at the shocked faces he gets; he’s a big believer in being honest about these things, so at the very least, it never comes as a surprise when it sucks; it’s magic at first, and then all of the networking starts.

“we’ve already gone over the basics, but now that we’re here, i just have a couple of rules for the new kids on the block. one, stick to the buddy system, and make sure you check in on a regular basis using the slack channel. two, please check in with me if you need anything, or permission to take a break. i am more than happy to override any of your other orders, and make up a task you need to do so you can take a nap. three, as my assistants, you represent me. that means no drinking and no partying,” he pauses for groans, “which you already knew, because i will disown you if you embarrass me.” they all nod, and he can tell the older ones are planning their hotel escape, which means he’s sticking the narc of the bunch in the lobby around dinner to send him updates.

“hey, you volunteered, and we all knew the rules, didn’t we? porsche has been my assistant for this since his first semester. if you want to know what to do, he’s a good role model,” that garners some eye rolling, but porsche just grins at him, smiling smugly at his classmates, “and he’ll also answer any questions you have, but please try to reach out to each other first, since porsche is going to be busy trailing after me all weekend, because this is going to be him in a few years, and he has to learn the ropes so he can be a good president,” at that, the eye rolling stops; there’s nothing that cuts through the jealousy they feel at the extra attention porsche gets like being reminded it also comes with an obscene amount of work that he only makes look easy; kinn might be in for a rough weekend, but porsche is in for a worse one, because kinn isn’t lying; if he has his way, porsche’s cv will be so stacked it won’t matter what anybody thinks, he’ll be tenured before thirty-five, and they’ll have nothing to worry about.

“so, does anybody have any questions before i send you off to enjoy your last few hours of freedom?” they all stare at him and shake their heads; he laughs.

“send me your questions over slack, then. you’ll have questions in an hour or two.” he claps his hands to dismiss them, and they scatter, whispering and staring back at him and porsche, who doesn’t even notice, he’s too busy tapping away at the calendar he’s pulled up on his tablet, next to a long, detailed itinerary that kinn spent hours hammering out the details of.

“so today, we’ve got a dinner, a speech, a reception, and a prompt ten pm exit so that you can actually get some sleep,” he recites from the itinerary, making kinn laugh.

“yeah, sleep. what naive idiot said i was getting any sleep?” he says, raising an eyebrow, which makes porsche laugh in response.

“no clue who wrote this, maybe they should lose their job or something.”

kinn takes the elevator up to the suite; he almost didn’t accept it, because the last day means sharing the entire space with all of the many people coming and going to decorate for the reception after the speech, but the second he holds the keycard to the panel in the elevator and it shoots up to the top floor, he can’t say that he doesn’t enjoy it, the privileges of clawing and scratching his way to the top of the heap; the doors open to a beautiful foyer, there’s an expanse of glass windows, bright marble floors, a dripping glass chandelier over a beautiful, bright white piano; there’s a bar, with a huge mirrored backdrop, covered in shelving, and several doors, that he opens, finding a few other rooms, an office, and finally the master bedroom, which is huge, and has the same massive windows; it’s a bit much for the fact that he’ll only be here for three nights, but well.

he earned it.

the next days pass in a series of moments that feel more like scenes in a movie; a rapid passing of time that kinn has always hated about conferences; it’s the starting and the stopping and the shuffling of people that drives him the most nuts.

he spends hours listening to people ramble on about what feels like nothing; there’s a big presentation from a consulting firm, and more talking about denim manufacturing than he’s ever wanted to listen to. he listens in on someone talking about auditing, and then follows up with a panel on salesforce that makes him want to cry himself to sleep.

he loves what he does, it's just, fuck, if isn’t the most boring shit on the planet sometimes, and that isn’t at all informed by how much he’d rather be curled up in bed, with porsche, eating strawberries and watching soap operas like they’d normally be doing on a friday evening.

he doesn’t sleep, he barely eats, and he spends half of his time walking four steps and being stopped immediately, between old grad school friends, and random acquaintances from the year he spent editing a journal before he realized that wasn’t the path for him; he gives a talk on the internship program, he does so much, and porsche is there for all of it, but it feels like he’s behind glass; he can see him, but he can’t touch or talk to him for longer than a few seconds, and he’s starting to feel agitated, restless and annoyed, and he has to take breaks more often than not, and it doesn’t help that people won’t stop looking. every room porsche walks into, heads turn; every person kinn introduces him to gets this look on their face, and it wouldn’t as bad if porsche didn’t notice, but he gets halfway through explaining his dissertation to someone, someone who kinn thought would even work well with him, and they just stop paying attention, staring at the soft script tattoo crawling up his neck; it’s the eyes that bounce around his face, like they don’t know what to look at first, and he gets it, he does, except there’s more than that, and they don’t even care, that he’s brilliant, that he’s interesting, that he gets scared at even the worst horror movies, that he stares at instagram pages of great danes, cooing at the screen and shooting kinn looks like he can manifest a puppy at the snap of his fingers, like their schedule can take it.

they don’t know he’s a person, they just know that he’s handsome, and it makes kinn want to scream, but he can’t barge into every conversion, knowing that porsche can more than save himself from every creep that gets ideas.

everything is going mostly smoothly, despite the low level misery that has been simmering in his gut.

he’s only had to kick out twelve gatecrashers and curious general public bystanders who wandered into places they should have had passes checked to get into, which means a fifteen minute meeting with the volunteers to refresh protocol, as some asswipe with a clipboard and a taser puts it.

the expo goes off without a hitch, the job fair isn’t a complete shitshow, and the bigger panels have been going fine, even though he’s overheard more than few complaints about the more of a comment than a question offenders; all of the parties and receptions have been fine; nobody has done anything worth writing home about.

and then it’s the final reception of the second day. he’s tired, and he’s ready to get some sleep, and this is the first time that he’s seen porsche in hours, without there being an entire crowd of people, or it being a panel or a meeting or another meeting, or another, more boring meeting.

kinn just looks at him for a second, admiring; this is the second stolen article of clothing he’s recognized all conference, and this is very blatant; it’s a custom made ombre suit jacket, that he’s paired with a soft white shirt, half buttoned, showing off the scars on his chest; the ring hanging from the chain around his neck glitters in the soft lighting; kinn shoots him a smile, and porsche smiles back.

he’s just about to say something, kinn thinks, when someone walks up, getting both of their attention at the same time; he puts on a placid smile that feels more like a grimace; it’s kenneth stafford, who is one of the biggest names in all of information technology, even though he’s ten thousand years old, smells like dust and racism, and has never met a person he couldn’t sexually harass within seconds of knowing them. kinn braces himself, and only barely resists the urge to shove porsche behind him; instead, he tries to keep dr. stafford’s attention on him, so potentially porsche can make an escape.

“so, kinn, how’ve you been? heard about the divorce, my condolences,” he says it like there’s a joke somewhere in there that kinn isn’t getting, and he doesn’t want to understand, so he just nods, with another, similarly fake smile, “i just wanted to stop by and say you’ve been running this ship well, mr. president. you know, when i heard you’d been elected, i wasn’t surprised, i know your people have a real head for business, really,” he laughs, and kinn stares into his glass of wine, wondering if the assault charge for breaking it over this asshole’s head might be worth it, “i spent a lot of the eighties, you know, in thailand, doing a lot of business, even though i might not have known more than how do i get to a bathroom, what has liquor in it, or what you got downstairs,” kinn blinks at him, and he seems to almost shrink under the attention, with a soft, coughed out, awkward laugh, before he waves his hand, sloshing cheap beer onto the carpet, not even caring.

“that’s really interesting, honestly, ah—” he’s about to disappear and take porsche with him, but kenneth’s eyes narrow in on porsche, eyes looking over his exposed skin, widening at his scars; it makes kinn want to throw the tablecloth over him so kenneth can’t see.

“now, you, i know i haven’t met before,” he says, offering a hand, standing up tall, with the smile of a car salesman and the energy of someone who has a bridge to sell in brooklyn, porsche takes his hand, limply, with a nervous smile, eyes darting over to kinn, who just raises his eyebrows in what he hopes expresses, i’m willing to start a small fire to get us both out of this.

“it’s been a long weekend, we might have,” porsche says, and there’s a chance he’s right, because kinn can’t keep track of how many people he’s shoved porsche in front of, and he knows kenneth well enough to know he is playing dumb on purpose, but about what, is lost on kinn.

“no, no, i’m sure we haven’t,” he looks porsche over, with an appraising gaze that makes bile creep up in kinn’s throat, let alone the level of anger that he knows is making him turn bright red, “because i would remember you. what’s your name, beautiful?”

“hey, ken, i don’t think—” kinn steps forward, putting a hand on kenneth’s elbow, but he shrugs it off.

“he can speak for himself, can’t he? bet he knows english and everything. plus, i’ve heard so much about your lovely assistant, but i never heard a name—” porsche blanches, stepping back from the table, and kinn steps around to support him; it’s just the two of them, staring down kenneth as he smiles, wicked and wide, like he doesn’t care how this ends, getting under porsche’s skin was enough for him. porsche steps forward, standing up tall, just so kenneth knows his bullshit is not working as well as he wants it to. 

“i’m porsche, i’m one of kinn’s advisees, i’ve been working with him and tawan for a few years, actually, so it’s strange that we haven’t run into each other, because i’m in my last year. on the market and everything,” he says it like a challenge, and whatever he’s looking for, he’s right, because ken deflates, like he’s taken the fun out of it, probably because he’s young but he’s not young, he’s not fresh or new, or vulnerable, and there’s a sharpness to the way he looks at ken, now, that makes kinn proud, more than anything; don’t confuse a wolf for a hare just because they both have grey fur.

“porsche, a luxurious name, for a luxurious man,” kinn doesn’t like the way he says porsche’s name, like he’s savoring it, and he definitely doesn’t like everything that comes after it, “it was wonderful to meet you, even if kinn tries hiding you away. he’s notoriously bad at sharing, but i’m a forgiving man,” he laughs again, coughing into his elbow, with a keen smile, “well, it’s nice to put a name to the face i’ve heard so much about,” he starts to walk away, and finally, finally, kinn feels relieved, but he turns around at the last second, to address them again, “kinn, i’ll see you at the reception tomorrow, even though it’s past this old man’s bedtime.”

“oh, i wouldn’t worry about that,” kinn says, because he knows what he can do now, even if speaking up earlier would have pissed porsche off more than it would have helped, this, he has the power to do something about. “it’s a closed reception, we’ve already done the invitations,” he says pointedly, both because it’s true, it’s not an accident that kenneth wasn’t on the list, this just cements the decision he made, months ago, and also so that kenneth will take the hint, if you show up and start trouble, i will have your head.

kenneth looks at him, shrewd, more shrewd than he should be, for how he’s been acting this entire conversion, it ruins the illusion, but there’s nothing he can say without making a scene or starting an argument he’d surely lose.

“well, then there’s always next year.”

kinn waves him off, before downing his wine in one go, and stealing the drink from porsche’s hand, downing that too, not caring who sees, but he sputters when he tastes it; it’s coke and rum, but it’s more like rum with a single dash of coke.

“how have you been drinking this?” he asks, looking at porsche with a grimace, wiping at his mouth and trying not to gag. it’s cheap rum and it tastes like sunscreen stirred into paint thinner, it's burning in his chest, making it hard to speak.

“i haven’t,” porsche says, smiling sincerely for the first time in minutes, “i watched the bartender make it and i’ve just been carrying it around.”

kinn smacks him against the arm and he laughs, bright and loud; more heads turn, but kinn doesn’t pay them any mind.

the way up in the elevator is quiet. nobody else gets on, on all of the many, many floors, but they still stand feet apart; porsche leaning against the wall, kinn, staring down at the floor with his hands in his pockets, just thinking. in a different world, he thinks, there wouldn’t even be an issue; people would gawk at the age difference, but that’s the last thing he thinks about, more often than not, and not because porsche is some old soul, or whatever people tell themselves, but because he’s an adult, and kinn has never taken it personally when people don’t get his references, but beyond that, he can take care of himself, and there’s a single set of paperwork and a dissertation defense standing between there being nothing stopping them.

but then, he thinks, i don’t know what we do next. he doesn’t know how they do this, if porsche ends up far away from him, when one weekend was enough to have him depressed; he doesn’t know how to let him go. he thinks of a velvet box in his sock drawer back home, and he smiles; porsche catches his eye and smiles back.

whatever it is, they’ll figure it out.

on a whim, kinn gets off on the same floor as porsche, even though he shouldn’t, he just can’t help himself; he walks with porsche through a maze of hallways, lined with doors; the lighting is dim and warm, and their shoes click across the wooden floor; finally, porsche stops in front of a door, and kinn can’t help himself from standing close behind him, nose against his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin; the second his hands land on porsche’s waist, he shivers.

kinn leans forward, taking a deep inhale against his hair; he smells softly of strawberry shampoo, and sweat; he fumbles with the key, turning around in kinn’s arms.

“what are you doing—” he looks shaken, but he collapses into kinn’s touch, like he can’t help it, “we can’t, you said—”

“i know what i said, porsche,” it doesn’t feel right, it makes his tongue feel too big for his mouth, he tries again, “baby, i know what i said, i just, you’re right here, and nobody is looking, and i can’t, fuck, i just—” the problem is that he can’t have porsche this close and not touch him; he can’t have porsche this close and not want him, a bone deep desire that feels near animalistic.

there’s something running through his blood that feels trapped in a cage, and his hands tighten around porsche’s waist, fingers digging into the soft fabric of his shirt; it feels stupid to feel mad at fabric, but all he can think about is the skin underneath it, and it makes him feel insane.

his eyes drop to porsche’s mouth, and he leans forward, only to be stopped when porsche puts a hand between them, in contrast to how he leans forward too, like he can’t help himself either.

“what—” kinn doesn’t wait for permission, not when porsche keeps turning his face up, tongue licking over his lips, like he can taste kinn on his mouth already and he wants; but before he can do anything, porsche beats him to it, surging forward and capturing kinn’s mouth in a kiss; filthy and deep, all tongue and no grace, like they can crawl inside each other; it’s desperate, and it makes him want things he can’t have, that they don’t have time for; he wants to spread porsche out and eat him alive, he wants to make him scream so loud there isn’t a doubt who he belongs to, he tastes like cheap rum and honey, and every time porsche pants into his mouth, it makes a heat rise up in his spine, wrapping over his skin.

porsche tips his head, and kinn goes for his neck, licking up his jaw and then trailing kisses down the sweat salty skin, sucking and biting, even though he knows porsche bruises like a fucking peach and he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself, not when porsche is barely holding it together, teeth set into his bottom lip to hold back moans.

“we can’t, i want, fuck, i want you so badly, but we can’t—daddy—” his hands start to go for porsche’s zipper, and he pulls away, before kinn can get too far, pressing against the door, chest heaving; he’s got sweat shining on his forehead, and he looks devastated, and kinn wants him so bad his entire body aches with it; he steps forward again, just pulling him close, not doing anything, just to feel the warmth of his body, just to know that he’s there.

“i need to—” around the corner, they hear the sound of a door closing; they both duck against each other, porsche hiding his face in kinn’s neck, but it seems to be nothing, or at least he doesn’t see anything when he looks, but it’s something, so he steps back, heart pounding in his chest.

as he walks to the elevator, his feet feel made of concrete, with how little he wants to walk away from porsche; before he turns the corner, he turns around, and porsche is still there, watching him; he blows him a kiss; he laughs when porsche catches it, and stores it in the pocket of his jacket.

the next day, kinn wakes up and he doesn’t feel as heavy as he had the days before.

kinn has been watching porsche flag more and more all day, so he doesn’t mind. he orders room service from the app on his phone, just so porsche will have something to eat; he gets a single heart emoji about twenty minutes later when the food arrives.

kinn gets two hours off when one of his panels gets cancelled after a theoretical slap fight makes one panel go over by thirty minutes; he earns an extra hour when dr. chang texts him that they’ll be setting up for the reception in the president’s suite, so if he could stick around in there to meet the staff and volunteers; they’ll knock when they come in, and they’ve all got cards and badges.

when he finally gets back to the room, he’s a man on a mission; the second the elevator opens, he goes straight to the door of the master bedroom and punches in the code more than a little aggressively; the second the door swings open, he just sits and stares; porsche is curled up in his bed; he sits up, blinking sleepily, smiling when he realizes that it’s kinn; he shuts the door behind himself and turns the deadbolt, just for the extra peace of mind.

kinn strips down quickly, leaving his glasses on the bedside table as he climbs into bed, flipping the covers back and pulling porsche close to him, wrapping him up in his arms; it’s a revelation, he thinks, reveling in the peace he feels the second there’s so much of their skin touching, finally.

“i missed you,” he says, peppering kisses to the back of porsche’s neck, getting as close as he can without smothering him, but it’s a difficult ask, when every time he feels porsche shift in his arms, getting comfortable, pulling the blanket over them, he just wants to stay here forever, drinking in his every breath, but he won’t stop wiggling around, and kinn has to hold him in place, laughing when porsche whines.

“i just want,” he huffs in frustration until kinn lets him go, rolling onto his back, laughing when porsche comes after him, until he’s sprawled on top, his face tucked into kinn’s neck, “i want you to fuck me, so bad, i’ve been daydreaming about it, it’s gotten so bad i keep zoning out during meetings,” that explains the amount of times he’s had to try three and four times to get porsche’s attention, “but i’m so tired i can barely keep my eyes open, and unlike present company, i am not old enough to fall asleep during sex,” kinn smacks him on arm, ignoring his faux wounded yelp.

“that was one time, and it was a long day, and it took you like ten minutes to notice, so who was really at fault,” porsche laughs, cutting him off.

“you made me doubt my blowjob skills, i thought you were really into it until i heard snoring—”

“i don’t snore, you snore—” porsche bites his neck, and kinn smacks him on the arm again, wiggling in place when porsche starts poking him with his tongue; he hates it, but it’s actually working for him, and he knows porsche can feel him getting hard; but in his defense, it’s been a rough couple of days with just him, his hand and the lube he has hidden under the pillow. it’s not the best threesome he’s ever had.

“i thought we agreed that we both snore,” kinn scoffs at him.

“i thought we agreed that we were agreeing to that because it was an easy truce—” porsche yawns against his neck, and kinn just smiles; it doesn’t make any sense how cute he is, even when he’s trying to be annoying.

“stop distracting me, i had a point. and that point is that you should set an alarm so we have time for a quickie, before the people show up. dr. chang caught me downstairs and told me that they’ll be by in an hour or so, and that is more than enough time for sleeping and sex.” it’s the way he phrases it that gives kinn the idea; he can do better than a quickie, he can do so much better than a quickie.

“let me take care of you,” he says, voice soft and low, running careful hands over porsche’s back; he holds him close so porsche doesn’t tip over when he rolls over enough to search under the pillow until he finds the half empty bottle of lube, which porsche laughs at, even though it goes a bit wobbly when kinn rolls them back over so that porsche is plastered to his front again, face still pressed into his neck; he hitches him up a little, bouncing porsche against him, until he can fix the pillow underneath his head, and pull the blanket up, until it’s draped over porsche’s shoulders; he reaches his hand down, crammed awkwardly between them, until porsche gets the hint and arches his back, picking his hips up; kinn rubs the tip of his cock against porsche’s folds, over where he’s so wet, and silky soft; the rasp of the hair dusting across his cunt makes kinn shiver, grinding up and rutting against him.

“you get some sleep, and i’ll take care of you. i’ll set an alarm and everything.” he feels porsche smile against his neck, before he yawns again, nodding; when kinn finally pushes inside of him, huffing a soft breath at the tight clutch of his body; feeling the wet heat of his cunt, porsche nuzzles into his neck, dropping his hips down; when their bodies are flush; kinn can feel the way his eyelashes are fluttering; it doesn’t take long for him to settle into sleep; the way his body goes lax is intoxicating; he can’t even help the way that his hips come up from the bed; and it’s obscene, the noise he can hear over the sounds of he air conditioner and porsche’s soft snoring, now that he’s falling deeper and deeper into sleep.

kinn shuffles his hand around until he finds his phone, and sets a quick alarm.

kinn digs around in in the sheets again, this time for the lube; he drizzles it over his fingers, being careful not to stain the sheets before he reaches down, over the sloping arch of porsche’s back; with every gentle rock of kinn’s hips, he can feel the way porsche is throbbing and twitching even in his sleep; he rubs his slick fingers against the soft ring of muscle of his hole, and presses one inside, and then another, slowly; and suddenly, it’s unreal, how he can feel, the way porsche is throbbing around his fingers at the same time as he clenches around his cock, as if even in sleep he can’t choose which sensation to indulge in and he's going for the best out of both. kinn presses his fingers even deeper, rocking his hips up in time; it doesn’t take long for porsche to come the first time; he’s so sensitive.

around orgasm number three, the sheets are beyond a lost cause; soaked through and sticking to his lower back, and they’ve definitely ruined the mattress.

porsche is so wet around him that it’s unreal; dripping down his cock and making him feel like an animal; every sensation better than the last; the sound of their bodies coming together echoes through the room, and through all of it, porsche is just whimpering and snoring against his neck; curled up on top of him, legs spread over his hips; every time he comes, his breath hitches, and he makes the softest, most devastated noises, and it’s knowing that he can’t even help it, he’s just lost to the pleasure.

over all of it, kinn hears the soft ding of the elevator opening, and he’s not proud of it, but somehow he gets even harder, hearing voices trickle into the room, echoing and loud; there’s something filthy about it, how they don’t know what is happening in this room, and how disturbed they’d be; he moves even faster, pressing his fingers in deep and his cock in even deeper; he should be considering how porsche has to sit down, and they’ve got a long day ahead of them, but he knows better than anybody how much porsche likes it when he can feel it the next morning.

he’s working his way to number four, and he knows he’s not far behind porsche, this time, with the heat that is building up in his stomach; porsche is dripping and sloppy wet around his cock and he can’t get enough of it; but it’s loud, and there’s only a single door; anybody nosy enough to press their ear up to it could easily hear them.

the alarm sounds, a gentle, rolling sound of ocean waves and twinkling harp, and suddenly he feels an intake of breath against his neck, and he groans, loud, louder than he should when porsche gets so tight around him, clenching down around his fingers, hips rolling slowly, sleepily; he’s barely awake; he feels porsche’s arm untangle with his, reaching for his phone, mashing at the screen until the alarm turns off abruptly. his stomach lurches when porsche starts to moan, soft at first and getting louder; he shushes him, and porsche just whimpers at him, still barely awake.

“you have, fuck, you have to be quiet, baby,” porsche just whines again, confused.

“why, nobody can hear us,” his words are slurred, and he’s only lazily rocking back onto kinn’s fingers, huffing and turning his face into kinn’s neck, getting one hand down to rub at his clit.

“not true,” he says, stopping, even though porsche immediately starts whining, “listen—” he finally goes quiet, and the noise in the other room picks up just in time; somebody drops something and somebody else laughs; and kinn doesn’t feel so alone in his filthiness, when he can feel how much wetter porsche gets, at the idea that someone could hear them.

“when did that happen?” he asks, even as kinn can feel his hand pick up speed; he can feel a warm, slick, wetness spreading between their bodies, the more of a mess porsche makes, every time he rubs at his clit.

“about two orgasms ago,” kinn says, more than a little smugly, “not shocked you didn’t notice.” porsche thumps him in the side of the stomach, right at the softest part of his belly, and he laughs.

“don’t be so proud of yourself,” he says, and it would be more effective if it wasn’t so breathless and stuttered, and if he didn’t immediately freeze up, muscles going tense, kinn cranes his neck to look down, and he sees porsche absolutely losing it, eyes fluttering and then rolling back; he looks fucking possessed, and it’s so wet; he’s gushing and squirting, come dripping everywhere; and it’s so loud kinn can hear it; the squelching of his cock as he stuffs it deeper and deeper, bouncing porsche on the length of it, just to watch the way the vein throbs in his forehead; when he can finally open his eyes, he can’t even keep them from crossing, gaze going lazed and hazy as he clenches around kinn’s cock, his ass squeezing around his fingers, one hand moving to shove them even deeper, clutching at kinn’s wrist, nails digging into the meat of his palm, only letting go when kinn tries to wriggle his hand away because he can feel it cramping.

but of course porsche doesn’t want to play fair, or ever let kinn win; the voices on the other side of the door pick up and get loud; now, someone is testing the piano, the band is setting up, probably, and there’s more cover to the noise, which has to be why porsche picks this time to get vocal.

“fuck, that feels so fucking good, daddy,” he thinks he’s funny, or something, that has to be the thing wrong with him, as he curls his voice into a mocking whine, louder and louder by the second, “ah—ah—ah", his whining isn’t even muffled when kinn takes the hand he was fingering him with and squeezes, making a sticky mess where his ass curves, plump and soft underneath kinn's hand, he kneads at the muscle before spanking him, enough that he breaks through his exaggerated, porny affectation, making him start to giggle around his panting.

“you’re the worst, i want you to know that,” he says, even as he can feel himself losing control; he hates how predictable he is, and how funny porsche finds it to mess with him, knowing that.

“yeah, but you like it,” he says, sitting up, until their faces are close, and he’s rocking in kinn’s lap, abs flexing; kinn gets his hands around porsche’s hips, fingers digging in tight, helping him rock back and forth; every time he picks up and drops back down, taking the full length of kinn’s cock inside of his throbbing, sloppy wet pussy, kinn has to bite down on his bottom lip to hold back the scream that wants to break out of the back of his throat, desperate, animalistic and wanting; he can feel his face screwed up in a snarl; when porsche pulls back enough to press their mouths together, it’s not even a kiss, he just bites, and kinn bites back, before sucking at porsche’s bottom lip, soothing the sting; porsche leans into it with a moan, bouncing even harder, rocking his hips down to meet every one of kinn’s thrusts; he’s saying something, but kinn can barely hear him over the rushing of his pulse in his ears, until porsche repeats himself.

“—hurry, up, you have to hurry up—” in his peripheral vision, kinn can see him holding the phone up, so he can see the time; fuck, they only have twenty minutes before people are going to come looking for him, and he’s going to have to shower, and look less completely wrecked; this was a horrible idea, but he can’t even bother regretting it because it feels so fucking good.

he tightens the grip he has on porsche’s hips, holding him down and fucking up into him at an absolutely brutal pace, until he can feel himself, starting to finally get close; when he buries his cock deep, he comes so hard his teeth click together when his jaw clenches; it sends an almost painful ring of pleasure through his head, heartbeat echoing in his skull as his eyes roll back; he just keeps sinking his cock into that tight wet heat, feeling the mess he’s making, dripping down around his cock.

porsche collapses on top of him, chest heaving; when he turns his head, he’s grinning.

“what the fuck was that,” kinn says, staring at him in outright disbelief; every time he thinks they’ve had the best sex they’ve ever had, porsche finds a way to ruin him even further.

“it’s called teamwork,” he says, picking up kinn’s slightly cleaner hand, and high fiving himself with it, before he climbs off with a grimace, collapsing onto his stomach, on the drier patch of the sheets; kinn is going to have to sleep on top of the blanket tonight, because there’s no chance he has time to call someone about it before he has to leave at the ass crack of dawn, but that’s a problem for later; right now, he needs to get up, and shower, and get dressed.

any minute now, he thinks, panting and trying to catch his breath as porsche somehow finds the presence of mind to wobble around on shaky legs, looking for one of kinn’s shirts to borrow, before he climbs back into bed again, turning onto his stomach and cradling a pillow, he’s going to get up.

any minute now.

kinn tries to look normal, and less freshly showered and like he just had sex, with someone he emphatically should not be having sex with, let alone be in a relationship with, but he can’t stop the endorphin induced smile that keeps trying to curve up the corners of his kiss swollen mouth. he feels high. he’s just standing next to a wall watching people arrange tables and set up chairs, and he’s nearly giggling to himself, still sex giddy and loose-limbed in a way he really shouldn’t be, because he has no good explanation for it. nobody gets this happy at conferences.

the moment gets doused in cold water the second that dr. chang comes up to him, though, her glasses at the very end of her nose, with a look on her face that he can’t decipher at all.

“have you seen porsche,” she says, checking over the pink acrylic clipboard in her hands, blinking at him, not really waiting for an answer to her non-question, “because there’s only one person who would know where he’s vanished to, and i’m assuming that you’re a good parent—” the way she says it makes his stomach hurt, like she knows something, even though he knows she doesn’t, they’ve been careful.

“he’s, sleeping, i sent him off to take a nap, because he was dead on his feet after all of those panels, and he needed a second before he crashed—” it isn’t completely a lie, porsche is sleeping, but he’s also about twenty feet away from them, curled up in kinn’s bed, wearing his shirt, and there’s nothing kinn wants more than to be in that bed with him, and not here supervising, he casts his eyes around, taking in the scene, while they set up an ice sculpture and an open bar, and a small stage for the band, next to the giant grand piano.

“right, right, of course, and have you checked in with any of your other students so see how they are doing?” she says, and suddenly he gets why that earlier statement felt like a bit of a trap.

“that, they know they can check in, porsche checked in, and i did my job, is there a point to this questioning, detective?” he says it with humor, but she just stares at him, and his smile drops.

“the point,” she says, clutching the clipboard to her chest, “is that i’ve been getting complaints, so i looked into them, because i’m a good department head, and i care about these things. and what i found, is a little bit of favoritism. and i get it, we all have favorites, because a lot of these assholes suck. but what we don’t do, right, is pay for flights, private cars, hotels, all of his meals, fancy new luggage, and a laptop because he’s your very temporary assistant, not your sugar baby. kid’s richer than g-d, he doesn’t need a sugar daddy,” she moves her glasses to her hair, tipping her head to the side, “there’s investing in his future, and then there’s being a little bit too involved. i know you don’t want him going off the rails now that mom and dad broke up, but you can’t actually buy his love, or however this metaphor is supposed to go.” she laughs, and the tension breaks, but kinn can’t fight the way his hands are sweating.

“it’s not, i paid for all of my advisees, all six of them,” not a lie, porsche just got a nicer, bigger, closer room, and the luggage, and the computer, and the flight, and the fact that kinn pays his rent, “and i got his flight because he’s my assistant, he hasn’t slept properly in about five days because he’s been keeping up with all of this, and he’s been doing it for four years, so no favorites, just trying not to take advantage of the free labor,” he says, and it’s a wonder the guilt doesn’t creep up his throat like bile, but it threatens to.

“i know you care, kinn, i’m just warning you before it turns into rumors and whispers, which turn into gossip, which, well,” she stares out over the room, watching as a couple of the staff fumble with the base of the ice sculpture, sending the baby angel’s harp spinning across the floor with a dull thud and a scraping noise against the marble; she flinches, watching them try to pick it up, only to drop it again, sending another piece skidding across the floor, until someone runs up with a towel and a trash bag.

“you don’t want to give the lesser peasants a reason to unionize against the king peasant, is what i’m saying. he’s gonna need those connections, you know.”

kinn watches as someone attempts to fix the sculpture with a blowtorch and a small chisel, to make the angel look more natural without the harp, and less like a random naked baby, with a melting, sinister grin.

“trust me, i’ll take care of it.” he fumbles at the last second, his phrasing going awkward; it felt more natural, he thinks, the way he’d thought it originally, i’ll take care of him.

it doesn’t take long for everybody to clear out after the set up is mainly done; in the break, when people head out for lunch and it’s just kinn and a few others, porsche slips away through the elevator while nobody is paying attention, with a wave at kinn.

about thirty minutes later, he comes back into the room, looking natural, like he’d been somewhere else the entire time and not just the past few minutes. he’s wearing a beautiful olive green suit, and he looks good; he looks stunning, and so much better, now that he’s had some rest, plus he’s glowing, and kinn knows why; he knows he put that glow there, with the way porsche is carrying himself, it’s almost obvious, the way he seems pleased and loose, happy in a way he hasn’t been for days.

kinn tries to look away, but he can’t, and it’s becoming a bit of a problem; it’s like his eyes have a mind of their own, and what they want is to be focused on porsche, who seems custom created to tempt him into doing things that will put his entire career in jeopardy.

he just has to make it through this speech, and the party, and it’ll be fine.

the speech is fine; everybody claps, and nobody falls asleep, but he spends all of it trying to keep a smile from creeping up his face, and it’s hard, especially when his body is flooded with all of the happy chemicals, as porsche would say, and he keeps having to clear his throat during the serious parts of the slideshow so he doesn’t look like a monster.

it isn’t fine. it really isn’t, kinn thinks, having to drag his eyes away from porsche for the fifteenth time in a single minute; it’s like he did this specifically to torture kinn, knowing that it would take everything out of him to keep his hands to himself, when porsche looks like this.

he’s taken off his tie, and loosened up some buttons; and it really is taking every ounce of kinn’s self control, because he cannot kick everybody out, and he can’t whisk him away, to a far away tropical island and spend hours fucking him in a luxury villa with all of the doors and windows open, even though he really, really wants to.

he spots tawan, standing at the bar, and he decides to distract himself the hard way, even talking to his ex-husband has to be easier than this; he pauses to order a whiskey, and accepts it with hands that are far shakier than he’d like them to be.

“that speech was boring as fuck, you know,” tawan says, the second kinn walks up to him; he’s got his badge turned around the wrong way, and he hisses at kinn when he flips it back over; he swears it makes people stop approaching him at random, kinn wonders why he doesn’t get that he’s academic famous, and it doesn’t help that he’s dressed like an exotic bird, with the severe jacket and the curve of his well-plucked eyebrows; of course people are going to stare and have questions.

worse, as much as he denies it, people don’t need a nametag to know who he is, so it definitely won’t stop them from trying their hand at making it onto his mile long roster of successful students. kinn has never met someone who so gleefully plays offense over his own coattails.

he hisses back at tawan when he nabs the drink kinn had been holding, smacking kinn’s hands away and elbowing him when he tries to steal it back.

“you should be nicer to me,” kinn says, flagging down the bartender for another drink as tawan happily sips on his stolen whiskey; he doesn’t even like it. it makes him think of porsche, who does this to him constantly, because clearly kinn has a type, a drink thieving, mean, sharp elbowed type, and he’s regretting a lot of the choices that led him here.

speaking of which, he scans around for porsche, and finds him, leaning against the piano in the corner, chatting with another student, with a glass of champagne. he looks stunning underneath the lighting; kinn’s hands itch to touch him; he just looks so good; happy, and confident, even as he fiddles with the many rings on his fingers; which just makes kinn stare at his hands.

“i know you pay me an obscene amount of alimony every month,” and gave you a lake house with a boat to match, kinn thinks, “but no, i’m not going to be nice to you, especially not when—” he trails off, when he follows kinn’s line of sight, which makes him down his drink in one go, before he turns to kinn.

“how long have you been fucking porsche?” it’s half the fact that he says it basically out of nowhere, and half the fact that he clearly waits until kinn takes a sip of his drink trying to hide his staring; he immediately chokes on it, and rather ungracefully spits half of his whiskey back into his glass, and turns to fully face tawan with raised eyebrows, schooling his face into an unconvincing innocence.

“i’m not fucking porsche,” it’s not a lie, by the slimmest of margins, because he isn’t just fucking porsche, he isn’t; they are dating, and he’s got a ring hidden in his sock drawer, but he’s not going to tell tawan that, just to be made fun of for falling in love fast, again; he would have thought he’d grown out of it in the decades since the first time he fell hard and fast, but clearly he hasn’t.

“i was married to you for eighteen years. that lie would have worked on anybody else, but i’m not falling for it. i know what you look like when you’re all horny for someone, i hate to remind you, but you used to look at me like—” he pauses, eyes going wide before he bursts into laughter, “you’re not just fucking, oh my god, you like-like him, you might even love him.” he says, still laughing into his cocktail, so hard he snorts, inelegantly, and completely unlike himself, but he just keeps laughing, “wow, that’s, huh, it was one thing if you were just fucking him, i mean it makes sense, of course you want to fuck porsche, everybody wants to fuck porsche, hell, even porsche wants to fuck porsche, and the second he figures out that technology, he’ll leave you in the dust. i bet his mirrors are covered in smudges from—” he coughs, at the way kinn is glaring at him, curbing his laughter, “not the point. the point is that you might want to get better at hiding it, or at least figure out an exit plan before you ruin his career,” his face softens, “if you love him, you have to remember that this will always come down on his head before it ever comes down on your’s. you two are cute, but you know it’s wrong.”

his face wrinkles suddenly, and he smacks kinn on the arm, even as kinn flinches away with a loud, ow, stop that, and then he smacks him again, even harder.

“so you have to— oh g-d, it just hit me, he’s our academic kid, you weirdo, i can’t believe we raised him—”

“raised him? he was twenty-four when he started this program, he’s almost thirty—”

“yeah, and he’s still twenty years younger than you, you absolute creep—” he starts laughing again, catching porsche’s attention from across the bar, smiling at him and waving; porsche starts beaming, a bit confused, and waves back; when he spots kinn, he starts walking towards them, tawan steps forward, walking to meet him in the middle of the suite.

“please pretend you don’t know,” he doesn’t know why he asks, because tawan just laughs at him; he’s so mean, kinn thinks, rather whiningly, feeling every bit of his middle child syndrome coming out to play.

“that’s not happening, but you don’t have to worry about me grilling sir child bride, abd, i’m not that mean. plus i’m kind of proud of the kid,” he says, putting his empty cocktail glass on the tray of a waiter that passes in front of them, “you wouldn’t have left me if you didn’t fall in love with him at first sight.” he says, walking towards porsche, leaving kinn choking on air and spit behind him.

“that’s not how that went, and i didn’t leave you, it was mutual—”

he doesn’t even bother defending himself against the rest of it.

when they finally meet porsche in the middle, he gives tawan a tight hug; there’s something whispered between them that kinn strains to hear but gives up on immediately, just feeling paranoid; he doesn’t know why he feels paranoid, there’s not much tawan knows that he can kick up trouble about, but if there’s one thing he knows, it’s that the two of them anywhere near each other is asking for chaos.

“so, i think i owe you two some congratulations,” tawan says, and immediately, kinn goes pale, and porsche just laughs, like he doesn’t know what tawan is talking about, but kinn sees him blink heavily, with a sharp, nervous inhale after.

“no, no, don’t worry, i can keep a secret,” porsche doesn’t relax, and tawan stops laughing, putting a hand on porsche’s elbow.

“what i mean is, you have my blessing, and i’m keeping my mouth shut. but i figured i should say something, because—” he pauses, looking around for a second, “well, you’re terrible at hiding it, and someone is going to put it together eventually. i’ve already given kinn a version of this speech, and you, my sweet baby angel, i will leave alone, mainly. just, if you throw him under the bus, he’s durable, he’s like a cockroach, he’ll survive anything and be fine. you, not so much. and take it from me, the wheels on that bus hurt like a bitch.”

“well, now that i’ve been sufficiently depressing, i’m gonna go drink this conference out of my hair,” porsche just nods, smile going tight, as tawan sweeps away, tipsy enough from whiskey he shouldn’t have been drinking to get immediately distracted by someone else, gathering them up in a hug; it’s chan, who kinn didn’t even realize tawan knew; and suddenly the hug gets intimate enough that he looks away, looking back at porsche, who is staring into his empty glass of champagne.

“he’s right, you know,” kinn says, “i know we’ve talked about it, but he’s right. if it comes down to it, you kind of have to burn me to save yourself.” he has options, and porsche has one path that doesn’t lead him back to his parents, and running a company he doesn’t care about, and it’s this.

porsche looks at him, eyes sad, and kinn thinks of a velvet ring box, and he wants to reach out and kiss that sadness away, but he can’t.

“i can’t do that. you know i can’t do that.”

kinn looks at him, and then away, back over the crowd. his hand finds porsche’s, under the table, hidden against the dark, heavy tablecloth; he runs his thumb over the back of porsche’s hand, over the network of veins, and the dips and curves of his knuckles.

“i know. i know, baby.”

after the party, there’s a few minutes of saying goodbyes, and ‘promising to see each other next year’s, and all of the normal signing of the yearbook moments, for the people who are leaving early in the morning; they’ll clean in the morning, after kinn has left, so they can clean everything at once.

suddenly, it’s just him; porsche having long gone back to his own room, because he had to, as much as neither one of them wanted him to leave; tawan gives him a hug and a warning look, before leaving hand in hand with chan, who kinn discovers is the new beau, after some poking and prodding and another stolen glass of whiskey.

the second it’s all quiet, he just stands in the middle of the room, feeling he weigh of it all, before he goes into the master bedroom.

he showers and dresses for the journey ahead, in comfortable sweats, and a light shirt; he leaves his sweater on the back of his packed suitcase, and double checks everything, before trying to get some rest.

the rest of the night passes in a blur; it seems like he lies down for minutes before his alarm goes off, and he takes the glass elevator down to the lobby; he’s meeting porsche at the airport, because they can’t risk being seen with each other before that, and he can’t guarantee that people from other schools won’t also be taking flights at the same time and leaving, that they won’t be spotted. the car is waiting for him outside, in minutes, and he climbs in, limbs sore, heart heavy.

the city passes by him, in spots of barely there light, since he isn’t wearing his glasses, his hands ache for porsche; he doesn’t know what else to call it but separation anxiety; but it’s hard, when they spend so much time together, when this past few days, the only thing he’s been thinking about is being able to be back home, back with porsche; it’ll be easier when they live together, instead of switching back and forth between porsche’s condo and his house, but it’s not the same as knowing, that there’s a home to go back to that is just theirs.

when he makes it through security, he pulls his glasses from his bag and puts them on; the world comes back all at once, making his eyes water, but at least he spots porsche easily.

he’s leaning against a wall, struggling to stay awake; he’s got his backpack half on his shoulder, and his neck pillow is dangling from the side of it; when kinn walks up to him, the first thing he does is take the backpack; the second thing he does is wrap porsche up in a hug; he shouldn’t, but he doesn’t care, because he needs it; because it feels good to take a deep inhale of his shampoo; clearly stolen from kinn, because it’s vanilla and mint and lavender, instead of his usual strawberry; when porsche sinks into his embrace, he feels a weight lift off of his shoulders.

“i missed you,” he says, muffled by porsche’s hair, “i haven’t slept properly in four days.” and it’s true, the way his life and his body have rearranged to make space for porsche; it doesn’t make sense how quickly this has happened. that single afternoon they had did a lot, but it feels good to know it’s only up from here. 

“me neither,” porsche’s voice is quiet, and rough with a lack of sleep; kinn steps back, looking him over; he looks exhausted, and it makes kinn’s heart hurt; at least they have a break; it’s just thanksgiving, and then two more weeks of classes, and then winter break; they’ll have time where neither of them has to go anywhere; time where they can figure things out, where he can make sure they both land okay; preferably, more than okay.

porsche clings to him the entire way onto the plane; he falls asleep the second they get settled in their seats, and he doesn’t even snore, he just conks out on kinn’s shoulder, curled over his arm like he thinks kinn might up and disappear if he isn’t clinging to him; the flight attendant shoots them a soft smile when he walks by with the drink cart.

hours later, the lighting through the cabin is dark and blue; out of the half open window, the lights of the city are bright and sparkling; the plane descends, and it’s a familiar swooping in his stomach until the wheels come down with a jolt.

the second they land, he shakes porsche awake, even as he whines at the brightness of the lights; he holds out a hand to help him up; he shouldn’t, he knows that, but he doesn’t let go, all the way through the terminal, and down the escalator, underneath the lights and decorations; porsche is barely awake, leaning against him and closing his eyes, blinking sleepily as kinn steers them towards the train to the baggage check terminal.

a trek across half of the airport later, they’ve gathered their bags; big meets them outside of the airport with a sharp smile; in less than thirty minutes, they pull up to kinn’s house; big pulls away with a wave, pulling his sunglasses down from his hair even though it’s three in the morning and pitch black outside, save for the yellow of the street lights lining the quiet suburb.

kinn breathes the easiest he has all week, the second he has porsche showered and snoring in bed, he showers himself; when he comes out of the bathroom, he puts his glasses away, sliding into the bed under the covers next to porsche; kinn curls up behind him pulling him close, breathing in the soft scent of his shampoo; it feels good to be home.