Chapter Text
He half-drags, half-carries Roach to the car, opening the passenger door and unceremoniously dropping him into the seat. He leans over him to buckle his seatbelt, his hands skimming the waistband of his pants and causing his whole body to flush with heat.
When he pulls back, Roach is looking at him intensely. Neither of them speak for a moment, holding each other's gaze. König rmoves to circle the car and get in the driver’s seat.
“I don’t want to end the night here,” Roach’s voice sounds from next to him, pitifully slurred. He looks like he’s melting into the seat, back slumped and less spread obscenely wide, his head tilted back and making his throat even more prominent as he takes slow breaths.
König, for a sick moment, wants to lean over the center console and press his lips to his Adam’s apple. He blinks and looks away.
“We can go to a common room.”
“I wanna hang out with you,” Roach pouts, dropping his head and turning to face König. “Other people will be in the commons.”
At that, König feels his face start to burn.
“Your face gets so red,” Roach whispers huskily, König’s heart feeling like it’s about to beat out of his chest.
He starts the car and begins the drive back to base without responding to Roach’s words. Drunk. He’s drunk. He repeats that to himself continuously but can’t help but glance at the other man after a few minutes of silence.
His eyes are half-closed as he watches König, head drifting side to side. He can’t be comfortable, still slumped in the seat with his legs spread. When he notices König’s glance, he grins goofily.
“Hi.”
König smiles weakly. “Hello.”
Roach’s mouth closes on his smile, making it close-lipped and soft, his brown eyes squinting. He doesn’t say anything.
“Do you feel sick?”
“No, I’m okay.”
“That’s good.”
Roach hums, his eyes fluttering for a moment. “Tonight was fun.”
“Yeah, I had a good time.”
They’re almost at the base; he can see the outline of it in the distance.
“Do you…” Roach trails off.
“Do I, what?”
Roach doesn’t respond, but König is pulling into the garage, and as soon as the car is parked, he turns to fully face him.
“Roach, what is it?”
Roach’s tongue flickers out to wet his lips. “I like when your ears get red like that.”
This time, König can’t stop himself from raising his hands and touching his ears, finding them hot to the touch. He had been so focused on his face he didn’t even realize how warm they were.
“They’ve been red the whole night,” Roach continues, snag-toothed grin and half-lidded eyes making König’s breath stutter. Once again, he wishes he was on the battlefield. Mind clear with one single objective in mind. No need to question his actions before making them, as long as his goal is met.
This is far more complicated, as Roach slowly moves over the center console, using his right hand to hold himself up over it and pressing the other against the dashboard. He’s in König’s personal space and the distance between the two of them is shrinking fast.
König can’t help it; he leans backward, away from Roach. He panics, undoing his seatbelt quickly and jumping out of the car, leaving Roach in it as he slams the door shut and presses a hand over his mouth. His heart is beating a mile a minute and he feels lightheaded.
He wishes this was a war. Then he’d know what to do when Roach gets out of the car, stumbling over his feet as he rounds it to face König, keeping a healthy distance between them.
“Shit, shit,” he’s hissing, scuffing his feet against the pavement. “Fucking hell, I’m sorry. I completely misread, I—”
“No,” König breathes, his mouth still behind his hand. “No, it’s—okay. I’m, uh. Sorry. I…” No more words come, his brain fuzzy and blank. He’s not even sure what had just happened. Was Roach coming onto him? That can’t be possible. Roach is…
Right?
Roach’s face twists in a pained expression. “Can we forget that? Let’s go to a common room, play a game of pool. Yeah?”
König doesn’t respond. Forget? How could he forget about that?
“Please,” Roach whispers. “Take your damn hand down, at least. Makes me feel like I—I dunno. Just.” He reaches up as if to take König’s hand but flinches and draws back.
He drops it on his own and then takes a faltering step toward Roach.
“Are you…?” König trails off, letting the context complete his question.
Roach’s jaw clenches before he responds. “Yes.”
“I didn’t think…”
“People don’t, usually,” he says bitterly, looking down at the ground and shifting on his feet. “Sorry.”
“Don’t—apologize, I—” He takes a deep breath, in and out. “I am, too.”
Roach lets out a sharp laugh. “That doesn’t make me feel any better about this.”
“No, you don’t get it.” König takes his first full step toward the man. “I am, too.”
“I do get it, König, and it was perfectly clear in the car how you feel. It’s fine, let’s just move past it.”
He takes another step, and Roach takes one backward, pressing himself against the side of the car. König’s hands are shaking when he puts one under Roach’s chin, tipping his head upwards a little bit to face him.
“Roach,” he breathes, leaning down, feeling the man’s hot breaths against his lips. “Is this what you want?”
In lieu of an answer, Roach grabs the back of König’s head and presses him forward, closing the gap between them and pressing their lips together. König’s mind is blessedly blank, and it’s not long after until a tongue is pressing against the seam of his lips.
He lets it in, pressing his own against it and tasting the sharp bite of alcohol.
Drunk.
He grabs Roach by the shoulders and pushes him away, breaking the kiss suddenly with a gasp.
“You’re drunk.”
Roach scowls. “Not this bull—”
“You are drunk, I will not—”
“Will you listen to yourself? Mate, I’ve been coming onto you all fucking day!” He shrugs König’s hands off of him, swaggering forward and pressing his chest against König’s—or at least, he would, if his height allowed. Instead, he’s pressed a little lower than that, head craned up to look him in the eye. “I was brutally sober then, and now I’ve finally got you, and I can’t have you because I’m drunk?”
König knows he’s blushing, but he powers through it. “I will not take advantage of you.”
“You’re not! Christ, I’d want this sober!”
Roach’s face is bright red, brows furrowed and body practically vibrating. König knows he’s not faring much better. If he could, he’d go back in time and dump every one of Roach’s drinks before he could even get his hands on them.
And sure, a small part of him does doubt Roach’s feelings. But a larger part simply refuses to make advances while the man in front of him can barely stand on his own two feet. His mind hasn’t even fully caught up with the idea of Roach reciprocating his feelings in the first place.
“Then we can talk when you are sober,” König tells him, pressing a hand to his arm softly.
“God, fucking—” Roach looks down and rubs a hand over his face. “Fine. Fine.”
König nods, feeling a little lightheaded. He’s not sure what to do now, the mood between them much dimmer than it was the last time they were in the garage.
“Can you at least help me to my barracks?”
König sighs and nods. He owes Roach that much, at least. He also doubts the man would be able to make it on his own, with how he’s swaying on his feet, so he offers an arm for him to steady himself on and starts the way toward Roach’s barracks.