Work Text:
For thirty days, Cassian survived. He tried to follow the patterns without counting them, like Melshi said. There wasn’t enough information to form a plan. Surviving was a plan.
He was on his run, the sole moment of disruption he got. A chance to drop the mask, to think, to give his body some form of relief.
The first time it happened, Birnok passed him in the hall. Cassian gave him a glance, and Birnok held it. Then Birnok’s hand brushed his. It rushed like a chill through Cassian’s insides, and the prickly static that always lingered in the floor went cool for an instant.
That was all, the first day. But the next passing Cassian curled his fingers like he was slipping a card out of his sleeve, and Birnok slowed. Didn’t look at Cassian as their fingers tangled together.
Then it was a brush of lips across his cheek, breathing life back into stale flesh. Kino gave Cassian a glare afterwards, but he knew a minute of overlap in runs brought the workers back invigorated.
The fourth time, Cassian kissed Birnok. They never had more than a few seconds, but Cassian’s pulse pounded for hours afterwards. There were all kinds of escape.
The fifth time, Birnok’s mouth found Cassian’s earlobe. ‘The pipes are under the panel on the left.’
The sixth time, when Cassian’s hand found Birnok’s, he slipped him the knife.
Then it started.