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As Kinn lifts the glass to his lips a second time, the tension thick in the air, Porsche’s phone rings. The man stills, sharp eyes meeting Porsche’s, and Porsche freezes.
Damn it, when had Chay had the time to change his phone signal? Wik’s “Lost Star” plays loudly, clearly audible to anyone near the bar counter, even though the music is loud.
Usually, Porsche left his phone on vibrate, safe in his pocket so he could feel if anyone was trying to reach him - well, mainly Chay. But he always did that after he got settled behind the bar, and this time he hadn’t had the chance, attention only on what he realized quickly was someone he probably shouldn't have taken a watch from.
Kinn’s eyes widen minutely, before narrowing.
”Don’t let me hinder you. Go ahead, answer,” He says, doing nothing to hide the order beneath the casual tone. Porsche swallows and takes out his phone from his pocket. He doesn’t recognize the caller, but he answers nonetheless, eyes still caught in Kinn’s cold and unreadable gaze.
“Yeah?” Porsche says, fingers loose around the phone, ready to move if necessary.
“Hello. I am calling from Niyāy Police Station. Is this Porsche Pachara Kittisawat?” A tired voice asks, and Porsche's attention quickly changes from the man before him to the phone call.
“Yes, this is him.” His eyebrows furrow, confused as to what the police want from him. He distantly wonders if this has anything to do with the man before him. Maybe his uncle’s in trouble? It wouldn’t be the first time Porsche has had to pick him up from a police station.
Kinn is still watching him, and Porsche oddly feels like a lonesome dear in an open field.
“Are you the brother of Porchay Pichaya Kittisawat?” The woman on the phone asks, and instantly, Porsche tears his gaze away from Kinn, dread running through his veins. Legally, their uncle is Chay’s guardian, but Porsche is pretty sure he couldn’t be reached at the moment. Any day ending in ‘y’ was his uncle’s favorite gambling day.
“Yeah. Why are you calling? Has something happened?” Porsche's gaze quickly flickered up to Kinn, but one look at his slightly confused expression, purposefully showing behind false patience, and he concludes that it probably doesn’t have anything to do with Kinn. That leads to the question, what then? He feels his breath start to come a little quickly. What if Chay had been hurt or killed-
Kinn’s head tilt fractionally, and Porsche finds it more attractive than he probably should.
“We need you to come down to the station. Your brother has been in an altercation.”
“What- Is he okay?” Porsche asks because that’s all that matters at the moment.
“He is mostly unharmed. Are you able to come down now?” In the background of the call, someone shouts.
“‘Mostly unharmed’? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Porsche doesn’t care that his voice got louder and that irritation laces his tone, because what the hell? And an altercation? Has someone hurt Chay? He quickly looks up and sees Kinn quietly studying his face, one eyebrow raised.
“As I said, we need you to come down to the station. Are you able to?” Frustration pulls at his brow, and he shakes his head. That wasn’t an answer.
“Yes, I am able to,” Porsche says, watching Kinn take a slow sip of his drink. Porsche’s fingers tighten their hold on his cracked phone. “But what do you mean by ‘mostly unharmed’-”
“Good. We’ll see you soon, then.” She interrupts him with and then promptly hangs up
Porsche blinks before swearing. He quickly checks his phone for any messages from Chay, but the only new message he has is from Tem. Porsche puts the phone back in his pocket and runs his hand through his hair, looking around. He has to tell Yok that he has to leave, so she can manage the bar. The Niyāy station is quite far away, maybe 30 minutes by car. He curses himself for selling his bike.
His damn uncle.
With the bus it would take an hour at least. He knows the timetables by heart - what with the bus being his sole way of transportation - and to get to Niyāy Police Station he had to change buses. Porsche had once briefly been in that station, bailing his uncle out after he had gotten into a fight with someone at a casino (which was the reason his oh so precious bike had to be sold). It was on the outskirts of the city. The bus that went there went every…30 minutes maybe? 45?
He could take a cab. But it was in the middle of the day on a workday, and Porsche isn’t sure he could find one. He could head for the bus stop first, and if he found a cab on his way there, he could-
“Important call, I take it?” Kinn asks, and Porsche tears his eyes up from the floor. He had forgotten the other man. Fucking shit. Today really wasn’t his day.
“I need to go,” Porsche says, starting to look around for Yok and deciding he could just message her on the bus.
“I’m not sure you know how this is-”
“Look, I don’t care.” Porsche interrupts, sighing frustratedly. “My brother is at the police station and I need to go and get him and I don’t have time for this right now, okay? Can we just do this,” He gestured around at the two of them, “later?”
Kinn blinks for a second, eyes narrowing and the corner of his lip twitching.
“I see. What trouble has Porchay gotten himself into?” Porsche stills from where he’s gathering his things, trying to make sure everything’s okay and that he’s got money with him for the bus, and frowns. He gets the tingling sense that the other’s humoring him, for the moment.
“How do you-” Porsche begins, before interrupting himself. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.” He wipes off his hands on his pants, eyeing the guards watching his every move. Porsche’s pretty sure he couldn’t take them all down, considering the guns. But desperate times call for desperate needs. He just hoped it won’t get there because he currently has no fucks to give about this whole situation. Chay’s all that mattered, at the moment, and he has to get to him as soon as possible. 'Mostly unharmed’? God, what if someone hurt his little brother? Porsche would end them-
Kinn sets the glass down on the bar counter.
“And he hasn’t gotten himself into any trouble. Someone either got him in trouble or hurt him and I need to crush some legs if that’s the case.” Porsche adds, words spilling over his lips, finding it necessary to defend his brother and state the revenge plans already brewing in his head.
The look Kinn gives him feels almost amused.
“Very well then. Shall I give you a ride?” Kinn offers and Porsche is slightly shocked that he didn’t have to kick some heads in to be able to leave the bar. One of the guards frowns.
Porsche’s first instinct at the offer is to refuse because getting into the car of someone obviously part of the mob whose watch Porsche had taken?
Porsche presses his lips together. On one hand, possible danger. On the other, he could get to Chay a lot faster.
“That depends. What’s your opinion on speeding limits?” The surprised huff of laughter he gets in response is answer enough. That, and Kinn saying: “I see them more as recommendations.”
—
Porsche wrings his hands together, staring at his phone. Still no message from Chay, and no one else has called him. His leg bounces agitatedly and doesn’t stop before a large, heavy hand comes to rest on his knee.
He looks up from his phone and finds Kinn watching him, eyes dark and unreadable. The hand travels further up his leg, stopping at the middle of his thigh. Porsche shoots the hand and Kinn a questioning glance, one eyebrow raised. The hand looks strong. Short, well-manicured nails and thick, but not overly so, fingers. The palm feels rough against Porsche's leg, calloused and cold. He meets Kinn’s eyes and holds back a shiver.
He pulls his leg back, and Kinn relents, a ghost of a smile pulling at his lips. Porsche thinks he looks way too amused than what the situation requires.
“Are we there yet?” Porsche asks, looking out the window, nodding to himself as they pass car upon car. He vaguely recognizes where they are, but it all looks so different from the car than when he’s walking the streets. The buses take another route.
“As I said,” Kinn pulls the sleeve of his suit back and looks at his watch. “2 minutes ago, soon.”
“Well, how soon is soon? Because ‘soon’ is subjective,” Porsche argues, because he’s stressed and his brother may be hurt and Porsche sitting in a car, that probably costs more than what Porsche makes in half a decade, beside (what Porsche can admit is) a really hot guy, getting slightly felt up.
One raised eyebrow is all he gets in response, and he sighs. Porsche starts biting on his nails. It’s a bad habit, Chay always tells him, but he’s nervous and it helps calm his nerves. What could have happened to Chay? Porsche knows his brother never would do anything wrong, at all. Chay could kill someone and Porsche would know that it was in self-defense, or that he had a good reason. Chay doesn’t do bad things. He’s not like Porsche or their uncle. He’s good.
Porsche sits up straight, Kinn’s gaze resting heavily on him. He’s a bit confused. He had thought that the car ride would be a perfect opportunity for Kinn to do whatever he had planned to do, or say, to Porsche when he walked into the bar, but the other man just watch him in silence, a slight frown on his brow and eyes searching. Porsche is so confused by the whole situation but doesn’t pay it any thought because Chay.
The neighborhood the Niyāy Police Station is in isn’t a particularly good one. Buildings are run down and there are plenty of illegal gambling places. They pass a loansharks sign. The car doesn’t belong, and it’s evident by the looks it's getting as it drives past a residential area.
They have barely stopped before Porsche opens the door and gets out, hurriedly running up the stairs, nearly bumping into an older man on his way down. He mumbles an apology and pushes open the door. The inside is the same as it had been last time. An unmanned reception, and a double door with dirty glass windows leading into the main area. He doesn’t see Chay through it. There are however a few more cracks in the wall and more stains on the floor since last time. Porsche presses the bell on the counter, but it doesn’t work. Irritetedly, he takes it and hits the desk with it. Moments later, the door opens and a woman with graying hair walks in, scowling at him.
“I’m here for Porchay Pichaya Kittisawat,” Porsche says, and the woman nods once and starts clicking on the computer, leaning with one arm on the counter.
“You’re his older brother?” She asks, blinking slowly at him. Porsche recognizes her voice as the one that called him. Behind him, Porsche hears the glass doors open and close.
“Yeah, and I’m his emergency contact.” She hums uninterested, and clicks a bit more on the computer.
“We called his legal guardian but he was unable to arrive. Why?”
Frowning, he runs his hand through his hair, probably making it more messy than it already was.
“I should I know?” Porsche says, feeling oddly judged. It’s not his fault his uncle’s useless most of the time. “What happened? You said he was in an altercation? What does that mean-”
“Follow me,” She interrupts, casting a dry look behind Porsche, and walks out from behind the desk and starts towards the doors, steps dragging. Porsche hurries after, going through the swinging doors.
The stench of alcohol and sweat is the first thing he notices. Swamped desks line the room and there’s a holding cell in the corner. Sitting on one of the chairs opposite one of the desks, is Chay.
“Chay!” Porsche calls, and his brother turns around. His step falters minutely before he nearly runs up to him.
“Hia,” Chay says, voice small but relieved. Porsche immediately kneels down before him, grasping his face in his hands, looking him over. His lip is split, covered in dry blood, and nearly half of his face is bruised and swollen, one eye squinting. Tear tracks line his cheeks and something in Porsche just breaks. His brother was never supposed to be hurt. Especially not like this.
“What happened?” His brother avoids his eyes.
“I just wanted to he-”
“Are you the older brother?” A brisk voice demands, interrupting Chay, and Porsche looks up at the man perched comfortably on the chair behind the desk Chay is sitting opposite of. Porsche nods.
“Well your little brother here is getting charged with assault, so I would suggest you start getting some bail money and a lawyer.” In the corner of his eyes, he sees Kinn and two of his guards enter, leaning against the side of the wall. He ignores them. The officer doesn’t seem to notice.
"Assault? What the hell? He’s clearly the one who’s been assaulted,” Porsche asks, eyes wide and scowling.
“This little runt here,” Indignant anger swells in Porsche, but the police officer lifts his finger and Porsche looks where he’s pointing. “Attacked those guys.”
Two desks away sit two men, in casual conversation with one of the police officers. One has a bandaged wrist, and the other’s nose looks broken, where it’s hidden under first aid dressing. They both look scuffled, but not as hurt as Chay. The one with the bandaged wrist laughs at something the officer says.
”His injuries were solely caused in self-defense,” The officer finishes.
Porsche stares unblinkingly, and Chay still won’t meet his gaze.
“What?” His brother’s shoulders are hunched and Porsche realizes Chay's hands are in handcuffs, behind his back. Something unpleasant and cold makes itself known in his bloodstream
“Do you have any proof?” Porsche asks, the air shifting to something more sharp and clear.
“The victims both attest to what happened and surrounding people witnessed the fight and saw him instigate it. Your brother was the instigator,” The officer says, leaning back in his chair.
“The people who attacked Porchay say he attacked them? Are you serious?”
“We have other witnesses-”
“What the hell even happened?” Porsche demands, standing up but keeping a hand on Chay’s shoulder. He can feel his brothers leaning against his palm.
”According to the victims, your brother walked, unprompted, to them, and punched one in the face. When his friend tried to get him to back off, he kicked his legs in and then stepped on his wrist.”
Chay frowns, biting his lip in the way he always does when he has something to say but won’t speak. ”And then they defended themselves.”
Porsche looks at the two men, one of which meets his gaze and smirks at him. It takes a lot more energy than Porsche is proud of to restrain himself from getting up in a police station and punching the asshole.
Ignoring the officer, he kneels once again, leaning close to Chay. His brother looks at him, eyes pleading.
”What really happened?” Porsche asks calmly because he knows his brother and he knows bullshit lies when he hears them.
”I told you-” The officer begins, but Porsche interrupts him.
”I wasn’t talking to you.” The words are cutting, laced with an air of annoyance. The officer’s lips thin, but he relents, watching the two of them with an irked look.
“Chay,” Porsche says, voice as soft as he can manage, pleading eyes locked on Chay.
Finally, his little brother looks up at him, and Porsche just wants to take him back home and tuck him into bed. He mumbles something, but Porsche doesn’t hear it.
“Just a little louder, sweetheart.”
“There was this girl they were talking to and touching, and she said she didn’t want to go with them, Hia,” His voice barely above a whisper, but his wet eyes flicker with something fierce. The officer scoffs, but Porsche ignores it. The picture of the events immediately paints itself in stark colors and clear lines and he wants to tear it to pieces.
”You did good, okay? I don’t care what the fuck the police think happened, I trust you.” At his words, Chay nods. His brother opens his mouth, about to say something, when the officer starts talking.
“Then when she left, they started to… to try and touch me so I-I…” Porsche’s blood runs cold. He takes a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out. THen the officer starts talking.
“What a lying little shit. Think you gonna get out of this with some pretty words, huh?” The words are directed at Chay, but Porsche stands, changing subjects because now, at the police station, is not a good time to discuss what had happened. Especially not in front of this fucking asshole.
“Why the fuck has his injuries not been treated? Those two,” Porsche gestures at the men watching them, because if he doesn’t ignore what the officer said, Porshe is going to be the one in the cell at the end of the night. “have been treated, but not Porchay, who’s obviously more hurt. He has rights.”
“Look here, first thing we did was interrogate-”
“Interrogate? He’s a minor!” He turns to Chay. “Did you request an attorney, Chay? Did you ask for me or Uncle?”
His brother nods. “Yes, just like you’ve told me to.”
Porsche wonders about the timeframe for the event. The blood on Chay’s lips is dry and flaking, and the swelling around his eye has gone down slightly, the bruises already starting to darken in color. It must have been hours ago and Chay had asked for him and he had not been called directly-
Porsche realizes, suddenly, that the bruising on his brother’s cheek is much newer, the swelling more significant. If he stares long enough, whispers of two fingerprints rest on his cheekbone. Porsche blinks. The officer continues talking but he doesn't tone in until the police officer raises two ominous big and heavy hands.
“Hey, hey, we acted within the laws. At the first possible moment. It’s not our fault your brother starts fights,” The officer sighs, slumping back in his chair, eyes scornful.
“Well, I guess this is what happens when you don’t have parents. Shouldn’t you at least have raised your brother? Done right by your-”
“Is there a problem?” A smooth voice interjects, and Porsche realizes, belatedly, that Kinn had followed him into the station and had now walked up to them.
He wonders how much he had heard. The red from his vision changes momentarily to take physical shape in the calm form of the red of Kinn’s suit.
The officer seems to notice Kinn for the first time too. Kinn’s hand flexes and the officer’s already widened eyes follow the movement. A few seconds pass, time suspended in the tense air, and as the officer starts talking, Porsche comes to the conclusion that Kinn is probably a lot bigger of a deal than what Porsche first had thought. The rest of the small precinct seems nearly hushed.
“Mr. Theerapanyakul! No, not at all. Are these two gentlemen your friends?” The officer, whose name Porsche is probably sure he never was told, straightens in his chair, hands folded in his lap.
Ignoring the question, Kinn’s piercing, stern gaze locks onto the officer, his stance nonchalant but with a dangerous set of his shoulders. Porsche is thankful he’s not on the receiving end of the look.
“There seems to me that there was a problem,” Kinn continues, not relenting. His guards shift behind him.
“We were just talking-”
“Is Captain Kaenjai in today? I would like to have a little chat with him.”
The officer swallows and nods.
“And what’s your name?” Kinn asks, voice condescending, hands on his hips. Chay’s eyes are jumping between Porsche, Kinn and the officer, but he doesn’t question anything. His gaze meets Porsche’s and Porsche nods, minutely, at him.
Porsche is curious to let this play out, and it seems like it is going to work out in their favor. The only thing, he thinks, is if Kinn is going to try and hold this over him. He quickly comes to the conclusion that it doesn’t matter.
“Kanda Phankamphu,” The officer answers, voice low. Porsche casts a quick look at the two assholes, and they are both now looking at the floor.
Kinn’s chin lifts, and he makes eye contact with his guards, the tiny nods he gets in return the only proof of a conversation ever having taken place.
“And why is he still in handcuffs?” Kinn says, voice taking on an annoyed note, hiding behind the dangerous air. Officer Phankamphu immediately scrambles for a key and gets up. “Ken, make sure his injuries get treated,” Kinn addresses one of the guards, who nods.
“Yes, Khun Kinn.”
Porsche backs a step away to let the officer take the handcuffs of Chay, and when he’s done, Kinn turns around and walked further into the back, the guard he talked to staying behind.
When Chay’s hands are free, Porsche immediately takes them into his own hands, looking them over. His right wrist is swollen and heavily bruised, at an angle Porsche knows it isn’t supposed to be at.
“What the hell-”
“It’s okay, Hia. It doesn’t hurt so much,” Chay says, but Porsche knows that the words are lies, hiding the truth his brother would rather Porsche not know. Trying to protect Porsche from his own hurt, when it’s supposed to be the opposite way.
Porsche doesn’t argue, however, as he would have done if they were anywhere else. He can do that later. He distantly thinks about how Chay’s not going to be able to play the guitar in the nearest future, going from the looks of it.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees something black coming up behind him, and then the guard, Ken, walks up to them with a first aid kit. Where he got it from, Porsche has no idea, but he takes it within a second, nearly tearing it out of Ken’s hands, and nods at him in both thanks and apology. Ken just watches, taking a few steps back.
Chay is silent as Porsche tends to his wounds, bandaging his wrist and disinfecting the wounds, covering the open gashes. He can see the question in his brother’s eyes, lingering behind hurt and hisses of pain. Porsche hates that his brother is still in pain and that he's causing it, even when it’s necessary so the wounds heal right.
A door further back opens, and nervous laughter can be heard, and the Kinn is back, as if he was never gone, standing close to Porsche,
“Kanda!” An angry voice calls, and Officer Phankamphu winces, getting up, avoiding eye contact and slowly walking towards where he had been called. The door slams shut after him. Vindication rushes through Porsche, stilling some of the simmering anger that had started to boil at the comments about their parents.
“May I?” Kinn asks, gesturing to Chay’s left wrist, and Chay nods and extends his arm.
Kinn lowers himself onto his haunches and gently grasps the wrist in his hands, carefully inspecting it under the bandage, brows furrowing slightly. He touches it slightly and Chay hisses, and the frown deepens. On his right hand, the knuckles are torn up and the frown lightens, slightly.
He then reaches one of his hands and takes hold of Chay’s chin, tilting his head, inspecting the bruising in the dim, sterile light of the precinct, before he pats an unharmed spot on his face and stands up.
Porsche knows he should be terrified and worried that such a dangerous man is so close to his darling brother, but he isn’t. Strangely, some part of him trusts Kinn, at least in this situation. He doesn’t know why. He’s not even sure he really should, with threats woven into silken words and blood dripping from his knuckles, hair disheveled, in that alley, asking Porsche for help-
Kinn turns to look at Porsche, and something on Porsche’s face must have shown his thoughts because Kinn’s soft eyes take on a glint Porsche wants to dive into and explore.
“We had a conversation about this misunderstanding, and Porchay is free to leave,” Kinn says, looking at Chay whose eyes widen.
“They’re not pressing charges anymore?” Chay asks, speaking for the first time in Kinn’s presence. Kinn nods, smiling at him.
“Yes, and they apologize for the trouble.” Chay blinks a couple of times, before slowly standing up, sighing exasperatedly but fondly when Porsche immediately starts fussing over him, holding onto his arm.
“I’m fine, Hia.” Porsche narrows his eyes in suspicion. “I just want to go home now,” His brother continues and Porsche relents, releasing him. He can fuss over him when they’re safely back at home.
“Sure, let’s go then.”
They leave the station in silence, Kinn and his guards a steady presence at their backs. The woman from before, sitting at the stained desk, looks at them, before turning her gaze away down at her computer.
They come to a stop at the curb outside the station, and just as Porsche is about to search for the nearest bus stop, Kinn’s hand land on his shoulder.
“You should get his wrist looked at so that nothing is broken.”
Porsche nods. “Yeah, I know.”
He should take him to the clinic near their home, or if it’s close, to Tem’s mom, who’s a nurse.
“We have an infirmary with great doctors who would be happy to take a look,” Kinn adds before Porsche can start planning further. One of the guards shifts, a second of confusion on his face.
Porsche’s first instinct is to refuse, because he doesn’t know Kinn, only that he’s dangerous and trouble and Chay is Porsche’s everything.
But. He didn’t have to help them, and Porsche knows it’s stupid, but he feels pulled towards him. Had since when they met in the alleyway, and he knew, even before the request for money left his lips, that he was going to make sure that the strange, beautiful man made it away safely.
So against everything, Porsche nods. Because the clinic near them is rundown and barely staffed, and everything about Kinn screams money, and that must mean that he’s got good doctors. And Chay’s wrist hadn’t been looking too good.
And Porsche wants to spend a few more minutes in Kinn’s presence, maybe try to figure at least some part of him out. He was all danger and tension in the bar but drove (well, his driver, but still) Porsche to the station and helped Chay, that same danger returned but this time not directed at Porsche. He is contradictory, and Porsche wants more of it.
Chay looks between them, brows furrowed and his bottom lip pouting, looking like he always does when he’s trying to figure something out, before smiling.
“Thank you for helping me. I’m Chay,” His brother says, politely introducing himself, smiling as he wai, putting his hands together as best as he can with his injured wrist.
“It’s no problem at all,” Kinn smiles softly. ”I’m Kinn. A friend of your brother’s.”
Chay looks between the two of them, bites his lips, and nods. Even bruised and with tear tracks still visible on his cheeks, his brother smiles and Porsche loved him oh so much.
“I’ve never heard of you before,” Chay says, a playful lilt in his voice, eyes wide and innocent, and Porsche wants to smack the little shit because he knows what he’s doing.
“We met recently, but if I’m honest, I don’t think your brother likes me as much as I like him,” Kinn says, looking at Porsche with amused eyes.
Chay smiles and nods, almost as if he knew something Porsche doesn’t. “Hia is stupid sometimes. I’m sorry if he’s mean to you, that’s just the way he is.” Porsche's eyes narrow, looking between the two of them.
“I’ve noticed,” Kinn says, lips pulled up in a smile that’s a mix of amusement and mockery, which is way hotter than it has any right to be.
Porsche however, isn’t comfortable with how the conversation turned to hate on him.
Chay beams up at him, only wincing minutely as his injuries stretch, smile far too innocent.
“Are you one of his bar friends ?”
Porsche isn’t sure them meeting was good. Well, for him at least.
Kinn smirks. “You can say that.”
Not good at all.
—
“I didn’t kick that man’s legs like the officer said I did,” Chay says after taking a deep breath, catching up on the breathing he missed when he rambled about why it actually is okay to eat cookies for breakfast when you have school, counter to what Porsche thinks. Porsche knows his brother’s comfortable around Kinn already because otherwise, he would've been much more quiet and careful.
“Chay, I-” Porsche begins, but Chay interrupts him.
“I actually kicked him in the balls, like you said I should.” Chay looks out the window, chin resting on the palm of his unharmed hand. “It hurts much more than the legs.”
Porsche feels strangely proud and ruffles his brother’s hair. Beside him, Kinn looks vaguely impressed.
—
Chay’s wrist was fractured, and as he gets bandaged and his other injuries properly cleaned and treated, Porsche and Kinn stand outside in the empty corridor.
“So, what’s going to happen to the assholes who did that?”
“I got it covered,” Kinn says, eyes dark and smile a hint too sharp. “Legally,” He adds, as an afterthought.
Porsche's arms are crossed over his chest, and it feels as if the other shoe is about to drop, because any time now the atmosphere from the tension at the bar must return, because the car rides back had been filled with Chay’s chatter, probably running on his last adrenaline. When they get home, Porsche knows he’s going to go out like a light.
It had been comfortable, and Kinn had smiled and laughed at the right time, making comments every now and then, making Chay laugh a time or two. So he looks him over, trying to find when the dangerous holding of his shoulders returns.
Kinn raises an eyebrow questioningly.
“Is something bothering you?” Kinn asks, but Porsche sees through him. He knows exactly what Porsche is thinking.
”So what? You just helped me out of the goodness of your heart?”
“Technically, I helped your brother.” Porsche narrows his eyes at the quip, and Kinn raises his hands, amused.
A moment or two passes and Kinn shifts, slightly.
“Well, partly. I have a younger brother, too. And an older one, but I look after them the same.” Porsche blinks at the confession. “So I know what’s it like. The worry.”
Kinn could very well be lying, could be trying to get Porsche to sympathize with him, but he believes him. Sees it in the lost look hidden deep, in the stance that’s suddenly a bit too confident. He looks a little bit like what greets Porsche in the mirror, some evenings.
Porsche looks through the glass at Chay, or what he can see of him. He looks okay. They’re going to talk more about what happened when they’re home, and Porsche knows Chay is going to cry again, but that’s for later, not now. Porsche knows you just don’t shake something like that off.
Now he’s getting tended to by a doctor that’s smiling at him and who says something that makes Chay laugh. That’s good enough for now. He nods at Kinn in acknowledgment. A strand of Kinn’s hair falls over his eyes, and he brushes it back, and Porsche follows the movements of his hand with his eyes. He wondered a little how Kinn’s hand would feel like. If it was as strong as it looked, if it was calloused or if it would be smooth against his skin.
“I actually came to you with an offer,” Kinn says, straightening up, and then the air starts to taste a little bit of the alcohol and sweat from the bar, but with an undernote of something more gentle and sugary. The moment from a
“An offer?” Porsche says, one eyebrow skeptically raised and knows that the moment from before is over, but it still lingers in the air.
“Yes,” Kinn answers, and then pauses, eyes shifting from Porsche to Chay for a second. “I want you to come work for me as my bodyguard.”
Porsche's first thought is that he’d rather die, but then the events from the day start to come to the forefront. Kinn’s help, the gentle way he had talked to Chay who had seemed to really like Kinn. How he looked his over brother so carefully. The dark color of his eyes and the mole on his index finger. The contradictory feelings running through his veins.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, after all, protecting a man like that. And he had a feeling that he didn’t really have a choice, in the matter. But somehow, he didn’t mind it too much.
“Are you gonna pay me any good?”
Kinn smiles, and then Chay bursts through the door to the medical bay, still looking worse for wear but better than before. Kinn’s hand comes to rest gently on the small of Porsche’s back as Chay starts talking, and Porsche feels like, maybe, things will start to look up from here on.
He still has to talk to the doctor, talk to Chay and process a lot of things, but maybe, this could be a start. Kinn’s strong hand feels steady against him, and he shivers.