Archive of Our Own

There were many things Kinn had never even thought about that needed adjustment to be accessible. Some of the thresholds in the building were far too high and sharp for Porsche’s wheelchair to get over. Some things were too far up for Porsche to reach, which he had realized belatedly as he saw Porsche pulling himself up on the sink one day to get to the top shelf in the bathroom.

The positive thing was that it really helped having employees who did all the adjusting for him, while Kinn got all the credit from Porsche. 

There were no stairs he wouldn’t install a ramp over, no shelf he wouldn’t lower, nor no hand cream he wouldn’t massage into Porsche’s hand to avoid his skin becoming too dry or splintered from his use of the manual wheelchair. He had profusely refused a motor-driven one when Kinn had asked him one day. 

“At least using this, I retain my amazing uppercut,”  Porsche had said that day, with a very extensive showcase of the movement. Kinn had nodded understandingly. 

Being with Porsche was a joy, and he grew more and more in love for each month that passed. There were, however, more than a few moments with him where Kinn deeply contemplated what had led them to that exact moment. Sitting opposite of Porsche outside on a rooftop restaurant as he currently was, overlooking the bright lights of the city, he realized that these were one of those moment

“I’m starting to think you’re not just a businessman,” Porsche said as they were looking over the menu. 

The menu which, just seconds before, Kinn had seen him secretly trying to look up on his phone. He had let him, pretending not to notice as Porsche frowned over the French dishes, trying to quietly sound them out but the phonemes awkward on his tongue. But then suddenly, before Kinn could slowly offer help, Porsche had emptied the last of the champagne in his flute, and spoken. 

“What gave it away?” Kinn said sarcastically, because surely Porsche would have known by now. They had been together for over half a year. 

Porsche looked at him as if it was obvious, with something like a suspicious glare in his eyes. Kinn’s sarcasm seemed to fly right over his head. 

”Even though you try to hide it, I can see it. I’m not stupid.”

Kinn frowned. He sure hoped so; he hadn’t exactly been trying to hide it. Had talked many times about rivaling families and unpleasant meetings. So, he assumed that Porsche had understood it, but never asked. Kinn had also made it a point to never mention the more… unappetizing things his lifestyle required him to do. 

But still. He hadn’t made any effort to conceal the truth, never lied when Porsche had asked about his day. Had tested out the waters first, of course, saying small things every now and then about it. When he had thought Porsche understood his line of work, he had been more open about it.

A memory from just a few weeks before slowly made its way to the surface. 

“What’s that on your shoe?” Porsche had asked one day, when he had just entered the building, and Kinn had met him downstairs.

“Oh, it’s blood. A meeting didn’t go as planned,” Kinn had said, looking down at the stain of red on his shoe. “The man wasn’t very agreeable.”

Porsche had laughed, his eyes crinkling. “Sometimes I imagine kicking people too. No, but really, what happeened?

“Like I said. A meeting.”

“You’re so funny, Kinn.” And at the praise from Porsche, the confusion had lifted, amusement at Porsche’s humor removing the last bits of it. Porsche had laughed, and that sound was all Kinn could think about after that. 

Oh, yeah. Kinn should have known that Porsche did, in fact, not know. 

He closed his menu. 

”I wasn’t trying to hide it,” he said carefully, feeling unusually cautious. If Porsche had thought he had been joking, maybe he wasn’t as okay with the truth as Kinn had thought he was. Would Porsche leave him now? Find another stranger to carry him home from a park bench? Another partner whose shins he could roll into, in what Porsche swore was accident, but only happened when he was upset?

”Oh,” was all Porsche said in response. That wasn’t a good sign. He could see Porsche’s brain working, his eyes flickering with thoughts. His face changed expression each second. 

There was a pause, and just as Porsche opened his mouth, the waitress that seated them sidled up towards them. 

“Are you gentlemen ready to order, or would you like a few more moments to pursue the seasonal menu? Or should I recommend today's chef’s specialty?” She asked, voice calm and professional, but still happy enough to come across as excited, a leather-bound paper pad clutched in her hand. 

As he was about to say, that yes, they would like a few more moments Porsche looked to him, nodded, and then looked at the waitress and then back at his menu that still lay open on the table. Their conversations had to come to a temporary pause, and Kinn’s heart was still beating something awful. But Porsche wanted to eat. They could wait. 

“Yeah, we’re ready,” Kinn began, words almost failing him at the moment, thoughts still full of Porsche, the waitress’s excited “wonderful” getting lost to him as he stared at Porsche. 

“Alrighty! What can I get you?” She asked as she turned fully towards him, the pen in her hand held in a death grip, like she was afraid it would get stolen. He hadn’t even spoken and it already looked like she had started writing while still remaining intense eyecontact with him.

“Just the Boeuf Bourguignon with a glass of Pinot Noir, please” he said, going with something classic, not even remembering anything else on the menu. He just wanted waitress gone as quickly as possible. 

“Excellent choice! And what will he have?” She asked Kinn, and he realized at that moment that she had barely looked at Porsche. Looking back, she hadn’t done so when they first arrived, either.

Kinn frowned, not used to people overlooking Porsche. His boyfriend was disabled, not stupid. Well, he wasn’t the brightest, per se, but that wasn’t because he couldn’t walk. That was just how Porsche, sweet and lovely and everything good in life, was.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?” Kinn said curtly, voice irritated. She laughed a little nervously. 

“Yes, of course.” She turned towards Porsche, almost leaning down. “What can I get you?”

Kinn met Porsche’s alarmed eyes and realized that, maybe, he shouldn’t have spoken. Because it seemed like Porsche had wanted Kinn to order, his googling having most likely not yielded the desired results.

But it was too late now. Kinn had been righteous, protecting his boyfriend’s honor, and at the moment, it came with the unfortunate consequence of Porsche needing to make sense of the menu. 

“I’ll just have the, uh,” Porsche squinted at the menu, a resigned look coming over him as eventually pointed at the menu, “the top one.”

“That’s the chef’s favorite. Seems you have an eye for these things.” The waitress said too quickly, compensating for the earlier mistake as she pointedly avoided looking at Kinn. “Do you want me to recommend a suitable wine?”

This time Porsche’s wide eyes landed in Kinn, who cut in.“He’ll have the Dry Riesling Kabinett.”

The waitress nodded and made her escape as fast as possible after another forced, cheery comment and as she had gathered the empty champagne flute and the start utensils they wouldn’t be needing. 

“Sometimes I actually benefit from people thinking I’m stupid, Kinn. This would have been one of those moments,” Porsche said the moment she left, almost a pout in his words. 

Kinn crossed his arms. “But you’re not.”

“Well, she didn’t know that! Then you could have gotten me something I would like. But now because she assumed I couldn’t, and you told her I could, I would have made us both look stupid if I asked you. I have no idea what I even ordered.”

And yeah, there was a very clear pout in his voice. Kinn tried to pretend it wasn’t the most adorable thing ever when Porsche looked like that. He also, very pointedly, did not mention that Porsche had ordered the andouillette, which he was more than sure Porsche would not like in the slightest. 

“Isn’t it better being taken seriously than getting the exact food you want?” Kinn asked, but it seemed like his boyfriend very heavily disagreed. 

“Aren’t the flowers pretty?” Kinn said, the change of the subject awfully obvious, but Porsche’s face changed, a smile breaking through. He looked at the vase on the table between them, the deep purple of the petals blending into the dark tablecloth. 

Porsche leaned down to inspect them very seriously, in a few different angles. “Yeah, I like the color. Very vibrant.” 

Then Porsche frowned, mind starting to drift somewhere, before he shook his head to get rid of the thought. He did that a lot, Kinn realized. Shaking away thoughts he didn’t like. God, why was Porsche so very, painfully, cute?

“So, what are you?” Porsche said, dragging back the earlier subject Kinn would have hoped he had forgotten about. Was this the end? But if it was, Porsche would be long gone by now, never one for pretending. But what if-

“First I was thinking something like a secret agent because of all the guns, but that doesn’t really explain your tower,” Porsche mused, breaking through Kinn’s inward spiraling. Secret agent? 

“It’s not a tower,” Kinn objected.

Porsche let out a disagreeing, prolonged hum as he shook his head. “It kinda is, though. I built a tower back in school so I would know what I’m talking about.”

“Sure.”

“Yeah, exactly. So, my second thought was like, gangsters. But no street crowd,” Porsche said, laughing at his choice of words. ”So, I was thinking, mafia! You have the same vibe as the Italians always have in movies. And like the actual Italian guy owning a restaurant down my street.”

And there Porsche came to the conclusion all by himself. Well, mostly. Kinn just gave a little helpful push over the last 6 months. So what if the took his boyfriend half a year of very obvious hints and listening to Kinn speaking, to figure it out? Porsche was just taking his time. In no hurry to see the facts 

”You’re right,” Kinn relented, an amused smile pulling his cheeks. 

”About you or Alfredo?” Porsche said, tilting his head, and Kinn sighed, guessing Alfredo was the Italian man he was just compared to. 

”About me, Porsche, not your restaurant guy.” 

”Aha! I knew it!” Porsche exclaimed, victory shining in his eyes. 

“So, how do you feel about it?” Kinn felt the need to ask, following every line of Porsche’s face, waiting for something to read. At the moment, smugness was the only expression readable. 

Kinn wasn’t at all nervous about how Porsche would respond. Not at all. Porsche liked him, so that meant he would like this too, right? Partners support each other's careers, even if it included the occasional murder or two, right?

“Everyone has their hobbies,” Porsche said, leaning over to take Kinn’s half-full glass of champagne. He drank it all in one go. “Hope you didn’t want that.”

Kinn shook his head. Why would he want anything that wasn’t Porsche? He could drink all of Kinn’s champagne if he wanted, for the rest of their lives.

“It’s fine.”

“See. I drink your champagne, and you do, I don’t know, mafia stuff? And like I said when we first met, when I let you help me for your sake, I have good intuition. You’re a good person.”

He should never have doubted Porsche, and especially not himself. Because why would Porsche want to leave him? That notion didn’t make sense, actually. Now, he didn’t know if he agreed with the last bit of Porsche’s sentence, but he didn’t bother to contradict him. 

“Besides, I have something I want you to do for me.”

“Anything,” Kinn answered immediately. “What is it?”

Porsche hummed for a little while, contemplating. “I’ll tell you later. Right now, I’m just hungry.”

After a while, the food came, and when faced with the neatly packed intestines in the sausage, Porsche frowned and looked over at Kinn’s plate. 

“Say, Porsche, would you trade with me? It doesn’t taste as good as I thought it would,” Kinn said, even though the tender meat and rich broth were warm and full on his tongue. It was one of the best Boeuf bourguignons he had tasted, which was impressive for a restaurant that opened last week. 

Porsche looked up at him, then down at his own plate, and smiled. “I guess I can do you that favor, if you really want,” Porsche said, and when they traded plates, Kinn saw the grateful glint in his eyes. He had never been the biggest fan of Andouillette, but that didn’t matter in the moment. 

— 

“I’m not going to threaten an old lady, Porsche.” And that’s a sentence he never thought he would utter. He pinched the bridge of his nose as Porsche sputtered affrontedly. 

Pete, who had just changed rotation with Ken, looked just like how Kinn was feeling at the moment, standing off to the side as Kinn and Porsche were involved in a very, quintessential, conversation. Porsche and the bodyguard had grown close, so Kinn had made it a point to steal him from Thankhun when possible. At first,  Thankhun had protested, but when he had told him it was for Porsche, his brother had relented immediately. 

”Why not!?” Porsche exclaimed, having the audacity to actually sound genuinely upset that Kinn wouldn’t try to intimidate an old lady just because Porsche strongly disliked her. 

The last few months of Kinn’s life had quickly turned into a series of bizarre situations he never thought he would find himself in. Every day was another surprise, and Porsche had a tendency to keep Kinn on his toes. This was something he should have expected, however, considering he literally found Porsche on a park bench and decided to keep him. 

Still, even this he never thought he would have to explain to Porsche. 

“She’s an old lady, Porsche. Isn’t that enough reason?” He said calmly, trying to keep the peace they had just had before Porsche had steered the conversation into the current subject. 

“She’s not just an old lady, she’s-”

”-an evil lady, yes, I have heard,” Kinn said, having gotten tired pretty fast of Porsche’s long tirades about how she was the villain in every story that mothers tell their children. 

”She upgraded the ramp; it’s twice as wide!” 

“Isn’t that good?” Kinn questioned, and then Porsche looked at him like Kinn was the one saying ridiculous things. 

“She obviously did it just to mock me! She just took all my wet ramp dreams and turned them into something even more beautiful, Kinn. And I can’t even use it.” 

“Porsche,” Kinn began, “I don’t think she would spend that much money on that just to spite you.”

Because ramps weren’t inexpensive, to say the least. Ever since Kinn had learned all there was to know about them, the first thing he had done was to replace every one in Porsche’s house. It had been a miracle they had lasted as long as they had. One was just three cardboards with rocks underneath. How that had worked, Kinn had no idea. The reason for the Porsche’s former ramps was that they were expensive. And according to Porsche, the knew ramp she had built was a king among peasants. Porsche’s words, not his. 

Then the rest of Porsche’s sentence caught up to him, the last part that disappeared in the shadow of the first, very impressive and alarming part that had to be addressed first. 

“Wait. You have wet dreams about ramps?” Kinn asked, feeling somewhat stupid for not understanding if it was a joke or not. Though, in his defense, about half of what Kinn first thought was jokes was in fact, not, jokes coming from Porsche.

“Yes,” Porsche said without hesitation, the frustration on his face draining away for just a second as his eyes tracked down Kinn’s body. “I do.”

Not sure of to respond to that, and trying to strongly keep the thoughts about what else were in those dreams away - both for the sake of the argument and Pete’s who had been slowly inching further and further away. Pete had orignally been supposed to keep guard outside, but Porsche had insisted he stay, so now he was the involuntarily spectator. 

“Besides, don’t know her,” Porsche said, dutifully getting them back on a course his boyfriend had no plans to stray from. “I do. And if you knew her like I did, you would be begging me for permission to burn down her store.”

Choosing to ignore that statement, Kinn asked something he had been thinking of for a while. 

”Why do you always go past her store?” The easiest way to avoid interacting with her would be to, well, avoid her. 

”Because it’s the way I always take. You should never give in to tyranny.” 

Kinn rested his chin against the palm of his hand, contemplating many things. One of them was whether he could just bribe Porsche to avoid her, but Porsche had a much stronger will than anyone he had ever met. So that would not work. 

”What’s the use of having a mafia boyfriend if you won’t do what I want you to do?” Porsche whined exasperatedly, and his disappointed look did absolutely not affect Kinn in any way, and did not make him want to do whatever Porsche wanted so he would smile again, no, no way. Though Kinn wasn’t really sure about how he felt about the term ’mafia boyfriend’.

”I do think I serve other uses,” Kinn said humorously.

”Not at the moment,” Porsche dismissed, turning his head away in thought. “Maybe Alfredo will threaten her for me,” Porsche said as he stroked his chin. 

”What’s he going to do, throw pasta at her?” 

Not deigning him the honor of a response, Porsche turned around towards Pete. 

“Pete, what do you think? You understand me, right?” Porsche asked, blinking innocently up at Pete. 

The bodyguard in question looked like a deer caught in headlights. He laughed a little nervously as Kinn fixed him with a glare, because he did not need a mutiny. After all, he wouldn’t threaten an old woman owning a flower shop, of all things. 

“Well, I do think Khun Kinn has a point?” Pete answered, words becoming a question as he looked at Kinn again. 

“What? So you prefer him over me?”

Pete looked to be sweating at the moment. “It’s just… I know you have your issues with her,” he said, trying to sound amicable, looking at Porsche. “But maybe the best thing would be to leave her alone.”

“I thought you were my friend, Pete. I really did,” Porsche said as he crossed his arms, and Pete almost wilted. Pete looked at Kinn again, a plea for rescue in his eyes, but Kinn pointedly looked away. 

But then Porsche changed direction. “No, no, Pete is my friend. It’s you, Kinn. You’re forcing Pete to say those things because you pay him.”

Pete nodded, and Kinn sighed even deeper; the mutiny apparently had already started. 

“Come on, Pete, let’s go.” 

Kinn nodded at the bodyguard to follow Porsche who had already started rolling away. He held back a wince as Porsche rolled over his toes. That must count as some kind of abuse, right?

“Can you believe him?” Porsche’s voice carried as they left, and Kinn felt the headache double.

“You wanna play Wii?” Pete asked instead of answering the questions, and while Kinn couldn’t hear Porsche’s answer, he sounded happy. It was something, at least. 

Kinn later found Porsche sprawled on a couch between Pete and Thankhun late in the night, all of them asleep except Pete, who was semi-conscious. Good thing Pol was fully awake, standing on guard at the entrance, nodding at him when he entered the room. Porsche didn’t wake when Kinn lifted him and carried him back to his room. 

He went back for the wheelchair lazily thrown behind the couch, half-covered by a blanket and when he lifted it up, popcorn rolled of it. No wonder it was dented if this was the treatment Porsche was giving it.  

—

After having his toe rolled over once again - Porsche being surprisingly fast and quiet even though he’s in a literal wheelchair - Kinn decided to visit the flower shop. Not to threaten the old lady, because Kinn wasn’t in the threaten-old-ladies-who-owns-flowershops-business, but to check the place out. See what the issue was. Because he knew Porsche had a habit of overreacting. He had made many mountains out of molehills in the time they had dated, but he would never tell Porsche that. 

Outside, the shop was a quaint little thing. It was part of a long building of connected stores. To the right of it was a hardware store, and to the left a small restaurant with big glass walls.  True to the tale, leading up to the store’s door was one of the widest ramps Kinn had ever seen - and the ramps Kinn had installed in the compound weren’t exactly small. 

But this- 

This was what all other ramps were jealous of. This was would have been on the cover of Vogue for ramps. This was setting unrealistic beauty standards for the rest of the ramps. 

It was obviously skillfully crafted, with oaken planks shining in the daylight, almost reflecting the sun’s light. 

It was almost twice as wide as the door leading into the shop and double its width. The ramp stuck out like a sore thumb, but a beautiful one. Not that Kinn found thumbs that beautiful, if they weren’t Porsche’s. 

A metal plate connected the wood to the bumpy gravel of the street. It peered out into the small, barely trafficked road, its decline making it much easier to use but making it longer than it really had to be. 

It looked out of place, considering the small cracks in the window displaying abundant plants and the patches of flaking paint just above the doors. The outside of the building was painted a light pink, contrasting the deep color of the hardware store’s concrete walls.

Hanging just above the door was a big, wooden sign with the name of the store.

Flowers and Friends

Kinn helped back the deep sigh he felt building for a second, before it escaped him when he made his decision. 

Stepping onto the ramps, he could see the carved pattern on the inside of the handrails. The wood of it felt smooth under his arms, obviously having been oiled very recently, while the ribbing and grooves in the bottom planks provided a firm grip against his shoes. 

It was an extremely nice ramp. It was so nice that it was ludicrous that Porsche thought the reason was to spite him. It must have cost a lot. It had been ridiculous the first time Kinn had heard it, but now? 

He loved the man, sure, but love didn’t make common sense catch up to Porsche wheeling away from it. 

When he opened the door, painted a light green color that was slowly cracking, a little bell above it sounded. He was met with the soft music of a stereo and the smell of freshly fallen rain. Inside were flowers and plants wherever he looked, small and big ones, some hanging, others in heavy ceramic pots. To the side was an entire row of buckets containing different kinds of single flowers. Next was a bench covered in tape, strings, and brown, sturdy-looking wrapping paper. 

“Hello, welcome in!” A gentle voice called, light with age but kind and warm. 

The old lady Porsche had proclaimed his mortal enemy stood with a watering can in front of a couple of potted plants, a frilly apron tied around her waist with tools fastened to it.

“Thank you,” he answered, and when she was done watering the plant she was currently busy with, she turned fully towards him and smiled at him. Her face was wrinkled with laugh lines, eyes crinkled, and frown lines between her brows. She was short, probably a head or two shorter than him. Maybe eye height with Porsche, if not taller. 

His boyfriend probably did not like that. 

“Can I help you with anything, young man?” She asked as he put the water can down on the floor, a splashing sound following the dunking sound as it hit the floor. 

“I’m just looking around a little,” he said, and she nodded. “It’s a lovely store you have.”

Her smile was radiant, reminding Kinn of home-cooked dinners and the warmth of a fireplace. 

“Why, thank you! Are you perhaps looking for flowers for a girlfriend? Such a handsome man like yourself must have one, I’m sure.”

Kinn nodded, looking around. “Actually, it’s for my boyfriend.”

She paused for a second, and Kinn wondered what her reaction would be like. But then she smiled, seemingly even more excited.

“We are very open to the gays!” She proclaimed, walking up to him and taking his hand. “I have a niece with a black girlfriend. Lovely lady she is! She even speaks Thai!”

Kinn let her hold his hand for a second, a little bit taken aback by her sweet ardour. After he few seconds, when he made himself smile back at her, she smiled ever deeper before letting to of his hand and turning towards the flowers in the buckets. 

“You must get him a bouquet! There is nothing more romantic than receiving a special-made bouquet, I tell you. I have supplied many happy couples with flowers, and none of them have ever broken up!” She said, voice sure and eyes bright, and for some reason, Kinn wanted to believe her. 

“Then it seems like that’s what I’ll get him. Do you have any recommendations?

What followed was fourteen minutes of her going over every flower she chose for the bouquet and their meaning, and how the color was important as well, as were the numbers. To her, it seemed like a message of life transcribed. To Kinn, it was pretty flowers that would make Porsche smile. That was, if he didn’t figure out where the flowers came from. 

“Here you go!” She said as she handed him the prettiest bouquet he had ever seen and hurried behind the counter. After pressing loud buttons for a few moments, she spoke again. “That’ll be an even 4000 baht for you.”

He paid graciously. Now, Kinn had never had problems with money. 4000 baht to him was barely pocket money, but after having met Porsche, he had realized that to most people, that was a lot. Now he understood how she could afford the ramp.

Speaking of.

“You have a really nice ramp,” he complimented, looking at it through the window. 

“Oh, it’s nothing special. I have this old lady friend who has trouble walking, and so many people in our society need help, especially the weaker ones.”

He frowned at her choice of words, but she smiled so brightly. She most likely meant no harm. “It’s very kind of you.”

“No, hush hush. Now, you have a nice day young man, and you are always welcome back,” she said, waving her hand in the air. On his way out, the bell rang again as the door opened. Outside on the curb he could see through the somewhat dirty window that she was already back to watering her plants. Harmless, was the word that fitted her best. 

When Porsche received the flowers later in the day, Kinn standing on his doorstep, he frowned. 

“I had to drive a really long time to get these,” Kinn said, even though the shop was barely a ten-minute walk from where Porsche lived. If he told him the flowers were from there, he was sure Porsche was going to run them over with the wheelchair. He felt himself starting to sweat, but then Porsche smiled, far more bright and beautiful than anyone else ever could.

“I’m so lucky to have you, you know? I’m happy my wheelchair got stolen that day,” Porsche said as he pulled Kinn down by the collar of his shirt to kiss him. 

Before Kinn could kiss him back, Porsche didn’t pull away as much as he was backing up with the wheelchair. 

Kinn followed him curiously to the kitchen, where Porsche opened the fridge. He reached up to one of the higher shelves and took out a plate. 

“Here you go. Chay helped me make these for you.”

“If your wheelchair hadn’t been stolen,” Kinn said as he looked at the heart-shaped chocolates on the plate Porsche presented him, “I would've just picked you up somewhere else.”

—

”I used to do taekwondo, you know,” Porsche said, leaning forward to turn the meat on the fire pit grill outside his house. The sun had long since set, and the air was still humid from the morning’s rain. Kinn looked up from the bottle of beer he had just taken a sip of, feeling the playful air from the afternoon shift. 

”You did?” Kinn asked, curious, pretending he didn’t know the fact. He wasn’t really too keen on telling Porsche that he knew almost everything there was to know about him, including the report cards his kindergarten teacher had made. Sweet but unruly child, one teacher had written. He did not think Porsche would be very appreciative of Kinn’s research. 

”Yeah.” Porsche nodded, and Kinn felt his heart clench. Porsche smiled a little forlornly, eyes seeing something Kinn couldn’t. “I was really fucking good at it, too.”

His words didn’t sound bitter. Kinn knew Porsche had accepted what happened to him, but in moments like these, it felt like grief. Melancholy and memory so often going hand in hand. 

”I can imagine.”

Porsche had won almost all of the matches he had been in. Kinn would have loved to see it. 

”So, it’s difficult. I joke about it and all, but, you know,” Porsche shrugged, taking his own bottle of beer and drinking from it for more than a few seconds. “I miss walking. And running.”

”Your physical therapy is-”

Kinn began, so desperate to fix it, but Porsche cut him off with a shake of his head. 

”I can move a few toes, Kinn. It’s been three years.”

The physical therapist that Kinn - well, Arm, but that’s basically the same thing - had found for Porsche was supposed to be one of the best in the country. They’ve been working together for a few months, almost weekly. 

Still, there was nothing they could do if Porsche’s body didn’t allow them to. 

”Yeah,” Kinn agreed, not really knowing what to say. Because he couldn’t fix it, couldn’t change it. Except for evenings like these, or nights where Porsche woke from nightmares, Porsche was okay. Was one of the happiest people Kinn knew, being able to see the world in a completely warmer and lighter way than Kinn could ever dream of. 

”Maybe I’ll get lucky, but even if I did manage to actually walk, which we both know won’t happen, I don’t think I’ll be able to do taekwondo again.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But I do know, Kinn. I think…I think this is it.”

Kinn had talked to the doctor and physical therapists he helped find for Porsche. Knew spinal injuries were tricky, that most of them never healed. The chance of it happening was small enough that it wasn’t really there. 

“The chance of spinal cord injuries healing after 2,5 years is nearly nonexistent. Physical therapy can help the joints remain flexible and avoid stiffness, but I need you to know, if he were going to regain significant function, it would have happened within the first year of his injury.” The doctor had said all those months ago, his voice now echoing in Kinn’s head. 

The only slightly positive thing was that all of his nerves weren’t completely dead. A few toes were still more than none, but it wasn’t the progress Kinn knew that Porsche still hoped for. That he also hoped for. Maybe this was it. 

“We’re in this together now. No matter what happens or doesn’t happen, that won't change.”

Porsche hummed, draining what was left of the beer, looking straight ahead, despondency in his eyes. Kinn grabbed the tongs to move the meat towards the edge of the grill. It was probably overdone, but he knew Porsche never cared if the meat was as hard as cardboard or still shiny red. So he didn’t say anything, too invested in the conversation. 

”I would have loved to see it,” Kinn said eventually, his voice so soft he barely recognized it as his own. 

”Life just sucks sometimes. I could take down anyone, and now my biggest opponent is a pole in the middle of a ramp, and they always win because they’re so much harder than me.

Kinn couldn’t help his undignified chuckle at the last part, and the sweetest thing was that Porsche didn’t even recognize the double meaning of his words. (Kinn also begged to differ about that part).

”Are you laughing at me? Is it because I’m crippled? Or gay? You going to hatecrime me? I think it looks like you’re going to hatecrime me,” Porsche said dramatically, crossing his arms and squinting his eyes, the playfulness returning. Still, Porsche’s voice was slightly strained.

“That’s not a verb, darling.”

“It is now,” Porsche said, leaving no room for argument over the fact. 

“I’m not going to hatecrime you,” Kinn said far too amusedly, his eyes trailing down Porsche's chest, drawn to skin visible beneath the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. “I could do…other things, however, if you would like me to.”

Porsche caught on quickly, his tongue peeking out to swipe slowly over his bottom lips. “Mhm? What do you have in mind? I hope it’s not something unsavory.”

Kinn leaned towards him, one hand on the table as he leaned in close to Porsche. “Doesn’t sound like me, now does it?”

“Absolutely not,” Porsche said in a breathy voice, eyes staring intently towards Kinn’s, his eyes flickering up and down. 

Porsche leaned forward, his lips just brushing Kinn’s. When Kinn tried to deepen the kiss, Porsche pulled back slightly. Kinn held back the very undignified whine he felt building in his throat. Porchay wasn’t home, and the closest bodyguard was at the gate, and the table was sturdy enough he could push Porsche down on it, take off his clothes, bite his way up his throat-

“It’s just…if I wasn’t in a wheelchair,” Porsche began, breaking the very vivid images making Kinn’s pants feel way too tight. “I could do so many more things.” 

Porsche's hand reached up to cradle Kinn’s cheek, and he leaned into it. His palm was rough and calloused, and Kinn made a note to massage lotion into his hands the next time he got the chance. Kinn had tried to suggest wearing the gloves Porsche had, but Porsche had very promptly refused with a long monologue he barely remembered.

“Yeah? What’s something you would do?” Kinn asked, waiting to see which direction Porsche was going with. 

“I could do a lot of things,” Porsche said, slowly pulling Kinn even closer, biting gently at his ear.

”I would walk up the stairs…” Porsche’s breath was soft on his ear, his voice barely a whisper, and yes, the table would be a very good substitute, the bedroom or couch too far away. Porsche paused for a second, his hand other pushing inside Kinn’s shirt, going down and down-

“...to Flowers and Friends, and I would be able to physically look down on the old lady and tell her what a bitch she is. Kick one of her pots down for good measure.”

Wait.

What the actual fuck?

Kinn pulled back from Porsche’s hold, his still reeling mind trying to catch up with what Porsche just said, trying to make sense of it.

“What the fuck, Porsche?” He asked, repeating his thoughts, stunned beyond repair. Porsche, in all his might, just pouted at him.

“So…since I can’t because of the horrible accident that permanently altered my life, could you?”

Kinn felt the very distinctive headache start building up. One thing to say about Porsche was that life with him would never be boring or predictable. 

”Are you actually trying to guilt-trip me with your accident?” He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to imagine them back in his bed, but his mind was now polluted with the image of the old woman and the very, very intense boyfriend he had picked up from the park. 

”Is it working?” Porsche asked hopefully, now smiling at him, blinking his big, very, very pretty eye at Kinn, his face flushed, still leaning towards Kinn, hand resting at the buttons of his breezy shirt, his-

”No!” Kinn said after a second too long, almost insulted. 

Porsche frowned and leaned back, crossing his arms once again. ”Damn.”

Then, as if nothing had happened, Porsche picked up the tongs and lifted one of the steaks, inspecting its almost charred surface, before laying it back in the middle of the grill. Soon the other piece landed there as well, right above the coal, which was still glowing a bright red. 

”And what is with you and that woman?” Kinn asked, so ridiculously tired of hearing about the old lady with the flower shop almost every day by now. Why was Porsche so insistent on always going past her store at the same time as well? If his tales held true, then the woman was always waiting just outside the shop’s door. 

”She had a sale on carnations, which she knows I love. But I refuse to go in there-” Kinn was pretty sure Porsche had told him once that he was banned, “-and she knows that! So, when I rolled past this morning right before it started raining, she said she lowered the price for the poor, lower class like me. She said it was a community service for the crippled!”

”Did she say those exact words? She’s old, Porsche; it could just be that’s how she talks. And you did insult her first a year ago.”

”She said something like that! I’m trying to repress ever meeting her!” Porsche said, promptly choosing to ignore the last part of Kinn’s sentence, which was, in his opinion, pretty important. 

“And what did you say in response?”

Porsche stilled. “I rather not say those words outside my childhood home.”

“Well, I think she seemed like a nice lady,” Kinn said, and immediately regretted it as Porsche glared at him suspiciously. 

”How would you know? You haven’t met-” Porsche cut himself off with a gasp. “You’ve been there?!”

“I wanted to check it out. You have been talking about it so much I wanted to see what is what all about.”

Porsche took the knife on his plate and stabbed one of the steaks that by this point was almost charred. Kinn swallowed. Porsche was staring at him with narrow eyes as he started blowing on the steak. He looked awfully suspicious. 

“Is the flowers you got me from that horrid place?”

“No?” Kinn said, knowing it probably didn’t matter if he lied or not because Porsche was already onto him, but he also didn’t want to outright admit it. 

“Okay, good.” Porsche breathed out, inspecting the steak, and for a second Kinn thought the matter was over. Then Porsche paused. “No, wait, you’re lying, aren’t you? No other place has flowers that vibrant.”

“One thing I love about you is how passionate you are about the things you care about,” Kinn began, avoiding the question. 

Porsche pointed at him with the steak pierced on his knife. ”Go on.”

“And I admire your very active imagination. So, could it be that you’re overreacting, darling?”

Porsche gasped very audibly, taking a bite of the steak before answering. ”Are you gasflaming me? I have read about this on the internet. This is manipulation.”

“You mean gaslighting?” Kinn corrected, and Porsche just pointed at him again with the steak, much more violently this time. 

“See! You’re doing it again!

It would probably rain later in the evening, Kinn figured, looking up at the clouds that were slowly starting to cover the bright stars. He hoped not. It would be a hassle to get everything inside, and it was something about the outside air that made listening to Porsche try to convince him to harass an old woman more amenable. 

“Okay,” Kinn took a deep breath, trying his best to make sure his voice was calm. “Tell me what you want me to do that doesn’t involve threatening a 75-year-old.”

”She’s actually 78,” Porsche said as he pressed the handle of the knife into Kinn’s hand, looking away from Kinn’s judging eyes. ”I’ll just take matters into my own hands.”

Kinn did not like the sound of that at all. Porsche just took another knife and stabbed the steak that was left on the grill. It was definitely charred at this point, but Porsche just started blowing at it. 

“You’re not eating?” Porsche said as he looked at the steak missing a bite on the knife Kinn was holding. “Just eat it. We don’t have to be fancy, Kinn.”

Kinn bit into it, feeling somewhat undignified, but Porsche just smiled at him as he began eating his own, very charred, steak. 

“She also called me Ford again.” The meat was dry and chewy, and his was at least a few shaders lighter then the one Porsche was eating.

“Maybe she doesn't remember your name,” Kinn tried to reason, but Porsche just shook his head.”

“She does!” Porsche tore of a completely black piece of meat, nibbled at it, frowned and then threw it back into the fire place. It was nice knowing even Porsche didn’t eat literal coal, considering he usually devoured steak in any form. That was not even to mention to the soggy one that had been his Porsche’s fridge for two weeks that Kinn had found him eating on the floor. 

“And Kinn?” Kinn was a little thrown off at the sound of Porsche’s voice, sounding like it had done before the whole manipulating thing his boyfriend had tried. The last embers had gone dark half an hour before, the knives now lying empty on the table. 

“Yeah?” Fortunately, Kinn had been wrong, because the earlier clouds had receded by now. 

“I would have totally been able to take you down,” Porsche said, before he turned his head up towards the sky, lost in his head as his eyes flickered over the stars shining down on them.

—

For some reason, Kinn found himself back in front of the majestic ramp. He had totally not been swayed by Porsche, in the slightest, no, but he was curious. Porsche had a very active imagination, sure, but he wasn’t a liar nor crazy. By the number of stories, something had to be up. 

”You’re back! How did your gay boyfriend like the flowers?” The old lady asked excitedly when she turned around at the sound of the golden doorbell. 

”He liked them very much,” Kinn said, not sure if he should be offended by the term ‘gay boyfriend’ or somewhat happy she didn’t say anything worse.

“How lovely! I do pride myself on my work.” Today, the frilly apron had been replaced by a light blue one, covered in the same amount of pink hearts and stains of dirt, most likely caused by the soil she was currently hands-deep in.

“I think you may know him,” Kinn said, walking a bit deeper into the store. On one shelf was a row of small cacti. 

“Oh? Maybe I do! I really enjoy talking to people. If he’s been here before, I’m sure to have talked to him. What’s his name?”

“Porsche.” For a second, it felt like a flip had switched. The lady pursed her lips, and if Kinn wasn’t mistaken, there was a flash of something he could only describe as hatred crossing her face. 

“Porsche,” she repeated, her voice now void of the cheer from before and instead cold and bitter. 

Kinn felt his eyebrows rise, but then the switch flipped back within a second, and she smiled. Well, it looks like she tried to smile. It was more like a forced muscle movement in her cheeks. It was almost uncomfortable just looking at it. Her voice, however, was back to normal, although just a pitch higher than before.  

“That young man! Oh yes, him I know. And you say that he is your boyfriend?” Her words sounded incredulous, like she was in disbelief. 

Kinn nodded, both a little bit confused and amused at the same time. It was obvious she shared some of the hatred Porsche had. It was very interesting to watch her reaction. 

“How…lovely. And everything is going okay between you?” And before Kinn even had the chance to answer, she continued. “He’s been through a lot, that poor boy. Dead parents, uncle on the run, and now the wheelchair. Lovely boy, he is. Yes. But, be careful; sometimes hurt people like that can be…different.”

For a second Kinn was on alert, wondering where she got all that information from, considering that she and Porsche weren’t exactly on speaking terms. Those feelings disappeared when he remembered Porsche telling him the neighbourhood was one of those ‘everyone knows everyone’ places. 

“So, if you ever need to vent, I am here, always willing to lend a listening ear. But! In the meantime, take care of him. He especially needs some love.”

“Thank you for the offer, but I assure you that we’re both very happy,” Kinn said after a second, and then she smiled even brighter, so much that it must hurt.

“Wonderful thing to hear! Now, come here, I’ll make you a beautiful bouquet for him.”
And then she turned around towards the flowers in the buckets, carefully inspecting all of them. Kinn just watched, slightly taken aback by the whole exchange. 

When he left with a bouquet made of orange lilies and dark dahlias, he realized that maybe Porsche hadn’t been exaggerating that much. Some, sure, because while the old lady seemed to have some resentment for Porsche, he couldn’t imagine her doing and saying everything Porsche claimed she had. And besides, who would lay so much money on a ramp just to spite one person? 

On his way out of the store, he noticed that the flowers carved into the railing were now accompanied by stars in all different sizes. 

—

“Have you met the old lady?” Kinn asked Pete the next day and watched with intrigue as his eye started darting around nervously. This was obviously a conversation he wasn’t very keen on having. Too bad that Kinn was paying him to. 

”She’s a bit… off,” Pete eventually said, a frown starting to build on his brow. “I met her a few times when I walked with Porsche down the street, but she hasn’t said anything like Porsche says she does. Like, she even says hello every time. But it’s…she’s always waiting by the ramp at the same time, every day.”

“How does Porsche react to her?”

Pete winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not good. Most time he just ignores her, but once I had to start push him away because the things he said…there were children in the area, you know?”

That didn’t surprise Kinn in the slightest. Because while Porsche was the kindest person he had ever met, sunshine incarnate, that seemed to change when the old lady was involved. And if at least some of the things Porsche said she shouted at him, Kinn didn’t blame him. Still, it was a bit weird hearing that Porsche, beautiful and kind Porsche, was insulting old ladies. 

She couldn’t be that bad, right? But Porsche wouldn’t do that without a reason. 

“We got ice cream after so he was happy pretty fast again.” Pete continued, and yes, that finally sounded like the Porsche he knew.

—

”You know what she did, Kinn?” Porsche said in lieu of a greeting, rolling into Kinn’s room.

”What?” He asked, not even bothering to ask who ‘she’ was. He already knew, internally sighing in advance. It had been three weeks since the dinner when Porsche realized his occupation, and then realized he could use that to his own advantage in his crusade against the old lady. 

“She shouted the number to a mechanic shop - I looked it up - and said I needed to get an oil change because I seemed rusty.”

Kinn had to take a second to breathe. It wasn’t funny. No. Not at all. 

“Isn’t that something you would say?” Kinn asked and Porsche almost bristled.

“Yes! It’s a double pun as well! That’s why I’m so upset, didn’t you hear what I said?”

Porsche then pouted, steadying himself on Kinn with his shoulder as he lifted himself onto the couch. “It isn’t better than the puns I make, is it? Please say it’s not!

“I love yours a lot more,” Kinn agreed, helping adjust Porsche’s legs so he could pull him into his chest. 

“Really?”

He kissed the top of Porsche’s head, starting to card his hand through his hair. “Yes, really.”

—

Kinn had barely finished lunch when he heard the door almost slam open. 

"Khun Kinn,” Big said as he came up behind Kinn, sounding out of breath. Kinn turned around and saw the urgency of his face and hair that was just the slightest bit messy - which was messier than Big ever voluntarily kept it. He had been running, and Kinn was immediately on edge. Something was wrong.

”Yes?”

”It’s um- it’s Porsche.”

His heart sped up, alarm going through him. What had happened? Had he been in another accident? Had someone-

”Is something wrong?” Kinn asked sharply, his eyes darting over Big’s face to find some kind of clue to what had happened. What he found written on his face was odd. Big looked almost addled, opening and closing his mouth multiple times before he eventually managed an answer. 

”…You could say so.”

Kinn entered the police station that was close to where Porsche lived. Big hadn’t managed to give an explanation, either not finding the words or not being sure what to say much to Kinn’s frustration. So he was ready for the worst, his heart beating quickly but keeping his face blank. 

Big was following close by while Anong stayed in the car parked just outside. There didn’t seem to be any greater worry in the police station, though there seemed to be some gossiping amongst officers and staff standing off to the side. One guy had a big sandwich in his hands, eyes transfixed on something.

As Kinn was following his gaze, Pete rushed up to him and blocked his view. Pete had a day off, he knew, as he could also tell by the shorts and the widely colored shirt he was wearing.

Seeing Pete there made him even more worried. Because something bad must have happened if Pete had been with Porsche, and they were in the police station. Pete, however, looked to be completely fine. 

“I’m so sorry, Khun Kinn. I was supposed to meet Porsche at the cafe he likes, you know the one by the water, and- and it’s my day off, so I wasn’t on duty,” Pete began, words so fast Kinn had to focus to follow them. “But when I got there I couldn’t find him, and then I heard people talking about a commotion so I went over to see what was happening, and well…” he trailed off, the air in his chest seemingly leaving him all at once, almost deflating.

Pete stepped slightly to the side, giving Kinn a view of something that almost made him turn on his heel and leave on the spot. 

Pete gestured at the sight in front of them. “But when I got there, police were already pulling them apart. So, we ended up here.”

Kinn felt the heaviest sigh he had ever felt leave him, a headache immediately forming. He patted the inner pocket of his jacket and cursed internally when he realized the hip flask was not there. He usually didn’t carry one, but sometimes, and this would have been a great moment to have one. 

Sitting on a chair in front of a table was Porsche, looking worse for wear. Dirt streaked his hair, face and arms, and what looked like a leaf clung to his shirt. Even from where he was standing, he could see the tears in the shirt. Scrapes covered his arms, and he looked absolutely fuming. 

At a table on the other side of the room, which was only three tables away - the station ridiculously small - sat the old lady that owned the flower shop. She didn’t look that much better than Porsche, glaring at his boyfriend as if he was the root of all evil. Kinn had seen many a murderous people, and had himself murdered more than a few, but he had never seen such homicidal intent on someone’s face as he saw clear on the old lady’s. 

Flowers and Friends, yeah sure. 

”Kinn! Kinn, finally!” Porsche exclaimed when he saw him. For a moment, Kinn considered pretending not to know him and leaving. Opposite of the table sat a police officer with bags under his eyes. He barely looked more than 30, but Kinn could already see the retirement plans forming in his head. 

“What happened, Porsche?” Was all he said as he walked up to him. Just as Porsche was about to answer, Kinn saw his wheelchair lying on the floor, two wheels missing and seat bent at angles it shouldn’t be. 

”Why does your wheelchair look like that?”

Porsche just shrugged. ”It broke.”

“It’s the third one I’ve gotten you.”

“This time it wasn’t my fault!” Porsche exclaimed accusatorily, pointing to where the old lady sat. Kinn saw recognition when he met her eyes, and then she looked at Big, who was still by the exit, and then at Pete, and then back at Kinn. Her eyes narrowed even further until he wasn’t sure she could see anymore.

Kinn looked at the police officer who was staring blankly ahead. “What happened here? What’s going on?”

“These two,” the police officer nodded his head towards Porsche and then the old lady, “were in a fight. 

From the scene he had already assumed something of the like, but hearing the words just made it seem that much more insane. 

“A…fight?”

He looked down at Porsche, who now had crossed his arms and was looking away. The old lady had started whispering to the woman sitting across from her, and when he met her eyes, it looked like a silent plea for help. The old lady had scrapes as well, a split lip matching Porsche’s. 

“Tell me you didn’t try to beat up the old lady,” Kinn said, once again finding himself uttering sentences he never thought he would. Words he never would have guessed could make up a sentence. 

“She tried to beat up me! I was defending myself!” 

Kinn had never been a big smoker, but maybe he should pick up the habit just to calm his nerves. He just rubbed at his eyes, not even knowing what to say to that. 

Porsche just crossed his arms even further, if that was even possible. He looked disgruntled, as if having been accused of a great injustice. 

He was saved from having to think of an answer that would properly encapsulate the absolute stupefaction and disbelief he was feeling, by a young woman that came rushing in.

“Grandma!? Where’s my grandma? Grandma!” In the span of the sentence, the young woman managed to locate her grandmother, almost sprinting towards her. She was casually dressed, her hair seemingly hurriedly braided into one long braid that reached her waist.  

“What happened to you?” She exclaimed as she took her grandmother’s hand and crouched down to be at eye level, her voice filled with worry.

For a while, the old lady didn’t say anything and just looked at Porsche. The granddaughter followed her line of sight, and at first her eyes widened in fury, until her eyes landed on the beat-up wheelchair lying next to Porsche. Her look turned into one of horror. 

“Don’t tell me that’s Porsche.”

Porsche frowned. “How do you know my name?”

The young woman just groaned into her hands. 

“Did she try to beat you up?” She asked Porsche, unknowingly mirroring Kinn’s earlier words. Kinn just watched, not sure how to react. It sounded like something she had been worried might happen. 

“Yes, she-

“I didn’t try, I did. And I would do it again!” The old lady shouted, and in an instant a police officer nearby held her back as she tried to throw herself off the chair to get at Porsche. The granddaughter got pushed aside in the battle for freedom, and she brushed herself off with harsh movements as she stood up.

For once it was lucky Porsche didn’t have use of his legs, because while Kinn did love to hold him, he wasn’t keen on the idea of keeping his boyfriend from trying to get into a battle to the death with an old lady. 

And that’s another sentence that never should have existed. What had Kinn’s life turned into? Murder and manipulation were far easier than whatever this was.  

Kinn looked around at the people in the building, but it seemed this had been going on for a while because no one looked in the least bit surprised. The guy from before now only had half of his sandwich left. 

“See, Kinn! I told you! I told you she was evil and a beast, but you didn’t believe me,” Porsche said, sounding both victorious and vindicated. Pete, who had slowly sidled up to Porsche, nodded. 

Kinn found himself doing the same.

“Just because you did karate doesn’t mean you should do it anymore!” The granddaughter loudly scolded, taking a step back as she crossed her arms. “You’re going to strain something, or worse, break something. And you know how it ended up for Auntie.”

“She isn’t as strong as I am, now is she? I can do karate just fine!” The old lady said, brushing back wet, gray hair behind her ears. At their second and last meeting, Kinn had assumed she was more than she let on, but this? 

“Your karate sucked!” Porsche shouted, face twisting into the same anger the old lady currently wore like a second skin. 

“You suck!”

“Grandma,” The granddaughter sounded like she was on the verge of crying. Her eyes were now fixed on the wheelchair. “You can’t fight someone disabled. I can’t believe this happened again!

“Again?” Kinn asked, but his words got lost in the sea as the old woman huffed and turned her head away. 

”The cripple had it coming.”

The granddaughter looked like she wanted to sink into the ground, shame and mortification heavy on her face. Both the old lady’s and Porsche’s faces were getting redder by the moment. Kinn just wanted to go back home and sleep, preferably with Porsche. 

“Yeah, how about you then? You’re like 100 years old. Soon, you’re gonna be on your deathbed and when you are, I’ll be there, and I’m going to-

“Good luck doing anything! I plan on dying in my house. And guess what? My room is on the second floor.”

For a moment Kinn wondered why the police officers, who the station was obviously filled with, didn’t try to stop them. But one looked at the officers behind the desks, and he realized they most likely had tried before. 

They all had the look of warriors coming back home from a defeat. It seemed like they had left the job of calming them down to Kinn and the granddaughter. Great.   

“I hope it’s painful. You know karate? Yeah, sure! I barely even touched you and you fell over. The most damage you did was throwing the flowerpots.”

Kinn didn’t even know what to do with that new information. Instead, he tried to calm him down. 

“Darling, please try and calm down, okay? Let’s just have a conversation,” Kinn interjected, trying to be reasonable, but Porsche just shook his head.  

“I am calm! She’s the one that’s not calm!” 

Dear god, Kinn was dating a child in a man’s body. 

“You want a taste of me again, huh punk? I won’t hold back this time!”

Speaking of holding back, the officer was at her side again, and Kinn found himself putting his hand on Porsche’s shoulder. Just because his legs didn’t work didn’t mean he couldn’t find some other way to get over to her. 

He wondered for a moment about how exactly a one-time bad encounter between her and Porsche had turned into this. Porsche had said she had the best flowers in town, so that must mean that he had been there before. Normal people don’t behave like those two. 

For a moment, his mind drifted, and the shouting became a white noise. He and Porsche could have been at a café together, or at the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant Porsche loved, or they could be drinking, fucking- 

But no, they were in a police station because Porsche and an old lady had tried to, most likely, kill each other. 

His moment of mental respite only lasted for a second, because the hand on Porsche’s shoulder was used as leverage for Porsche to tug him closer. 

”I can’t be ableist or whatever the youths call it; I have a crippled friend,” the old lady said hauntingly, the context of it lost to Kinn. He spaced out for barely one second and had apparently missed a good portion. God they talked fast. 

“Grandma!” The young woman admonished, for what must have been the fourth time in the short time they had been in there. “You can’t use that word!

“I can do and say whatever I want,” The old lady said as the shrugged off the officer that hand on her upper arm. She pointed at Porsche, stretching out her entire arm. If she could, Kinn was sure she would try to poke out his boyfriend’s eyes. “If anything, you’re ageist! I have read about youths looking down on us older ladies!” She shouted at Porsche who straightened his shoulders. 

”I can’t be ageist, I know plenty old people,” Porsche said, his voice as haughty as hers had been, though a tad bit too defensive to come across as mocking as he had probably wanted it to sound like.  

“Name three then!” The old lady said. 

“You.”

The woman scoffed. “That’s only one.”

”Not really, since you’re basically as old as three old people.” Porsche said with a shit eating grin, and Kinn was pretty sure a blood vessel had popped in the old lady’s temple. Kinn looked at Pete who appeared as helpless as he felt. 

“We all have tried,” Pete almost whispered to him, confirming Kinn’s earlier thoughts.  The granddaughter now just stood to the side, apparently having given up trying to reason with her grandmother. 

“Look here, Ford-”

It was like a tale come to life, seeing the legend he had only before heard about. Kinn should stop ever doubting Porsche hence forth. He would do anything if they could just stop. 

”You know my name's not Ford-” 

”What’s the difference? It’s a stupid car!” 

Kinn turned to the police officer who was rubbing his temples with one hand, the other pretending to fill out forms. 

“What’s going to happen?” He asked, even though he knew what the end-result would be, no matter what the answer was. Getting Porsche out of this would barely take a phone call. But the polite, non-mafia thing was to ask. 

“Honestly? If these two calm down and apologize, none of us here want to press any charges. It’s obvious they aren’t really…you know,” the officer gestured vaguely at them, “in their best minds.”

Well, like Porsche said, sometimes it was beneficial for someone thinking him stupid. But at the moment, Kinn was very sure it had nothing to do with the wheelchair.

And Kinn was pretty sure arresting an old women and a disabled guy was probably not on any of their bucket lists.

“Well, I’m going to press charges!” The old lady screamed when she heard those words.

“Well, me too!”

“Grandma. Just, just apologize to Porsche? Okay? Then we can go home.” Now she had her face in her hands, her voice just above a groan. 

The problem was, however, that Kinn knew Porsche enough to know he wouldn’t be apologizing. And from watching the old lady, she probably wasn’t going to either. 

The lady officer opposite the woman spoke for the first time, her voice almost a shout as to be heard over the fighting as she violently stood up. “Here’s what’s going to happen! Either the two of you apologize and make up, or we’ll keep you in the holding cells here until morning. Do both of you understand?”

There was a stunned silence, as both Porsche and the old lady processed the words. 

Sure, Kinn could cut in, could make that phone call, but maybe the best thing was just to appeal to Porsche’s reasonable side and hope he listened. 

“Now, Porsche, please-” Kinn began, because this option would be a lot easier. If it were any serious trouble, they would have been out of here long ago, but Porsche did actually try to beat up an old lady, even if it was self defense. Even Kinn didn’t beat up old ladies, and he actually killed people. 

“I don’t apologize to terrorists,” Porsche said resolutely, crossing his arms over his chest.  Kinn shared a look with the old lady’s granddaughter for the first time.

“And I don’t apologize to someone who can’t even dodge a tiny flower pot!

“It was huge-”

The granddaughter walked over to him, her hands at her hips as Porsche and her grandmother continued to hurl insults at each other. ”Care for a coffee?” She asked.

He looked at Porsche, the old lady who was currently behind held back by a police officer again while Porsche had started actively mocking her, and made his decision. 

”Sounds lovely, lead the way.” 

She smiled relieved, quickly starting to make her exit while not looking back. Kinn nodded at Pete who nodded back at him, grief and acceptance in his eyes over having been left behind to take care of Porsche.  

”Kinn? Hey, Kinn, you asshole! Come back here!” Porsche shouted when he realized Kinn was very much not staying for round 4 of trying to beat up an, admittedly, horrible old woman. 

”Darling granddaughter, you wouldn’t leave your poor grandmother all alone, would you?” The woman said in the sweet voice she had used when meeting Kinn for the first time. When that didn’t have the desired results, she started shouting at her. 

“Just walk,” the granddaughter said, looking as completely done as Kinn was feeling. 

The feeling of fresh air was a blessing against his skin, even though the afternoon heat was in full bloom. It looked like the woman agreed, because she was staring up at the sky and taking deep breaths. 

“I’m Anna,” she said, turning her face towards him. 

“Kinn.”

Anna started walking, and Kinn followed suit. It seemed like they were headed to the cafe down by the water.

”So Kinn, how long have you been dating?” 

“Not long enough,” he said, and she laughed. 

“Well, my grandma has been my grandma for too long.”

“Flowers and Friends, huh?” Kinn questioned, the name of the flower shop flashing before his eyes. 

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

—

“So. You did karate?” Porsche found himself asking, his throat raw after all the shouting they had been doing. He didn’t know why he spoke; the woman was the devil incarnate and feeding her his words only gave her currency to sorcery, but the silence had been starting to become awfully awkward ever since the guards had to pull them apart a second time in the cell. 

And they had been sitting there in silence for almost six hours straight.  

Kinn, the bastard, had abandoned him. He had made great plans to guilt trip Kinn into buying him ice cream when he got out of there. Maybe even cake. If he just asked him, he knew Kinn would get it for him, but the extra benefit of guilt-tripping would make it even sweeter.

Besides, Kinn deserved to get guilt-tripped again considering he left Porsche here. Sure, Porsche had been fighting with the same woman for three hours straight, and refused to listen to him, and tried his best to fight the old lady again, but that didn’t mean he could just leave him to his own consequences. 

So, guilt-tripping made it sweet. But then again, Kinn was extra sweet. Even more so than the guilt-tripping. Maybe instead of ice cream, he could just have Kinn, and they could take a long bath with the fancy bath salts Kinn had, and they could hug, and they could do many, many other things.

“Yes.” The old lady eventually answered, words stiff and short. There was another pause.

“You did taekwondo?”

“Yes.”

The plague herself crossed her arms, staring with her soul-sucking eyes at Porsche. Speaking with her was like gravel shoved down his throat, and not the nice, fancy gravel Kinn had in the backyard. Once they had had a picnic there, even though Kinn insisted on the grass. The gravel there was nice, very smooth and shiny. 

“Huh.”

“What?” Porsche asked, and the old lady just shrugged, full body. 

“It’s too bad I’m old and you’re a cripple.”

“Yeah,” Porsche said. It would have been nice, having a fair fight with her. Their earlier match had been unfair for the old woman, considering Porsche’s absolute win, even if she had hit him in the face with the plant and then stepped on him-

Porsche was, however, pretty sure he had bitten her ankle when he pulled her down on the ground when she was close enough. So yes, he won that fight. The foundation of all evil would probably disagree about that, but the only thing evil spirits did was lie, so there would be no point listening to her. 

“I would have beaten you bloody.”

Porsche snorted at her wishful thinking. Now, Porsche was a feminist, and that meant if he could beat up a man in a match, he could do so to a woman as well. “If that thought makes you sleep at night, sure.”

The woman laughed to herself, an awful, grating sound. “It actually does.”

Porsche frowned, not really sure how he felt about her imagining that. Well, he did think of similar things. Then a sudden thought hit him.

“What’s your name?” 

Funny thing, Porsche had never found out. She probably knew most there was to know about him, and he knew most about her, but not her name. It was probably something awful. Something like Kicks-And-Waterboards-Puppies. 

There was a long, long pause.

The police officer that had pulled them apart an hour earlier slowly walked past them, his eyes squinted as if he expected them to fight any minute now. If he needed to, Porsche would. But he still had dirt on his cheeks that didn’t rub off all the way, and Pete was half-asleep on a bench far off waiting for Porsche and that thing to apologize, and he needed to preserve his energy for when Kinn came to get him. For non affectionate related purposes. 

So, no, Porsche didn’t really want to fight her again. He was aching, and the old lady seemed to be sharing his feeling. Huh. That would be the second thing they shared, the first being mutual disgust and hatred. 

“Toyota,” the old lady eventually said, resignation in her voice. “My name’s Toyota.”

“Are you serious ri-”

“And I did spend a fortune on the ramp just to spite you. I had to take a loan on the store to afford it. That’s why I also started gambling last week.”

—

”I owe you an apology for not believing you about her, darling,” Kinn said as he watched Porsche devour half a cake in the span of just four minutes. It really was an impressive sight. Apparently he had refused the food they offered him in the holding cell, so he had complained about starving since the minute he woke up.

”It’s okay, Kinn. Not everyone’s as bright as me when it comes to figuring these things out.”

At 5.04 in the morning Kinn had gotten the call from Pete that Porsche had finally been released after a highly unexpected apology (how it happened was a miracle no one knew). When he got there, Porsche had been far too tired to be upset as Kinn carried him to the car. His boyfriend had fallen asleep within minutes, all the energy drained from him, and when Kinn presented him with a new wheelchair the morning after, it seemed all had been forgiven. 

Well, after he had bought the cake, that was. 

”That is true,” Kinn agreed, fondness so large in his chest it almost hurt. He reached out a hand to wipe away the crumbs stuck to Porche’s bottom lip which stretched into a small, very pleased smile. God how he loved his man.

“This is the second apology I’ve gotten today. I’m really on a roll.”

Kinn rolled his eyes. ”Now you’re just reaching.”

”Or would you say I’m…wheeling?” 

There was a pause, Kinn just staring blankly at Porsche, with no plan whatsoever to comment. But then Porsche got that look he always had when he was trying to keep from grinning, but was miserably failing. He prepared himself. 

“A cripple and an old lady rolls into a bar-”

“Porsche, I swear to God.”