Work Text:
“Gentlemen. You must be wondering why I called you here.”
Porsche glances over to where Pete sits beside him. Pete glances back and shrugs. They are wondering why they were called to their boss’ office; after all, they’ve been sitting in the barely cushioned plastic chairs for about half an hour bored out of their minds. Chan, their boss, looms over them with his broad shoulders even when pacing back and forth behind his desk. On said desk lays a thick folder with crisp white papers poking out.
“Yep,” Porsche responds popping the ‘p’. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Pete nod beside him equally done with whatever old military intimidation tactic Chan is using.
“One of my old friends reached out to me about his son and nephew needing personal trainers,” Chan informs them. “Pete. You have the best results. Porsche… the clients like you. Since you are my top employees I volunteered you two for the job.”
“What? Without our input?” Porsche protests.
“They will pay triple your rate-”
“Deal!” Porsche exclaims with a slam of his fist on the desk.
Pete side-eyes him in disbelief. “Wow.”
“There is a caveat,” Chan continues. “They are reality television stars so the gym will be filled with cameras and training sessions will be filmed. I trust you will be on your best behavior?”
The office falls into a heavy silence.
Pete’s eyes go wide as he whispers, “No way…”
Porsche’s eye twitches. “What. Show?”
“Tea Time with the Theerapanyakuls,” Chan answers. “Why?”
“They must’ve chosen this place because you work here,” Pete remarks.
“No way,” Porsche immediately denies as he pushes open the staff door leading into the lobby. “I’m not that significant.”
“You keep running into them,” Pete points out. “I would be suspicious.”
“Whatever,” Porsche scoffs as they step out into the lobby. “The baht is worth it-”
A deep monotone voice cuts through their conversation. “Porsche.”
Big stands before the two trainers in his dark blue-tinted shades and clicks his blue pen in rhythmic succession. The only difference from their previous encounters is Big is wearing a luxurious black fur coat. Porsche takes the interesting piece of clothing as further evidence the producer isn’t human as he doesn’t know a single person who’d wear a fur coat in Bangkok weather. A scowl is present on Big’s face as he engages in an impromptu staring contest Porsche.
“Hello Big,” Pete greets pulling the producer’s attention towards him.
“It is nice to see you again Pete,” Big greets with a slightly less monotone voice.
“Why does Pete get a nice introduction?” Porsche protests.
“I like Pete,” Big answers without mercy. He pushes his glasses further up his face with his middle finger. “Let’s get my production notes out of the way shall we?” He doesn’t wait for a proper response before continuing. “You two will be here, standing before the front desk, waiting for them to enter. You will introduce yourselves and this gym before you guide them away to the private training areas. All the while I will be with your boss in his office. If even one intern runs to get me, I will make your life hell. Do you understand?”
“What do you want with Chan?” Porsche questions.
“That explains those noises,” Pete remarks quietly to himself.
Not quietly enough as Porsche shoots his head towards Pete. “What noises?”
“There are no noises,” Big says through grit teeth. “Now, you will excuse me.”
Porsche watches in bewilderment as Big smooths down his hair and walks through the staff door without a second glance back. “What noises?”
“For a straight man,” Pete starts, “you have a talent for running into gay ones.”
Porsche doesn’t get a single moment to digest Pete’s implications before two familiar voices remind him what he is standing around for.
“Porsche-!”
Vegas shoulder-checks Kinn as he slides in front of his cousin. “It is so good to see you.”
Porsche plasters his best professional smile on his face. “Welcome to Code of Honor Gym. We are your personal trainers Porsche and Pete.” Porsche pauses as Pete greets them too. “Kinn please follow me to-”
“Why Kinn?” Vegas interrupts.
“Khun Chan chooses who our clients are,” Porsche tells him. “If you wish to switch then you can take it up with him and reschedule for when I am free.”
Vegas takes a step forward until Pete swings his arm out in front of Porsche. Vegas halts his movement as he side-eyes the other trainer who stares back with an unreadable expression. Vegas’ face morphs into a placating smile. “I don’t think he’d mind you taking two at once.”
“No.” Porsche states firmly as he grips one of Kinn’s arms. “One of you is enough.”
Vegas watches Porsche drag Kinn out of the lobby, not stopping until they escape into one of the private rooms, before his entire body seizes upon hearing knuckles crack behind him.
“I’m not Porsche,” Pete says, “but I’m a professional.”
Porsche locks the training room door to ensure the vermin can’t get in. He turns around finding Kinn leaning against the mirror wall with one more button undone than he initially walked in with. Porsche can feel his shot of adrenaline drain out of him as he realizes who he is stuck with.
Porsche takes a deep breath and lets out a sigh as he picks up the clipboard in the room. “What do you hope to achieve during your time with us?” He looks back up to find Kinn invading his space the man’s head hovering over the edge of the clipboard.
“I want to work on my stamina,” Kinn purrs.
Porsche takes a step back slamming his foot into the ground behind him. “Then allow me to introduce you to our top of the line-”
“Why are you not attracted to me?”
“Maybe you aren’t attractive,” Porsche counters coldly.
He watches in the mirror as Kinn frowns. The reality television star stares off into space for a moment before he looks down at his shirt. Porsche watches in disbelief as he unfastens a couple more buttons revealing more of his already muscular chest.
“How about now?” Kinn asks with renewed hope in his eyes.
“I’m surprised you want to work on your stamina,” Pete idly comments as he reads over Vegas’ file in one of the other training rooms.
Vegas narrows his eyes Pete’s mellow tone. “Why?”
“I thought you’d want more muscle on you,” Pete answers with the same detachment. “You look like a twig next to your cousin. I could break you in half with my bare hands.”
“Is that a threat?” Vegas demands.
“I don’t know. Do you find it threatening?” Pete questions.
Vegas huffs indignantly. “My muscle is lean!”
“Sure. If that is what you believe,” Pete easily agrees. “Today you are going to do a baseline test. It is simple. I run you through some basic exercises so I can see your starting point and can plan a routine around it to get you to your goal.” Pete sets his clipboard down on a nearby bench. He takes his gym branded shirt off to reveal a white tank-top underneath which didn’t leave his muscles to the imagination. “I figure we’ll start with some stretches-”
“Are those from boxing?”
Pete looks down at where Vegas points. He forgot his skin is covered in bruises. “Oh. No. Those are from my sex life.”
“Sex life?” Vegas pries.
“I engage in the sexual practice known as BDSM,” Pete drops as if he didn’t pass a bomb in-between Vegas’ legs. “Anyways, stretches?”
“BDSM?” Vegas cries out in bewilderment.
Pete lets out a deep sigh like he’s repeating a conversation he’s engaged with many times before. “Right. You wouldn’t know. BDSM stands for bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, and sadomasochism-”
“I know what BDSM is!”
“Then it shouldn’t be a distraction,” Pete says. “Now. Stretches.”
Vegas blinks. “No! Forget the training. What is your club-?”
“Is Vegas your type?” Kinn asks.
“No,” Porsche answers as he marks down Kinn’s results. “Your cousin is creepy.”
Kinn tilts his head, “You don’t find me creepy?”
“No.” Porsche slowly moves his eyes over the top of his clipboard. “I find you pathetic.”
“Pathetic?” Kinn squawks.
“Yes,” Porsche confirms. “Pathetic.”
“How am I pathetic?”
“You are a grown man in your late twenties with a famous career chasing the attention of me a part-time bartender, part-time mixed martial artist, and full-time private trainer.” Porsche pauses upon seeing Kinn’s blank expression. “How does this not make you pathetic?”
“You should be flattered,” Kinn remarks.
“I’m not,” Porsche states through grit teeth. “Your show ruined my life with how invasive it is. Chatting me up at a bar during a family dick measuring contest might’ve been an average Tuesday for you, but your team’s decision to keep it in cost me a lot. I became a viral meme so I got fired from two jobs and my third job at my second mother’s bar got overrun with parasocial fuckers which is such as a risk because I have a younger brother who is a minor and could be put in danger if any of them follow me home. I guess it doesn’t matter. My efforts meant nothing as he got conscripted into your younger brother’s fucking spin-off! The one time I got something going for me with a new above-board job you pop up, like an invasive species of plant I can’t weed out of my lawn, dragging cameras in behind you. You might live in your twisted sense of reality believing I swing whichever way is most convenient for you, but it doesn’t change how your behavior is flat out harassment.”
It isn’t until the world turns blurry does Porsche realize at some point he started crying.
Kinn’s face is wide-eyed and pale, “I’m-”
“I don’t want your fucking apology,” Porsche spits out. “I want to do my job! I want my life to go back to normal! I want to have a sense of fucking peace again!” Fury courses through his veins as throws his clipboard on the floor before he shoves his hands into Kinn’s shirt and grips it with all his might violently pulling him forwards until they are face to face. “And if you even have a hint of basic human decency you are going to quit flirting and take this training seriously. Got it?”
“Yes sir,” Kinn squeaks out.
“Good. Now drop down and give me twenty!”
“Thank you for your time Porsche,” Kinn says with a deep strain in his voice.
The two stand out in the lobby after the rest of their awkward training session.
“Thank you for taking it seriously,” Porsche says with a blank expression.
Fortunately shouts from down the hall save them from another prolonged silence.
“Fake dom? FAKE DOM?”
The other private training room busts open as Vegas darts out like a bat from hell. He points an accusatory finger towards Porsche as he ducks behind Kinn.
“Your friend is a brute,” Vegas declares.
Pete leisurely strolls out behind him, “Khun Vegas. Despite what you may believe basic exercise is not a violation of your human rights.”
“What?” Kinn teases. “Was it too much for you to handle?”
“Withholding water was!” Vegas snaps.
“So not engaging in aftercare is suddenly a bad thing?” Pete says dryly. “Interesting.”
“The sooner I don’t see you again the better,” Vegas sneers.
“I’ll give you the boot myself,” Pete shoots back.
“What is going on here?”
Everyone in the lobby freezes as Big enters, clutching his fur coat over his chest and Porsche swears there is some make-up smeared on his face, with Chan walking out behind him with his high-collared white shirt fully buttoned up.
“We are finished filming,” Kinn quickly says. “See you next week Porsche?”
“If you can behave,” Porsche murmurs.
Big narrows his eyes at the trainer’s tone of voice. He watches as his two stars are flanked by his production crew heading out of the gym. The producer shoots Porsche and Pete a quizzical look before it hardens into a glare. Ultimately, he says nothing as he too leaves.
“What did I say about your best behavior?” Chan questions behind them.
Porsche and Pete shoot each other a look full of fright.