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"5, all gathered." The courier is looking through his rifle scope, crouched, and completely unaware that Arcade is staring at the way the leather armor the man is wearing accents his ass.
It should be illegal, he's sure, to look so tempting when killing. Which he's doing, quick methodical shots to the head to all 5 of the gathered vagrants before Arcade can even aim. And good god, he hardly even hesitated, why is that so hot?
"All clear," he says a moment later, raising to his full height of literally two inches shorter than Arcade himself. "You good?" he asks, glancing over at the abnormally quiet Follower only to find him staring into the distance, lip caught in his teeth. "Arcade. Arcade!"
"What?" he asks absently, frowning as he looks back at him. He's kind of glad he's taken to wearing the loose field medical fatigues favored in the dessert. He can blame his shiver on the chill instead of the intense blue eyes of the courier.
"You're quiet tonight." It isn't a question but obviously expects a reply as he slings his gun on his back and starts down the hill to pick the bodies clean.
Arcade follows with a sigh, skidding down a good portion as his foot slips. The courier catches him before he can fall, hands firm and gentle, the hands of a medical professional. His mind starts to slide down the path toward what those hands could do to him and he jerks back to the present at the courier's expectant look. "Oh, sorry. A lot on my mind."
"Care to share?" The courier has crouched again, hand in the pocket of a woman with half her head missing.
"Not really." Arcade grabs the gun from the ground next to a man with his head completely gone and checks the clip, tossing it to the courier when he finds it full of .308, which the courier is always complaining about wanting. A quick search of the pockets results in a box of it half empty. He grabs it and goes to give it to him, pausing when he finds the courier leaning on his heels, arms crossed and eyes fixed on him. "What?" he asks again.
"Hm. You're usually pretty clear with something if it bothers you. Did I do something?" He taps a cigarette out and lights it with Benny's lighter as he waits for an answer.
"No...no. Just...I'm trying to figure something out. It's not of relevance." He watches the courier's lips purse around his cigarette in the dark of the half moon. "Right now, anyway," he tacks on as he moves to the next body. There's more .308 ammo, just a couple, and a few caps. He hands both over and ignores the curious stare.
"Whatever you say." The courier drops it and riffles through the last body, pocketing a couple things and holding up a half empty bottle of amber liquid. "Ah, whiskey. What a wonderful thing." He slides that into his pack and smiles slightly. "Ready to move?" At Arcade's nod, they continue on their way back to the Strip; the courier needs to drop some things off at the suite and check in with everyone else.
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Arcade spends most of his time admiring the courier's ass while he walks, watching the leather of his armor go taunt and slack over the curves. It's a favorite pass time. Getting caught is always the last thing on his mind when he does it and he never realizes when he is.
"Arcade. You're being obvious again." Veronica's voice is quiet, whispered to him.
"Not to him." He doesn't bother denying it, she knows he's infatuated.
"You'd be surprised." Boone doesn't bother whispering, just grunting it out as he passes by on his way to the whiskey and raising an eyebrow at the glare he gets.
"Surprised about what?" The courier has slid into the sitting room without them noticing and is leaning on the chair Arcade sits in, a gentle smile gracing his lips.
Boone opens his mouth before Arcade can, saying with undisguised boredom, "Arcade has a crush."
The courier goes still. "Really now. Lucky guy." He taps out a cigarette, lights it, and finds a seat on the couch across from them all. "This what was bothering you the way here?"
"Possibly." He ignores the blush trying to crawl up his neck and looks down at his book, ignoring the stretch of leather on the courier's thighs. "Still not relevant."
"Plenty relevant, I think," Veronica says, leaning back in her chair. "Go ahead and tell him who it is, Arcade."
"Oh, do go away."
"But I want to watch his face."
"I don't care what you want." Arcade stands abruptly. "This conversation is pointless. The man in question doesn't feel the same, of this I'm sure." He leaves the room, heading instead for the lounge to be alone.
Of course, the courier follows. Arcade has just gotten really started reading when the elevator dings. The courier walks out in a cloud of smoke, putting out his cigarette on his way to the scotch. He doesn't even look at him. He's three shots in before he looks up. "This guy got a name?"
"Probably." Arcade turns a page without having read a single word.
"Hm." The courier slams another shot. "Someone I know?"
Arcade grits his teeth and sighs through his nose. "I don't understand why this is so important! For the love of all things, can everyone just drop it?!" He snaps his book shut and jumps to his feet. "My ridiculous attraction to you is pointless and stupid and I'd appreciate if everyone would stop bringing it up!"
The courier pauses, scotch halfway to his lips. "Huh. Sure, Arcade. By the way, I didn't ever remember my name. So I just call myself Asp." He finishes his scotch and leaves with a cigarette between his smiling lips.
Arcade blinks at the abrupt departure. He replays it in his head and curses when he realizes what he's said. "Wait!" he yells, hurrying after him, catching the elevator just before it closes and sliding in.
The courier - Asp - looks at him silently, ash falling from his cigarette into his cupped hand before he wipes it on his leg and leans on the wall. "Yes? I thought we were dropping it."
"Don't be obtuse." Arcade steeples his fingers as he leans on the wall across from him. "Well?"
Asp raises an eyebrow, putting his cigarette out on the wall beside him before pushing forward and getting in Arcade's space. "I'm curious. Would you have ever told me if you hadn't accidentally?" He licks his lips slowly and leans closer, just centimeters from touching.
Arcade blinks, his mind blank for the first time in a long time. "Uh?" he says dumbly, eyes drifting down. "One day?"
"When one of us was dying, I'm sure." The courier smiles, his lips barely brushing Arcade's and the blond whimpers before shoving forward, Asp slamming into the wall with Arcade kissing him desperately, hands gripping too-short hair since Asp's recent hair cut and hips pinning his lower body in place.
Asp isn't complaining, not in the least. He groans, the sound coming from deep in his chest, and wiggles until he can yank the reading glasses that are digging into his nose off. His hands move to Arcade's hips, his arms flexing as he digs his fingers in. "Arcade," he whispers as the man in question moves to leave a biting mark on his neck, "I'm ridiculously attracted to you too."
Arcade huffs a laugh into his neck that turns into a full laughing fit. Asp laughs with him, both of them clutching the other to remain standing. The elevator dings and opens to the penthouse with Veronica and Boone standing in the hall.
"For the love of- get a room!" Veronica snaps playfully.
Asp glances at them and grins with too many teeth. "You two may want to head to another floor; I plan on there being some noises you might not wanna hear."
Arcade groans, flushing. "Can you not?" he mutters into his skin.
Asp runs his fingers through his hair before taking his hand and leading him to the master bedroom. Before the door shuts, Veronica gives them a thumbs up that Arcade returns with his middle finger.