high hopes
relationships: breach/gekko, other background relationships
tags: getting together, pining, crushes, drug use, size difference, age differece, handjobs
wordcount: 38 123
chapters: 1 2 3 4
part 1 of and if you want to find hell with me / i'm in heaven
Lost in his role as a mere spectator, Gekko is startled when Breach suddenly turns to return his gaze. Not like he was doing anything forbidden, not like he was caught in any act, he still lets his surprise be clear on his face before he overrides it with a friendly smile.
It was a group activity; he wasn't expecting to see Breach there, in particular, but he also wasn't complaining. His track record of interacting with Breach around others wasn't the cleanest or most reputable, but he wouldn't let that bother him or hold him back. It was just going to be a lighthearted, friendly get-together.
He could behave himself.
or
Gekko has a little crush on Breach and tries to be smart about it. Getting high with him surely won't have any unplanned consequences. Surely.
chapter 1. It's only a million miles away
Twenty-four is still an appropriate age to have a crush on a co-worker, Gekko repeats to himself as he eyes the cafeteria from his vantage spot in the corner. He and his crew were enjoying an unusually early breakfast with a small selection of other agents who were either preparing for early morning activities or just local early birds. He was neither.
It was because of his companions that he was out and about so early on such a slow day. Nothing interesting ever happens on Mondays. The entire crew had been feeling visibly antsy since the moment they woke up, managing to wake up Gekko a good five minutes later to keep them company.
As much as Gekko had tried to reason with them to give him another five minutes, the group swarming him and anxiously moving around on his bed had made that task impossible. They were like a bunch of hyperactive toddlers in desperate need of enrichment.
Gekko wasn’t entirely sure what had gotten into the little guys, but he suspected a night of restless sleep or even a nightmare had bothered them. And now they were seeking out Gekko’s company to help with that and simultaneously trying to shake those remnants of anxiety that still linger.
Gekko had felt a little bad for them; such little creatures deserve nothing but the best. He had been annoyed about having to get out of bed and into the real world so early for maybe a minute or two until he forced that selfishness from his mind to think about what was best for his companions. They needed to get out of the confined space that was his room and get some fresh air and maybe find a room big enough to do laps around to tire themselves out.
But first, they needed breakfast.
As usual, Gekko had gotten a separate small plate of radivore-friendly breakfast foods for the crew to share as he focused on his own. And, as usual, that plate was quickly emptied and the little thieves moved onto Gekko’s own plate, also managing to take sips of his orange juice whenever he was too lost in his thoughts while people-watching.
With his chin still resting on his palm and his elbow securely on the table, Gekko turns to look at his tray again. The lettuce from his sandwich has mysteriously disappeared and so has the lid for his cup of yoghurt. The fate of the former remains a mystery, but he finds the aluminium lid in the hands of a little Dizzy trying to scoop the excess yoghurt from it to feed it to Mosh. It’s going as well as one would expect, and Gekko quickly snatches the lid from her.
“You dummy,” he scolds her quietly, shaking his head as he grabs a napkin to wipe Dizzy’s hands and stomach clean to the best of his ability.
At least he now knows what he’s doing after breakfast. The smell of peach probably won’t bother the small radivore, but Gekko doesn’t want to risk the remnants of what he can’t clean with just a napkin irritating Dizzy’s skin later on.
He pats Dizzy’s shell lightly after he’s done, letting her join the others again and hoping they don’t make any more of a mess.
He returns to his previous position, leaning his head against his hand with his elbow propped on the table. He watches as the little creatures entertain themselves on the table they hopefully were allowed to stand on. The sight brings a smile to his lips and a warm feeling to his heart. It also makes him want to laugh.
Twenty-four and he feels like a dad already.
Not the way he thought he’d end up, but he also wouldn’t have it any other way.
He turns to overlook the cafeteria once more, watching as more and more people slowly walk in and line up in the queue. As much as he wasn't a morning person, he is still glad that his crew decided that they needed an early breakfast to let him avoid the biggest rush of the morning.
With the increase in people also comes the increase in background noise. Light chatter mixed with a laugh and a groan here and there.
Gekko didn’t mind it - at least not yet. The noise level will only increase when the new groups of agents settle down and get more comfortable and wake their systems up with caffeine. Mixed with the never-ending clamour of metal utensils against porcelain plates, glasses accidentally hitting coffee mugs, and metal chairs screeching against the linoleum floor, it was a sensory overload just waiting to happen.
He gets ready to leave before the cacophony reaches that level. He didn’t bring headphones with him this time and he will not be witnessing that commotion willingly.
He manages to turn towards his tray again and catch a glimpse of a sneaky Wingman setting down the now empty glass of orange juice before a sudden loud laugh interrupts the steady white noise of background conversations and echoes through the cafeteria, catching the attention of all five of them. They simultaneously turn to look towards the sound, finding a head of red hair being shoved to the side in what Gekko assumes to be the aftermath of a horrible joke. Nothing needed to be that funny before seven in the morning.
The smile lingers on his lips from watching the interaction, followed by a twinge of jealousy as he is left doing just that; watching. In theory, he could easily join them. They’re all co-workers and therefore at least acquaintances to some degree. They were also adults. High school lunch table clicks weren’t really a thing anymore. But, in practice, he finds himself unable to do so. As extroverted as he is, it’s still a group of mostly strangers and he doesn’t know how they would feel about his companions joining them as well. He only recognises one - who wouldn’t?
Breach.
Or just Erik, since they’re not on the field.
They were exactly what he would call just acquaintances. They merely knew of each other as a lasting side-effect of having worked together a few times and gone on deployment once. Even then it had been unintentional. Someone had caught the flu and couldn’t join the rest, so Gekko had to be the one to replace them. There weren’t many missions where both he and Breach were needed - usually just either of them would suffice. And that mission had been the same. Breach had rushed in head-first and left Gekko mainly to watch. It had been the easiest and most boring three days of deployment he had been on.
They got to know each other a little during those three days, mostly just to find out they had little to nothing in common. It shouldn’t have been surprising just by looking at them as a duo. Polar opposites in many ways, but adults enough not to need a shared hobby or similar taste in music to work together.
Even the radivores had been vary of Breach in the beginning. They were usually careful around new people - that was nothing new - but that cautiousness usually wore off within a day or two, usually even quicker during missions where they spent a lot of time together as a team.
But that didn’t happen with Breach. It was as if the crew had decided not to trust him specifically. Not sit close to him during transportation, not look at him when he was talking, and only begrudgingly fight alongside him - and even that was only because Gekko needed them to. For whatever reason Gekko still hadn’t deciphered, they just simply did not like him.
Except for Thrash.
Why she felt like making friends with this war machine of a man was as unclear as why the others didn’t. Breach didn’t seem to understand it either - whether or not he had even picked up on the others’ distaste of him.
“I think she likes you,” Gekko had told him in the back of their first truck on their way to the mission site as the other three radivores had gravitated towards Raze sitting on his other side whereas Thrash had been more curious about Breach.
Breach had just snorted, reaching his hand to pet Thrash’s protective shell and testing if she would let him. She did.
“Why?” he had asked, more or less rhetorically.
It had made Gekko smile as well.
“You tell me.”
Though they never really found an answer to Breach’s burning question, it was still a nice little conversation starter, a way to break the ice. And a reason that left him seeking out Breach’s company during their off-time as those three days rolled by. The radivores were often the stars of the show, anyway. Almost everyone liked having them around, watching them do their thing whether on the field or on their way there. It wasn't out of the norm for him to base friendships on interactions his crew had started.
Life continued on normally after they got home from that mission. Gekko would consider Breach a friend after that time they had spent together - just like he would anyone else whom he had to spend multiple consecutive days stuck together with while having varying levels of privacy. They still didn’t spend time together afterwards, sometimes acknowledging each other with small nods across a hallway or just with short, intentional eye contact and quick smiles.
Gekko didn’t mind it, nor was he really expecting anything else. Like he had learned during those three days, they didn’t have much to bond over. He didn’t dwell on it. He thinks Breach bonded more with Thrash than him.
That empty space between the two of them only left him curious to find out what they could fill it with. He liked making friends, and he liked being liked. Breach might be a tougher conquest, but he wasn't in the mood to turn down such a challenge. Especially not since Thrash seemed to only encourage it, wanting to stop every time they passed Breach in the hallways and wanting to sit next to him in any and every place they got the chance to do so.
The initiative most often came from the radivore in question, though neither of the two ever minded it. It might have made both of them late to whatever plans they were going along with on a few occasions when a three-minute walk turned into ten, but still, she was impossible to get mad at. All but the other three members of the crew seemed happy about such inconveniences, and it never felt awkward to strike up a conversation about their plans for the day or other mundane topics, as much as neither of them had planned or even meant to have that short talk to begin with.
So it definitely surprised him just how casually Breach had approached him at the gym almost a month later and struck up a conversation in the middle of his set. Or, he hadn’t approached him specifically, but Harbor, who was spotting for him. He had still directed his words towards Gekko.
“Mind if I borrow your man here for a second?” he had asked. “Need his help over there.” He had nodded towards some corner of the room, but Gekko hadn’t registered where and what would even be in there.
Harbor had done the talking for him as he was clearly in the middle of something.
“Two more.”
It had been directed at the both of them and Gekko had answered with a groan. Glad that he had someone to keep count for him, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. But he had pushed through those two more reps and even gotten the bar back onto the rack without Harbor’s help. Feeling accomplished and exhausted, he had just laid there on the bench and tilted his chin up to look at the two. An odd and slightly awkward angle, and Breach had given him a quick, almost amused smile.
He had been glad that his face was already flushed enough to conceal the physical side-effects of suddenly feeling sheepish and incredibly small, knowing that Breach himself could probably bench press a tractor if he wanted to, and he was feeling accomplished over an additional fifteen pounds added to his set. He had quickly sat up to shorten the distance at which Breach was looking down at him, pretending like his arms didn’t feel like overcooked spaghetti as he did so.
The focus had not been on him after that change and he wasn’t sure if he liked that or not. Breach had steered his focus back onto Harbor now that he could have his full attention.
“The bolt’s stuck again,” he had told Harbor, absolutely not giving enough context for Gekko to guess what that meant.
Harbor had given him a short hum of acknowledgement before turning to Gekko again.
“Take a break. This won’t take long.”
Gekko had just nodded and reached for his water bottle, having to mask just how much effort even that little task took. Maybe that fifteen pounds wasn’t such a good idea.
He had spent his break watching what Harbor and Breach were up to on the other end of the weights section. What he had concluded was that the bolt that secured the weights in place on the dumbbell Breach was using didn’t budge and Breach couldn’t get a proper hold of it himself to unscrew it. He had watched as Harbor had completed the job with a brief struggle, holding his hands afterwards in apparent pain from the task. He had gotten a thank you in the form of a pat on his shoulder before he had returned to Gekko to continue overseeing his workout. Gekko’s focus had been elsewhere for the rest of his time at the gym that day, and he could only hope that Harbor didn’t notice.
After that, it became almost a part of Gekko’s routine. Those two days a week when he would hit the gym with Harbor would often include him spotting and properly greeting Breach if they ran into each other. How he hadn't noticed their workout times overlapping before was beyond him, but he stopped wondering after the third time they noticed each other.
It became something he started looking forward to, even considering adding a third day to his schedule to go to the gym just on his own. Having Harbor hold him accountable and actually stick to his current routine was a good incentive to utilise the free gym equipment provided for them as he would feel guilty if he didn’t show up. So it wasn’t like he needed Harbor to be there with him; the routine they had was just to keep him in line and for him to delegate all the numbers to Harbor. It was easier that way, and Harbor didn’t seem to mind. He gave Gekko the numbers and counted for him, too. All Gekko had to do was what he said. Easy enough.
So it was when Gekko caught himself actively thinking about what to reschedule and where in his routine to make room for a third gym day by himself that he realised what he was doing. Making changes to his near and dear routine in the hopes of running into someone on base more often. The reasoning for it had been about his health and improvement at the gym for the first four times he thought about it. The fifth time he thought about if he would see Breach at the gym if he went there now instead of sitting on his couch and scrolling mindlessly on his phone, it had finally hit him.
At the ripe old age of twenty-four, he had developed a workplace crush.
One that made him giddy thinking about running into, and one that left him unreasonably disappointed when he didn’t.
Worked into his weekly routine, he didn’t even notice it forming.
Even though they almost routinely saw each other in the hallways, the cafeteria, the outside turf, even the laundry room, having something more specific like the gym was a world of its own. Because he ran into anyone and everyone between his daily tasks, but the gym was a place where he specifically sought out the familiar frame and flowing head of red hair. Whether or not Breach did the same was unbeknownst to him, and he didn't know if he even wanted to know.
Sure, even early on he had noticed himself trying to catch glimpses of what Breach was up to when they were at the gym at the same time. But he justified it by reminding himself that he did that with everyone, constantly checking his surroundings out of sheer curiosity on his breaks. It was just natural to him.
But his gaze never lingered on the others like it did on a certain titanium frame, nor did it ever turn away as quickly as it did when meeting a pair of green eyes suddenly looking back at him.
Harbor had caught on, too. How could he not? Almost all the time that Gekko spent at the gym, he was accompanied by Harbor, as they had agreed on.
It was a curse and a blessing.
Harbor was incredibly helpful and kind enough to keep tabs on his progress, almost like a personal trainer for him.
But Harbor also wasn’t blind - or stupid. He had picked up on Gekko’s habits of people-watching quite quickly, so he had missed the first couple of glances that Gekko stole of Breach right in front of him.
It was when Gekko had looked a bit too mesmerised as his eyes were set on that specific corner where Breach spent most of his gym time that Harbor’s curiosity had got the best of him. He had glanced over his shoulder to meet the sight that was Breach wiping the sweat from his face with the hem of his shirt, his stomach unintentionally proudly presented for anyone’s viewing pleasure.
His eyes had soon focused back on Gekko, this time meeting a startled expression and a jaw dropped open.
“It’s not—” Gekko had immediately started a defence, his skin burning and brain lagging. “I’m not— Not like that.” Even he didn’t know what he was trying to say.
Harbor had just looked at him with fond amusement, the furthest thing from judgemental.
“I would have believed you had you not said anything,” he had still had to retort.
It took a groan for Gekko to accept his defeat and the fact that he had been caught in the act - luckily by someone he knew wouldn’t be an ass about it. Just the thought of someone like Phoenix knowing instead had made his skin crawl. He would never hear the end of that or know a second of peace.
He had lifted his gaze from the bench he was sitting on to glance at Harbor.
“Just don’t— Don’t say anything.” He had stolen Harbor’s own words for himself to make a sentence easier to string together.
Harbor had just given him an understanding smile before mimicking the act of sealing his lips shut and throwing away the key.
Gekko’s breath had escaped as a sigh as he let himself relax, fully trusting Harbor to keep his unspoken word.
“Thank you.”
So, there he was. Monday morning in the cafeteria, twenty-four of age, and with a fat fucking crush on a co-worker that left him acting like a hopeless teenager all over again. A fat crush he apparently wasn't hiding too successfully. He needed to work on that.
It was thrilling and pathetic at the same time.
That little boost of dopamine that made his heart skip a beat when he saw Breach often only made him crash mere moments later when he actually thought about it. An adult man, getting excited about running into another adult man at their shared adult job where they regularly risked their lives to keep the world a safer place for everyone. He could hold a rifle steady for hours regardless of how tired he got but his palms still got sweaty when he crossed paths with a co-worker and exchanged quick acknowledgements with him.
Just the fact that their previously casual and unremarkable Thrash-induced run-ins with each other started to make his heart race was telling enough. It suddenly started to seem unreal that he ever even saw them as just something mundane. Moments where topics of casual discussion initially came to him naturally now left him stumbling over his words as he couldn't help but overthink even the smallest details of his sentences. They had to be perfect so Breach wouldn't catch on - as if his sudden nervous fidgeting and inability to just stand still weren't clear enough indicators that something has shifted in his mind.
He was genuinely just hopeless, feeling like he was losing a budding friendship because he had gotten some unwarranted feelings involved. He had no plans to ever act upon his feelings; he wasn't even sure what these feelings were.
Or that's what he convinced himself to believe in order to not take any accountability for keeping these thoughts to himself. Shifting the blame onto something abstract to let himself stay in that comfortable bubble of helplessness had never seemed more enticing. He wasn't going to blame Breach for not bringing it up, either. For all he knew, these feelings were everything but reciprocated.
These feelings that he one night finally admitted to himself. Dressed them up with words and just sat with them.
Staring at the ceiling in his room and listening to the quiet snoring of his radivore companions, he had just accepted it. There were worse things in this world than wanting to fuck a Swedish man, anyway. That list may not be long, but it exists, and that's all that matters.
He knew he probably didn't want a relationship out of it - a thought he knew he would have to revisit in the future if it ever became a real option. Again, they didn't have much to bond over apart from an excited little radivore that was adamant on bringing them together at any and every convenience; there wasn't much to build a relationship on.
The attraction he felt was most likely only physical, anyway.
Yes, Breach's stupid jokes were funny sometimes, and the way he laughed at them the loudest was almost endearing. Yes, the way he expressed interest in whatever Gekko was telling him by small adjustments of his facial muscles was always nice and made him feel heard. Yes, watching him interact with Raze as if they have known each other since birth was heart-warming. Yes, him replacing English words that he forgot with their Swedish counterparts and then rolling his eyes when no one else understood what he meant was fun to witness.
But, yes he also towered at least a good twenty centimetres above Gekko while being built like a military-grade industrial fridge. The long hair that he kept tied up all too often and the neatly trimmed beard were just added bonuses. Not to mention the arms. Because oh, god, could he not stop thinking about the arms. Not only did they make Breach's silhouette just that much more menacingly impressive, they also fostered enough strength to probably snap a grown man's body in half if need be.
The thing that fucked him up the most is knowing that there probably has never been a need for that. Because despite the previously mentioned menacing appearance, Breach was kind. Was he also an annoying loudmouth with a dangerously high sense of self? Maybe. But that didn't stop him from being just a genuinely nice person to be around. Friendly and talkative to no end on a good day, and simply keeping to himself on a worse one.
He harboured a sense of patience that Gekko hadn't thought of, a sense of selflessness that he witnessed out on the field all that time ago. A natural need for leadership that led him to look after the other four before focusing on himself, letting everyone else hop in the evac vehicle before doing the same, just to make sure that they would all make it. Even though he wanted to put up a front about being a lone wolf who only does what's best for his own interest, he was still clearly a sociable creature, as humans tend to be regardless of their innate wiring.
But Gekko tries not to think about all that. He's probably making it all up, anyway.
Somehow that only makes it worse for him.
Because maybe the tall buff guy with the nice jawline and scarred cheeks and a thick accent to lace the profanities he lets slip isn't nice and only fucks for his own selfish enjoyment.
That's actually so, so much worse for him.
Because, of course, he'd be into that. It would also go along with his own idea of what they could be - i.e., not a couple - but it's still a horrible though to have, especially about a co-worker; a friend, for fuck's sake.
When he realises that the versions of Breach that he has coined up in his mind are not mutually exclusive, he decides that it's time for him to sleep. Or at least move on to something more concrete than an onslaught of feelings that leave him gushing over just some guy while also trying to keep his hands above his duvet. There is no way he could fall asleep in the immediate aftermath of these thoughts that he has to force out of his mind to make room for something more sensible.
Like a plan. Some sort of idea of what the hell he's supposed to do.
Admitting and sorting out his feelings were one thing. Actually acting upon them was a completely different world.
Not only would he have to say it out loud and speak it into existence, but he would also have to face the soul-crushing possibility of being rejected. There was no guarantee that any of his thoughts or feelings were reciprocated to any degree.
When the clock strikes late enough and he has thought about it too much, he manages to convince himself that Breach doesn't even remember him from that one mission.
Again. Hopeless.
What was supposed to be just a silly little crush for that extra boost of dopamine and a little excitement to his life ended with him losing sleep over trying to figure out if it was worth it to try to act upon it. The longer this issue persisted, the more annoyed he got with it. Alternating between just saying ‘fuck it’ and going for it and making a promise to himself to shut up about it for the rest of eternity. It got tiring after a month.
He just wanted to be done with it. What’s the worst that could happen, anyway? A suspension or discharge for sexual harassment and forever being labelled as unprofessional for letting his feelings influence his performance at work? That’s not so bad.
Especially when taking into account the persistent ‘what if?’ that made him disregard these concerns.
What if Breach was fine with it? Appreciating the compliment but turning him down without ever mentioning it to anyone? Not reciprocating the feelings, but giving him a chance and being so kind as to help him get over these persistent thoughts that wouldn’t leave him alone? And, in the best-case scenario, feeling the same way about him - at least to some degree - and wanting to act upon said feelings?
What if, what if, what if?
What if he just opened his mouth and got it over with already?
He would. He promises himself that he will.
When the time is right and he can go along with his plan and just say ‘fuck it’.
That time better come soon or he is going to lose what little was left of his sanity.
Keeping his little gym routine - after deciding that he shouldn’t add in that third day - only chewed away at his patience to keep his little issue to himself.
Seeing Breach those two times a week with someone who knew what he was doing was bad enough as it was. It took one incident of him accidentally walking into the pull-up rack as he was focused on a certain someone doing sit-ups across the room for Harbor to finally intervene and start supervising Gekko’s exercising while purposefully standing between him and Breach to obstruct the view. It made Gekko feel like a kid. It also made him feel incredibly embarrassed and stupid. He was a mess.
At least there was a thin silver lining to this overlap in their workout schedules. Because he rarely, if ever, ran into Breach in the locker rooms. He usually got to the gym after Breach was already there and also left before Breach did. As much as he was kind of displeased about it, the more he thought about it, he was also infinitely glad about it. It was the last thing he needed to add to his weekly routine.
He didn’t spend too much time in the locker rooms, anyway. Sure, he was allowed to use the men’s changing rooms and showers, but that didn’t mean he liked using them, per se. As much as the general atmosphere was accepting and supportive - neutral, at least - he still felt like he got a few too many looks whenever he had anything less than a full gym set on.
It got under his skin in the beginning, being given extra attention like that. Extra attention that he didn’t want. He never used the showers at the gym, always explaining something about needing a water filter for the showerhead so as not to fuck with his hair dye if anyone who didn’t know the real reason asked. The lie had an inkling of truth to it; he didn’t feel like carrying around his shampoos and conditioners, and he surely wasn’t going to subject his hair to the generic ones the gym offered.
So, he always quickly changed his clothes in a corner of the locker room, his back turned towards the rest of the gym-goers as he did so.
It was always an experience he wasn’t prepared for whenever there was a larger group of people changing at the same time as he was. He was aware of the culture of so-called ‘locker room talk’. He had overheard his fair share of it, and it never ceased to amaze him just how openly the others talked about topics he wouldn’t even admit at gunpoint.
It was oversharing, and he felt even more like an intruder when he overheard the details of a faceless stranger’s sex life from across the room. Being forced to listen to these tales crossed the line of morbid curiosity on the third time he had to hear just how good another faceless and nameless stranger’s pussy was. He did not need to know. And neither did anyone else in the room. But now they were all connected by this useless knowledge, cursed to hear about it time and time again. Great.
But he reminds himself to count his blessings. No Breach in sight. No oversharing on his part to overhear. Gekko pinches himself every time he thinks he wouldn’t mind hearing what Breach would have to tell. It was none of his business. It was a selfish thought and none of his business. The small bruises littering his forearms remind him of that.
In the middle of one specific sharp pinch to his skin as he stares right through the set of lockers in front of him, and someone interrupts him.
“What’re you doing?”
Gekko immediately flattens his palm over his forearm to hide the red mark that’s surely forming already as his head snaps towards the familiar voice.
“Itch— Uh, mosquito bite,” he stutters, scolding himself for not having come up with a proper explanation beforehand.
Phoenix seems to believe it.
“Unfortunate. Anyway, are you in a hurry? Come sit with me. Ryo’s being a b—” he visibly seems to bite his tongue to not go through with the sentence, “and he won’t talk to me.”
Gekko just blinks for a second, trying to gather himself and get his heart to stop racing from the adrenaline from being ‘caught’.
“Yeah, no, not in a hurry,” he manages to say. “I can— Yeah.”
Phoenix’s face seems to light up and he smiles.
“Nice, c'mon,” he simply says before already turning around again and starting to head back to where he came from.
Gekko quickly grabs his water bottle with him before following along.
Spending extra time in the locker room wasn’t on his to-do list for the day, but he didn’t have anything else planned, anyway. He could spare a few minutes. That was also what he gets for zoning out when he was just supposed to stretch a little before making his usual beeline to the door after getting his clothes on.
Phoenix leads them a few sets of lockers away from Gekko’s own to a similar area where Yoru is already sitting at, focused on filing his nails. He glances up at the two of them, rolling his eyes.
They exchange quick greetings as Gekko takes a seat on the bench in front of a locker across from Yoru - after checking that there’s a key in the lock to make sure he wouldn’t be in anyone’s way. Phoenix does the same, sitting closer to Yoru and getting another glare from him. Gekko watches the silent interaction, amused.
“So, what did you do this time?” he asks, fidgeting with the cork of his water bottle.
“I— Nothing!” Phoenix immediately defends himself. “He’s just on his period, or something.”
His answer gets him a jab to the side from an irritated Yoru, and he almost dodges it. He covers the same area with his hand as a precaution before speaking again.
“See? Irrational.”
Gekko forces a little chuckle, not too thrilled about picking sides between the two - or encouraging Phoenix to continue. He decides to change the topic.
“Why are you guys just sitting here?” He looks around their corner to see if he was missing something. This can’t be the best hangout spot in anyone’s opinion.
“We’re waiting for Sasha,” Yoru answers, quickly looking up at Gekko. “He’s late.”
“Someone made a complaint about us ’sitting around’,” Phoenix makes air quotes with his fingers, “and ‘occupying space’ in the gym, so now we have to wait here.”
Gekko acknowledges them with a short hum. “Unfortunate.”
Phoenix glances at him and smiles, and Gekko gives himself a mental gold star for the interaction.
He wants to keep the focus on the two so as not to have to talk about himself. Luckily, the next question presents itself easily, and he knows that Phoenix will be more than happy to talk.
“So, what are you doing with Sasha?” he asks, also growing genuinely interested.
And, just as he assumed, Phoenix speaks up first while Yoru doesn't even lift his gaze from his nails.
“We asked him to teach us archery so I could beat this loser's ass in it, but he took one look at,” Phoenix shoves the sleeve of his shirt up and quickly flexes his biceps, “these guns, and said no.” He straightens the sleeve back out with a shake of his head, pretending to seem distraught by such a disruption in their plans.
Yoru's reaction to the whole ordeal is just to kick Phoenix's ankle as a thank you for the kind words.
Gekko looks confused enough to prompt Phoenix to continue after lightly elbowing Yoru's arm in return.
“So, we're doing arm day with him.”
That would make more sense than going to the gym just to be degraded about their arm strength by a co-worker. Still, to each their own.
Gekko nods, at a little loss for words. He curses his small talk skills.
“Cool. Sounds fun.” He mentally cringes already.
Luckily, Phoenix saves his ass from any further meaningless talk. He was apparently going in the wrong direction, anyway.
“Nah, mate. I'm gonna be dead tomorrow.” He says with a laugh. “That guy trains like a fucking—” He pauses to figure out a proper metaphor, eventually failing regardless of the finger-snapping and hand motions he does to get his brain cells working again. “Whatever. Man's insane, that's all you need to know.”
Unable to hide his amusement from the description, Gekko lets a small chuckle relax his overworking mind. He believes Phoenix, regardless of Sova's humble nature that hadn't brought this information to his consciousness before.
And, speak of the devil, all of their heads snap towards the sound of a door opening and closing, followed by a set of footsteps walking towards their little corner.
Yoru drops his gaze first, again focusing on his nails. They had to be perfect at this point.
Phoenix does the opposite as he already stands up, ready to greet Sova and impatient about getting to blow off some excess energy. He takes the few steps needed to look past the sets of lockers, standing close enough to Yoru to get the end of the nail file poked into the back of his knee.
“Wrong door, idiot.”
Yoru still doesn't even lift his gaze.
Phoenix looks towards the other, correct door in question, where a broad stature of a man blocks the view. He quickly turns back to Yoru, almost mirroring the earlier offence and lightly kicking him in the leg.
“How was I supposed to know?”
Already turning back towards the door, he misses the way Yoru gestures at his ear with the nail file, and how that's followed up by an eye roll since Phoenix misses it.
Gekko tries not to seem too amused by the interaction. It was kind of fun just to watch the two, seemingly so comfortable with each other, even though they bicker like little kids. It’s almost endearing, and Gekko can't help but feel genuinely happy for the both of them, regardless of what argument they were currently in the middle of. Though this happiness mostly comes from knowing that these two have contained and reserved their never-ending mindless fights for each other, leaving the rest of the world in peace.
“Whatever. You'll do,” Phoenix continues speaking in the wrong direction, gesturing somewhere beyond Gekko's field of vision. “C’mere, Erik. I gotta ask you something.”
Gekko is glad that Yoru's focus is still on his nails since that means he misses the way his eyes widen at the mention of the familiar name. That sudden surprise quickly turns into sheepishness and embarrassment from the mere existence of it. He saw Breach in the gym, and now he's seeing him in the locker rooms. It's quite literally the most natural progression of places they could run into each other. He forces himself to stay neutral and hides such efforts behind a sip he takes from his water bottle. Occupying his hands and mouth for a moment leaves all of his mind's power to focus on his brain calming down.
Except he can't swallow properly when Breach appears next to the lockers, dragged over there by an adamant Phoenix. He has to turn his head to cough a few times to get the irritating feeling in his throat to dissolve. Again, at least it's a distraction for him. As much as it makes his cheeks burn for more than a mere physical reason, it's still a distraction.
“What gossip club am I interrupting here?” Breach practically laughs the question out as he eyes the corner Gekko and Yoru are sitting in.
Now, Yoru finally puts the nail file away after one last inspection of his handiwork and he lifts his gaze to greet Breach.
“That, exactly,” he answers with an equally humoured tone to his voice.
Gekko only manages to give a nod of acknowledgement, not trusting his voice after having almost coughed his lungs out just moments prior. Breach gives him a similar nod back, and the thought of having a different greeting than the others makes Gekko feel all to special for his own good. Even though the greeting in question was less interactive than a verbal one, it's still special to him. He tries not to think about how pathetic accepting literal crumbs makes him feel under the surface.
At least the others fill the silence he was still upholding.
“Right, so, you know I wanted to ask you—” Phoenix starts but gets cut off by Yoru.
“If it's what I'm thinking it is, Jamie, don't.”
Phoenix shoots him a glare. “Shut up. You know nothing.”
Yoru sighs and shakes his head with as much disapproval as he can before looking over at Breach again. “I do not associate with him.” He nods towards Phoenix.
Gekko follows the interaction, just trying his best to keep up with what's happening. The amount of previous interactions that have led to this point is unbeknownst to him, but there have to be some. Maybe he'd ask about it later.
At least Breach looks humoured by the situation. Covered in sweat and actively trying to stop it from reaching his eyes, but humoured. Gekko has to respectfully focus on his water bottle when Breach lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe his forehead dry. Looks like he didn't care for the showers at the gym, either. Not really a common experience he'd like to bring up as a mutual point of interest, but it's still something - at least that's what Gekko tells himself.
He dares to look again when he notices Breach fold his arms on his chest, awaiting whatever Phoenix's question is going to be.
It's a green light for Phoenix, as well.
“Ryo’s a pussy.” He clears his throat to drown out whatever Yoru was going to object with before continuing. “Anyway, since it's just us lads here, you know you can answer me this time.”
It seemingly brings the old question back to Breach's working memory and he huffs. Gekko feels so out of place, like he has been missing out. His gaze alternates between the three as naturally as he can, just to take in every perspective and maybe have some sort of coherent understanding of everything.
“Oh, God,” Yoru mutters under his breath as he drops his gaze, mentally preparing to witness this.
Phoenix steals a few more quiet seconds for himself before finally speaking up.
“You know I gotta know.” He shrugs as if he actually has to know. “How do you get off with those?” He nods towards the arms resting crossed on the chest in front of him.
The question hangs in the silent air for a second until it's accompanied by a tired sigh from Yoru and another amused huff from Breach. Both shake their heads. Gekko himself tries to sit as naturally as possible. This was a normal conversation they were having, and he can act normally as a person witnessing it.
Not really knowing what kind of response he was expecting, watching Breach crack his neck and shift his weight from one foot to another to buy himself time ends up being the only normal and predictable part of it.
He keeps his eyes on Phoenix as he nods towards Yoru.
“How do you suck his dick if you never stop talking?”
Gekko can't hide the way his eyes widen from the question - and it's not even directed towards him. He's just listening along as an outsider.
He had no idea Breach was this close with Phoenix and Yoru, if this conversation is even a real indicator of friendship. Or is this just what guys talk about? He's so lost and he's trying so unbelievably hard not to show it.
It makes him feel awkward sitting there and just listening. He's not a part of the conversation, he's just a spectator. At least having Yoru share that role with him was comforting for as long as it lasted, as he's now being roped in as well. And he's by himself again.
He still tries to watch along as neutrally as he can, as objectively as he can. Mirror the smiles on everyone else's lips, relax when they do, fidget with his water bottle if there's a fillable slot in time and space. That should get him through this with as little irreparable damage to his psyche as possible. And it will keep him from seeming weird. The one who is not participating in the conversation, and he's the one at risk of seeming weird. He doesn't try to make it make sense.
Phoenix's gaze darts to Yoru before he focuses on Breach again. His answer is ready awfully quickly for such a question.
He nods towards Yoru as well.
“He fucks my face if he needs to,” he says. The answer sits in the air for a good second and a half before he continues with urgency. “Now you.”
All three gazes, eyes wide, dart to Phoenix, and it takes him a few moments to even realise. He quickly answers all of them individually with a broad look across the silence.
He practically flinches when he connects some dots, reanimating back to life.
“Answer,” he clarifies. “Now you— Your turn to answer. How do you do it?”
They're moving on from topic to topic entirely too quickly for Gekko's liking as his struggles just stack on top of one another as the seconds and minutes pass. Nothing gets resolved, everything sounds like it's not meant for his ears, and no one even acknowledges that. No apologies about oversharing, no preparations for the upcoming answers, no confirmations that this was an acceptable topic to ask about. Just, no boundaries, in general. And no one to mention that this isn't something that Gekko needs to hear.
He feels almost guilty about still being invested in the conversation. Almost morbidly curious. Nosy, at least. He tells himself that he's allowed to do that as no one has told him not to listen.
The short moment before Breach's answer is long enough for Gekko to try to get back on track and shift his gaze from Phoenix to Breach. Common courtesy to look at the person who's speaking - or about to speak - but finding Breach already looking at him makes him immediately look away. Just as quickly as he does that, he returns to look at Breach again so as not to make it look like he was avoiding him on purpose. As much as his cheeks start to feel warm, he keeps his eyes on Breach and lets him break that contact when he turns to answer Phoenix.
“I don't.”
The answer is short and simple - and absolutely unheard of in Phoenix's opinion.
He's already gesturing with his hands to tell Breach that he's full of shit and a liar, but Breach gets his specification out quicker.
“I have people do it for me.”
After the answer fully registers in Phoenix's mind, he lets his arms drop to his sides just to raise them again in a silent exclamation.
“Man, you're chatting shit. No, you don't.”
His voice gives out just how unsure he is of his own claim, like he's waiting for the other two to back him up and side with him on this. The way he can't help but raise the volume of his voice near the end is telling enough on its own.
Breach doesn't take his reluctance to listen to heart. He readjusts again.
“And how would you know?”
Phoenix's next word of disagreement stays stuck in his throat as his brain proceeds faster than his mouth can follow.
“No, okay, no. You started this.” An absolute lie and they all know it. That doesn't stop him from poking Breach's chest with his finger. “Name one person.”
Breach looks down at the finger digging into his chest before his eyes dart to Gekko for such a brief moment that Gekko thinks he imagined it. Then his focus is back on Phoenix again, his gaze unimpressed enough to get him to retreat his hand.
“They prefer to stay anonymous,” he finally retorts, the seriousness of his tone unreadable.
Phoenix doesn't even try to read it.
“I knew it. You're a liar.”
If he could give one reason why Breach should tell him the truth, he might just get it. But, instead, he's getting entirely too heated over an answer to his question that he had no business asking in the first place.
Again, Breach doesn't take it to heart. He just turns to glance at Yoru, who is now also sitting with his arms crossed on his chest and his eyes focused on Phoenix.
The stupidly smug smile on his lips is awfully visible from where Gekko is sitting.
“If you want in on it, you know you won't have to ask me.”
He lightly taps Phoenix's cheek before giving his shoulder a squeeze and a shove, and finally heading to his own locker. No goodbyes or acknowledgements to the two others, the audience.
All three of them are left absolutely dumbfounded as the conversation ended so abruptly. Phoenix looks frozen in place as he tries to recall what even just happened, whereas Yoru is intently watching and waiting for him to return to this plane of existence. Once more, Gekko feels like he's intruding. He looks down at the water bottle in his hands.
The single word that Yoru says to break the silence makes his gaze shoot up.
“No.”
Phoenix has turned to look at him, an unreadable expression on his face. Or it's at least unreadable to Gekko, whereas Yoru seems to understand it clear as day.
“Why not?” Phoenix asks, clearly trying to keep his voice from turning into a whine.
Gekko thinks he might have an idea about what they're talking about, but he doesn't dare assume it. There was no way. His gaze darts to Yoru as he keeps following along, trying not to seem too much like an intruder.
“Because I say so.” Yoru's answer is quick and simple.
Phoenix answers with a groan.
“Just say you hate me.”
Gekko's attention barely reaches Yoru before he already answers.
“I hate you.”
A silence follows the words that Phoenix asked to hear, and Gekko holds his breath so as not to disturb it. Neither of the two has addressed him in the slightest, and he's starting to fear that he's not supposed to even be there anymore. Did they expect him to leave when Breach did? Did they want to have this conversation - or argument - in private? They were having it in a locker room, so they must be okay with an audience, right?
Phoenix brings the silence to an end with a scoff. “Whatever. You're just jealous.” He dismisses Yoru's - most likely false - claim and instead finally looks at Gekko, feigning an apologetic look. He shrugs. “You know how his period can be.”
It takes a few blinks for Gekko to realise that he's finally being addressed after so many minutes of just spectating. The only thing he can manage to think of is how he really hopes that Phoenix drops the period jokes before he runs out of ways to steer the topic somewhere else. He gets how it's supposed to be funny, but to him specifically, it's just stupid.
At least this time it's Yoru who makes him change the direction of his bullshit by reaching to grip the back of Phoenix's shirt and pull him down on the bench next to him. “Sit down.”
Phoenix's balance wavers from the sudden readjustment, but he follows along and takes a seat regardless. He knocks his knee against Yoru's, nudging his leg, and Yoru mirrors the act. They end up sitting with their thighs pressing against one another's, the argument seemingly put to rest just like that.
Just to fully conclude it, Phoenix rests his hand on Yoru's knee for a second before gesturing at Gekko instead.
“You heard about the changes to Friday, right?” he asks out of nowhere.
Still processing the past thirty seconds, Gekko can only shake his head as an answer, only offering Phoenix more silence to fill on his own.
“Yeah, it got rescheduled to Saturday, ‘cause, like, half of the guys got assigned— What was it?” He turns to Yoru for help to fill in the gaps, his hand moving back to his knee to tap his fingers against something as he thinks.
“A new training course,” Yoru continues for him.
“Yeah, that,” he agrees with a squeeze of Yoru's knee. “I heard it was ‘cause the ‘average performance',” he again makes air quotes with his free hand, “in here has tanked, and they're trying to fix it.”
Gekko still doesn't know what to say as he just nods along, mindlessly fidgeting with the cap of his water bottle. All of this was news to him, so he's just trying to remember if he had anything planned for Saturday that now needs rescheduling as well. In theory, sitting around and smoking with a small group of agents shouldn't be something to reschedule other plans for, but he also wasn't known for his exemplary priorities.
“So, same place, same time, just on Saturday,” Phoenix sums up the information with a smile. “You'll make it, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Gekko finally speaks up, immediately clearing his throat as his voice sounds too weak for his own liking. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
It might be a bit too early to promise anything, but he thinks it'll work out. Somehow, it always does.
“Sweet.” Phoenix's smile seems to only widen from the confirmation and his fingertips start tapping Yoru's knee again.
Almost like on cue, their conversation gets interrupted yet again by the sound of another door opening and closing. And Yoru was right; it does sound different from the one leading to the gym itself. Gekko hopes that it's finally Sova who joins them, so he can get his stuff and get back to his room to unpack everything that has happened in the unknown amount of minutes that he has overstayed his welcome in this locker room.
“It's not ‘same time’ if it's on a different day,” Yoru returns to the conversation with a mutter.
Phoenix's attention turns from the direction of the door to Yoru and he agrees with a hum and a smile. “You're so smart,” he mutters back, his voice genuine regardless of the sarcastic choice of words. He seals the compliment with a quick kiss on Yoru's temple before bolting upright to greet Sova, already in a hurry to get to the plans they had made.
It seems like the perfect window for Gekko to excuse himself and head out as well, though in the opposite direction. Phoenix has already left his seat to start dragging an apologetic Sova to their corner, so Gekko leaves his goodbyes mainly to Yoru, wishing to see him on Saturday as well.
He still hears the conversation from his own corner when the three start to plan their workouts for the following hour or so. Though, he mostly just hears Phoenix. That's enough for him to be filled in on what the group's plans were, and he can't help but feel happy for the group for their shared interest and activity. He hadn't assumed that Sova would be one to want to deal with the duo’s antics, so the surprise was definitely there. Either way, he's looking forward to hearing which of the two ends up winning their archery battle in the future.
Because he knows that he will hear about it.
Unless Phoenix loses.
chapter 2. Stuck in the sky
As much as he was looking forward to Saturday and basically counted down the hours to it, when the day finally rolled around, he still ended up being one of the last ones to join the group already waiting in the common room.
It was because of his crew. Of course it was.
Those guys didn't care one bit about Gekko's plans and how important they were. What they cared about was dragging out dinner with uncalled-for shenanigans that left Gekko having to stay behind and clean up their mess; spilled food and drinks and a broken plate as a cherry on top. Getting the group to at least pretend to apologise to the kitchen staff afterwards was next to impossible. Avoiding eye-contact and refusing to make a sound, they had left Gekko feeling embarrassed about their lack of cooperation.
It seemed to be an ongoing theme for the entire week. All of them always antsy and looking for trouble; and where they couldn't find it, they created it.
Gekko still doesn't know what has gotten into them, but his limit has been slowly approaching as the days have passed, starting from an innocuous incident with a lid from his cup of yoghurt. He didn't want to lash out at the crew since they probably just couldn't help themselves. He didn't think they were doing it on purpose. It couldn't have been that fun for them for such a long period of time, either.
As much as he was a caretaker, he was also growing tired. And not many incidents away from looking up if THC is safe for small radivores.
But he won't find that out today as he finally gets to leave his crew to entertain themselves in his room, making sure they're all good - but not too good so as not to reward their previous behaviour - before making sure that he is also all good, and heading out. A sense of relief washes over him as he closes the door behind him, freeing himself from the little creatures' continuous escapades for the rest of the night. He deserves an unconventional night out after the week he has gone through.
The stinging guilt from not being patient enough to watch over his crew until they felt better eases with every step he takes towards the common room. As much as he treasures the tiny troublemakers, he's still allowed to have his limits. A healthy distance for a few hours was better than unintentionally lashing out at them, anyway. Maybe they all just needed a short time-out.
Luckily, the walk to the common room isn't long, so he can get his own time-out started relatively quickly. Just the sight of the sign on the door letting everyone outside know that the room is occupied makes him huff out a laugh, a smile lingering on his lips when he walks up to it.
As soon as he opens the door, the room welcomes him with a familiar sweet smell and a continuous low chatter, a breeze of cool early autumn air mixing it up and hitting him when he steps inside. He closes the door behind himself carefully so the draft won't slam it shut for him, but quickly enough not to let the unmistakable smell escape.
The get-together wasn’t exactly allowed, though it wasn't clearly prohibited, either. Just extremely frowned upon and something that could get them into some unofficial trouble with consequences that wouldn't be put on a record. On the list of activities, courses, and reservations, their names would just unexplainably appear next to the earliest and latest shifts, and the vending machines near their rooms would go out of service for an undisclosed amount of time. Though they were mild-to-moderate inconveniences, everyone involved could still live without them.
So, Gekko makes sure to be careful as he enters the room, leaving his greetings for when they won't be heard in the hallways.
The first ones are directed towards Raze and Jett, who walk past him to the kitchen area on his right in search of something to eat. He follows the duo to get himself a soda from the fridge before leaving them on their scavenger hunt for more snacks. They are clearly miles ahead of him, and he tries not to feel like he has been missing out already.
He eyes the sitting area from his vantage point, quickly studying the four others he sees to decide who he should bother first.
As inviting as the free seat next to Reyna is, she’s also fully immersed in a conversation with Yoru sitting on her other side while also sharing a blunt with him. It seemed like a closed interaction, and Gekko wasn’t going to insert himself into it, nor did the thought of sitting on the edge of it seem too appealing.
On the other couch, situated diagonally from the first one, another free corner offers him a seat closest to the first one he rejected. Though, this seat would barely fit him as Neon and Fade seem to sit just between the imaginary lines of the three seats, managing to occupy all of them.
The reason for such inconsiderate seating comes in the form of a lone Phoenix sitting on the armrest next to Fade. He seems to be fully focused on his phone screen while holding a small container of what Gekko assumes to be edibles on his lap.
A conversation starter and someone he wanted to be aware of his presence wrapped all in one. His first target is obvious.
He walks up to Phoenix, adding a tranquil Astra sitting a bit to the side to his tally on his way, and manages to startle the poor guy as he’s pulled out of the world that is on his phone. Short greetings later, he finds out that the phone in question is actually Yoru’s and the box of edibles is Skye’s, and Phoenix is trying to figure out whether she left them behind on purpose and if he could have one. Unfortunately, Skye isn’t answering his horde of messages, most likely having fallen asleep already, and Phoenix is left to battle with his own conscience to decide whether or not he should steal one for himself.
The helpfulness of Gekko’s input is next to nothing as he just suggests that Phoenix does what he feels is right. The 'thank you' he gets for the advice is an unimpressed glare and a sigh that could only be interpreted as a non-verbal ‘fuck it’ as Phoenix pries the container open and snags one of the muffins for himself. They’re small, and he can only hope that it means that they’re also potent. He wasn’t going to steal any more for his poor conscience’s sake. Though he might regret it already, the first one now has his fingerprints on it so he won’t be putting it back anymore.
All he can do is hope that the fifteen dollars - that he mistakes for pounds - that he sends to Skye are enough to compensate for the crime. Hoping that Yoru doesn’t realise that this fifteen dollars is getting taken from his bank account is also high up on his list of priorities. At least Yoru’s forgiveness will be easier to earn back.
Content with standing around next to Phoenix and following his endless battle with his morals, Gekko’s attention suddenly gets stolen by a surprised, sharp inhale. His gaze quickly shoots towards the direction of the sound and connects with Neon’s wide eyes. He already hopes that the startled breath wasn’t an omen of something worse than just surprise.
But Neon’s eyes just light up at the sight and she scrambles to sit up straighter, already pushing Fade towards the armrest that’s still conquered by Phoenix.
“Teo, sit,” she tells him - and explains her adjustment to Fade. “Sit, sit,” she continues to urge him, patting the slowly freeing up space next to her as Fade reluctantly moves to where she's being pushed.
There’s no reason for Gekko not to do just that, as much as he also enjoys Phoenix’s company, and he does as he’s being told after giving Phoenix a pat on his shoulder for his efforts. He still has to gesture at Neon to fully drop her feet onto the floor and sit normally to make enough room for him.
As soon as he sits down, he lightly nudges Neon’s leg with his knee as a greeting, getting a bag of chips shoved onto his lap as there isn’t enough room for it on Neon’s anymore. He then feels Neon nudge his leg back, keeping it glued to his. It’s an alternative for an acknowledgement or even a conversation, but it’s enough for the both of them.
The soft cushions welcome him as he gets comfortable after reaching to set his can of soda on the coffee table; his lap was also getting preoccupied enough already. Trying to find a free spot on the table is more of a task than he had assumed, and he takes a second to fully internalise the mess that he is now an accomplice to.
The smoke alarm is the most concerning - though understandable - item he spots. It has been detached from the ceiling and now sits on the table, surrounded by magazines, a couple of remotes, someone's phone, small plastic bags and containers, and a few lighters. And, of course, many more or less empty snack packages, cans of soda, and glasses of water. The protocol rules only prohibit alcohol use, anyway. This was fine.
Gekko tries not to feel a little selfish about not bringing anything to the table - literally and metaphorically. It wasn’t really a part of his plans to leech off anyone else, but he also wasn’t going to turn down any offers. His plug had been unable to meet him beforehand, regardless of the message he had sent them over two weeks ago, so it also wasn’t completely his fault that he had showed up empty-handed.
Luckily, his moping around gets brought to an abrupt end when the door suddenly swings open, catching everyone’s attention. Startled and ready to defend the scene of the crime, everyone visibly tenses with lies forming in their minds to explain what the get-together was about.
But just as quickly as the energy had shifted, it returns to the previous calmness with a collective exhale of relief when the eager guest’s identity dawns upon them. Not a security guard, nor anyone from HR who was called in to dissolve the group and call it a night. Just someone who doesn’t realise to close the door quietly and accidentally lets it slam shut, making half of them flinch.
Not Raze, though.
Clearly and audibly the most excited about the addition to the group, she perks up from the kitchen.
“Breachy! You made it!” she greets him with an exclamation, only managing to gesture at him since she's still too preoccupied with the search for more snacks from the cupboards.
Breach gives her a nod as a greeting, the words “Tried my best,” getting muttered into the air as he already makes a beeline towards the couches, seemingly done with whatever his day has treated him with.
The new member of the group catches Phoenix's attention too, and he tosses Yoru’s phone on the table to greet him properly.
“Yo, Erik, good to see you. Took you a while; I thought you wouldn't show up at all.”
The slight mispronunciation of his name makes Breach's brow furrow, but he doesn't mention it. Phoenix would never learn, and he'd just have to live with that.
He takes the last free spot on one of the couches, seated between Reyna and the armrest.
A deep exhale leaves his lungs as he relaxes into the cushions and finally looks over at Phoenix, meeting his gaze over Fade’s head.
“Yeah, I got busy.”
His explanation is vague enough to spark amused curiosity within Phoenix.
“With what?”
Even if it's just regular small talk and not an attempt at probing into his personal life, Breach doesn't feel like entertaining him. He just looks at Phoenix for a moment.
“Things.”
He answers in such a deadpan manner that no one can tell what the hell it’s even supposed to mean. Though what everyone does understand it to mean is ‘stop asking’.
Phoenix doesn't take it to heart, only huffing out a laugh.
“The usual,” he concludes for Breach, getting a glance in return, an acceptance of his remark.
Gekko just watches along, not comfortable enough to insert himself into this conversation in particular. The persistent look of annoyance on Breach's face is a good enough deterrent, and he doesn't want to make whatever was bothering him any worse. He doesn't want to think that he'd even be capable of doing that, but he also doesn't want to try his luck.
He keeps watching, trying to seem inconspicuous about it, as Reyna nudges Breach's knee with her own, either to get his attention to exchange a few words or to tell him to stop occupying so much space with his comfortably spread legs. As far as he's concerned, both of the scenarios are correct. Reyna and Breach talk quietly enough to prompt Gekko to look away to give them some privacy. He wasn't going to intrude where he clearly wasn't wanted.
Instead, he looks around some more, letting his gaze wander to the opposite side of the room where Raze and Jett share a bag of chips in the kitchen while talking about something they were both clearly excited about. The sight brings a smile to his lips; the duo's simple, shared joy radiates so effortlessly to the rest of the room.
The only one it doesn't reach is Astra, who is sitting cross-legged in an armchair at a healthy distance from the rest of the group and to the right of Gekko. She's not left unaffected because she rejects such emotions, but because she's completely lost in her own world - quite literally. To say that she was even sitting in the armchair was a lie. She floats a good inch or two in the air, tranquil as ever as she hums a mindless tune and readjusts her arms every now and again to rearrange something in her universe. No one is exactly sure what she's seeing or doing, but no one minds, either. She fits the bigger picture in her own way, enjoying the company though she doesn't actively participate.
Closer to him on his right, Phoenix taps a rhythm with his hands on his thighs and his feet on the floor, clearly seeking out something else to do now that Yoru's phone is out of reach for him. Between him and Gekko himself, Fade and Neon are now engaged in a quiet conversation - more of an argument, really - about whether or not Fade should have at least half a gummy since Neon was feeling lonely between the two still-sober ones. Her head is resting on Fade's shoulder and she's holding her hand in both of her own to cushion the words that were starting to turn into coercion.
Fade eventually gives up with a sigh and lightly knocks the side of her head against Neon's.
“I need a cigarette,” she mutters as a warning before standing up and letting Neon follow her.
Though she's not interested in a similar break, Neon still accompanies Fade as she leaves the room without an acknowledgement to anyone else, grabbing one of the lighters from the table as she does so - most likely never to be seen again. Getting a few lungfuls of the cool night air will probably help Neon wake up a bit, though that wasn't really necessary at such a late hour. Were they smart about it, they'd simply just head to bed already. Or at least Neon would. But it was Saturday and her friends were there, so sleeping early just wasn't a viable option.
The open space on the couch gets occupied rather quickly as Phoenix drops down from the armrest to take a proper seat next to Gekko. Still restless and unsure of what to do with himself, he results to grabbing Yoru's phone again to entertain himself until he can feel the edible kick in. Though he didn't need the calming effect - and even though everyone was used to his overflowing energy levels - it was still nicer to be on the same wavelength as everyone else instead of bouncing off the walls on his own.
Gekko's tour around the room skips his own spot and concludes with the three sitting on the other couch with Breach sitting the closest to him, then Reyna, then Yoru. Whatever the first two were discussing has been brought to an end already - and Breach has readjusted to occupy less space with his legs, and Reyna's lips have been occupied by the joint that Yoru handed to her.
Lost in his role as a mere spectator, Gekko is startled when Breach suddenly turns to return his gaze. Not like he was doing anything forbidden, not like he was caught in any act, he still lets his surprise be clear on his face before he overrides it with a friendly smile.
It was a group activity; he wasn't expecting to see Breach there, in particular, but he also wasn't complaining. His track record of interacting with Breach around others wasn't the cleanest or most reputable, but he wouldn't let that bother him or hold him back. It was just going to be a light-hearted, friendly get-together. He could behave himself.
He keeps watching, almost waiting for Breach to open the conversation to make sure it was welcomed, as Breach sits lower on the couch and starts rummaging through the pockets on his vest.
“Haven’t seen you around before,” he finally retorts as he pulls out a metal tin and pries it open to reveal his three pre-rolls and three little plastic bags. He takes one of the joints and places it between his lips before glancing at Gekko again, shutting the tin and putting it back in his pocket to start searching for his lighter.
Gekko still doesn't avert his gaze as he sets the bag of chips on the coffee table - only to have it stolen by Phoenix a mere second later.
“Could say the same about you,” he answers before settling in comfortably again, lifting one of his legs onto the couch and resting it against the armrest. He turns a bit more towards Breach, rudely turning his back on a preoccupied Phoenix.
Breach shrugs as he lights up his joint, inhaling the smoke deeply before breathing it out through his nose. He puts his lighter away and, following Yoru's example, offers to share with Gekko.
It takes a surprised blink for Gekko to react and he accepts the joint with a smile and a polite “Thanks.”
Phoenix is not amused as he watches the interaction, the short exchange having caught his attention from whatever he was still browsing through.
“Hey! What happened to ‘I’m Erik Torsten and I don’t share’?” he exclaims, his impression of Breach’s accent less than favourable. He’s a little offended, taking the gesture a bit too personally for reasons unbeknownst to the rest of the group - and himself.
Breach just glances at him before getting handed the joint back.
“Pretty boys get a free pass.”
It’s just fuel to the fire.
“Yeah, exactly?” Phoenix can’t keep his voice down. “Bro, I’m right here.” He gestures at himself, as if his visibility was the issue to begin with.
Gekko turns even further away from him - effectively more towards Breach instead - to hide his giggle from him. His face feels warm already as a smile lingers. The words ‘pretty boy’ sound too nice in Breach's voice for his own good. For anyone's good, really.
Phoenix is ready to whine some more about Gekko’s reaction and him being a traitor for siding with Breach, but Breach reserves that space for himself with a scoff before he can speak up.
“Get your man before he causes a scene,” he suggests without a single courtesy, turning towards Yoru and nodding at Phoenix as he speaks. He knows that if there's anyone Phoenix will listen to, it's Yoru.
And, he's right.
Yoru groans as he pushes himself up from the couch. He circles around the coffee table and gets to Phoenix, grabbing his phone from an inattentive hand before dragging Phoenix back to the couch with him, almost managing to drop the bag of chips on the floor in the process. He sits down and pulls Phoenix to sit on his lap. With the three on the couch already, there's not really any room for Phoenix and he ends up sitting almost sideways in Yoru's lap, his knee pressing against Reyna’s thigh. She nudges him away, though there isn't any free space for her closer to Breach, either.
Trying to seem displeased about the change - though having Phoenix so close to him makes him feel everything but that - Yoru tries to steal a glance of Breach from the corner of his eye. Unable to really read the man's expression with the additional body between them, he blindly decides to poke the bear a little.
“It's not personal.” He nudges Phoenix to get those pretty brown eyes on him. “He's only sharing with Mateo because he wants to get in his pants.” He speaks quietly, but not quietly enough for only Phoenix to hear.
Reyna takes it as an immediate sign to leave. She does not need to hear this. Quickly standing up and taking a step past the two, she leans against the armrest and ruffles Yoru's hair before giving him a light shove.
“Behave,” she mutters, sounding less than impressed with Yoru's antics. She gives Gekko a pointed look as well, being met with a little wave goodbye that makes her shake her head but still wave back.
Being granted more space, the two move in almost unison to get Phoenix sitting more comfortably on the couch, once more getting his feet nudged away when they now rest against Breach's leg. Phoenix's gaze alternates between Breach and Gekko, jumping to Yoru now and again to see if he's serious.
Gekko acts like he didn't hear anything, just casually watching as Breach turns to the two. He can't see the look on Breach's face, and he doesn't know if he wants to. The uneasy feeling in his stomach has to be from the weed - whatever odd Scandinavian blend his system wasn't used to - not from the butterflies that were big fans of being called a pretty boy in front of others.
Though he can't see the look on Breach's face, he can see the cloud of smoke he blows towards the other two before blindly handing the joint towards him again, his eyes still focused in the opposite direction.
Something shifts in the pit of Gekko's stomach as he leans forward to accept the offering before he even thinks about it. Realising that he's playing along with whatever Yoru thinks is going on, his breaths start to follow a forced, steady rhythm that his heartbeat absolutely exceeds. He makes the mistake of glancing at Yoru before actually meeting Breach's fingers with his own, seeing a smug look and an unreadable one right next to it. He doesn't even try to defend himself. He just goes with it; accepts the claim, lifts it to his lips, and sucks in a lungful of smoke.
Yoru looks victorious as he squeezes Phoenix closer to him. “Told you.”
Breach scoffs at the interaction, not confirming or denying anything - though his silence is absolutely a nod towards the former option.
Gekko tries not to think about it too much; just the correct amount would suffice. Just enough to make him feel the butterflies in his stomach without letting them make him nauseous.
There is a noticeable tension in the air in the silent aftermath of Yoru’s quip as no one knows how to one-up it. There won’t be a genuine answer or admission from either party in question. Breach won’t admit it and Gekko isn’t going to say that he’d be fine with it. Neither of them is too keen on acknowledging anything in front of the two, knowing it’d only make things worse.
Eventually, the staring contest ends in Breach’s forfeit as he turns to look back at Gekko, immediately getting his joint handed back to him with a surprised expression. He meets it with a smile, not showing anything beyond genuine amusement in his expression as his hand lingers on top of Gekko’s long enough for only him to notice.
“Tack,” he says simply before leaning back against the cushions and bringing the joint to his lips.
Gekko doesn’t know where to look as he doesn’t want to meet the gaze of any of the three so as not to let his uncontrolled expression talk more than his mouth. Anything on his face could and probably would be used against him, even though Breach is the one getting actively grilled about his motives. Breach can keep that active role and leave him as just collateral.
Luckily, all of their attentions soon turn towards the door that once again opens carefully as Neon and Fade return make their return, walking hand in hand.
They glance at the new arrangement on the other couch and mirror it; Fade sits down with Neon right next to her, lifting her legs to rest on her lap. Fade’s arm around Neon’s waist keeps her close while Neon steadies herself with a hold around Fade’s shoulders. They seem to have come to a conclusion about what Fade will and won’t do on her smoke break as Neon now keeps the pleas to herself.
It’s nice for Neon to reach a state of comfortable and tired relaxation, fully letting her guard down and letting Fade take care of her for once. It wouldn’t be the same on her own or with just someone random. She’s safe with Fade, who will make this small sacrifice to look after her grown adult girlfriend while she turns her brain off for the night. Her being a night owl helps with it; she doesn’t mind staying up late even without any other substances apart from her trusty nicotine.
As much as Neon seems like she should be asleep already, Fade knows that it’s just her reaching a level of relaxation that leaves her tranquil, and she appreciates the anchor she has, wanting to spend time with her favourite person without the constant stress and lingering fears about accidentally hurting her or herself. Those will return in the morning, as much as she will try to suppress them, but they don’t exist now.
Now, it’s quiet mumbles against Fade’s jaw and lazy grips on her shoulder, silently asking for continuous reminders of her attention with adjustments of Fade’s hold on her waist.
Phoenix tries to give the two the privacy they want - though they are in a public place on a shared couch - but he can’t help but grow a little concerned over the unfamiliar behaviour he’s witnessing.
“She alright?” he asks, gesturing towards Neon. There’s some amusement in his voice to conceal the worry underneath.
Fade looks back at him with coldness in her gaze, offended that anyone would question her ability to look after the woman and read her like an open book. Especially in her current state.
“She’s fine,” she answers simply. Her situation is none of anyone else’s business, though it’s not really a secret, either. Still, she wasn’t going to be one to share information about Neon’s personal choices, especially not without input from a sober Neon herself.
Almost like to prove Fade’s claim, Neon awakens from the sound of her voice and presses her face against Fade’s cheek, mumbling something incoherent before letting out a muted laugh.
The way the corners of Fade’s lips twitch makes it clear as day that she’s trying not to smile at Phoenix, though she’s not strong enough to resist the growing warmth in her chest. The humoured, good-willed smile she’s met with as she still tries to convince Phoenix on her own doesn’t help, either. She concludes the conversation by turning towards Neon again, holding her tighter to answer whatever she had wanted to tell her.
After an agreeing hum, Phoenix’s attention turns towards Yoru again, the smile still persisting on his lips. His arm readjusts around Yoru’s shoulders to sneak his fingers into his hair, for once in its natural state and accepting caresses through the strands. The small adjustment of Yoru’s head to meet the touch is unnoticeable to everyone else, but Phoenix feels it and acknowledges it with a gentle scratch against his scalp.
The smell of cigarettes that has stuck to Fade’s hair and clothing slowly infiltrates the room, carried through the air by the small draft coming in from the open window. Though exercising a high level of self-restraint, Yoru is not strong enough to resist the aching need in his lungs and slight tingles in his fingertips.
He nudges Phoenix closer, tilting his chin up.
“Let’s go smoke.”
Phoenix hums a confirmation, as much as he doesn’t feel like standing up. He nudges Breach’s leg with his shoe.
“You coming too?”
He notices the quick furrow of Yoru’s brow from the unwanted invite, answering it with a glance - a silent apology.
Luckily, the apology isn’t fully warranted as Breach already shakes his head, sinking deeper into the couch as a confirmation and for easier access to his pocket.
“Nej,” he still answers as he pulls out another metal tin, a round one this time, and holds it towards Yoru between his index and middle finger. “Got that covered.”
Yoru’s gaze alternates between the tin and the amused look on Breach’s face. His expression eventually turns into an equally amused, feigned grimace as he gets a single word out.
“Ew.”
Phoenix’s huff of a laugh is the loudest as he takes Yoru’s nudge as a cue to get up, extending his arm towards Yoru to help him up as well.
The two make their exit swift - without an offer for Gekko to join - leaving the group of four behind for the time being. In total, there are seven of them, but Raze and Jett’s gossip club having solidified on the kitchen floor that they’re sitting on should count as a separate entity, and Astra is still in her own world. They didn’t exactly count in the bigger picture, nor were they interested in a smoke break - in both senses of the word.
Breach readjusts in the newly free space he has on the couch, now having it all for himself - for the duration of three seconds before Gekko feels that it’s only natural that he evens out the occupied seats on both couches. He squeezes himself between Breach and the coffee table to get past him and instead plops down on the couch next to him like it’s the most natural adjustment. That’s what it feels like, at least, and he doesn’t try to justify it any further than that.
He points at the tin that Breach is still holding, filling the silence before Breach can ask what he’s doing.
“What’s that?”
He barely gets his question out before Breach answers.
“No.”
He doesn’t even look back at Gekko as he speaks, instead focusing on unscrewing the lid of the container in question.
All Gekko can do is blink in a stupor, unsure of what he heard or even said himself.
Eventually, he gets a single word out.
“What?”
Now Breach looks back at him, also looking confused.
“No, you can’t have one,” he expands upon his previous answer, speaking clearly to make sure Gekko hears this time. “They’re not the cheap American shit you have.”
He hears, loud and clear, but it still doesn’t make sense. And now he really wants one, before he even knows what he’s asking for.
His previous question sits on his tongue as he eyes the tin in Breach’s hand, at what he can only assume to be Swedish text on the packaging.
Breach misjudges his silence and continues to fill it with a sigh as he reaches the lid towards Gekko.
“See that?” he asks, the tip of his finger tapping just below a picture of the Swedish flag. “Imported straight from Göteborg. Just one would give you a heart attack.” He can't help but let out a chuckle, a bit too cocky for such a baseless claim.
The waters are still warm enough for a little test.
He switches hands and reaches the actual tin towards Gekko. “Smell them.”
Without a second though, and with only a quick glance at the actual contents of the tin, Gekko leans in and does just that. Only a quick inhale is sufficient to make him frown in repulsion and quickly lean away, immediately trying to get the unfamiliar, stinging smell out of his system with a hand rubbing his nose. It almost burns, smelling unpleasant, to say the least. He doesn’t know how to even describe it to himself; it’s almost like cigarettes but somehow worse, somehow residing deep inside his nasal cavities and reaching his sinuses.
He looks over at Breach from the sound of his stupid cackle of a laugh, his brows furrowed as if Breach just served him the worst betrayal of his life.
Breach answers the look with the opposite expression, looking almost proud of himself.
“Told you,” he remarks with a nod towards him before finally taking one of the brown pouches from the tin and slipping it under his top lip. A few adjustments and scrunches of his nose later, it sits where it’s supposed to sit, and Breach closes the tin and pockets it again.
Still not having said a word, Gekko just watches along, noting all the previous times he has seen Breach’s facial muscles move in that specific way, easily noticeable from the way his moustache moves as well. He had assumed that it was just a mindless thing, maybe an unintentional twitch, or the moustache in question being ticklish against his nose. Somehow, he was not surprised that the correct answer seemed to be none of the above.
What he is surprised about, however, is still not being able to get a single word out. He doesn’t know what he should say about anything, and the lack of knowledge about the ‘anything’ at hand doesn’t help with that.
Again, Breach fills the silence for him as he turns to meet the unsure expression. He scoffs, though it sounds more light-hearted than mocking.
“Don’t look so traumatised, kid.” He nudges Gekko to make sure he has his full attention before lightly patting his thigh. That gesture is fully meant to be mocking. “It’s not gonna hurt you anymore.”
The amusement lingers in his expression as he watches Gekko blink himself into reality again, the process only accelerated by the familiar sort-of nickname.
It’s still not Gekko’s turn to speak, as Breach reaches for what’s left of the first joint on the coffee table and hands it to Gekko while already flicking the accompanying lighter with his other hand. When he had snuffed it out and dropped it on the table is unbeknownst to Gekko, but such details don't really matter.
“Play with that,” Breach simply says, managing to get a flame out of the tired piece of metal as Gekko takes the joint from him.
Though it’s not exactly a bribe, it also isn’t not a bribe. Gekko accepts it with a smile, regardless.
“If you insist,” he mutters and places it on his lips and lets Breach light it for him.
He inhales deeply when the joint lights up, ending up doing so a bit too quickly and having to cough a few times to get the ticklish feeling out of his lungs. At least he has managed to suppress that feeling before, so Breach won’t think that he’s an absolute rookie.
Getting to occupy his lips with something eases the burden of having to come up with small talk, and that helps him relax more than the actual smoke he’s inhaling. He knows that Breach isn’t waiting for him to strike up a conversation - at least he assumes so - but that weight still usually sits on his shoulders. Breach has taken his turn with talking already, anyway. He's supposed to be next. He tries not to think about it.
Every drag he takes also suppresses Yoru’s earlier remark deeper and deeper under a comfortable, thick cloud. It still peeks out a little, especially since Breach had specifically given him the remaining joint to smoke, practically urging him to keep his buzz going. But it’s still cushioned under a few coherent reminders about Breach still having had more than a fair share of his own stuff and not having actually forced anything on him. He was just being generous and friendly. As much as Gekko hopes that it’s something more, it’s most likely just him being generous and friendly.
Plus, access to his pants didn’t need to be bought.
And, even if it did, the price wouldn’t be one-third of a joint.
He knows his worth.
The stupid thought makes him smile by himself, and he hides that behind a deep inhale and a hand partly covering his mouth. It’s good enough of a shield, and he doesn’t get any questions about what he’s smiling about. Though, a brief glance across the room would reveal similar, more or less mindless smiles plastered across the majority’s faces. He didn’t really stand out.
The hiding still comes with an unfortunate price as he can feel the heat from the lit end start to reach his fingertips. Even the smallest drags he takes bring the flame closer to the filter and his lips, and, eventually, it just isn’t worth it anymore. He wasn’t going to burn his fingerprints off and get a blister on his lip just because he might also get half a lungful of smoke with them.
He instinctively nudges Breach’s arm with his elbow to get his attention as he turns towards him.
“You got an ashtray or something?” he asks, briefly glancing at the coffee table to see if any lie underneath all the other more or less miscellaneous items littering it.
Breach’s answer is the same as his conclusion.
“No.”
Gekko answers with a short hum and his attention is on Breach again, hoping that the silent question that should follow gets transmitted non-verbally. Holding the butt of the joint towards Breach gets the question across.
He simply reaches towards it and snuffs out the embers between the pad of his thumb and index finger.
Not sure what else he should have expected, Gekko lets the sight surprise him. He also lets it sink right into the pit of his stomach. It should not have been such an attractive little stunt - especially considering it wouldn’t even count as a stunt in Breach’s books - but it is. The phantom feeling of a lit cigarette against his fingertips makes him want to flinch as he watches Breach rub the pads of his fingers together to get rid of the remaining ash and crumbs.
All Gekko can do is let out a quick hum of acknowledgement before leaning closer to the coffee table to drop the butt of the joint on something that wouldn’t be a fire hazard. The endless sea of empty wrappers isn’t a good place to begin this search, and he soon ends up concluding that whatever warmth the filter still held onto wouldn’t burn through the plastic. He didn’t feel like thinking about it too much.
He sits back down properly again, now glued a bit too tightly to Breach’s side, considering the amount of free space there on the couch. Breach doesn't seem to mind. Not a single nudge pushes him away nor does a lean in the opposite direction try to create space between the two of them. He knows that his arm isn’t the most comfortable to lean against, so he lets Gekko decide how long he feels like doing that.
An adjustment later, Gekko hauls his legs onto the couch as well, sitting cross-legged and letting his right one rest partly on top of Breach’s thigh.
Again, he doesn’t get shoved away. There are no remarks about this change. Breach seems more than fine with it, and Gekko tries not to feel too giddy about it.
He leans back and finds a comfortable position for himself, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. Everything is nicely cushioned, apart from the arm that presses against his own, but that just further works as an anchor for him to stay right there. A constant reminder that he’s sitting next to Breach, even though his mind is reaching the clouds.
The initial excitement and nervousness have dissolved somewhere along the way, even though his close proximity to Breach should have increased those levels to balance out the artificial calmness in his system. But he’s just fine with it. It feels normal. A smile lingers on his lips as he looks at the white noise in the air above him that makes the sight of the equally white ceiling buzz lightly.
It’s a sense of tranquillity that he has missed more than he even knew. Breach really should introduce him to whatever this Scandinavian blend of his was. Just the thought of it makes him hold back a giggle. Is this really what ties him to this man? The first thing he can figure out for them to have in common? He doesn’t mind.
He tilts his head to the side to focus on the sight of Breach’s side profile, managing to admire it for a few seconds before Breach looks back at him. There’s still a smile on his lips and he watches how it’s contagious enough to spread to Breach’s as well. Not a single cell in his body wants to avert his gaze, deeply focused on the green looking back at him. He wants to turn more towards Breach and hug his arm or move onto his lap or something more. Anything more. He just wants to do something with his hands. He wants to feel something.
The best idea he has ever had dawns on him as he keeps his eyes locked onto Breach’s, still somehow not feeling an ounce of sheepishness. He knows that he’s not being subtle anymore - and he doesn’t even want to be.
He nudges Breach’s shoulder with his own.
“Can I braid your hair?”
It takes a second for Breach to lean forward and bring his hair over his shoulder to remind himself of its current state. He looks back at Gekko.
“It's in one already.”
Gekko rolls his eyes as he sits higher up and inches closer to Breach.
“Can I take it out and braid it again?” he rephrases his question.
“Why?”
He shrugs.
“Why not? It's fun. I like braiding people's hair.”
Breach looks Gekko up and down, examining his tennis ball of a haircut before nudging him back.
“Not really selling me here, kid.”
Gekko exaggerates a groan as he adjusts to sit properly towards Breach to look at him more comfortably while leaning his leg heavier against him as well.
“I have sisters. I know what I'm doing,” he explains. A white lie, but one never hurt anyone before. “Now, come on. Please?”
Whether or not his tired, brown puppy eyes look pleading on purpose doesn't matter as they seem to do their job.
Breach sighs.
“Fine. Have at it.”
A smile spreads across Gekko’s face and reaches all of his other features as he gets up and walks around the couch to stand behind Breach. He has to lean against the back of the couch for balance as the heaviness in his limbs protests the change. He’d prefer to lean against Breach’s shoulders, maybe place his palms flat on the top of his head and rest his chin on top of them. But it seems like a line he shouldn’t cross, a boundary in Breach’s personal space that he wasn’t going to test. He had a job to do, anyway.
He takes the braid in his hand and inspects it carefully, running his fingertips along the shapes of the strands wrapping around each other. The three metal decorations are difficult to decode - how they're staying in place and clipped into his hair. He ends up running his fingers along the ring at the end of the braid.
“What's the ring for?” he asks. He knows it's for decoration, but he wants to keep talking to Breach, expecting an explanation about it being something traditional.
“Pulling.”
Breach’s voice is so deadpan that there is absolutely no decoding it without seeing his expression. Though that little help probably wouldn’t do much, either. Gekko just stares at the back of his head, at an absolute loss for words and with no clue about how seriously he should take that comment. The silence feels too heavy, and he lets out a short hum to fill it.
“Figures,” he finally answers quietly.
Breach snorts.
So, it was a joke. A relieved breath leaves Gekko’s lungs a little too audibly as he manages to regain autonomy over his body again. All was good; it was a joke.
A flush spreads across his cheeks as he manages to think about it for more than two seconds. Obviously, it was a joke. Something at the end of his braid would be so inconvenient to actually pull, and it probably wouldn’t even be secured tightly enough to endure that. It probably wouldn’t feel very good, either.
Gekko quickly shakes these thoughts out of his head and forces his mind out of the gutter. He focuses back on Breach’s hair, testing how the other decorations should be removed. It feels like he’s working with something important and he’s afraid of messing up.
Breach can feel it - and the lack of anything being done to his hair.
“Just move the one at the bottom up,” he instructs vaguely.
Gekko’s brows furrow as he figures out what he’s been told to do. He connects the dots rather quickly and grabs a hold of the end of the braid before carefully sliding the - what he can only call a - decorative metal tube higher up. It probably has a prettier name in some other language.
Such details don’t really matter as Gekko finally gets to figure out the intricacies of Breach’s hair-braiding habits, finding where his hair actually ends. He takes off the elastic band that keeps the ring in place, holding both of them in his palm as he slides the two other decals out as well.
It’s a level of handiwork Gekko genuinely wasn’t expecting. It probably took years to perfect and to be able to make it so neatly even when getting deployed before six in the morning.
There’s a small smile on Gekko’s lips from being probably one of the lucky few with such detailed information about what should be a mundane topic. And, it is a mundane topic. But that doesn’t stop the warm shroud of getting to feel a little special from overtaking Gekko’s body. Or it might just be the weed again, he’s not sure.
He reaches his hand over Breach’s shoulder.
“Hold these for me,” he says, handing out the decorations.
Breach opens his palm underneath Gekko’s and Gekko drops them onto it before focusing back on the task at hand.
Breach’s hair is left in just a normal braid that’s starting to come undone without the elastic at the bottom. Gekko starts properly undoing it, carefully combing through the strands with his fingers to smooth out any tangles.
Curiosity gets the better of him.
“How long have you been growing it out for?” he asks.
He feels Breach’s shoulders shake as he huffs.
“Longer than you’ve been alive, kid.”
Such a simple - and probably correct - answer, and it sends a shiver up Gekko’s spine. He really needs to get his act together. There is no reason for him to have to struggle to scramble for a response to everything this man says.
He hums as he runs his fingers through Breach’s hair, now left in just a ponytail.
“Makes sense, I guess.”
He keeps repeating that gesture, combing through the curls left behind by the braid. There’s barely any tangles but he just wants to be sure.
“You don’t have a brush?” he assumes as he carefully pulls apart one of the few knots he finds.
“Nope. Not on me.”
Gekko - figuratively and physically - bites his tongue to keep a remark about maybe doing this somewhere he could get a hold of a hairbrush from slipping past his lips. An impulsive thought, and it lingers in his mind. He silently scolds himself for what must be the tenth time already. He needs to behave.
He finally moves on to take the last hair tie out, instinctively slipping it on his wrist, to let the rest of Breach’s hair down. Having been tied up for the better part of the day, Breach’s hair maintains the vague shape of a ponytail even without the elastic, and Gekko tries not to feel giddy about getting to continue brushing through the strands.
He carefully slides his fingertips against Breach’s scalp to relieve the lingering tension and let his hair fall loose. He thinks he can feel Breach relax from the touch and he quickly reaches to do the same thing with his other hand to cover more surface like that. It’s more of a scalp massage than him actually continuing to brush out any knots, but Breach doesn’t seem to mind.
He sinks deeper into the couch cushions and lets out a satisfied sigh.
“I could get used to this,” he thinks out loud, absolutely not taking into account the flush he once again gets to appear on Gekko’s cheeks.
It makes Gekko realise how, as much as Breach is fully capable of taking good care of his hair, this is probably something he can’t do for himself. Or, he most likely can, but it’s not as comfortable without some adjustments to his hands to make his fingertips softer.
Gekko revels in it, especially after getting such direct feedback about doing a good job. He feels his skin burn warmer, hoping that the warmth reaches his fingertips and lets Breach feel it too.
He keeps combing through Breach’s hair with his fingers, purposefully slow to drag it out and let his hands stay gentle. It leaves him just as entranced as Breach feels, just focusing on the way Breach’s hair feels around his fingers. It’s curly and coarse, thick and unkempt, clearly bored with staying in a neat braid for the entire day.
A cloud of cigarette smoke infiltrates Gekko’s nostrils the more he frees the strands from one another. A lingering smell of a bad habit that makes Gekko scrunch his nose. He knows the smell will stick to his fingers as well, and he already knows his crew will not be happy about that.
He almost mindlessly twists a lock of hair between his fingers and brings it up to his nose to smell it. Underneath the cigarette smoke is a scent he doesn’t recognise. It doesn’t stick out, almost blending in with the bitterness.
“What shampoo do you use?” he asks, deciding that it’s a normal thing to want to know after the normal decision to smell a co-worker’s hair.
“Tar,” Breach answers simply.
Gekko furrows his brows, his fingers falling to a standstill amidst the locks of hair.
“Tar?” he repeats. “Just— Tar?”
Breach shifts around and tilts his head to the side, almost like an alternative to an eye-roll that Gekko wouldn’t otherwise see.
“Tar shampoo. Use your brain.”
That does make more sense.
Gekko doesn’t know how to really react. The only thing he manages is freeing one of his hands to flick the back of Breach’s head for the comment. He did not feel like using his brain at this moment, thank you very much.
He feels how Breach’s shoulders shake from another huff, and it only makes the air surrounding the two of them feel even heavier. The faintest feeling of embarrassment and it awakens at least a couple of the butterflies in Gekko’s stomach. He takes a deep breath in an attempt to put them back to sleep.
It’s not a very successful attempt - and he already knew that in the back of his mind. At least he can say he tried.
Almost like an apology - or just a friendly gesture - Breach lifts his arm to reach his hand with a new joint in it towards Gekko.
Confused for a second, Gekko freezes in place. He really needs to focus on his surroundings more; he has no idea when Breach got out a second one, much less lit it. There are only a few seconds for him to react before he thinks that it would look like a rejection of this offer. He spends those few seconds blinking in a stupor, only managing to bring himself back to this realm when Breach tilts his head to look at him.
He assumes that Breach expects him to take the joint from him to take a hit, but he quickly gets a better idea. He leans closer to Breach’s hand, having to hold it steady with a light grip as he bends over a little and guides the joint to his lips. A little tinge of disappointment shocks him as he realises that he can’t casually get close enough to feel Breach’s fingers against his skin. Trying to shake that feeling with a lungful of smoke, he straightens his posture before exhaling deeply, blowing that cloud of smoke away from Breach. He taps Breach’s shoulder gently.
“Thanks.”
Breach acknowledges the politeness with a short hum before retreating his hand and settling comfortably in his seat again.
Gekko tries not to feel anxious about not being able to read Breach’s expression from the back of his head. His reaction was so neutral that there was nothing to go off of. No words, no nothing. How dare he?
Gekko drowns these thoughts under a layer of forced focus as his hands return to Breach’s hair, finally trying to figure out the actual braiding part of his idea. He has no clue how long he has just been combing through Breach’s hair instead of actually doing what he said he would. But Breach didn’t seem to mind, so he definitely wasn’t going to cut that part short on his own.
He tilts Breach’s head back a little to figure out how to section his hair in the front. Breach follows along easily, not fazed at all by the guidance.
In the middle of lining a symmetrical section with the middle of Breach’s forehead, Gekko’s fingers brush through a couple of stray grey hairs amidst the ginger that he had gotten used to already. Such a small and natural - and realistically expected - feature, and it makes Gekko hold his breath. An overreaction, for sure, but he can’t help himself.
Because Breach wasn’t that old, right?
Gekko’s thoughts run completely unsupervised as it dawns on him that he doesn’t actually know the exact - or even vague brackets - of most of the other agents’ ages. He has never wanted to ask about something more than he does now. But he ends up deciding that he can’t; Breach would know why he’s asking. The man owns a mirror and a working pair of eyes. It would be just a different way for Gekko to call him old.
Still, the thought of Breach being maybe double his age leaves Gekko suppressing a shudder.
He was so fucked.
He needs to focus on something else.
He returns to parting Breach’s hair, looking right through the greys that he unfortunately finds more of. He forces himself to focus on the braid that he’s supposed to be doing.
“I’ll make you a French one,” he fills the silence with an out-loud thought. “I know how you like those.”
Breach’s sudden burst of laughter fills that silence to an even fuller extent and even makes some of the others give him a questioning look, reminding both of them that they were not, in fact, in an isolated bubble.
Gekko’s skin has never burned warmer than now, watching Breach lean forward as his shoulders keep shaking with a genuine laugh. He had made Breach chuckle and let out little amused huffs here and there, but this was an actual, real, loud laugh. Because he made a joke. A stupid joke, for one. And now Breach is laughing, giving the butterflies in Gekko’s stomach a boost of adrenaline and making him feel almost light-headed.
He was so incredibly fucked.
Breach leans back to let Gekko continue his work.
“Good one,” he remarks, amusement still clear in his voice.
Gekko wants to thank him but bites his tongue to keep himself in check. He instead forces himself to focus on his job at hand once more, gathering Breach’s hair in his hold. A few strands got stuck between Breach’s back and the couch cushions when he leaned back. Gekko doesn’t want to pull on them for various reasons. He instead rests the backs of his fingers against the back of Breach’s neck, gently guiding him to lean forward. He can’t help the words that slip past his lips.
“Lean forward for me.” He knows exactly what he’s trying to do, and the sudden drop in the tone of his voice probably makes that even clearer.
Breach does just that, readjusting his position again when he feels Gekko properly gather all of his hair from behind his back.
The 'thank you' he gets is Gekko brushing through his hair once more, his fingers immediately getting stuck on a newly formed tangle. The sudden stop to the careless movement of Gekko’s hand yanks Breach’s head back a little, getting a surprised and slightly pained grunt out of him.
Gekko’s eyes widen as his mind immediately circles back to Breach’s earlier comment about the decorative ring and its many uses. He rethinks just how much of a joke it really was.
“Sorry,” he still says quietly, not sorry in the slightest.
Breach probably sees through it as he doesn’t reply.
He doesn’t even get to settle back in comfortably before Gekko speaks up again, tugging on the collar of his vest.
“Actually, can you take this off?” he asks. “It’s getting in my way.” Another while lie that he tries to colour with a forced frown to his voice. The collar doesn’t really bother him, it’s just a mild inconvenience that brushes against his hands every now and again.
It dawns on him that Breach probably knows that it’s not really something that hinders his ability to braid hair. After all, it is his vest and his hair that he has worked with for years. If someone knows how that collar gets - and doesn’t get - in the way of a braid, it’s Breach.
But he plays along. Silently agreeing, he keeps the joint between his lips and scoots forward again to take the vest off without having to get up. It takes a little manoeuvring as it fits him so snugly with the size of his arms, but he manages, and drops it onto the couch next to him. He cracks his neck entirely too casually before grabbing his hair into a ponytail and leaning back again, dropping his hair over the couch cushion for Gekko to work with again.
“Better?” he asks, the short question muffled as he keeps the joint hanging from his lips.
“Better,” Gekko repeats with a smile.
He has no clue how long he has been stalling already - and this is his second realisation about it already. He had asked to simply re-braid Breach’s hair, and so far he has undone Breach’s original braid, combed his hair, managed to pull on it, managed to pry into his hair care routine, and get him to undress. Why Breach hasn’t told him to hurry up and get to it already is unbeknownst to him, but he surely doesn’t mind.
Being presented with something new to focus on, Gekko feels like stalling just a little more. He keeps combing through Breach’s hair - an explanation ready about maybe new tangles having formed as Breach took the vest off - as he studies what little he can see of Breach’s tattoos peeking from under the collar of his shirt and how his arms connect to his shoulders. He wants to trace the ink with his fingertips, feel how the warm skin turns to the soft protective garment and further into the cold titanium. Though the titanium probably wouldn’t be cold so close to Breach’s body, maybe the thermal conductivity leaves his shoulders warm. Gekko really, really wants to find out.
Breach’s arm moving breaks Gekko from his one-sided staring contest with a shoulder and he focuses on his task at hand again.
Breach tugs the buckle of his belt down a bit to more comfortably rest his stomach over the waist of his pants. He lets out a relaxed sigh as he leans heavier against the cushions, tilting his head back a little, a gesture Gekko interprets as one telling him to hurry up. It almost startles him.
Gekko gathers all of Breach’s hair in one hand, holding it in a ponytail. His fingertips don’t connect around all of it. He still tries, gently tugging on Breach’s hair in the process.
“It’s so thick,” he says thoughtlessly.
Breach snorts.
“So I’ve been told.”
Gekko lets out a short hum before Breach’s words actually sink in. He freezes for a second as his eyes widen and he turns his head to hide from something. No one’s looking at him to start with, but it still feels like he’s under a microscope.
He doesn’t manage a proper response to Breach’s remark, which he takes as a sign to actually do what he said he would. He tilts Breach’s head back a little again, quickly finding those three sections of hair to start the braid with. He can only hope that Breach doesn’t realise just how much time he has spent on stalling and doing literally everything else but this from how quickly he can actually get to work when he wants to.
The silence feels heavier than it probably is, Breach’s comment still hanging over them. Gekko purposefully takes his time, redoing some of the sections a few times just to make it seem like the previous stalling had been purposeful. He keeps the strands he works with neat and symmetrical, keeping the braid tight enough to justify tugging on Breach’s hair as he works his way down Breach’s head, making sure the braid stays straight.
As much as he still takes his time, he gets the braid done all too quickly. He holds the end of it between his fingers and takes a step back to have a proper look. There are no stray strands poking out but he still smooths out even the smallest bumps, buying more time. He lets out a quiet sigh.
“Do you still have the elastic?” he asks, finally breaking the silence and admitting that he was done already. He rests his forearm on Breach’s shoulder, palm up and waiting. The skin is warm even through Breach's shirt, and it makes Gekko shudder. He looks at the hair tie that he slipped on his wrist earlier. It was too big for the end of the braid so he won't even try.
Breach seems a little spacey as he blinks himself out of a stupor.
“Uh, yeah.” He sounds entirely unsure as he starts to search his pockets, his lap, the couch cushions, and the pockets of his vest to figure out where he put the decorations with the little elastic band. After a short search and a little metallic clanking, he finds the three decals on the cushion and himself sitting partly on top of them. The elastic had stayed in place under a fold in the fabric of his pants. He hands it over to Gekko before securing the decorations in his pockets so he doesn’t forget them.
“Thanks,” Gekko says quickly and finally secures the braid in place.
He takes a step back to take one last look at his handiwork. He doesn’t want to pat himself on the back too much, but he can’t deny that he did a good job. With the amount of extra time he spent on it, it had to be at least a bit above average.
He taps Breach’s shoulder.
“All done, Breachy.” His voice is nothing short of cheery, audibly proud of himself.
He walks back around the couch, fully ignoring the furrow in Breach’s brows from the unwarranted nickname and deflecting it with a look of innocence. He moves Breach’s vest to the side to sit back down next to him, maybe a bit too close to him for a three-seating couch that currently seats a single person and an item of clothing.
He watches with anticipation as Breach reaches to feel the braid, leaving it resting over his shoulder after a short inspection.
“Not bad,” he admits. “Pretty good with your hands, aren’t you?”
“So I’ve been told,” Gekko answers confidently before he can think about it too much.
A stupid and self-satisfied smile lingers on his lips as he preoccupies himself with pulling his legs up on the couch to sit cross-legged again. He still notices from the corner of his eye how Breach glances at him and how he seems amused by the mirrored response. He tries not to show just how giddy it makes him feel. It’s barely an advance, but it still makes the butterflies in his stomach come back to life.
Almost as a non-verbal acknowledgement of that, Breach spreads his legs further and rests his hand on his lap in a way that leaves both his thigh and his forearm pressed against Gekko's leg. A nudge follows as Breach wants his attention before he hands the joint - or what's left of it - to him.
“You can have the rest.” He says before interrupting himself by clearing his throat. “I think I'm done.”
Gekko lets his surprise be evident in his expression as he gladly accepts the offering and purposefully brushes his fingers against Breach's in the process. The size difference of their hands ignites a warm feeling in his stomach, and he schedules that comparison for the near future.
“Thanks,” he repeats for the nth time this night, still giving Breach a smile as well.
He brings the joint up to his lips, immediately deciding that the current moment is the 'near future' he was waiting for. Watching Breach retreat his hand closes the timeframe for what he wants to do, so he takes what chances he can get.
“Wait,” he mutters, the word muffled as his lips are preoccupied already.
Breach acknowledges the request with a short hum, giving Gekko his attention.
“Give me your hand,” Gekko continues, freeing his lips and holding the joint in the hand that he already reaches towards Breach’s wrist to pull his hand closer.
It sounds like a normal enough request, and Breach complies without a snarky remark or comment. He lets Gekko turn more towards him, meeting the change to make the angle at which Gekko wants his hand more comfortable.
Gekko keeps his grip on Breach’s wrist as he splays out his fingers and silently asks Breach to do the same. He aligns the bottom of his palm with Breach’s, carefully placing his hand against it and pressing their fingers together.
The titanium feels cool against his skin, the edges of the panelling sticking out against his palm. He wants to retreat his hand before he even looks at the difference in size just to trace the outlines of the small and precisely crafted pieces that Breach’s hand consists of. Multiple carefully assembled parts connected by mechanical joints, his palm a dark grey and his fingers a matching lighter shade. He could admire the handiwork - as he tries not to laugh at the pun - for hours.
Breach’s huff and the feeling of his fingertips bending over Gekko’s finally bring Gekko back to the moment, forcing him to focus on how the dark material of Breach’s palm shows all around his own hand. Wider and thicker than his own, his fingers at least an inch longer as well, Breach’s hand holds more force than Gekko’s entire body. Harsh and still, whereas Gekko’s skin moulds along the shapes of the panels it meets.
The sight leaves Gekko’s breath a bit shaky, his gaze shifting to check the look on Breach’s face to see if he’s feeling the same sense of adoration as he is. He doesn’t even try to hide that feeling from his expression as Breach looks back at him, the corners of his lips twitching as he seemingly bites back a smile.
Before Gekko can say anything about his skilful handiwork on Breach’s hair having a clear reason, Breach interrupts the thought by quickly readjusting his hand, intertwining their fingers and giving Gekko’s hand a quick squeeze before retreating and dropping it back onto his lap. Then, like nothing even happened, Breach focuses on finding an empty snack packet from the coffee table and slipping the nicotine pouch out of his mouth and dropping it somewhere it’ll get thrown into the trash later.
Gekko has to force his hand back onto his lap, feeling the pressure of Breach’s quick grip lingering beneath his skin. It wasn’t tight enough of a squeeze to actually hurt, but it was enough to make him feel it for multiple seconds after Breach’s hand had left his. The thought - and evidence - of how easily Breach could hurt him, how easily he could be pushed away while being played as nonchalance, leaves Gekko quickly finding a use for his other hand that no longer holds Breach’s arm as he brings the joint up to his lips again.
He fills his lungs with as much smoke as he can before exhaling and rinsing and repeating the act. It makes his sudden sheepishness increasingly obvious, but he can’t help himself. Maybe he even wants Breach to notice that his little gesture got to him so deeply. At this point, he might as well say it out loud, ask Breach if he has any plans after this get-together and if he would like to make some.
His nerves are too jittery for his good, and he tries to calm them down with a third lungful of smoke. There is barely anything left of the joint, but he will take every little drop he can. He lets the inhale linger in his lungs for a few seconds to regulate his breathing, knowing that he needs to grab himself by the neck and straighten himself out sooner or later. Feeling boneless is all fun and games until he has to get back on his feet and not have his frame give out on him.
Taking the first step to try and reach that solid state again, he turns away from Breach and focuses on the ceiling once more. That probably just makes him look even more affected, but he can’t help himself. It’s better than continuing to look at Breach and his poorly concealed smug expression.
A better point of focus is the remnants of the joint in his hand. He fidgets with it, inspecting it and what he assumes to be the work of Breach’s talented fingers. It’s a horrible point of focus the more he focuses on it. He breathes deeply and steers that focus towards another lungful of smoke. They could be pre-rolls that Breach bought from someone, anyway. That would make more sense, he forces himself to believe.
He's not sure if the joint in question is the second or third one already, but he also wasn't going to question it.
What he is going to question, however, is Breach's generosity. Though he didn't really think of Breach as a selfish person, his willingness to share with him specifically - and only him, actually - seemed to come out of left field. Yoru's guess about it circles back to his thoughts, though it gets cushioned around the edges when he feels the smoke reach his lungs. It just makes him feel more giddy and he tries not to giggle by himself.
A pretty boy with special privileges sounds more than fine to him. He'd wear that title with pride, regardless of how much Phoenix might have wanted to share it.
And, speaking of Phoenix, the man makes his return to the presence of others known with an announcement of being back, just in case anyone missed him, while a quiet Yoru follows closely behind.
Gekko isn't sure how long the two were away, nor does he remember where or why they even left, but he's happy to see them again.
The two make their way back towards the couch they were previously sitting on, and Gekko grabs Breach's vest onto his lap and inches closer to Breach to make room for them. He doesn't acknowledge the look Breach gives him about the fate of his vest, instead deciding to keep it for himself until Breach asks to have it back.
Yoru sits down next to him with Phoenix taking the armrest on his left, leaning over Yoru to tower above him with a hand on his shoulder. He gets a glance from the new armrest in question, but he's allowed to stay there without complaints.
From his vantage point, he notices the item of clothing on Gekko's lap and quickly connects the two dots that lead him to the slight change in Breach's silhouette. He lets out a laugh.
“Damn, you guys are getting undressed already? What did I miss?”
He immediately gets a nudge from Yoru that tells him to keep his voice down, whereas Gekko hides the flush on his cheeks behind another lungful of smoke, almost like taunting Phoenix in return with the special privileges he still has. The filter feels hot against his lips, and he knows that was the last drag he could get. He holds the butt of the joint towards Breach and watches him snuff out the end again before grabbing it and dropping it into an empty can on the coffee table. The sight still makes him shudder.
At least Breach doesn't seem bothered by the comment as he then simply raises his arm to rest over of the backrest of the couch, behind Gekko and Yoru's heads, blindly finding Phoenix's arm to squeeze in response.
“Don't you worry about that, kid.” His voice is amused, and it makes Gekko's stomach do a flip.
It's conflicting, having Breach's side exposed and practically inviting him to get closer while also hearing the little nickname being used about someone else. It was never promised to be exclusively for him, but he had still assumed so. That was completely his fault, and he finds his comfort from leaning heavier against Breach. He can't bring himself to care about what it looks like he's doing or how Breach even takes it. If he opens up more space between their bodies, it will get filled. That just simply makes sense. It feels right. He'd do the same with anyone else whose personal space wasn't heavily guarded.
As if Breach's answer wasn't enough, now that he finally focuses on that, too. His mind is not clear enough for any of this. Because what does he mean Phoenix shouldn't worry about it? He's making it sound like something it wasn't, something entirely different from a convenient change to allow his hair to be braided easily. Which it absolutely only was.
The pit in Gekko's stomach won't allow him to dislike this course of action. Even if it's a joke, Breach is still entertaining the idea to others that there is something between the two of them. He wants to explode. Absolutely disintegrate into atoms at the thought of it. The possibility of it being just a joke to Breach doesn't even cross his mind. His brain, for once in his life, is too preoccupied to focus on the wrong what-ifs.
Because now, there is only Breach’s side that he gets to lean against, and a weight pressing against his other side that he could use as a justification for why he is doing that.
It’s so cosy and comfortable there that he basically forgets that it’s a co-worker who he’s cuddling up against. An acquaintance, maybe almost a friend, but not someone he probably should be so close to.
But he doesn’t care. It feels right. The neurons in his brain aren’t connecting properly, and that’s his excuse to fall on if anyone questions it. As long as he doesn’t literally climb onto Breach’s lap, he should be alright. The more he thinks about that limit, the more appealing it starts to sound. He has to shake that thought from his head with an adjustment of his position, politely leaning further away from Yoru to give him more room.
The three others are talking around him - or maybe it’s just Yoru and Phoenix - but he can’t find it in himself to focus on the words. One of them would nudge him if they needed his input on anything. Otherwise, he’s going to lean his head back against Breach’s arm and stare at the spot on the opposite side of the room where the wall meets the ceiling.
He mindlessly fidgets with some seam on Breach’s vest and sinks into the soft couch cushions, enjoying the uncomfortably hard piece of panelling his head is resting against.
He thinks he might have zoned out or even fallen asleep for a moment when the low, overlapping conversation in the kitchen comes to an abrupt end with an unfortunately loud announcement, startling him awake.
“We,” Raze raises her voice for the first word to get everyone’s attention, “are going out to eat. The nearest place closes in an hour, so we’re leaving, like, right now.”
Gekko instinctively looks towards her, deciphering who the ‘we’ in question are. He concludes that it includes at least Jett, who has an arm on Raze’s shoulder to lean her weight on her, clearly tired but still up for a late-night meal.
Phoenix quickly jumps up from the couch, trying not to knock the back of Yoru’s head on accident in the process. “We’re coming with,” he announces as he tries to regain his balance from the sudden self-inflicted adjustment.
The additional company clearly makes Jett light up and get back on her own feet again.
Yoru still stays on the couch, mumbling something about not agreeing with Phoenix’s plans that he was roped into. Looking at his hands, he’s broken out of his string of complaints by another hand reaching towards him, gesturing for him to take it and allow himself to be pulled to his feet.
“C’mon, I’ll pay. It’s fine,” Phoenix deliberates with a voice balancing between convincing and whiny, a perfect combination to talk Yoru into it.
Without tilting his chin up, he looks up at the inviting figure towering above him, deliberating for a short moment before he gives in with a sigh and a shake of his head. He grabs Phoenix’s hand and stands up, immediately grabbing a hold around Phoenix’s waist to regain his balance as well.
“There you go,” Phoenix says quietly before leaving a quick kiss on Yoru’s temple. He nudges Yoru closer to the awaiting duo as Raze continues her recruitment campaign.
There is a mixture of amusement and fondness on her face as she looks over at Astra, still floating, still reminding everyone of her presence with the tune she hums every now and again. As if the purple glowing arm and constant cosmic pull towards her in her close proximity weren’t enough of a reminder.
“Earth to Efia.” She lowers her voice so as not to startle Astra too badly. “You copy?”
It takes a few seconds and some twitchy movements of Astra’s muscles before she takes a deep breath and opens her eyes, letting the laws of gravity affect her again as she drops that inch or two back down onto the armchair. It welcomes her and allows her to sink into the soft cushions. After a few more seconds of adjusting to the world around her, she finally finds her voice again with a short hum.
“I’m with you, friend-o. Count me in.” Her eyes practically light up as she finds Raze looking at her, her smile almost disrupting the way the words leave her lips.
How she manages to change from such peaceful stillness back to her usual energetic self is unbeknownst to the rest of the group, and though the transition is less than explanatory to watch, they don’t try to pry in where they’re not needed. They’re just happy to see her return to this realm with a few quick stretches of her muscles to get the blood flowing again before trusting herself enough to stand up.
“Yes! That’s five.” Raze dares to raise her voice again in an excited exclamation. “Who else?”
Her knowing gaze skips over a seemingly fully asleep Neon and a tired Fade shaking her head, focusing on the remaining two.
“Teo?” She prompts him to give a positive answer before addressing an easier target to persuade. “Breachy?” She raises her eyebrows, gesturing at the two - or Breach, at least - that they’re invited.
Gekko freezes and quickly glances at Breach for an answer, not meeting his gaze as Breach is focused on Raze. He watches how eventually Breach’s stature relaxes with an exhale and a shake of his head.
“Nej, I’ll skip this time,” he says. “Had a late dinner.”
Raze rolls her eyes and lets out a groan. “Come on.” She drags out the word, still trying to sound convincing enough to make Breach change his mind.
But Breach just shakes his head again. “Sorry, amigo. Maybe next time.”
Raze’s brows furrow as she has no choice but to accept the answer - while trying to look unaffected by the accentuated pronunciation of the familiar word.
“I’ll hold you to that,” she promises, unable to remember the Swedish counterpart to that specific word.
“You do that.” Breach can’t help but laugh, sinking into the couch cushions once more.
A finger points at Gekko next, almost startling him as he gets pulled back into the conversation again.
“You?” Raze asks simply, seeming hopeful.
Gekko looks apologetic as he lightly shakes his head as well. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay soon, sorry.”
A louder groan from Raze almost cuts his answer off.
“You guys are so boring,” she exclaims, tilting her head back to speak simultaneously to everyone and no one. When she lets go of the grudge, it’s her turn to shake her head at the two, quickly glancing at an awakened Neon who immediately tries to find another spot against Fade’s shoulder to fall asleep on.
She still seems too out of it to even be able to give a proper answer, so Raze doesn’t even try to ask.
“Whatever,” she scoffs, summoning a joint from one of the pockets of her cargos and placing it between her lips. “Your loss.”
She guides the rest of the group of five towards the door, remembering on the short walk towards the hallway to take the joint off her lips just in case they run into someone on their way out. That’s the last thing they needed to deal with.
The rest of the group staying behind sits in a short silence before Neon mumbles something unintelligible against Fade’s shoulder, leading to her deciding that it is bedtime for the two of them as well. She lightly shakes Neon awake enough to get her to stand up, ignoring the tired whines about wanting to be carried instead of having to walk to her room.
Gekko follows the interaction, trying not to look too amused by it. At least the way his heart is starting to beat faster from the thought of the two leaving him with just Breach’s company balances that feeling. It’s a little funny until he watches Fade drag a reluctant Neon out of the room with quick goodbyes and close the door behind the two.
The silence is suddenly heavier than ever. Or maybe it’s the lingering smoke floating around them. Either way, Gekko feels it deep within his chest, only making his racing heart beat faster. He wants to look and act nonchalant, like he’s just hanging out with a friend while on the verge of a panic attack. Nothing out of the ordinary. All was good. Somehow that sounds like a more appealing reason for the out-of-control thumping in his chest.
Breach eventually breaks the silence with a huff, immediately making Gekko’s attention snap towards him.
“Going to bed already?” he just has to repeat, amused.
A quiet laugh eases the tension that Gekko can’t let go of on his own, and he tries to stay in that state, ignoring his heart completely. The answer comes to him quicker than he can even comprehend, quicker than he can even think about how he wants to go along with the half-lie he told.
“A bed, hopefully,” he says, accentuating the short article with a stupid smirk that he just can't hide. Not like he even really tries.
Breach notices and glances back at him, unable to hold back a laugh.
“Alright, kid. Loud and clear.”
chapter 3. The game is over / It has only just begun
Deciding to be responsible common room users, Breach and Gekko clean up most of the mess on the coffee table and kitchen, both in a hurry to leave already but not wanting to show it. The half-empty snack packages return to the cupboards for another time and the half-full glasses get emptied and set in the sink. Actually washing them was too friendly of a deed to be doing right now. Their kindness still had some limits.
As the table clears out, Gekko realises that he had completely forgotten about his - now warm - soda that still sits untouched on top of an empty bag of candy. Skye's brownies are still there, as well.
He shakes his head at his own forgetfulness as he puts the soda back in the fridge and waits for Breach to screw in the smoke alarm before asking him to put Skye's container on the top shelf of the cupboard, out of anyone accidental or curious reach. He'll let Skye know about its whereabouts tomorrow.
When they shut the window and glance around the room to find it looking presentable, Gekko wants to think that they both feel something shift in the air around them. The stalling was over; they can leave.
He forces his breath to stay normal as he looks at Breach and tries not to fidget with his hands too noticeably, waiting to be told what to do next.
Even though the process of the cleanup didn't take too long, he was still starting to second-guess whether they were supposed to go their separate ways next or not. He was really hoping for the latter. He wants to think that his advances and hints were clear enough, but they seem insufficient now. In the aftermath of something he would have done with anyone, the small spark seems to have died out. Did he ruin it by suggesting that they stay behind and tidy up a bit? Did the chore make Breach change his mind and ruin the mood for him? Was he too bossy about it?
His breaths start to turn uneven as he lets himself grow anxious, only to get his attention stolen by a string of two simple words.
“Come on.”
Breach nods towards the door, and Gekko quickly nods towards him.
The pit in his stomach shifts to the side and presses against another major organ, still leaving his breaths a little forced as he follows Breach. Even the movement of his limbs feels forced, like he has to think about how he wants to move them to keep walking normally.
At least he gets to walk behind Breach to keep these struggles to himself, admiring his handiwork as the braid moves with every step, and also getting to shield himself from any gazes that could focus on them from the front. Breach's frame completely blocks out his, and his company is only noticeable if the viewer looks at the unusual number of feet in that space. From the back, it's painfully obvious what he's doing, and he can't help but glance behind himself to make sure that no one is there. It's late enough for most agents to have called it a night already, so the hallways are luckily empty. The walk to Breach's room isn't too long, but it still presents all too many possibilities for being spotted.
They still manage to reach the room in question without being disturbed or seeing anyone else wandering around. Breach unlocks the door, holding it open for Gekko to sneak past him and step inside before following closely behind and closing the door behind them. He flicks the lights on to reveal a messy room, the sight soon followed by a faint smell of cigarettes infiltrating Gekko's nose. Not like he was really expecting anything else.
Using what little head start he has, Gekko takes a quick look around to gather as much generalisable information about the resident as possible.
The first thing that sticks out to him is a chair next to the window on the opposite side of the room. It doesn't look like the usual furniture that the protocol provided for their rooms, possibly stolen from one of the public areas on base. The packs of cigarettes, a lighter, and a glass jar filled with cigarette butts and ashes reveal the purpose of the design element, and Gekko cannot find it in himself to be surprised about it.
Otherwise, the layout of the room is quite similar to his own. Against the left wall there is a sofa and a coffee table in front of it, against the right one there's a bed the same size as Gekko's own with two night stands. He has already walked past the dresser that's lined up against the wall on the right side of the door, leaving a sufficient hallway to the bathroom between it and the side of the bed.
There are dirty clothes scattered around the room to make it feel even more familiar. Next to the mandatory smoke alarm on the coffee table sits a pair of torn work boots, clearly under some sort of construction. A lot of mechanical equipment is also littered around the room, remnants of previous projects and tinkering, and a large toolbox sits underneath the coffee table. Books and instruction manuals cover the remaining free surfaces, and half-empty coffee mugs - that might or might not just be oil - sit on top of them. To top it all off, his bed is unmade.
“Don’t mind the mess,” he says and catches Gekko’s attention again. “Wasn’t expecting guests.”
Gekko would chuckle if he wasn’t suddenly a little nervous. His room wasn’t much better with his radivores keeping it at a cosy level of chaos at all times. He continues to look around as Breach walks past him to his bed, throws his vest onto it, pulls his duvet aside and sits down. He looks over at Gekko who is nervously tapping his fingers, stopping when he realises Breach notices.
Breach pats his thighs. “Come sit down.”
Gekko swallows increasingly nervously. He wasn't expecting that much straight-forwardness. Especially not with the amount of tiptoeing around the unspoken plans that they had done so far.
Still, he does as he’s told and walks over to Breach, standing between his spread legs as Breach leans back and props himself up with his hands on the mattress behind him, leaving the initiative to Gekko.
Gekko decides to just go for it, placing his hands on Breach’s shoulders as he climbs onto his lap as gracefully as he can manage. He immediately feels a bulge against his ass and purposefully shifts around to get more comfortable, hearing how Breach breathes deeply. Something heavy sinks to the pit of his stomach from the quiet sound, and Gekko can feel shivers run through his body.
There is a healthy space between them as Breach stays leaned back. Gekko retreats one of his hands to place it on Breach’s knee instead to adjust his position again, managing to rub his dick against Breach’s. He inhales sharply before a sheepish smile forms on his lips and he averts his gaze.
“Sorry,” he says quietly. “It’s been a while.”
Breach just huffs.
“You and me both, kid.”
Something about being called a kid while grinding against Breach’s lap makes Gekko just sink deeper against him. He raises his brows as he stabilises himself again, his hand reaching back onto Breach’s shoulder, inching higher to hold the side of his neck.
“I thought you had your rotation of people doing this for you,” he says teasingly.
Breach’s smile widens with amusement, probably surprised that Gekko even remembers the interaction.
“They’re all on vacation,” he answers with another controlled breath.
Gekko genuinely doesn’t know how much and which parts of Breach’s stories he should believe.
“How long has it been, then?” he decides to ask, testing how much he can pry into Breach’s personal life. He accentuates the question with another small roll of his hips, trying to conceal just how much it was affecting him, too.
Breach furrows his brows and stares right past Gekko and into nothingness for a short while as he thinks. Gekko tries to hide his surprise over it actually taking some thought for Breach to remember. He spends the quiet moment trying to calculate his own timeline quickly.
Eventually, Breach cocks his head to the side as an alternative to a shrug.
“Closing up on three weeks, I think.”
Gekko stops in his tracks. He looks at Breach in disbelief. Breach looks back.
“What?” he questions the look he gets, seemingly genuine.
“Dude, three w—” Gekko interrupts himself with a scoff to stop himself from getting too heated. “It’s been, like, seven months for me.” He hopes his own admission sounds more annoyed at Breach’s wording than desperate about his situation.
Breach just seems more amused than anything.
“What’s that one thing you say?” he thinks out loud, watching how Gekko’s brows furrow in confusion as he has no idea what he’s talking about.
After a few seconds tick by, Breach’s eyes eventually light up and a stupid grin forms on his lips when he recalls the phrase.
“Skill issue.”
Gekko’s breath leaves his lungs alongside an annoyed groan as he lets his head drop. His jaw drops open in an attempt to say something, but his mind goes blank. What the fuck is he even supposed to say to that?
He looks up at Breach again, finding him just as amused as before, almost victorious about the reaction he got. He shakes his head lightly.
“I’m starting to regret this,” he mutters. The small smile on his lips disagrees - and so does Breach.
“No, you’re not,” he says, pitching his voice lower just an octave. And as if that wasn’t enough, he bucks his hips up to meet Gekko’s, watching how his expression quickly changes from the feeling. The first initiative taken by him, and Gekko seems more than pleased.
Gekko lets out a short hum to agree regardless. He still shakes his head. Disapproving but not disagreeing.
“Just never say that again.” He wants to sound serious, but the smile he has to hold back is making that simple task much more difficult
“I'll consider it,” Breach retorts.
There is no reason for Gekko to trust him, which only makes his sudden idea about taking matters into his own hands even more natural to proceed with.
He inches his hand even higher up the side of Breach’s neck, adjusting his grip to hold Breach’s jaw instead. His beard feels almost ticklish brushing against his palm as he tilts Breach’s chin up to look at him properly. He lets his gaze drop to Breach’s lips, a smile already forming on his own from the thought of how the moustache is going to feel in a kiss. He leans closer, a gentle hand on Breach’s shoulder urging him to meet him halfway.
Breach doesn’t budge. He turns his head to the side.
“Nope. None of that,” he says simply.
Leaning back to where he just was, Gekko takes a proper look at him with his brows furrowing in confusion. He almost reaches the line of disbelief, like Breach's reaction was absolutely unheard of.
“Seriously?” He tries not to sound offended. “Or are you just messing with me again?”
Breach’s unconcerned expression answers that question before his words do.
“Seriously. I don’t do that.”
An awfully strong tinge of disappointment shoots through Gekko's system, and he tries not to let it be visible in his expression. Holding back a frown, he sighs.
“Alright.” The disappointment is still clear in his voice and he wants to apologise for it already. He’s being selfish. “Can I at least ask why?” He tries his luck.
Breach looks at him with a deadpan expression.
“Shoot,” he says, purposefully wanting to make Gekko uncomfortable with his prying.
He succeeds as Gekko can’t help but writhe a little, already apologetic about the words that left his lips - and the ones that are about to accompany them. He tries to calm himself with a deep breath before actually getting the question out.
“Why can’t I kiss you, Erik?” he asks sweetly, gently caressing Breach’s cheek from where he can reach with his hold.
Breach just looks at him but doesn’t seem fazed by the gesture or the question.
“Because I say so,” he retorts in a familiar, stern voice. There was no talking back to that. “Ask again and you’re getting thrown out.”
“I won’t.”
A small and apologetic smile lingers on Gekko’s lips after he gets his quick promise out. Though he was genuinely curious, the lack of depth to Breach’s answer makes him feel bad for asking. He didn’t even know what he was expecting, but it still surprised him. He can’t tell if he’s glad or not that the explanation was that simple. It only makes him want to ask more, but he knows that Breach will stand by his word and kick him out for it. But that doesn’t stop his curiosity.
“Stop thinking about it.” Breach’s voice cuts Gekko’s thought process short. He moves one of his hands to grab a hold of Gekko’s hip to guide him to move against him again. “You should have better things to focus on.”
And, he’s right.
Gekko hasn’t even noticed that he has been sitting still for a little while already. The guidance he gets breaks him out of his stupor and he grabs a tighter hold of Breach’s shoulder to stabilise himself yet again. An apology sits on the tip of his tongue but he decides to swallow it. Arching his back to grind his dick against Breach’s is probably a better one, anyway.
He gets an acknowledgement and an agreement in the form of a deep breath from Breach, and it’s encouraging enough for him to keep moving against Breach's lap in small rolls of his hips. The constrained touch is so little and bordering on completely unsatisfying, but his eyelids still flutter shut. He forgets he was even going to answer something to Breach's earlier remark as he tilts his head back a little and lets Breach keep guiding him as his hand stays resting on his hip. The grip is light but it still feels harsh as there is no padding on Breach's fingers - and Gekko doesn't mind one bit.
He eventually opens his eyes again and looks at Breach, finding him already looking back. He gives him a smile as he sinks just a little deeper against his lap.
“What do you want me to do?” he asks with as much innocence as he can with a slightly shaky voice.
Breach lets out a quiet huff as his grip on Gekko's hip tightens.
“Just keep doing that,” he says as he keeps guiding Gekko to continue grinding against him. His voice is only slightly strained, and Gekko obviously can't have that.
Biting back a smirk so as not to reveal his intentions immediately, Gekko starts to trail his hand down from Breach's neck and down his torso. The warmth of Breach's skin seeps through the fabric of his shirt, and it makes it increasingly difficult for Gekko to bite back a smile.
Breach looks a little amused but doesn't intervene as much as Gekko is doing exactly what he didn't tell him to do.
Eventually, Gekko's hand ends up between their bodies and he scoots back just a little to palm Breach through his pants. It dawns on him immediately why Breach had wanted him to use his body weight instead. The fabric is thick and unforgiving; it doesn't bend under his touch and it makes feeling the outline of Breach's dick difficult, much less actually giving him what he wants.
He looks up at Breach and finds him with an amused look, as if just waiting for Gekko's attention to have his ‘I told you so’ moment.
“Not good at listening, are you?” he asks instead.
Gekko refuses to admit that he, in fact, is not good at listening as he keeps his confident facade going. He traces his finger up the zipper of Breach's pants, ending up inching his fingertip underneath the buckle of the belt and toying with the button as he keeps his eyes glued to Breach's, almost challenging.
“Or,” he stretches the word out. “I could just take them off,” he suggests.
Breach's amused expression only solidifies from Gekko's words and he retreats his hand to once more prop his weight up on both arms behind himself. Acting like the man on top of him weights nothing, he spreads his legs further apart underneath Gekko and bucks his hips up against the light touch and huffs.
“Go on, then.”
Gekko's eyes practically light up from being granted that permission and he quickly reaches his other hand down too to start unbuckling the belt and unbuttoning Breach's pants. His hands slip under the hem of Breach's shirt and he feels a prominent happy trail against the backs of his hands. A shiver runs down his spine and leaves it in an arch as he can't help but let the excitement get the best of him. He feels how Breach's stomach moves against his hands as he lets out a huff of a laugh. It makes Gekko lift his gaze as a silent question.
The smile he meets is smug as all hell.
“Thought you'd have more patience than this, Mateo,” Breach almost scolds him, exaggerating a disappointed tone.
Gekko doesn't take the comment to heart in the slightest as he leans just a bit closer.
“You’ll find out I'm actually full of surprises,” he answers, holding back a laugh. “Erik,” he adds to mimic Breach's sentence structure in a mischievous tone as he gets the buckle undone, continuing to the zipper as his other hand reaches to rest on Breach's sternum to push him back.
As much as he's getting guided around and talked back to, Breach doesn't mind it in the slightest. He lets Gekko push him to lie on his back, folding one of his arms under the bunched-up duvet to prop his head up as his other one reaches for Gekko's thigh.
A healthy disobedience towards authorities never hurt anyone - and it just makes him able to see some of himself in Gekko. And he definitely doesn't mind just watching, either.
And that's what he does. He watches intently, alternating between the focused look on Gekko's face and his hands suddenly making slower work of his pants, almost like just continuing to toy with the fly, just gently tugging at the fabric, as if suddenly unsure. Breach breaks him out of his daze by bucking his hips up against his hands again.
“C’mon, don't get patient on me now.” He speaks with an amused smile on his lips, watching as the glimmer returns to Gekko's eyes again.
Almost like breaking out from a trance, Gekko shifts back a bit more, animated as ever. He tugs the fly of Breach's pants up to signal to him to lift his hips up to pull his pants down a little. Breach complies and does just that, though Gekko doesn't get his pants very far down. An improvement is an improvement, and the pants drag the waistband of his boxers a bit lower as well, revealing where the happy trail continues under the fabric.
Unable to resist the urge, Gekko pushes the hem of Breach's shirt a bit higher up to make more room to enjoy the sight. Breach's bulge is still partly constrained by his pants, the outline standing out through his boxers. Gekko tries not to look entirely mesmerised as he feels him up through the boxers, tracing his fingers along the shape he feels, and finally nudging the pants properly to the side. He listens to Breach's breathing and how it stays unfortunately stable, though growing a bit heavy. After stealing a glance of a content Breach, he decides that he has all the time in the world.
“How do you usually do this?” he asks. Not to ask for guidance but to hear about how Breach likes to get off.
Breach looks amused. He once again nudges his dick harder against Gekko's unfortunately still hands.
“Keep going and I'll tell you.”
Now that's a deal Gekko can't refuse. He accepts the bargain with a satisfied hum as he starts to trace his fingers slowly over the outline of Breach's dick through his boxers. He hears Breach let out a deep exhale and shift around beneath him, catching his attention and making him avert his gaze from his job at hand.
“So…?” he urges Breach to hold up his end of the deal.
Breach just huffs.
“I've got two words for you, kid.” He puts two fingers up, wiggling them. When he thinks he has Gekko's attention, he squeezes them into a fist and puts up just one. ”Pocket,” he puts up a second one, “pussy.” Topped off with a dry laugh, and all Gekko can do is look at him with wide eyes.
He tries not to look like his personal list of things he might want to get called during sex just grew by one.
“You don't do it by yourself?” he manages to ask to keep the focus away from the way his voice turns a little shaky.
Again, Breach just seems amused by it all. He holds up his hand again, inspecting his palm before turning to show it to Gekko. The intricate design, the small panels and tight spaces between his joints.
“You think this feels good after twenty-something years?” he answers with another question. An obvious statement had Gekko thought about it some more.
Gekko feels his cheeks warm up as he realises that too.
“Right.” He averts his gaze for a short moment before quickly looking at Breach again. “But not even through your clothes?”
The amount of amused little chuckles he's getting out of Breach somehow only makes the flush decorating his skin deepen. He can't tell if now is the best or worst time to be entertaining Breach.
“My midlife crisis isn't so bad that I need to keep reliving being fifteen and getting touched by a girl for the first time.”
Gekko tenses just from the mental image alone, letting his thoughts run unsupervised for the time being.
Thinking about Breach groping himself through his pants is just too good to pass up on. Especially since Breach's words are basically an admittance that he has done it, and probably multiple times too while trying to get it just right.
He thinks about how the thick fabric gives in under Breach's grip because his fingers are stronger than even the most durable of military-grade fibres. But it still wouldn’t be satisfying, even though it’s softer than just his hands would be. With not enough room to move his hand properly, actually wrap anything around his dick, leaving him trying to spread his legs and grind against his hand to get a little more. Breathing heavily with his eyes screwed shut, disappointed and dissatisfied after he reaches that peak as it’s over all too soon and all he’s left with is a new addition to his basket of dirty laundry.
It has to be clear on his face just how deeply he gets lost in the intruding thought as Breach tilts his head to look at him properly.
“That was a joke,” he clarifies, bringing Gekko back to reality.
Recovering quickly, Gekko mimics the change in his stature and cocks his head to the side.
“Was it?”
Breach furrows his brows and tightens his grip on Gekko's thigh, watching how his expression twitches from the uncomfortable sensation.
“Watch it,” he grits out a warning.
Now it's Gekko's turn to chuckle. Finding one of Breach's buttons which he could press for his own amusement wasn't supposed to be this easy. He traces his thumb up the underside of Breach's dick, stopping just at the tip and lightly pressing down. He gets to watch and feel how a small, dark stain forms just above the pad of his thumb. It shouldn't be as enticing as it is, and he can't help but try to grind against his own hand.
The slight annoyance wears off from the touch and Breach just looks amused. He reaches his hand to wedge a finger under the waistband of his boxers and pushes it down.
“Are you waiting for permission or what?”
Gekko gives him a playful smile.
“Are we not doing the patience thing anymore?” he asks, trying to sound as genuine as he can.
All it takes is a quiet groan to make that previous annoyance return to Breach.
“Du är värre än den jävla eldkille,” he mutters quietly to himself before looking at Gekko and tucking the waistband even lower. “No.”
Gekko lets his smile turn into a victorious little grin. He still doesn't help Breach's boxers any lower.
“What did you call me?” he asks, somewhere between teasing and genuinely curious as he caresses Breach's dick lightly.
Breach's expression turns deadpan and Gekko knows he's testing the limits of his patience. Yet he can't seem to stop himself.
“I said you should get to it before I change my mind about this.” A lie.
Gekko cocks his head to the side, forfeiting a little already but he doesn't want to show it.
“So impatient,” he mutters under his breath as he slides his hand higher up and finally sneaks it under the elastic that Breach is so kindly holding up for him. His fingertips are greeted by a thick bush of coarse hairs - exactly what he was expecting - as he inches his fingers lower. He should know what he's expecting, in general; he has felt up the outline of Breach's dick for a good while already.
He reaches to tug on the waistband with his free hand, urging Breach to once more lift his hips up to have them be pulled down for him.
Happy with the advancement, Breach does just that. No more remarks about hurrying up or little nudges to urge Gekko to continue, he finally gets to delegate all of the remaining work to Gekko.
With one hand pulling the fabric down and the other reaching to grab a hold of Breach's dick, Gekko finally stops dragging it out and actually gets Breach's dick on display for the both of them.
The second he does, he regrets taking so long to get there. The outline didn't tell him shit. He is fully aware of the stupid surprise on his face and he just can't help it. In a mixture of awe and complete stupor, all he manages to do is wrap his hand around it lightly at the base and let his eyes widen some more.
He doesn't even cover half of the length. At least his fingertips connect around it.
He glances up at Breach, keeping that stupid look on his face and being met with the most content man he has ever seen. Smug as ever and self-satisfied to last a lifetime, Breach looks back and adjusts to get more comfortable.
“Don't keep me waiting.”
He can tell that Breach absolutely revels in the initial surprise plastered across his face, but he can’t wipe the look off, either. Even though his initial guess wouldn’t be far off, actually getting his answer still shakes him. The look on his face - all wide eyes and slightly parted lips - only feeds Breach’s already inflated ego, but he just can’t help it. He’s allowed to be surprised; impressed, even. Maybe even carry a hint of jealousy if he digs deep enough.
Deciding to follow along with the instruction he was given, Gekko forces himself out of his little stupor. He glances up at Breach and finds himself looking back at him, still clearly pleased with himself. Must be nice to get that strong of an ego boost just from existing in his very body and pulling his pants down.
It ignites a small spark of resistance within Gekko; he could take that challenge. As much as the almost adoring and impressed comments taste sweet on his tongue, he keeps them to himself. Breach has probably heard them a thousand times before. He might be able to give him something more rare.
The thought of wanting to stand out among the others - as much as he still didn’t believe there even were any real ‘others’ - is a selfish one, but he doesn’t care. What he cares about is being just a bit better, just a bit more special than the others.
The initial surprise wears off and he replaces it with a coy smile and a bat of his eyelashes before focusing his gaze on his hands again. Before he even moves his hand, before trying anything, he leans down to let a dribble of spit fall from his lips and drop down right on the tip of Breach's dick. He'd congratulate his own aim were he not trying to keep at least somewhat of a convincing facade up. It leaves him biting back a smile as he traces the spit down Breach's shaft with just his fingertips, purposefully keeping his touch light and teasing. He notices a bead of precum forming in the aftermath of his touch, and he just has to add that to the mixture with a gentle fingertip brushing over it.
Breach's only reaction to finally getting attention paid to his dick is a deep breath and an adjustment of his torso. It still catches Gekko's attention and he gets a glance for it.
“How do you like it?” he asks, lightly wrapping his fingers around the spit-covered part of Breach's dick and experimentally giving him a slow stroke to see how much friction there still is.
Whether it's too much or not, Breach still answers with an amused huff and another question.
“How many variations are there?”
A valid concern, and it only makes Gekko chuckle under his breath. He still moves his hand slowly and carefully, just testing out what feels right. Keeping his grip light only adds to that carefulness, but it also exaggerates the size of Breach's dick compared to his hand. Obviously, he can properly wrap his fingers around it, but where's the fun in that? It's infinitely more exhilarating to pretend that it's a struggle because Breach is just that much bigger than he is.
He gives Breach another glance, still finding him looking pleased with the attention.
“Do you want me to use lube?” he asks before tightening his grip ever so slightly for another stroke. “Or do you prefer this?”
It might be bordering on overkill - or at least that line is starting to appear on his horizon - but he doesn't care. If Breach can be a smug bastard about the aftermath of simple luck, he can be a bit overconfident about how he works with that.
Breach doesn't seem to care about the theatrics, either.
“Do what you want.” He huffs. “You're gonna have to try hard to make it bad.”
The good-willed amusement catches onto Gekko too, and his smile turns genuine. A retort about Breach being easy to please won't string together fast enough for him to let out, so he keeps it to himself. Instead, he scoots back a little and pulls his hand back, already leaning towards Breach's nightstand.
“Which drawer?”
The loss of contact makes Breach properly lift his head to look at Gekko, seemingly content with his choice and making sure that they're talking about the correct nightstand. It only takes a quick glimpse before he already drops his head back onto the duvet.
“Second,” he mutters after breathing out a sigh.
Gekko hums a quick confirmation before reaching for the second drawer and quickly rummaging around for a familiar shape. The sharp end of a plastic tube soon digs in right underneath his fingernail, and he knows that he found what he was after. The annoying pain in such an inconvenient spot makes his brows furrow as he shakes the feeling out of his hand before focusing on the bottle instead. He inspects it, turning it around and checking a few numbers before he looks at Breach again.
“It's expired.”
Breach gives him a dismissive wave of his hand.
“It's fine.”
Gekko looks at the numbers again.
“Three months ago.”
Breach scoffs.
“That's nothing. It's fine.”
Gekko finds his spot on top of Breach's thighs, already silently agreeing with his course of action, as much as he would probably not go along on his own. He tilts his head to the side to observe this decision, not finding an ounce of unsureness in Breach's expression. He shrugs.
“It's your dick.”
Though he means it in the sense of ‘You're the one suffering the consequences so you can't blame me for them’, Breach just lets out a laugh.
“That it is,” he answers matter-of-factly, still managing to turn it into a compliment.
Gekko has to shake his head lightly as he pops open the cap of the bottle, instinctively giving it a smell test to see if it has been fermenting already. It hasn't. Pouring the gel onto his fingers, he moves it around with his thumb to check the consistency as well, which also passes the makeshift quality control check.
Breach's amusement from the care and consideration gets cut short when Gekko snaps the bottle shut and instead starts to smear the lube over the already-dried spit without a single heads-up to allow him to prepare for such contact. What was supposed to be a teasing remark turns into a sudden, sharp inhale that makes Gekko's brows shoot up in surprise. Intrigued, Gekko keeps his touch light as he purposefully takes his sweet time covering all the skin there is to cover before sliding his fingers around the shaft and keeping a light hold, still stalling.
A glance at Breach's eager and impatient expression already makes him content with his chosen course of action. The hand that rests on his thigh and grips it tighter only solidifies that.
“Come on,” Breach urges him. “What did I say about keeping me waiting?”
The words are fresh in Gekko's memory, though he chooses to ignore them. The even fresher words in his mind remind him that he was allowed to do what he wanted. That sounds like the more appealing choice, anyway.
There is a smug smile on his lips that he tries his best to bite back as he starts to slowly move his hand again. Still experimental, still just testing the waters, still wanting to see how Breach reacts.
He watches how Breach's eyelids fall shut and feels how his grip tightens some more on his thigh. His inhale barely shudders, though it is noticeably heavier than any of his previous ones. It's still so little and so light, and Gekko can feel the need bubbling under the surface, the tension that's teetering on the edge of a point of snapping. It leaves him biting his tongue to keep his expression from distorting into one of arrogant self-satisfaction. He can practically count the seconds until Breach snaps at him to stop messing around and get to it.
The seconds end up running out quicker than he had anticipated.
Breach's hand moves from Gekko's thigh to grip his forearm, shoving his hand down with more force.
“I shouldn't have to do this for you,” he mutters with more annoyance than desperation in his voice.
It takes one more glance at Gekko's face for him to want to continue speaking, effectively cutting off Gekko before he even gets the words together.
“Mention patience again. I dare you.”
A tightening grip on Gekko's arm only solidifies his words as a threat and steals Gekko's attention for a second. Their gazes connect a mere second later, and there is still something mischievous behind Gekko's eyes.
Beneath the still-collected surface, his heart is beating out of his chest. Hitting his sternum hard enough with every chamberful of blood to make his entire torso feel it. He doesn't dare to speak out of fear of his voice wavering, nor is he a fan of reaching his free, shaky hand to pry Breach's grip off of him.
The threat has been heard loud and clear. He can stop the games now. At least these ones.
He bites down on his bottom lip to seem like a comment about patience is something he has to physically restrain himself from speaking out loud, and Breach seemingly accepts this show of obedience, no matter how forced it is. The grip on Gekko's forearm eases and returns to his thigh instead, resting where it did before. In return, this small act gets silently rewarded with Gekko readjusting the hold he has on Breach's dick, his grip tightening just a bit more as he finally swaps the teasing touches with proper strokes.
His reward is instantaneous.
Breach takes a deep breath in and tilts his chin up to sink deeper into his makeshift pillow, his eyelids falling shut. The lungful escapes in a satisfied sigh that only matches the small curl in the corners of his lips.
The sight is absolutely mesmerising to Gekko, though he tries not to let that affect his part in it. He keeps the movement of his hand stable, readjusting the position of his thumb every time he moves it upwards to purposefully press down a little harder just on the underside of the tip.
Breach's hand on Gekko's thigh stays still, almost like powering off from the lack of focus on anything but the soft and slick and warm hand around his dick.
Gekko doesn't mind it in the slightest. He doesn't mind a single detail about the sight, actually. It makes him feel a warm sense of accomplishment that is doing terrible things to his ego in return. Whether or not his hands are anything special, they seem to do the trick just fine. And if this is Breach's neutral reaction to such attention, he definitely won't mind being mediocre.
It almost makes him feel giddy. The lingering adrenaline from the threat, the heavy feeling of arousal in the pit of his stomach, the pressure in his muscles that's telling him to arch his back and press his own dick against his knuckles. He has missed this. Forgotten how much his body craves the feeling of pleasing someone, being the reason for someone's heavy breaths and satisfied little sighs.
Seven months of nothing really is a bitch.
Knowing that he still knows what he's doing only makes that confidence start to boil over. But that doesn't matter. Breach doesn't look like he gives a shit about anything else but the hand wrapped around his dick. It's not a bad point to focus on.
Gekko lets his instincts do the thinking for him as he pauses the general movement of his hand to focus just on the area below the tip. The pad of his thumb rubs against the same spot he had been focusing on before, though this time it's more of a warning as he then inches the digit a bit higher, keeping the same pressure as he rubs it right over the tip of Breach's dick. A couple more droplets of precum move across the sensitive skin, as if he even needed better lubrication.
The only reaction he gets is Breach's brows furrowing as his eyes still stay closed, and that's simply not enough for Gekko. The grip on his thigh is still forgiving, so he knows that he's not getting too close to the line of too much. He's probably not even close.
So he keeps repeating that new pattern, his grip tight and steady as his thumb caresses over that same spot over and over again. His eyes are on Breach's, though Breach doesn't see it, just waiting for him to react.
Though his own dick is slightly different, he knows that constant pressure against the most sensitive spot isn't going to feel nice in the long run. Luckily he wasn't aiming for the long run. He just needed Breach to drop his guard for just a second.
It takes a small adjustment of his thumb where he almost threatens to press his fingernail against the forming bead of precum for Breach to react.
He flinches, gasping in a lungful of air after having held his breath for far too long, his expression distorting into a grimace as he tries to nudge himself away from the uncomfortable pressure. Caught off-guard and letting the control slip from his hold, he doesn't get far as Gekko immediately returns to the familiar strokes with a tightened grip, forcing a strangled groan to break from his chest. The way he can't help the heavy breaths and unintentional adjustments doesn't help him regain his composure in the slightest as Gekko's hold on his dick stays stable and only further clouds his mind.
It's exactly what Gekko wanted; the moment between Breach's need for an interruption and the second after when he doesn't have the control, all for him to utilise to get a proper sound out of the man. Accomplished once more, his smile greets Breach when he opens his eyes to look at the perpetrator at hand.
“Don't get cocky,” he warns Gekko. The words don't pack as much punch as they could since his voice stays strained and low. It's more like a promise.
Because Gekko knows that he could most likely get cocky. With the admission he got from Breach earlier still circling his mind, he has a strong hunch that Breach wouldn't be too happy to replace his responsive and warm hand with a piece of silicone to finish the job off now. He could get as cocky as he likes. He's not going anywhere.
The only thing really standing in his way is the situation itself. He doesn't have much room to play in, not many components to mess around with. He can't even really use his other hand so as not to get both of them slick with the lube. Though he doesn't know what he'd need a clean hand for, he also wasn't going to jinx it.
The only things he can really have some control over are where he sits and what he does with his hand. Even then, the options are very limited. His one special card has been played, and he can't do it again without Breach knowing what he's doing and being prepared for it. He can only tighten his grip so much - there is a limit, and he's not too keen on finding out where it is.
It was so unfair that he would have to actually just do what he had indirectly promised to do; to keep his strokes nice and steady and just how Breach likes them.
That gives him an idea.
He readjusts on top of Breach to get enough of his attention to allow him to focus on his question.
“Can you now tell me how you like it?”
The sweet tone of his voice counters what little annoyance his choice of words might have held.
Breach doesn't seem to notice the cover-up as he just lets out a quiet chuckle at the question he dodged once before. He slowly opens his eyes to look at Gekko, clearly fighting to keep them open as his gaze focuses on the content expression looking back at him. He gives up on his efforts soon after and sinks back into his makeshift pillow again.
He sighs deeply before answering.
“This is just fine.”
Though he sounds genuinely pleased - and he would probably say if something was off - Gekko still won't take it as a final answer.
“So, it could be better?” he urges Breach to elaborate. He hopes it doesn't come off as insecurity, but more like an unnecessary need to probe under his skin to get his little secrets out. In reality, it's just his need to be as good as possible, still wanting to be a bit better and more memorable than anyone before him.
Breach huffs out a laugh at the question, once more opening his eyes to look at Gekko, to see if he was being serious. It seems like he was.
A deep inhale and a content sigh later, he eventually answers.
“You don't have to be so gentle,” he gives his first indirect suggestion in an increasingly strained, yet amused, voice.
It's a guideline that Gekko was mere moments from discovering himself, recalling Breach's comments about his general habits around the subject. Still, he didn't want to assume. Wanting to feel a soft hand in the place of titanium or silicone wasn't something he couldn't imagine Breach saying. Some comment about thinking that Breach was used to other’s hands according to his own antics circles Gekko's thoughts, but he can't put it into words quickly enough.
Before Gekko even gets to follow the first instruction, he already gets another one.
“And do a little—” Breach completes his sentence with a gesture of his hand, flicking his wrist near Gekko's to show quicker than he could tell.
Gekko mimics it immediately, ending the stroke with a slightly tightened grip and flick of his wrist as he holds just the tip of Breach's dick.
Breach already hums an approval before Gekko even gets to ask if that was good.
“Like that,” he approves in a whisper and sinks back into the duvet.
As much as the other non-verbal signs of appreciation are few and far between, Gekko tries not to let it discourage him as he keeps repeating that specific movement with every stroke, further tightening his grip too. He hadn't assumed Breach to be too vocal to begin with, but the encouragement would still be nice to hear. Even getting him to speak at all seemed to be a job on its own, regardless of how much it was the opposite in every other situation.
But he will take what little bits he's granted, deciding to keep his mouth shut to be able to hear the increasingly heavy breaths that Breach takes and the barely audible groans that get stuck in his throat when the hand around his dick grips tighter. The slick sounds of his fist only add to the otherwise almost silent atmosphere, infiltrating Breach's mind even behind his closed eyelids. He might not be able to see it, but he can hear it.
With a keen eye on Breach and looking for any signs of anything, really, the way Breach's torso suddenly tenses doesn't go unnoticed by Gekko. And just to make sure Breach knows that, Gekko leans forward enough to rest his free hand on the side of Breach's stomach to feel the change for himself, so nicely presented with the man's entire side as he keeps his arm folded underneath his head.
Breach acknowledges the attentiveness with a little huff, but Gekko speaks up quicker.
“Are you gonna warn me?” he asks with a sweet tone in his voice to contrast the continuous movement of his hand.
This time, Breach trying to seem amused turns into a light flinch as Gekko seemingly strikes a nerve, though he tries to play it off as nothing.
“No,” he answers simply and follows it up with a short laugh. “You're not using that against me.”
Gekko lets out a thoughtful hum, masking both the disappointment of getting his plans derailed and the glee of being so easily read, even through closed eyelids.
“Bummer,” he states, still slowing down his strokes a little, assuming that Breach is getting close regardless of his reluctance to admit it. The way his body reacts is telling enough.
Though the change isn't too radical, it still doesn't go unnoticed.
The grip on Gekko's thigh tightens once more as a warning.
“Don't,” Breach grits out, the single word laced with annoyance. “Just keep it like it was.”
It's not an instruction as much as it's a command, but Gekko still can't listen without a little resistance. Yet he does as he's told.
“You could at least ask nicely,” he mutters under his breath, purposefully making it seem like it wasn't for Breach to hear.
Breach just scoffs. “Right.”
The resistance brings a smile to Gekko's lips as he can feel the way Breach relaxes underneath him as a result. He'll take what he can get and gives in with only a small sting of disappointment from not being able to toy with Breach any more. He probably could, considering how easy it is to conclude that Breach is, in fact, close regardless of how much he plays it off as nothing. But he didn't want to test his luck too much. If he plays the rest of his cards right, he might get another chance to see just how much he'd be able to get away with. It's a thought enticing enough for him to do as he's being told and keep the movement of his hand stable and as it was, not forgetting to pay a little more attention to where Breach wants it.
His compliance gets rewarded surprisingly soon after the adjustment as he can see the way Breach squeezes his eyes tighter shut and grips the duvet with more force. The hold on his thigh also tightens, though he assumes that it's not a purposeful heads-up.
Breach's chest rises as he takes a deep breath, and Gekko has to keep himself from easing his grip just to hear that groan of annoyance that Breach wouldn't be able to hold back. Going against his instincts, he keeps stroking Breach as he reads the poorly concealed signs of the edge not being far off anymore; a shaky breath and an almost inconspicuous adjustment to push more of his length into Gekko's fist, his head tilting back, and no exhale to be heard as he holds his breath.
A low groan breaks from Breach's chest as he twitches, Gekko finally having tipped him over the edge. The initial surprise from Gekko's expression gets wiped off quickly as he focuses on even the smallest changes in Breach's composure, wanting to hear and see anything and everything he possibly can as he strokes Breach through his awfully controlled orgasm.
Only when the high is over, only when he feels Breach relax beneath him, does he get his reaction.
Breach releases the air from his lungs with a scoff, only to have to take in a deep breath right after to replace it. He blindly reaches to swat Gekko's hand away as he still hasn't fully stopped the strokes, though now keeping them light and slower until he's forced to call it quits.
A satisfied smile lingers on Breach's lips as he opens his eyes to look at Gekko and the mess he has left - luckily mostly on his stomach and shirt. He still has to breathe deeply to get the oxygen flowing in his bloodstream again. And he still wastes the first lungful of air on an amused huff.
“Not bad, kid,” he admits, his voice low and gravelly.
Though it's not exactly praise, it is an acknowledgement of a job well done, and it makes Gekko feel increasingly content and accomplished. There's a satisfied smile on his lips as he meets Breach's gaze and finally fully retreats his hand. Covered in lube he knows Breach doesn't want on his sheets, he doesn't know where to set his hand in the aftermath. Looking down at the sight below him, he concludes that it's not the only thing in need of a little cleanup.
Breach seems to agree as his focus drops to follow where Gekko is looking; his stomach and shirt painted with white stripes. Again, he just seems to find it amusing as he stretches his torso to enjoy the physical serenity to the fullest.
“Third drawer, this time,” he tells Gekko before relaxing into the sheets once more.
Not sure what else he was expecting, Gekko doesn't mind having the cleanup be delegated to him. This time, he has to fully climb off Breach's lap to reach the nightstand as he wasn't going to use his lube-covered hand to get what he assumes to be tissues. His search isn't long as he finds what he's looking for immediately after getting the drawer open. Again, he doesn't really know what he's expected to do, so he decides to grab the box and return to Breach's lap with it, dropping it on the bed next to him after straddling Breach's thighs again. He wipes off the lube from his hand to the best of his ability before grabbing another tissue to wipe Breach's stomach clean as well as he can.
Then, with yet another one, and with gentle hands, he wipes as much of the remaining lube off Breach's dick as he can, feeling a little sheepish since Breach is starting to go soft already. He doesn't mind it, but he thinks Breach might. Or maybe not, since he has already made his capacity very clear. Either way, Gekko drops the crumpled balls of tissue paper onto the bed and hopes that the contents of them won't reach the sheets as he tucks Breach's dick away for him, concluding his job to be well done with a smile - even though he still leaves Breach's fly undone.
Breach answers with an equally pleased look.
“Aren't you a gentleman,” he just has to remark with lighthearted amusement in his voice.
A slew of overconfident responses sit on Gekko's tongue, but he can't pick just one to air out with the sole purpose of making Breach laugh.
The time he spends trying to string his words together is enough for Breach to misread his intentions.
A hand returns to his thigh and inches higher up, leaving Gekko instinctively trying to spread his legs more - before he even realises it.
“How do you want me to return it?” Breach asks, starting to caress the inside of Gekko's thigh with his thumb.
Eyes shooting wide open, Gekko doesn't even try to look like he's not taken aback by the suggestion, already having assumed that this was a one-sided deal; payment for the weed, at least. Not like he didn't want to have his own little problem dealt with right from the start, but he also hadn't gotten his hopes too high up. The ratio of people who wanted to reciprocate when he took the first initiative versus those who didn't care to wasn't anything to write home about. Not like he was keeping tabs, anyway.
His silence and inability to answer in an acceptable amount of time are telling enough, and Breach sighs with hopefully feigned disappointment.
“Don’t insult me, Mateo. What kind of a man do you think I am?”
An almost nervous laugh leaves Gekko's lips before he gets any words out, unsure of what to say to the growing pile of unanswered words stacked in front of him.
He shakes his unsureness out of his head - both physically and mentally - before finally managing to speak up.
“Yeah, no, sorry—” He immediately stumbles over his words, not really even sure what he wants to say.
At least Breach gives him some time to work through his thoughts, only interrupting him with the thumb that still caresses the inside of his thigh. It only adds to the sudden realisation of the state that he's in, all the sensations that his body feels now that he's not fully focused on the littlest details of Breach's demeanour. Readjusting in his seat, he feels the awfully wet patch of fabric rub against his dick, and just that little stimulation makes him inhale sharply. The coarseness against his sensitive and neglected dick is entirely too much, and he has to fight the growing need to recreate that feeling again.
His gaze darts to Breach and then drops to the hand on his thigh. He can't even get the words out before already pulling Breach's hand closer to his crotch and arranging his fingers where he wants them.
“Your thumb—” His sentence gets cut short as he guides Breach's thumb right where he wants it and presses it down against his dick. He doesn't care how his shuddering inhale seems to Breach, as he's more focused on the unbelievably pleasant pressure against his dick and how it makes him squirm already.
Breach allows his hand to be pushed and pulled where it's needed and he adjusts accordingly, not a word of displeasure leaving his lips. He does ask for one correction after a test run of rubbing the pad of his thumb along the seam of Gekko's pants and finding the pattern in need of an adjustment. His hand sneaks across Gekko's thigh and almost grips his ass to change his position.
“Come closer,” he half suggests, half commands.
Still straddling Breach's thighs, the distance is less than optimal for the movement that both of them want Breach to continue tracing. Though, more than that, Gekko tries not to complain about the sudden stop in the attention his dick was getting, having gotten used to the pressure it awakened underneath his skin, pressing against his core.
He makes up for that discrepancy by standing higher up on his knees and letting Breach pull him closer before following along to the best of his ability and without losing his balance. He tries to sit down on Breach's lap instead, but the hand on the back of his thigh keeps him from lowering his weight again.
A questioning glance shot towards Breach asks his question quicker than his words could.
“Closer,” Breach simply tells him with an encouraging nudge.
Not like Gekko really has anything better planned, so he follows along. He pulls the hem of Breach's shirt to cover his stomach again, ignoring the slightly damp stains before he moves to sit down on top of it. It feels a little unnatural, and he doesn't want to drop all of his weight on top of Breach so as not to knock the air out of his lungs or restrict his breathing in any way. It might have been Breach's idea, but he still didn't want it to be unpleasant for him. Then again, sitting on his lap and having that weight lie on top of a spent dick probably wouldn't be too pleasant, either.
A steady hand on his hip and another one joining it guide him to sit down properly, to disregard what he thinks is comfortable and what isn't. He thinks he feels Breach tense his core underneath his weight, and he already wants to apologise for the inconvenience. Luckily for the both of them, Breach accepts that apology in advance by returning his hand to the inside of Gekko's thigh, his thumb finding the same seam to brush against.
Gekko's eyelids flutter shut immediately and a pleased hum leaves his chest, his lips curling into a small smile. The familiar sensation returns even stronger after a short break from it, and Gekko feels only a minuscule amount of shame over his reaction to it. He doesn't know what to do with his hand as Breach's keeps him seated still and his other practically encourages him to keep trying to alleviate the tension in his body. Hanging his head only gives Breach a better look at him, though he doesn't even realise it.
It dawns on him when Breach opens his mouth again.
“This is all you need?” he asks with a humoured undertone to his voice.
Gekko nods before he can answer properly, though the time he needs to get his words right is an answer of its own.
“It's nice,” he manages to say after a deliberately deep breath to stabilise himself.
It's also the truth. Though he thinks he could ask for more, he really doesn't need it. Breach's fingers are strong enough to make the fabric of his pants bend to his will, even at the thickest part, and the two layers of fabric in question only soften that touch. It's a perfect combination, and he fully indulges in the feeling.
It doesn't take long for him to get a little lost in it, keeping his eyes closed and eventually finding Breach's forearms to keep his hands on for some support. Not sure what else he was even expecting, he can't get a proper grip on those forearms as they're thicker than what he's used to and made of an unrelenting material that he can't dig his fingers into. It's a little unsatisfying, though it only leaves his focus circling back to the small patterns Breach's thumb traces with unwavering precision.
A quiet moan eventually leaves his lips as he adjusts to press himself a bit harder against Breach's hand, almost flinching at the added shock of warmth that shoots through his system. It makes his lips curl into a smile and his breaths turn heavier, and he quickly finds it increasingly difficult to sit still. The hand on his hip does little to help, almost like finding its initial purpose in helping him meet the touch with subtle movements.
Gekko's breath gets stuck in his throat as the grip on his hip only tightens and he feels it right against his bones.
“A little harder.” The words escape his lips without a second thought, barely more audible than a whisper.
Breach hums a quiet acknowledgement before doing just that, pulling Gekko closer and pressing his thumb down with just a bit more force.
Were he in any clearer state of mind, Gekko would feel a little embarrassed by the whimper that he can't mute with a clenched jaw. It still burns his cheeks - though it feels like every other square inch of his skin is on fire as well.
Hearing that sound break the silence in the room only turns him on even more. Though not usually one to enjoy himself in that regard, this time, he just can't help himself. Especially compared to the collected nature of Breach's response to even more precise and attentive touches, he can't bring himself to care. The contrast only makes it better.
That's the point when he fully gives in to the feeling. Uselessly trying to grip Breach's arms while squirming and rolling his hips to meet the single digit against his dick with more pressure, he lets a pleased moan leave his chest.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he doesn't see the amused expression looking up at him.
“Aren't you going to tell me how you like it?” Breach asks, audibly holding back a laugh.
Why he thinks now is a good time for a stupid rebuttal is unbeknownst to Gekko, and he only groans in response, finally opening his eyes to meet the awaiting gaze.
“Shut up,” he spits his answer without thinking about it, instinctively trying to squeeze Breach's arm in retaliation. The metal still won't bend under his fingers and he groans in annoyance. No non-verbal message for him to get across that this is not the time to banter, so he settles on using his words, as shaky as his voice might be. “Just make me come already.”
The words surprise him as well, though he's quick to hide it. Breach does the opposite.
He lets it be apparent on his face, though he also seems to find the sudden quip amusing. The corners of his lips twitch with uncertainty as if he's biting back a slew of equally snarky remarks, yet he complies. Though he has every right to mess with Gekko the same way he had done before, he keeps doing as he was told, keeping the movement of his thumb unchanged.
Even when Gekko pulls his hand closer and rests his own on top of it, he doesn't protest. They both know that Gekko can do practically next to nothing to keep that hand snugly resting against his thigh, but that knowledge only seems to add to it. A reminder for the both of them that it's not Gekko who gets to decide this time. Neither of them minds it.
Breach reads the silent request that comes with the adjustment - though it's the same as the one Gekko aired out previously - and applies even more pressure against the forgiving seam of Gekko's pants.
Immediately, it's like a gear being switched in Gekko's body, making him skip multiple steps ahead with only a small adjustment. They have time, but Gekko doesn't have enough patience. Especially not now that he knows that he can absolutely come like this. The lighter touches - that now feel like mindless teasing - were sufficient when he didn't know any better. Now, he going to rip Breach's arm off if he returns to them.
“Oh, fuck,” he can only gasp, pressing his chin to his chest to try to hide from the eyes that are still locked on him. “Just like that.”
Again, Breach gives a hum of acknowledgement, though he somehow makes that sound amused too.
“Are you gonna warn me?” He steals another sentence from Gekko, his voice carrying a light-hearted and humoured undertone. He knows what he's doing, and he wants to make that abundantly clear to Gekko as well.
Though the answer he gets isn't exactly the same as he had given as Gekko opens his eyes and tries his best to glare at him before quickly leaning forward and clamping a palm over his mouth. He rests a hefty amount of his weight on the arm that presses Breach against the bunched-up duvet, but he doesn't think about it too much. Breach can and will push him away if it's too much.
It better not be, since Gekko feels himself get close to the edge in seconds, especially as he feels Breach’s victorious smile against his palm. Though it's a pleasant feeling that overtakes his entire body and leaves him floating in the clouds, he has also been waiting for his release for long enough. The impatience sits in the pit of his stomach, a bubble he's silently begging for Breach to burst already. He wants to feel it all over his body, taking over his limbs and leaving him feeling lightheaded. He wants to feel the gross aftermath of coming in his pants and, on the outside, looking like nothing even happened as much as his chest is heaving.
He just fucking wants it already.
With his palm pressed against Breach's mouth, there is no smartass comment to get under his skin and push him over that edge with an annoyed groan. Breach doesn't press his thumb harder against him, doesn't tighten his grip on his hip, either. There is no one last nudge to get him there, no final adjustment to bridge that gap with a single step.
It just has to build up.
Gekko feels immobilised, not wanting to move so as not to ruin what has already built inside him, in his core. With his eyes screwed tightly shut and his shallow breaths escaping in unstable patterns, he just focuses on that growing feeling. It almost overthrows the nagging fear of Breach wanting to be an asshole and pulling his hand back just before he reaches the peak. He might deserve it, but he might implode if he feels it.
It just makes him want to get there quicker, just to make sure that Breach can't ruin it for him.
He takes his chances before he overthinks it.
“Don't stop,” he whispers under his breath, tilting his head towards his shoulder in an attempt to hide from anything and everything.
It doesn't really even dawn on him that Breach can't even respond with the palm still clamped over his mouth, but he doesn't even need to.
Breach, as gracious as ever, complies and presses his thumb down to nudge against Gekko's dick just slightly harder, and that's enough for him.
A gasp fills his lungs as the pressure releases from his core and spreads to the rest of his body, making him tense up and hold that breath as he uselessly tries to grip Breach's hand for some sort of leverage. The feeling stays in his muscles for a few seconds, just building up and growing, close to actually cramping, before it reaches its peak and releases from his body with a satisfied moan following.
The sheer buildup of it leaves Gekko shuddering in the immediate aftermath, urgent breaths trying their best to keep the oxygen flowing in his blood to reach his overworked muscles. Quiet moans keep slipping past his lips alongside these lungfuls as Breach still keeps caressing over his dick, though lightly and slowing down as he comes down from his high. That high gets dragged out by the continuous touches, and Gekko can practically feel how his dick pulsates against the fabric of his pants and Breach's thumb. A few more caresses and he will flinch as the line of too much approaches, and he evades that by scooting back just a little and forcing his fingers between Breach's hand and his thigh.
A nudge of Breach's head reminds him to retreat his hand, making him feel a little sheepish about making that decision in the first place. That adjustment - and the lack of contact against his dick - bring him back to reality, unfortunately only deepening that feeling of sheepishness. He didn't think he was that loud or anything, but it still festers underneath his skin. Again, especially compared to how neutral Breach's reaction had been.
He forces out a huff to be the first one to set the mood.
“Not bad yourself,” he says, his voice hoarse as he refuses to clear his throat to get rid of it.
Breach mirrors the energy with a cocky little smile, seemingly also pleased with himself.
The adrenaline starts to wear off quickly, and Gekko can't help but let his body slump on top of Breach, accidentally managing to knock the air out of the poor man's lungs. Seeing the look on Breach's face distort into a frown makes him sit up immediately and push himself off of him, regardless of the hands that still insist on keeping him there.
“Sorry,” he apologises quickly and masks the wince from feeling the wet spot in his boxers move against him. He adjusts his pants to sit just slightly lower to get the fabric away from his skin.
“You're alright,” Breach answers after a deep breath to make up for the sudden loss of air.
A short silence follows as Gekko doesn't really know what to do next. It wasn't like he could just lie down next to Breach and cuddle with him, that feels wrong in this situation. They should at least be lying on the bed properly to do that, and maybe not fully clothed. Standing up and heading back to his room so quickly doesn't feel right, either. He still feels the aftermath of his orgasm lingering in his body and leaving an idle smile on his lips.
Breach's hand nudging his thigh breaks him out of his thoughts and makes him turn to look at him.
“Should we do this again sometime?” Breach asks, also seemingly satisfied in the aftermath.
Gekko's mind goes blank for a second. He hadn't gotten that far to even think about doing this again, but he still eagerly nods as soon as he gets his brain to work again.
“Yeah,” he confirms before clearing his throat. “Yeah, we should.”
His agreement is not out of polite courtesy, either. Or out of a selfish need to keep himself from getting into another seven-month-long dry streak. He did want to do it again, maybe get a bit further while they're at it. After the initial surprise has worn off, he's pretty sure that he could take what Breach has to offer down his throat, too. And the thought of Breach's beard being ticklish against his inner thighs in return wasn't something he objected to in the slightest. He hates that the mere thought of the possibility of that happening already makes him grow excited. Barely finished with his first high and he's already ready for more. Never again will he let it stretch to seven months of absolutely nothing.
Turning more towards Breach, he takes the initiative before they leave the promise as a vague suggestion that never gets revisited.
“Give me your phone,” he almost demands. “I'll put my number in it.”
Breach huffs at the directness, but doesn't object to it. He starts to check his pockets, rummaging through all of them to end up with nothing. An annoyed groan breaks from his chest as he pushes himself to sit up and grab his vest from where he threw it at the end of the bed. Another round of searching, and, again, nothing.
Gekko watches along, a little amused, before his gaze naturally shifts to where he would keep his own. The nightstand.
He gestures towards it, already recognising a familiar shape. “Is it—?” He doesn't complete the question on purpose, not wanting to be too smug about it.
Breach follows where he's pointing towards and huffs out a laugh before reaching for what, indeed, is his phone left on his nightstand. He unlocks it with a swipe, allowing Gekko to make a mental note of it not having a passcode, and opens up the contacts app before handing the device to Gekko.
Gekko accepts it with a smile and starts typing his name, taking twice the amount of time to find a fitting emoji to put after it. He settles on a lizard, though he thinks it's a bit on the nose. After typing out his phone number and double-checking it, he glances up at Breach, though he gets another idea instead of handing the phone back to its owner.
“How do you say ‘hi’ in Swedish?” he asks, already opening the default messaging app through the newly created contact.
Breach blinks in surprise, slowly connecting the dots of what Gekko is doing.
“You can just say ‘hej’.”
Another glance tells him to elaborate a little, and he continues to spell it out. “It’s H-E-J.”
Gekko lets out a short hum, deleting the third letter - an i - that he had already typed out.
“Almost had it,” he mutters before sending the short message to himself, and soon after feeling his own phone vibrate in his pocket.
The exchange brings a smile to his lips as he closes the app to steal a quick look at what Breach has as his wallpaper - it's the default one - before locking the phone and handing it back to Breach, who puts it back on his nightstand to be forgotten about again.
Now that there isn't anything else to keep Gekko from heading back to his room, it feels even weirder not to lean in for a goodbye kiss. It just feels so natural, something he thinks they should share even though the hookup was on the tamer side - he didn't even take his shirt off, after all. But, he guesses that if Breach didn't want it with him on his lap, he doesn't want it now, either. The small frown that forms on his face is his cue to go.
He pushes himself off the bed, though he has to lean against it for balance right after. The blood rushing to his head causes a momentary sharp pain under his skull, and he lets his frown deepen from the uncomfortable feeling. A deep breath makes the discomfort start to dissolve, and he looks up at Breach again, finding him looking back with a slightly concerned expression.
Gekko disregards it.
“So, I'll see you around?” he asks, though he didn't initially mean it to sound like a question. Obviously, they will see each other around. The base is not that large.
But ‘I can blow you next time,’ sounds a bit too forward for his liking.
Breach accepts the initial suggestion.
“Yeah, you'll see me,” he replies with a smile, and Gekko can only hope that he's not misreading his genuine interest in there being a next time.
chapter 4. A+ for effort
Four days have gone by, and the number he received a single ‘Hej’ from is still unsaved on his phone. It's just a number.
It's not because of his laziness or disinterest in saving Breach's number to his contacts. It's because he doesn't know what to save it under. He has too many options to choose from.
‘Erik’ sounds too simple and short. There are probably many Eriks on base.
‘Erik T.’ sounds like he's familiar with the other Eriks - that definitely exist - and has their numbers saved as well.
‘Breach’ is too formal, too professional. Might as well save it as 'Agent 13'.
‘Breachy’ is not a nickname that rolls off his tongue easily.
‘B-man’ is, but it sounds too casual compared to the name he has saved his number as on Breach's phone.
He could go with a matching one; just Erik and some emoji that fits him.
But, which one?
Making a mountain out of a molehill has never been easier.
And it's not even the first one.
He has spent the past four days simultaneously thinking about the contact name and the message that he should send back. He wants to hook up again but he doesn't want to seem too eager. Four days should be a good medium between ‘too soon’ and ‘completely ghosted’. If he could just get the correct words to appear on his screen.
His first attempt was atrocious.
‘Hey I'd ask you to come over but the crew's all here and I want to suck your dick but that's not appropriate so I was wondering if I could come over instead?’
He might as well explain his entire life story in the same go and mention what every other guest in his room was doing at the moment and why.
The next attempt tried the opposite approach.
‘Can I come over?’
He thinks the reason for his visit is quite obvious, but he just can't be sure.
‘Can I come over? I'll suck your dick’
It's not a trade. At least so he hopes.
‘Can I come over? I wanna suck your dick’
Or should he write it properly? Would Breach appreciate that more? Does he need to be formal about it?
'Can I come over? I want to suck your dick'
There isn't even a period at the end. It was never going to be formal to begin with.
Should he give a timeframe? What if Breach doesn't answer quickly? What if he has already moved on with his night and is unable to complete his own request after making Breach think the offer was ongoing until he responded?
‘Can I come over tonight? I wanna suck your dick’
It's still a bit vague, but he doesn't focus on that. He has written the words ‘suck your dick’ so many times that they start to blend together and fully lose their meaning. Do they even mean what he thinks they mean? Is that a phrase people use? Is it even a thing anyone does? Probably not.
He's back at square one.
‘Can I come over?’
It sounds too cold.
‘Can I come over? :)’
The smiley face looks sarcastic to him, like it's taunting him. Rubbing the question in his face. Is that what Breach would think as well? Or would it just look like a smile to him? Does he need to message Brimstone to ask how he interprets this combination of two symbols to maybe be able to generalise that answer to cover Breach’s opinion too?
Two taps of the backspace key are easier.
He rereads the question on his screen and starts to doubt himself again. His vision is playing tricks on him and his mind fully falls for them.
No one says ‘come over’. That's not a phrase that exists. He's getting ahead of himself and talking about the aftermath already.
How on earth do people do this?
Maybe he should strike up a conversation first and not immediately jump into wanting to suck dick. That should have been his first idea.
‘Hey are you awake?’
It is nine in the afternoon. Yes, he's most likely awake.
‘Hey are you busy?’
It is nine in the afternoon. Take a fucking guess.
‘Hey what are you up to?’
That's good. That's actually really good. He sounds interested in Breach's life and hobbies while also keeping open the option of steering the conversation towards sucking dick.
It's perfect. A normal message to send someone. He's so good at this.
He still leaves it unsent as he gets another perfect idea, quickly tapping to save the number on his screen in his contacts. Absolutely genius, and he can't believe he didn't realise the perfect first name plus emoji combination earlier. The prosthetic arm that's flexing. Obviously. It couldn't get any more Breach-y than that if it tried.
He might as well discover a new element right now, he's on such a roll.
He quickly swipes back to the conversation, proud of his handiwork as he looks at the contact name at the top of the screen.
It makes him feel giddy to no real extent. He has never felt less like a twenty-four-year-old than right now. He might as well be fourteen and getting his first crush's number to start a slightly awkward conversation where they take too long to reply to each other and eventually have the conversation lead to nowhere.
It's almost the same, but still completely different. Because if this conversation - that he still hasn't started - was going to do anything, it was going to go somewhere. And so was he. The giddiness still won't leave him alone, and he doesn't think he wants it to.
The message is still unsent and he reads it over.
‘Hey what are you up to?’
It's still perfect, but it could also do with a small tweak or two. Just to make it more perfect. Because he was casual about it, after all.
‘Hey what're you up to?’
Actually, no. It looks wrong.
‘Hey whatre you up to?’
That looks better to him, but he doesn't think Breach would appreciate purposefully butchering grammar rules.
‘Hey what are u up to?’
Now he's getting warmer again. Unless Breach interprets it as him being in a hurry to type, maybe in a hurry to see him. Though, that probably wouldn't be a bad thing, actually. Unless Breach doesn't want him to come over. Unless Breach thinks he's being too clingy already. But four days of not using this special privilege he has and instead keeping things like they were isn't clingy.
Maybe that's not the issue.
‘hey what are u up to?’
It's starting to look perfect again. Very laid back and casual, but still showing interest in starting a conversation. Yeah, they can do stuff but it's, like, whatever if Breach is busy.
He thinks he finally has it. The perfect opener and the perfect first message to send to Breach. It answers the greeting that's already on his screen, and it furthers the conversation from there. He already has his follow-up messages churning in the back of his mind, too. Just acknowledge what Breach says, and, if it's appropriate, ask if he can come over. Or if Breach wants him to come over. He'd work on the details when he gets to them.
Now, he needs to make a quick run to the bathroom to wash his hands and also wipe his phone clean from the questionable amount of palm sweat he has produced and transferred onto his phone case.
Then, finally. Sitting cross-legged on his bed, after only twenty-seven minutes of careful consideration, he has everything ready. The message is perfect and his hands are clean. He feels victorious, and so do the butterflies in his stomach. It's like his first ever face-to-face conversation with Breach all over again.
His thumb still hovers above the ‘send’ key as he can't help but keep smiling at the name at the top of the screen. He was so smart for that. He hopes that Breach will notice it at some point and maybe give him an approving huff or something. That would be nice. Just the thought of it makes his smile widen.
But then, after waiting for just a second too long, the sight of a set of three dots moving at the bottom of the screen makes him freeze instantly. His eyes are wide and his smile drops. All of the butterflies in his stomach do a collective backflip.
Fresh out of the shower and productive enough to change his sheets - but not productive enough to wash his hair - Breach keeps his bathrobe on as he sits down on the edge of his bed. His plans about whether or not he still needed to wear outside clothes get brought to a sudden stop as the spot he has chosen for himself feels awfully familiar.
His body remembers before his brain does, and his gaze focuses on his door, on an approximate location of Gekko's nervous stance four days ago.
Just the memory of the night ignites a warm feeling inside him, headed a bit too far south for his conscience's liking.
A huff wipes his mind clean of any second thoughts.
Because, why not?
He should have half an hour to spare.
He reaches for his phone and gets proven right by the first thing he sees.
21:27
He absolutely has half an hour to spare.
He opens his messages and quickly finds the conversation with the new contact information and taps on it.
The single ‘Hej’ waiting for him makes him want to chuckle. Hej, indeed.
He types as slowly as his patience allows him, slowly enough for his screen to register the touch of the tip of his thumb with each press. The words come to him as he types them out.
‘Come over’
‘?’
‘Alone’
Asking and not commanding, it's simple and polite enough, and it lets Gekko know that they won't be sleeping.
Good enough for him.
He tosses his phone back onto his nightstand and starts to get dressed, waiting for Gekko's answer in the form of a knock on his door. No outside clothes needed for him, this time.