Archive of Our Own

It started out innocent enough—mission debriefs, talking about the progress of the young Givers Enjin had collected for Team Akuta, general Cleaner things—and truth be told it still is innocent. Even if Gris’ thoughts, his desires, have grown to be anything but innocent. Somewhere it seemed like lines started to blur.

The first time Enjin followed him back to his room after a mission, he sat at Gris’ desk, Umbreaker leaning against the desk—never far from reach. Gris had sat at the edge of his bed and they’d talked the way they would anywhere else in Cleaner HQ. Just a couple of colleagues.

But now.

Now, Enjin reclines on Gris’ bed—a place he’s become very comfortable, a place where his scent lingers long after he’s left for the night. A scent that haunts Gris as he attempts sleep, desperately trying to ignore the aching hard-on that Enjin’s smell elicits these days. He never thought cigarette smoke, cologne, and a hint of the stench of trash that seems to cling to all of them would be such an arousing smell. But it is now, after so many nights of time spent with Enjin.

Gris sits on his desk chair, feet kicked up on the end of his bed for comfort. At some point in the evening Enjin had migrated closer, tossing an arm casually over Gris’ crossed legs, hand resting on his thigh. Occasionally his finger traces small circles on Gris’ thigh and it takes a level of self control he wasn’t aware he had to keep all of his blood from rushing to his dick.

He runs a hand through his hair, then rubs his face. Enjin’s eyes track the movements. Is he aware he’s staring? Does he know what it does to Gris?

“Tired?” Enjin asks, downing the last swig of his whiskey. He shakes the glass, rattling the partially melted sphere of ice. The bottle Gris had opened earlier that evening is missing nearly half now.

“No,” Gris lies. Admittedly, he is a bit tired and the whiskey is getting to him. But more than that, he’s horny as hell. It’s just the effect Enjin has on him.

“It’s late, I should probably head out anyways. That Trash Beast today was a tough one.” Enjin refers to the job they’d worked together earlier, the one they are currently ‘debriefing’ on—or so they’d told Follo when he questioned Enjin following Gris back to his room after.

The hand leaves Gris’ thigh and he instantly misses the warmth of Enjin’s large palm. Enjin moves to the edge of the bed to tug his boots back on. He stands and leaves his empty glass on Gris’ desk before picking up his discarded jacket from the floor and Umbreaker off the hook on the wall between the bed and the door that Gris had installed weeks ago for exactly that purpose. He told himself it was for his own jacket as he screwed the hook into the wall, but his jacket is dutifully hung up in his wardrobe every night.

Gris watches him move toward the door, fighting the urge to ask him to stay. Even after all these months, he doesn’t think that’s something Enjin would want. He’s known as a womanizer around HQ. All the casual touches, the laughs, the lingering glances—it’s just Gris reading too much into things, hoping for something that will never be.

Enjin pauses, one hand on the doorknob, the other holding Umbreaker, his jacket tucked under his arm. “See ya, Gris.” He tosses one of his usual cocky grins over his shoulder.

“‘Night, Enjin,” Gris responds.

The door clicks shut behind him and Gris releases a long breath before downing the rest of his own whiskey. He carries the glasses to the bathroom and washes them out. He cleans up himself, strips out of the rest of his Cleaner uniform and pads over to his bed in his simple, black boxer briefs. As he pulls back the comforter, Enjin’s familiar scent wafts into the air. Gris can’t help the way he breathes it in, gulping like he’s just put his mask on after a few minutes choking on the toxic fumes of a Polluted Zone and can finally breathe easy again. As if asking permission, his dick twitches.

He tries to ignore it. He does. But he finds his hand sliding into his briefs anyway, wrapping around his persistent cock, squeezing and stroking. He pulls the comforter up to his nose and inhales deeply. That trademark aroma of tobacco embedded in the fabric, more comforting than the warmest blanket. A pitiful whine escapes his lips as Gris thumbs over his cock head. His mind flashes back to Enjin lounging on his bed earlier, red t-shirt hanging off one shoulder, tattoos disappearing into the loose neckline. He wants to trace those tattoos with his tongue. What might Enjin’s skin taste like? Would it hold the same lingering hint of cigarettes that clings to Enjin’s very presence? Gris isn’t a smoker, but he finds himself craving that flavor.

What would it feel like to have Enjin’s massive hand wrapped around his cock? How much could those fingers stretch him? Gris bites his lip, working his hand faster up and down his cock. Enjin’s easy grin materializes in his mind. Gris tries to think of adjectives like attractive or handsome, but all that comes to mind is hot. Enjin is hot, plain and simple. He could be the definition of hot. Golden eyes, wild hair, intricate tattoos coloring a muscular form.

Gris spills over his hand with a final moan, Enjin’s grin still firmly planted in his mind. With a sigh he pushes out of bed and walks back to the bathroom to clean up. He pulls on a fresh pair of boxer briefs and tries to go to bed again.

This time he’s successful.

It’s a few days later. Gris is eating dinner with Follo, Tomme, Riyo, and Rudo. They invited Zanka, but he opted to eat in the corner alone. Gris didn’t push it.

The door to the mess hall bangs open and Enjin strolls in, Umbreaker resting on his shoulder. His eyes quickly scan the room, landing on Gris and his lips quirk up incrementally—so slight that Gris is sure he’s the only one to notice. His stomach flips excitedly.

Enjin saunters closer, throwing an arm over Rudo’s and Riyo’s shoulders as he leans between them. “Hey kids, how’d your job go today?” He asks, looking between the two.

“The usual,” Riyo answers casually.

Rudo nods in agreement, but hasn’t stopped shoving sweets into his face. Enjin chuckles, ruffles Rudo’s hair—which Rudo bats away in annoyance—and nods at Gris.

“You free in a few?” He asks. Gris nods. “Got something to discuss.”

“What?” Follo asks curiously.

“Leader shit,” Enjin answers.

“Yeah,” Gris responds to Enjin’s question. “Let me just finish my dinner.”

“I’ll be in my room,” Enjin says and departs. The comforting smell of tobacco lingers.

Gris has to remind himself not to shovel the last of his food into his mouth and sprint out of the mess hall. He doesn’t want anyone to notice his haste. So, he finishes his dinner as slowly as he can manage and he lingers for a few more minutes talking with the group until there’s a natural pause in the conversation. That’s when he pushes to his feet.

“Alright, I suppose I should go see what Enjin needs,” he announces. He hopes it sounds casual, normal. “Great job today, everyone.”

“See ya, Gris!” Riyo calls out as others wave or nod.

Gris’ steps are quick as he traverses the hallway, navigating to Enjin’s room. It’s not often that they end up in his room. It’s messier than Gris’, after all. Where Gris’ room is tidy and organized, Enjin’s is a bit more chaotic. Gris doesn’t mind it though, it’s like a glimpse into Enjin’s mind and when it comes to Enjin, Gris finds everything fascinating.

He stops at Enjin’s door and knocks once before tentatively turning the knob. He wonders if it’s too bold to let himself in, but it’s been months of these hangouts and Enjin is expecting him. He steps in and finds Enjin sitting on his bed, inspecting Umbreaker and carefully cleaning him.

“Hey,” he says without looking up.

“Hi,” Gris greets. He shuts the door and walks over to the tattered armchair sitting near the end of Enjin’s bed. He pauses, noting the discarded uniform pieces that have been tossed carelessly at the chair.

“You can just throw that shit on the floor.”

Gris smiles as he scoops up the articles of clothing and places them in a small pile on the floor beside the chair. He fights the urge to fold them.

“What did you want to discuss?”

At this Enjin looks up, his eyes narrowing as he grins, like Gris’ question is endearing. “Oh you know, the usual.” He turns back to Umbreaker. “Just wanted to hang out.”

Warm fondness blossoms in chest, but he won’t let himself fantasize about anything. This is merely Enjin wanting to spend time with another adult near his age. Aside from Enjin, Team Akuta consists mostly of teens.

“Where were you today?” Gris asks.

“Running some errands for the boss.” Enjin finishes his inspection and cleaning of Umbreaker and hangs him carefully on the hook by his bed. “How did Rudo do?”

Gris fights an affectionate smile. Since Rudo arrived, Enjin has taken a special interest in him and is always carefully looking out for him. Gris can tell that Enjin really wants him to succeed. Gris does too, but he worries. “He did well. It seems he’s really getting a handle on his powers and growing in confidence.”

“Any new pieces to his puzzle?”

Gris shakes his head. “No, it was a standard job and no run-ins with any Raiders or anything like that.” He thinks for a moment and adds, almost as an afterthought, “For once.”

Enjin snorts. “Standard jobs seem like an outlier these days, huh?” He leans back against the headboard, crossing his legs at the ankles. “Rudo survived the drop from The Sphere and it seems to have changed everything.”

“Do you think he’ll figure it out?”

“What? Getting back to The Sphere?” Gris nods and Enjin blows out a breath. “We’re already a lot closer than I expected us to get, but with each new bit of information we learn, more puzzles come, more mysteries.” Enjin shakes his head and looks up at the ceiling. If they were outside, he might be looking up at The Sphere.

Gris chews his lower lip as he thinks through his next words. He has a concern he wants to bring up, but he’s worried about Enjin’s reaction. He draws in a steadying breath and starts. “I worry that he’s not driven by the right motivators.”

“Rudo?” Enjin clarifies.

“He’s so angry.”

Enjin nods. “But it’s shifted. At first, he was driven purely by revenge. He just wanted to get back at those that wronged him. But the more we’ve all learned, I think he wants to get back up there to change how The Sphere operates. I think he’s worried more about us here on The Ground.”

“You think?”

“I hope.”

“I still see glimpses of that rage that creeps out sometimes.”

“Yeah, but it’s less often now,” Enjin says lightly. “How’s Follo doing?”

Gris easily accepts the subject change. “He’s adjusting to his new unlocked powers.”

“Still wants to remain a Supporter?”

“He does.” Gris smiles.

“Good. We could use more like him.”

The words are genuine and Gris is touched. Enjin has always cared a lot about the Supporters, has respected Gris as an equal right from the start.

In typical fashion, hours pass without Gris realizing it. Spending time with Enjin is so easy. He wonders if Enjin feels the same way. He must, since he keeps seeking Gris out. Once again, Gris’ mind wanders, tiptoeing around those same dangerous thoughts. He looks over Enjin—now laying flat on his back on the bed, hands folded behind his head, legs bent with one ankle resting on top of the other knee. At some point in the evening, he had rotated so his head was closer to Gris sitting in the chair at the end of his bed.

His eyes trail over Enjin’s muscular, tattooed arms. His large hands are hidden under his head, but Gris has spent enough time staring at and fantasizing about those hands that he almost doesn’t miss them. Gris is used to the revealing way Enjin’s oversized t-shirt lays over his chest, but the relaxed position—Enjin on his back—it’s doing something to him. The way the tattoos curve over his form, disappearing into the t-shirt, drawing his eyes down. Once again, he wonders what Enjin’s skin would taste like as he traced those tattoos with his tongue.

Enjin tilts his head back to look at Gris. “You good?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Hmm?” Gris shakes himself out of it, shakes those thoughts away. “Yeah.”

Enjin’s eyes narrow. “Man, you can’t hang lately.”

“What do you mean?”

“You get tired so early. Did 30 really fuck you up this much?”

Gris rolls his eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Then why’d you get all quiet?”

“Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Everything.”

“Cryptic, dude.”

Gris smiles. “Well, there’s a lot to think about these days.” A lot to think about you, Enjin.

“Too true.” Enjin sits up and reaches for the pack of cigarettes and lighter sitting on his bedside table. “You mind?” He asks.

Gris shakes his head. “It’s your room.”

“Yeah, well, I still like to check.”

“I don’t mind,” Gris supplies. As it is, Enjin’s room smells heavily of smoke. It’s clear that he frequently smokes in here.

“You can open the window,” Enjin offers as he shakes out a cigarette and sticks it between his teeth. He tosses the pack back on the table and flicks the lighter a few times before it ignites and he holds it to the end of the cigarette. He takes a long drag, closing his eyes, then slowly exhales. When he opens his eyes again, he looks at Gris, then the window, then back at Gris. “The window?”

Gris pushes out of the chair to reach the window and opens it. “I didn’t realize that was an order.”

“Just figured you wouldn’t want to sit here inhaling my secondhand smoke.”

I don’t mind. “I appreciate that,” Gris says.

Enjin nods to the ash tray sitting on the windowsill, within Gris’ reach. “Hand me that?” Gris does. “Thanks,” Enjin breathes out, exhaling smoke with the word.

Gris finds himself jealous of the cigarette, the way Enjin wraps his lips around the paper.

“You got a job tomorrow?” He asks after another exhale. The cigarette is half-gone by now.

“No. Not yet, at least.”

“If it stays that way, we should get out of here.” Enjin says it casually.

“And go where?” He asks.

Enjin shrugs, tapping the excess ash off the end of the cigarette into the ash tray. “Canvas Town. Grab a bite to eat.”

Gris nods. “Yeah, I’m sure everyone would love that,” he agrees, assuming that Enjin means to take some of Team Akuta and the Supporters as well.

Enjin’s eyes flick to his, they hold steady, not betraying his thoughts one way or the other. “I meant just us,” he says after a beat. “Just you and me, Gris.”

Gris’ heart kicks into overdrive, pounding in his ears, blood rushing in his veins. He keeps his face carefully neutral. “Oh, yeah,” he says. “That would be nice.” It would be more than nice. It would be everything Gris has fantasized about over these last few months.

It’s familiar, being in the passenger seat of the Jeep with Enjin behind the wheel driving as reckless as ever—one-hand on the steering wheel, one resting out the open window, wind blowing his messy blond spikes. For once, it’s quiet in the Jeep. Usually they have a car full of teenagers talking, bickering, roughhousing.

One of Too Lily’s latest hits comes on the radio and Enjin turns the volume up a few notches. Gris pointedly ignores the way he took his hand off the steering wheel to do it, leaving no hands on the steering wheel. Gris turns and looks out his own open window, relaxing into his seat.

“It’s quiet,” Enjin says with a glance into the rear view mirror, noting the empty back seats.

“Was just thinking the same thing.”

“I hope they behave today.”

Gris snorts. “They’re not kids,” he says, though he echoes Enjin’s sentiment.

Without Enjin’s careful supervision, Rudo and Zanka could end up going at it. One wrong comment during a training session can set either one of them off. Sometimes Riyo instigates just for fun. Not to mention Rudo and Follo’s tenuous relationship. Again, one wrong comment—usually from Rudo—can implode whatever temporary alliance they have. Come to think of it, Rudo is usually at the center of any spat.

“We should work on Rudo’s manners.”

Enjin snorts and then it turns into a full-belly laugh. “Good fucking luck!” He shouts. “Wish I could’ve met his dad to shake his hand. I can only imagine the handful Rudo must have been growing up.”

Gris chuckles. “The foundation is there, but he’s pretty rough around the edges.”

“He has his moments.”

“They all do,” Gris says, a note of fondness curling around the words. Enjin nods in agreement as they approach Canvas Town.

He parks outside of the walls and they both get out and walk toward the front gate. For once, there’s no one lurking at the gate trying to get in and getting barred for having bad intentions. They pass through the barrier easily. Enjin kicks Umbreaker up, twisting him to rest on his shoulder as he marches down the streets of Canvas Town. Gris falls obediently into step beside him. He’s not sure where they’re going, but Enjin seems to have a destination in mind.

Eventually, after a few turns, a few alleys, and a new street, Enjin stops outside of a building with an open front and tables dotting the area underneath an awning.

“Kid I grew up with opened this place,” Enjin says, offering up a rare glimpse at his past as if it’s not precious information. If there’s one thing Gris knows about Enjin, it’s that he doesn’t readily talk about his past for whatever reason. “He sold it a few years back, but the food is still good.”

Gris nods, absorbing the morsel of information shared, grateful to have been trusted with it. “Great,” he says, for lack of anything better to say.

It’s the kind of place where you order at the counter and seat yourself so they do. Enjin leans back in his chair. If they weren’t in public, if they were in one of their rooms, Enjin would probably kick his feet up on the nearest flat surface. He pushes a hand through his hair before digging the ever-present pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Gris crosses his arms and relaxes into his own seat, content just to be in Enjin’s presence.

They enjoy a companionable silence as they wait for their food and when Enjin’s name is called, Gris stands to retrieve it for them. Enjin drops the butt of his cigarette on the ground and puts it out with the toe of his boot as Gris approaches with the food.

“I’ve been craving one of these sandwiches for a while,” Enjin says as he picks up the sandwich sitting in front of him and takes a large bite. “Mm, just as good as I remember.”

Gris smiles and picks up his own sandwich, piled high with meat, cheese, and veggies. He takes a bite and has to admit it’s one of the best sandwiches he’s ever had.

“Good, right?” Enjin asks triumphantly as he watches Gris.

“Really good.”

Enjin’s proud smile is enough to kick Gris’ heart into overdrive again. Not for the first time, he’s struck by just how attractive Enjin is. His easy grins, the confident way he holds himself, the smell of tobacco that’s never far from him. The conversation ebbs and flows as they eat until the food is gone and they’re still sitting at the table, chatting easily.

“So you always wanted to join the Cleaners?” Enjin asks.

Gris nods. “From the very first time I saw them in action.”

“Did you want to be a Giver?”

“I think every kid goes through a phase where they want to become a Giver,” Gris says. “But I actually always wanted to be a Supporter.”

“Really?” Enjin leans forward, intrigued.

“The Givers were cool, sure. But I was fascinated by the Supporters—this group without powers like the Givers, but they still held their own and made it easier for the Givers to do what they needed to do.”

“That is such a Gris Rubion answer.” Enjin smirks.

“And what about you?”

Enjin’s body language immediately shifts. He leans away again, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks away.

“Sorry,” Gris quickly says, “you can—”

“No, it’s fine,” Enjin assures him. “I awakened Umbreaker when I was about nine. I hadn’t heard of the Cleaners…my first interaction with another Giver was with a Raider.” He’s quiet, looking around the street. “I ran with them for a while. A series of events lead me to crossing paths with Corvus. He showed me that there could be a different path for Givers, that I could do something noble that could help people. And here we are.”

Gris had never heard the story of how exactly Enjin was recruited to the Cleaners. One day, he just showed up.

“Here we are,” Gris says. “I’m glad that series of events occurred. It’s nice working beside you.”

“Just working?” Enjin asks quickly. He’s looking across the street, as if he’s not really paying attention to Gris’ answer. He’s not sure how to take that.

“Working is most of what we do,” Gris says. “But I value our friendship as well.”

“Friendship, right.” Enjin nods. He doesn’t look at Gris. “We should probably head back soon.”

Gris can’t help but feel like he’s done something wrong and he’s not sure what it was.

“Yeah, right, we should,” he agrees.

The drive back to Cleaner HQ is much quieter—just the music on the radio and the wind blowing through the open Jeep windows. Gris watches Enjin from the corner of his eye. He seems like his usual, laid back self, just quieter.

Gris goes back over their conversation and only ends up more confused. Enjin’s behavior shifted after Gris mentioned them being friends…but they were, weren’t they? Enjin parks the Jeep at HQ and they both climb out, approaching the door together. It feels like there’s a new tension between them that Gris can’t quite pinpoint.

“There you two are,” Semiu says by way of greeting. “Where ya been?”

“We went to Canvas Town,” Enjin answers. “My Choker didn’t ring,” he comments and looks to Gris.

“Mine either,” he agrees. “Did you need something, Semiu?”

“Wasn’t important enough to call ya,” Semiu says with a wave of her hand. “You got a job tomorrow. Y’all need to head up to the North Ward. They havin’ issues with Trash Beasts at the wall.”

“Alright.” Enjin nods. “The usual team?”

“You should take an extra Giver, cause you’ll be short on Support. Follo don’t wanna go and he don’t—” Semiu looks pointedly at Gris— “wanna talk about it.”

Enjin snorts. “She called you out.”

Gris ignores him. “Did he say he doesn’t want to talk about it?”

“He told me specifically to tell you that he don’t wanna talk about it and to leave it.”

“Okay,” Gris says.

But it’s not okay. He’s worried about Follo. There must be a reason he doesn’t want to return to his home town as a recently awakened Giver. He’s always been fairly tight-lipped about his time before joining the Cleaners, but Gris thought he had worked through any issues with his past, especially when he awakened as a Giver.

Semiu snaps her fingers in front of Gris’ face. “I can see you thinkin’ and ya need to stop.”

“I’m not thinking,” he huffs.

“You were thinking,” Enjin says. “You’re a loud thinker.”

“Fine, I will leave it.”

“Uh huh,” Semiu says as she pulls out one of her magazines full of half naked women. “Sure.”

“I’ll be in my room,” Gris grumbles.

He chances a glance at Enjin, but Enjin isn’t looking at him. He leans over the desk, looking at the magazine with Semiu as the two of them make comments to one another.

Right. He’s Enjin the womanizer. He probably doesn’t fantasize about Gris the way Gris fantasizes about him.

Gris sighs and disappears to his room. Where he does not think about Enjin while masturbating in the shower.

Gris should be asleep. A job in the North Ward means an early morning and a long drive. But he can’t stop thinking about Follo. He managed to eat dinner with him earlier without bringing it up, but it still bothered him. He wanted to help if Follo needed it.

With a frustrated sigh, Gris pushes away from his desk and leaves his room. He walks the familiar route to Enjin’s room from his. He knocks on Enjin’s door and waits for Enjin to answer, unlike the night before. Enjin isn’t expecting him this time.

He hears movement within the room and a beat later Enjin pulls the door open, his brows raising in surprise.

“Gris,” he says, voice raised to match his surprise. “What’s up?”

“Are you busy?”

“Umm, no.” He steps back and waves Gris into the room.

The lingering smell of tobacco hints that Enjin recently smoked. Gris subtly inhales. Enjin’s room is his favorite smell—stale tobacco and cologne.

Gris sits in the chair again, Enjin sits on his bed and looks expectantly at Gris.

“It’s bothering me that Follo asked not to be on the job in the North Ward,” Gris says.

Enjin looks down at his feet with a smile, slowly shaking his head. “Man, why is it such a big deal?”

“Follo grew up there. He recently awakened as a Giver. I just think he’d want to go.”

“I think if he wanted to go, he wouldn’t have asked not to go. I also think he left a lot of stuff behind when he joined the Cleaners and I doubt he wants to revisit that.”

Gris nods, but he doesn’t like it.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Enjin says softly. “We all have shit in our pasts we don’t want to revisit or things we want to move on from.”

“Yeah,” Gris says. “He’s a good kid, I want to see him be successful.”

Enjin leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looks earnestly at Gris. “He is successful. We see it everyday. He’s a strong Supporter—thanks to you—and he’s achieved his goal of becoming a Giver. Kid has strong morals and sticks with them and part of that is your influence.”

A small smile curves Gris’ lips. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I just worry.”

“I know you do.” Enjin scoffs. “I’d be shocked if you didn’t worry, would think something was wrong with you.”

Gris chuckles. “I don’t worry that much.”

“You do.”

Gris hums. He knows Enjin is right. He takes a breath and decides to change the subject. “Did you decide who else you’ll bring tomorrow?”

“Riyo’s got a job herself so I’m debating between Zanka or Rudo. I might go with Rudo to get him more experience.”

Gris nods. “Rudo would be a good choice, I think. Like you said, it would be good to get him more experience.” Gris is quiet for a beat before he pushes to his feet. “Well, I should probably head to bed, it’s an early day tomorrow. Thanks for talking.”

“Anytime.” Enjin smiles. It makes Gris’ heart skip a beat.

“Goodnight, Enjin.”

“See ya in the morning.”

Gris wakes up in the hospital. Eishia is nowhere to be seen, but Enjin is sitting in a chair at his bedside. He’s leaned back in the chair, his feet kicked up on the end of the bed Gris is occupying, eyes closed. Gris thinks he’s asleep, but the moment he shifts, Enjin sits forward, his eyes landing on Gris.

“Hey.” That easy Enjin grin graces his features. “You had me worried there for a minute.”

Gris rubs his head. He remembers arriving in the North Ward and starting the job. The Trash Beasts were all medium sized. There’s no reason he should be waking up in the hospital with no idea how he got there.

“What happened?”

“A Trash Beast snuck up on you. Knocked you unconscious. Eishia said you had a concussion.”

Gris nods. “Well that seems pretty normal. Why were you so worried.”

“A Trash Beast snuck up on you. That’s unusual.”

“I guess so.”

“Rudo was pretty worried too. I think it reminded him of that time that Raider caught you.”

“I’m pretty resilient.”

“Keep it that way.” Enjin stands. “I like having you around.”

Gris ducks his head to hide the blush coloring his cheeks. “I like being around.”

“Good,” Enjin says over his shoulder as he leaves.

Their steady rhythm continues. The awkward drive back from Canvas Town after their lunch together feels like a distant memory as they fall back into the familiar routine.

It’s a rare quiet morning, neither of them have an assignment at the moment so Enjin shows up with two mugs of coffee. It’s still early—most of the teenagers of Team Akuta likely won’t rise for another few hours. They all choose to sleep in when they don’t have to be up. Gris and Enjin chat about everything and nothing while enjoying the coffee. Gris had been shocked and pleased when he took his first sip and realized it was prepared exactly how he likes it—a dash of cream, no sugar. He’s not sure when Enjin picked that up, but he appreciates it.

Enjin is busy telling a story about taking Rudo trash picking the other day to collect more tools when his choker rings.

“Semiu, what can I do for you?” He answers.

“Got a job for you. Team Eager wants some extra Giver support.”

“No one else on my team can do it?”

“They been wokin’ hard, thought I’d let ‘em relax. ‘Sides, Tamsy asked for you.”

“Yeah, alright. I’ll be right there.” Enjin sighs as he stands. “So much for a quiet, relaxing morning. Hey, hand me Umbreaker.” He nods to Umbreaker laying on Gris’ bed, right next to Gris.

Gris freezes, his brain short-circuiting. Did Enjin just ask him to touch his Vital Instrument? Gris hesitates only a beat longer before he gingerly picks Umbreaker up and hands him over to Enjin. “Uh, yeah, sure,” he says.

“Thanks. I’ll see ya later!” Enjin calls as he rests Umbreaker on his shoulder and walks out of Gris’ room.

Gris is still reeling. Enjin had casually asked him to handle Umbreaker. It’s not that he’s never touched the Vital Instrument before, but Enjin has never offered it. Vital Instruments are precious to their Givers and it’s rare that a Giver allows someone to handle the item. They’re always kept nearby or on the person and rarely handed off to others. Gris can count on one hand the number of times he’s handled Umbreaker and all of those situations occurred when Enjin was injured or unconscious.

What could it mean? All this time Gris had convinced himself that Enjin wasn’t interested in him like that—they were just friends. But this—this had him questioning everything, looking back over the last few months since they started this whole thing, whatever it is. Trusting Gris to handle Umbreaker—when it wasn’t necessary—had to mean something. Enjin always sought him out when he needed to talk through something. Enjin always jumped in front of Trash Beasts to protect Gris, but then again he did that for everyone, even some of the other Givers. All of the Givers went the extra mile to try and protect the Supporters.

Gris is still puzzling over everything as he walks to the mess hall for lunch. He finds Bro sitting at a table alone. There are various other groups dotted around the room. Gris heads to the kitchen and gathers some food on a tray before he makes his way over to Bro’s table.

“Hey, Bro,” he greets.

“Hey there, Gris,” Bro greets enthusiastically. “How you been?”

“Good, enjoying a rare day off.”

“Seems a lot of those going around. A rare quiet time, I guess.”

“Team Eager and Enjin got sent out for a job, but I think that’s it.”

Their conversation flows easily. It almost distracts Gris from his racing Enjin thoughts. Almost.

But he still manages to obsess in his head.

And obsess he does.

As he goes about his day.

As he sees Tamsy and Delmon around HQ indicating that their job is complete and he should see Enjin around somewhere. But he doesn’t.

He continues to obsess late into the night, fighting for sleep, but finding it fleeting.

He even obsesses as he’s sent out on a job with Zanka.

He obsesses until he’s pacing his room three days after the Umbreaker Incident. He hasn’t seen Enjin since that day—both busy with jobs. Or maybe Enjin is avoiding him. Either way, he’s done and he wants answers.

He’s out of his room and halfway to Enjin’s room before he’s even fully committed to the decision. The next thing he knows, he’s knocking on Enjin’s door. He briefly wonders if it’s too late, but then he hears Enjin moving around in his room. The door opens and Enjin smiles. He’s wearing an oversized black t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants that leave little to the imagination. Gris swallows.

“Hey, Gris,” he greets, tone warm and inviting.

“What did it mean?” Gris demands, stepping around him and inviting himself into the room.

“What?” Enjin asks as he turns and slowly shuts the door behind himself.

“What did it mean?” Gris repeats.

“What did what mean?”

“Three days ago, you asked me to hand you Umbreaker.”

Enjin stares at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He doesn’t.

“And?” Enjin prompts.

“That’s your Vital Instrument. That’s precious.”

“Yeah.”

“And you asked me to handle him. You trusted me with Umbreaker.”

“You’ve handled Umbreaker before.”

“When you’ve been injured or unconscious,” Gris points out. “Not when you’re right there. Not when it’s unnecessary for me to touch your Vital Instrument.”

Enjin is silent.

Gris waits.

They’re at an impasse. Gris is afraid to say it and Enjin—Enjin won’t or doesn’t or can’t—

Gris huffs.

“Enjin.”

“Gris.” Enjin’s tone is one of exasperation.

“What. did. it. mean?” He annunciates each word.

Enjin drags a hand through his hair. “You tell me, Gris!” He finally says vehemently. “What do you want it to mean?”

Gris falters. What does he want it to mean? “I—” He stops. He’s afraid to answer.

“I don't fucking know how many more hints I can possibly drop, how much more obvious I can be. Either you’re this oblivious—which doesn’t track—or you’re just not interested. So what is it?”

It takes him only a moment to process Enjin’s words. Then, Gris surges forward, acting purely on instinct, on the desires and fantasies that have built up over the last few months. One hand lands on Enjin’s hip, the other slipping behind his neck to pull him closer. He tilts Enjin’s head back just slightly as he captures Enjin’s lips. Enjin freezes for only a moment before he pulls away, golden eyes darting back and forth between Gris’ eyes.

“So—”

“Oblivious,” Gris answers. “I’m just oblivious.”

Enjin laughs. “Since when?”

“Since you, apparently.”

“Then let me make this very clear for you.” Enjin’s broad palms find Gris’ waist and tug him closer. “Gris Rubion, I want to spend every minute with you. I want to wake up beside you everyday. I trust you with my life and my Vital Instrument.”

“I—” Gris breathes in, out. “Yes, same,” he manages.

Enjin grins and leans in, closing the gap between them and pressing their lips together again. This time Enjin is kissing and Gris is kissing him back. Enjin’s tongue teases the seam of Gris’ lips and he eagerly parts them. Enjin’s tongue dives in to explore. And it’s everything Gris has been imagining. Enjin tastes like whiskey and tobacco and something Gris can’t quite place, but seems entirely Enjin. He never wants to stop.

Enjin presses against him, crowding into his space and then he’s pushing Gris back slowly, step by step. Gris’ legs collide with Enjin’s bed and he gasps into Enjin’s mouth. Enjin’s grip on his waist slides down to his hips as he guides Gris to sit on the bed. Gris breaks the kiss to kick off his shoes before he shifts back on the bed until he’s resting against Enjin’s pillows. Enjin pauses, hovering just over Gris’ legs and looking over him, hunger plain in his eyes.

“I’ve been wanting to get you in my bed like this,” he says.

“Fully clothed?” Gris quips.

“Well, no,” Enjin huffs with a playful grin. “You had much less clothing in my imagination.”

“Then maybe we should make that happen.” Gris starts undoing the buttons on his shirt, letting it fall open and Enjin’s eyes darken, pupils blowing wide.

He sheds the shirt and leans forward, gripping the hem of Enjin’s shirt. Enjin shifts and raises his arms so Gris can pull the shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere in the room. His eyes drift down, tracing along the tattoos that wrap Enjin’s shoulders and cover his chest. He bites his lip. He’s seen glimpses of the tattoos, but never had the opportunity to study them until now. He reaches out and traces around the circle on Enjin’s stomach. Enjin’s muscles flex and twitch instinctively under his finger. When he looks up, Enjin is watching him with an intense gaze. They hold it for a beat before Enjin surges forward to claim Gris’ lips again. It’s frantic, full of teeth and haste. Their tongues battle for power as Enjin cages Gris’ head in between his arms.

Enjin slowly lowers his hips onto Gris’ and Gris moans at the pressure. Their hips work in tandem, teasing their growing erections as their lips and tongues move together. A particularly hard thrust from Enjin drags a moan from Gris and he feels Enjin smile into the kiss. Enjin’s hand slips up into Gris’ hair, brushing through the blond strands. His fingers tangle at the back of Gris’ head and he gives a gentle tug. Gris loves it, he wants more, he wants Enjin to manhandle him. He nips at Enjin’s bottom lip, eliciting a growl from him.

Enjin kisses away from his mouth, dotting a trail along his jaw and down his throat. His teeth graze Gris’ pulse point before he kisses the spot—teasing. Gris whines, threading his fingers through Enjin’s hair. He hooks his legs around Enjin’s hips and rolls them both over. He leans over Enjin and kisses the tattooed lines on one of his shoulders. His tongue darts out, tasting Enjin—there’s a hint of smoke that clings to his skin from the cigarettes. It’s intoxicating. He traces along the line to Enjin’s clavicle. Gris pauses his exploration and sucks at the bone under the skin. His tongue comes back out and he continues down to Enjin’s pecks. He traces the circle there until he nears Enjin’s nipple and closes his lips around it, tongue teasing his nipple into a hardened peak.

“Feels like you’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Enjin says, his voice strained.

Gris releases the nipple in his mouth. “I have,” he confirms as he moves to the other nipple.

When he’s satisfied, he releases the nipple and leans back up to capture Enjin’s mouth again. He rolls his hips, pressing his clothed erection against Enjin’s. He comes up for air and stares down at Enjin, feeling warm and excited and fond. His eyes dart to Enjin’s clavicle for a beat and his brows furrow. He can barely see the hickey he left there, too obscured by Enjin’s tattoos.

Enjin chuckles. “Can’t see your handiwork?”

Gris’ eyes rise to lock with Enjin’s and he sees affectionate amusement there. And then he’s on his back again with Enjin hovering over him. Enjin had switched their positions so smoothly.

“I won’t have that problem,” he says and immediately latches onto the side of Gris’ neck.

“Maybe somewhere not so obvious,” Gris requests, even as he leans into it.

“Your collar should hide this.” Enjin comes off his neck long enough to speak and then latch onto a new spot, this time a spot easily covered by Gris’ clothing. He kisses, nips, bites, and sucks his way down Gris’ chest to his nipples, sucking one while he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger. Gris arches into it, his cock straining in his pants.

“Enjin,” he gasps as Enjin sucks at the side of his ribs. Enjin leaves a road map of his attention on Gris’ body and it’s all leading to one place.

He can feel Enjin’s smirk against his skin as he shifts, planting his knee between Gris’ legs, close enough that he could brush against Gris’ groin if he wanted. Instead his hand traces down Gris’ torso until it stops at the waistband of his pants and carefully flicks the button open.

“Okay?” Enjin asks, quietly, almost tentatively, eyes rising to meet Gris’.

Is he asking for consent? Gris could melt. Enjin’s always been a gentleman. It’s one of the many things Gris finds so attractive about him.

“Yeah,” Gris breathes. “You can—”

Enjin’s hand is already working the zipper down and tugging Gris’ boxer briefs and pants down enough to free his cock. His fingers graze Gris’ cock and Gris sucks in a sharp breath. That large palm that he’s spent so many nights fantasizing about wraps around his cock and Gris moans long and loud before he can tamp it down. Enjin strokes a few times, thumbing over the head and gathering the precum to aid the slide of his palm. Gris’ hips thrust involuntarily, chasing Enjin’s palm as he strokes. Enjin’s free hand opens the drawer on his bedside table and he pulls out a bottle of lube and a condom. Gris swallows the anticipation down.

Enjin’s hand slides off of Gris’ cock and slips down, pausing at his perineum. “Can I…?”

“Yeah—Yes. Yes,” Gris hastily says. Enjin asking to finger him is more than he dared hope for. It hints at Enjin’s plans for the night. He’s had a few fantasies about thrusting into Enjin, but that can wait because the thought of Enjin’s cock impaling him has his hole clenching around nothing in anticipation.

Enjin squeezes lube onto his fingers and then they’re at his pucker, gently circling and massaging the muscle until one thick finger tentatively prods in to the first knuckle. Enjin leans in and takes Gris’ cock into his mouth and Gris instinctively clenches around the finger. Enjin tongues at the underside of his cock and eases his finger in deeper. Gris writhes under the attention, the dual sensations.

Enjin hums, the noise vibrating against his cock as Enjin takes him deep into his mouth and down his throat. Gris’ nails scratch at the bed sheets, digging in to keep from tearing at Enjin’s back as he inserts a second finger alongside the first. Enjin thrusts his fingers, curling them just so, and tongues at Gris’ cock, licking up the slit at the head, and Gris is losing his mind. He can’t possibly keep up with all of this attention.

On the next thrust of Enjin’s thick fingers, he adds a third and Gris arches off the bed with a loud moan. Enjin’s tongue presses against the vein on the underside of his cock as he pulls off. A trail of spit leaves them connected as Enjin grins while Gris writhes. He wraps his hand around Gris’ cock and strokes.

“You close, baby?” He breathes.

Gris can only manage a whine as his muscles tense, heat coiling in his gut. Enjin’s attention is bringing him right to the breaking point.

“It’s okay, let go.”

And Gris does. He feels the tether of control snap and he comes, spilling over Enjin’s hand, his vision whiting out temporarily. He pants, desperately trying to catch his breath. Enjin removes his hands from Gris and crawls back up to kiss him. Gris smiles into the kiss. He nips at Enjin’s lower lip as his hand slips down to Enjin’s sweatpants. He pushes the sweatpants and the boxer briefs underneath down to Enjin’s thighs and wraps his hand around Enjin’s half-hard cock and—

He freezes, pulling back from Enjin’s mouth. Enjin stares down at him with a playful look.

“Is that—?”

“Yup,” Enjin says smugly. “I’ve been told they feel great.”

Gris can’t form a response as his fingers tease around the frenum ladder piercings on the underside of Enjin’s cock. The piercings shouldn’t come as a surprise given the rest of Enjin’s appearance, but they do.

“Okay,” he finally says, voice hushed, a note of anticipation.

Enjin reaches for the condom he’d left on his bedside table and tears the package open with his teeth. He rolls the condom on and Gris watches in anticipation.

“Gris.” Enjin leans forward and kisses him again. He pulls back marginally. “Can I—”

“Stop asking and do it already.”

Enjin laughs. “A little impatient?”

“Enjin.”

Enjin lines his cock up and pushes the head in. Gris breathes through the stretch, anticipation buzzing through him as he waits to feel the piercings. Enjin eases in, bit by bit so Gris has time to adjust. He pauses after a few centimeters and Gris opens his mouth to tell him to keep going, but Enjin beats him to it.

“You ready?” Enjin asks, voice straining.

“Fuck’s sake. Stop asking me, Enjin.”

“‘Kay, shit, who raised you,” Enjin grumbles as he eases further into Gris and he feels the first pressure of a piercing at his hole. It pops in and he immediately feels the pressure of the second piercing.

“Oh my—” he chokes, the words cutting off as the second piercing slips in.

“You good?”

“Amazing,” Gris breathes.

Enjin slides the rest of the way in until their hips are flush. He exhales, inhales, catches Gris’ lips. He stays there for a moment, unmoving. Gris appreciates the pause for a moment, but then he’s desperate for more, he wants to feel those piercings again. He works his hips under where Enjin has him pinned to the bed.

“Fuck—” Enjin gasps, pulling off his lips. “Okay, message received.”

He pulls his hips back slowly, then slides back in—slightly faster. The pace is agonizing, but with each thrust he picks up. The drag of the piercings with each thrust pull a broken, pleasured mewl from Gris every time. He’s never felt anything quite like it—and honestly, it’s been a while since he’s even been with anyone—but he knows he never wants to be with anyone else ever again. He never wants to to have sex with anyone else. Enjin is ruining him. Everything about him—his beautiful face, his intricate tattoos, his piercings, his charisma, his caring disposition, his confidence, his humor, the way he makes Gris feel. Gris can’t imagine anyone else will live up to Enjin.

Enjin’s hips stutter, losing the rhythm and Gris knows he’s close. Enjin’s hand closes around his cock again, stroking in time with his thrusts, even as Enjin’s hips falter. Gris comes quickly, after only a few strokes, still feeling overstimulated from the attention earlier. Enjin isn’t far behind, finally burying himself in Gris, hips flush as his head drops to Gris’ shoulder and he lets out a shaky breath.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

Gris cards his fingers through Enjin’s hair and down his back. He trails his fingers along Enjin’s back, absentmindedly wondering if he’s tracing any of the curving lines of his tattoos. Eventually, Enjin catches his breath and moves to lay beside Gris. He throws an arm over his eyes and releases a long breath.

Gris looks over at him, a small, content smile on his lips. This had been better than all of his fantasies combined. He rolls toward Enjin and kisses his cheek. Enjin’s lips quirk up and he moves his arm away from his face to look over at Gris. He brushes the blond strands away from Gris’ face, tucking them behind his ear.

“You look good like this,” Enjin says.

“Like what?”

“A little dazed and fucked out in my bed.”

Gris huffs a soft laugh. “You’re crude.”

“You were a few minutes ago as well.”

Enjin kisses Gris and pushes himself up to a sitting position. He forces himself off the bed and pads over to his bathroom to remove the condom and throw it away. He reemerges with a damp towel and tosses it to Gris as he walks to the window. He cracks it and grabs the ashtray off the sill. He sets it on the bedside table and picks up his pack of cigarettes.

“You mind?”

Gris shakes his head. “Not at all.” When he finishes cleaning his cum off his stomach, he tosses the towel toward what looks like a pile of dirty laundry in the corner of Enjin’s room.

“Don’t tell me you like it,” Enjin says around the cigarette as he digs around in the drawer for his lighter. He finally comes up with it and lights the cigarette.

“I do.” Gris shrugs. “The smell reminds me of you.”

Enjin hums in response as he takes a drag. Gris moves closer and rests his head on Enjin’s chest. Enjin throws an arm around him, holding him close as he takes another drag and taps the ash off in the ashtray.

When he finishes the cigarette, he reaches over to turn off the lamp on the bedside table and shifts down in the bed, pressing his back to Gris’ chest. Gris happily wraps his arms around Enjin and drifts easily to sleep knowing it must be very late. It was nearly midnight when he’d shown up at Enjin’s door demanding answers.

It’s only a few hours later that Enjin’s choker rings from the bedside table and they both groan. Enjin untangles himself from Gris and snatches the buzzing choker off the table.

“Yeah?” Enjin answers, his voice thick with sleep.

“Got a job for your team,” Semiu says and then the connection ends.

“Great,” Enjin grumbles.

A beat later Gris’ choker rings. He sighs and answers.

“Good morning, Semiu,” Gris answers, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as sleep-ridden as Enjin’s had.

“Morning, Gris. I need you on a job with Team Akuta.”

“Got it, be there shortly.”

The connection ends and Enjin huffs in annoyance.

“Those were drastically different calls,” he mumbles.

Gris snickers and kisses his cheek. “I wouldn’t think too much about it.”

He sits up and maneuvers over Enjin and out of the bed, searching the room for all of his discarded clothing.

“Where’re you going?”

“To my room to shower and get dressed so I can report for this job,” Gris answers as he locates his boxer briefs and pulls them on. Those are quickly followed by his pants and shirt. He runs his fingers through his hair, straightening out some of the tangles.

“You could shower here.”

Gris smiles. “My uniform is in my room.”

Enjin grumbles a few choice words. “Fine,” he finally acquiesces.

Once dressed, Gris walks back over to the bed and leans over Enjin. “Maybe we can have a repeat tonight.”

“Count on it.” Enjin pulls Gris’ head down to his and kisses him deeply.

Gris is the one to pull away. “We’ve got a job to do.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Enjin grumbles as he starts to get out of bed. “I’m goin’.”

Gris walks to the door and cracks it open, peeking into the hall. When he’s satisfied he steps out and walks quickly to his room where he showers and tugs on his uniform, happy that his collar does, in fact, hide the hickey Enjin had left on his neck.

He’s the first one to arrive at Semiu’s reception desk. She immediately comes around the desk and pushes his collar to the side, revealing the hickey. She clicks her tongue at him.

“He shouldn’t leave those where anyone can see ‘em,” Semiu scolds.

“Who?” Gris tries and she fixes him with a look that tells him she already knows exactly who left that hickey on his neck. He feels his cheeks warm with a blush and ducks his head. “I told him,” Gris sighs, feeling like a chastised teenager.

Slowly Team Akuta, Follo and Tomme file into reception, ready to get briefed on the job, but they’re still waiting for Enjin. He saunters in a few minutes after the last straggler—Rudo. Enjin’s hair is down and still damp from his shower.

“Took ya long enough,” Semiu grumbles.

“Yeah, well,” Enjin runs a hand through his hair, pushing it up and back into its usual style, “late night.”

“Mmm.” Semiu’s judgment is painfully clear in that one sound and Gris desperately tries not to blush again. “So the job.”

Semiu runs through a quick overview and then they’re walking to the garage. Gris approaches the driver’s side and Enjin whistles.

“Nah, man. You’ll put everyone to sleep before we get there.”

“I’d like us to get there in one piece,” Gris argues.

“I always get us there in one piece.”

“What about that time you totaled the Jeep?”

“We both walked away from that.”

“We needed Eishia to heal us.”

“Yeah, but that’s no biggie.”

“Jus’ let ‘im drive, Gris,” Zanka grumbles. “We’ll be stuck here al’day.”

Gris presses his lips together with a sigh. “Fine.”

They pile into the Jeep and take off toward Mono to investigate some new Trash Beasts. They’re halfway to the No Man’s Land where Rudo landed when he dropped from The Sphere when Gris hears a cacophony of whispering from the backseats.

“I’m telling you there’s something going on,” Riyo whispers.

Gris glances inconspicuously over his shoulder and sees Rudo and Riyo turned around in their seats whispering to Follo and Tomme in the third row. Zanka is staring out the window, seemingly ignoring the chatter.

“Like what?” Follo asks.

“I don’t know, but things are different,” Riyo insists.

Here Zanka turns around. “It ain’t none of our business.”

“I don’t understand what we’re talking about,” Rudo mumbles.

Zanka snorts. Follo huffs.

“Riyo is saying that she thinks there’s something going on between—” he nods toward the front seat.

Gris smirks and looks forward again. He sees Enjin looking in the rear view mirror at the group, a smug smirk on his lips. He catches Gris’ eye and winks. Gris looks away with a grin, thinking this is their little secret. At least as much as possible. Semiu saw right through them.

He stares out the window, but quickly looks to Enjin when he feels Enjin’s large palm slipping into his, their fingers interlocking. Gris glances down and back up. Enjin looks in the rear view again at the still whispering group of teens and young adults. Then, he lifts their hands, twisting them, and kisses the back of Gris’ hand.

The car erupts.

“What is that!” Rudo demands. “What does that mean?”

Riyo grins wide. “I think it means—”

“I think it means they finally stopped dancing around their very obvious feelings.”

“Follo,” Gris chastises.

“Am I wrong?” He challenges. Zanka snorts.

“You are not wrong, Follo,” Enjin says. “One of my painfully obvious hints finally got through to Gris.”

“Was it when ya asked him on a date?” Zanka asked.

“No. He friend-zoned me that day.”

“Yikes, Gris,” Riyo says through a laugh.

“It was not explicitly stated as a date.”

“Gris,” Follo deadpans. “Enjin asked you out to lunch in Canvas Town with no one else, just you guys.”

“How do you all know about that?” Gris asks.

“Semiu,” the entire car says in unison.

“She told us you two were dancing around each other,” Riyo explains.

“It was also pretty obvious,” Follo added.

Gris sighs. “Okay, can we all focus for this job?”

Enjin snickers and Gris shoots him a glare, but he can’t hold it for long. The group settles down and Gris relaxes into his seat for the rest of the drive.

Everything has changed and nothing has changed. He’s still a Cleaner, still a pseudo dad to a gaggle of teenagers, but now he has Enjin. Something he never chanced hoping for, so sure that Enjin wouldn’t feel the same way he felt. Looking back, it had been silly. The signs where there. Enjin’s obvious hints were, in fact, very obvious.