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Big fucking hated Porsche. He hated his attitude, his cockiness, his skills (such as they were), but most of all, he hated all the shit that Porsche got away with. It was like consequences were an afterthought when it came to Porsche; even Khun Korn seemed to cut him some slack. Aside from that one very gratifying day in the gym, Porsche never seemed to get punished for his transgressions, of which there were a lot. Big would know. He’d been keeping a list.
-
1. Addressing Khun Kinn casually
It was constant, the verbal disrespect Porsche had for the family, but while it seemed he just forgot to use polite terms with Khun Nu and Khun Korn, it was like he refused to use them with Khun Kinn.
“Kinn,” Porsche would say, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for a bodyguard to call his boss with that level of familiarity. Khun Kinn would only scoff or roll his eyes and sometimes he didn’t react at all, just let Porsche disrespect him like it didn’t even matter. Even worse, sometimes he would insult Khun Kinn to his face.
“Kinn!” Porsche yelled, pushing him out of the way as a drunken party guest took a swing at him. Porsche absorbed the blow with his own body, the way a bodyguard should. He returned it with a quick punch to the assailant’s face and barely flinched at the blood gushing down his own face from his nose, grabbing Khun Kinn’s arm and dragging him down the hall. Ken was taking care of the drunk goon, so Big followed behind Khun Kinn and Porsche, watching their backs for anyone else who might want to take a swing at his boss. Once safely in the hallway, Porsche whirled on Khun Kinn and started cussing.
“You fucking idiot! You knew he was angry and drunk but you just had to keep pushing, didn’t you? Now we’ll have to deal with this as quietly as possible. This is a PR event, dumbass. Starting a fight is not a good look.”
“I only started the fight because I know you wanted an excuse to hit him,” Khun Kinn said, his voice far too fond to be speaking to a bodyguard who just insulted him to his face. He tilted Porsche’s head down and pinched his nose, hardly caring about the blood dripping down his wrist to stain his suit jacket.
“Fuck you,” Porsche muttered. Kinn huffed a laugh through his nose but said nothing else.
Ken called for Big through the earpiece, breaking the stunned silence Big had found himself in. He shook his head, clearing it, and went back to work. Give it a day or so. Kinn would come to his senses and punish Porsche for his mouthiness—maybe he’d even let Big oversee the punishment again.
—
2. Being out of uniform
But the punishment never came, or, if it did, Khun Kinn handled it privately. A few days later, still slightly disappointed that he couldn’t kick the shit out of Porsche again, Big was grabbing another cup of coffee in the canteen before his late-night shift started. Porsche was sitting with Pete and Arm, each finishing up their meals and clearly off-duty. A maid walked by with a tray in her arms and Porsche perked up.
“Auntie,” he called, popping up out of his seat. “Is that for Kinn?”
The maid nodded. Porsche put his hands under the tray, ready to take it. “Here, I’ll take it to him for you.”
“Are you sure?” the maid asked. Porsche beamed and nodded, taking it from her fully. She smiled back and took a step away.
Big frowned, approaching both of them. “You’re not in uniform.”
Porsche glanced down at his clothes—a tee-shirt and jeans, nothing offensive but definitely not his suit and tie or track suit.
“So?” he asked.
“So?” Big repeated. “You need to be in uniform to see Khun Kinn.”
Porsche looked at him oddly. “It’ll be fine. I’m just dropping off the tray.”
“I’ll take it,” Big snapped. Porsche shrugged and handed it over.
“Whatever,” he said. Big, annoyed at having to abandon his coffee for Porsche’s boneheadedness, only grew more annoyed when the man fell in step beside him.
“I’m taking this to Khun Kinn.”
“I know.”
“I don’t need your help,” Big said pointedly. Once again, Porsche just shrugged.
“Sure.”
A few more steps passed in silence.
“So why are you following me?”
“I have something to talk to Kinn about.”
“What?”
“Well, that’s between me and Kinn, I think.”
Big clenched his teeth. Porsche, seeing this, grinned. Big knocked on Khun Kinn’s door and waited for the man to answer. Porsche didn’t bother to wait, pushing open the door. From across the room, Khun Kinn looked up from his book.
“Porsche,” he greeted. Then, looking past Porsche, said, “and…Big.”
“Sir,” Big said, nodding.
“Big insisted on bringing you your tray. I told him I could handle it, but apparently bodyguards aren’t capable of carrying trays while out of uniform.”
Khun Kinn simply hummed in disinterest. His eyes flicked up and down Porsche’s body as if assessing Porsche’s state of dress, then glanced back at Big.
“Leave it on the coffee table, Big. That will be all,” Khun Kinn said. “Porsche, stay for a minute. I wanted to talk to you about your…. performance today.”
“Any complaints?” Porsche asked innocently. Khun Kinn said, “None. But a review is in order, I think.”
He looked at Big and said again, “That will be all, Big.”
Embarrassment lanced through Big as he hurriedly put the tray down and backed out of the door. Damn that Porsche.
—
3. Unapproved physical contact with Kinn
Porsche was touchy. He had no personal boundaries. It seemed that every emotion he had, he expressed through physical contact. Big almost choked on his own spit when he saw Porsche slap the back of Khun Kinn’s head once. They had been arguing about something petty, then Khun Kinn had leaned in and said something under his breath to Porsche, who reacted with a smack to the man’s head. Big’s hand went to his gun, but Khun Kinn simply slapped him back with the same level of force and carried on. Slowly, Big relaxed his grip on his weapon. Porsche rubbed the back of his head with an odd little smile on his face, and the moment passed.
When he needed to get Khun Kinn’s attention, Porsche didn’t clear his throat or say Khun Kinn’s name. No, he had to touch Khun Kinn. A gentle elbow in his ribs, a touch to his wrist, a brush against the small of his back, a hand on his shoulder— once Big saw Porsche tweak Khun Kinn’s ear to get his attention.
Every time he saw Porsche touch Khun Kinn without permission, Big’s fists clenched compulsively. He wanted nothing more than to pull Porsche away, to punch him, to put him back in his place. But for some unknown reason, Porsche was still technically his boss. Big had just as much right to punch Porsche as he had to punch Chan, and, given the choice and the weird way Khun Kinn was overprotective of Porsche, he wasn’t sure which one would get him in more trouble.
—
4. Insulting Kinn behind his back
Porsche had a mouth on him, everyone knew that. He also had a loose tongue while drunk. And he was drunk. Khun Kinn and Khun Korn were gone on business for the night, and the bodyguards who didn’t make the cut to accompany them were gathered in the dark canteen to share some booze and blow off some steam. Porsche was in the middle of his fourth drink and a ten-minute story about a close call he’d had while protecting Khun Kinn during a negotiation.
“And another thing,” Porsche was saying, face flushed and eyes glassy, “It’s like Kinn doesn’t fucking trust me. I should be there right now. I am his best chance at getting through this business deal without another bullet hole in him. He’s so fucking stupid sometimes.”
“Hey,” Big said sharply. “Watch your mouth. That’s Khun Kinn you’re talking about.”
Porsche whirled dramatically to (kind of) lock eyes with Big. Over-dramatically, he said, “Oh, most sincere apologies. Khun Kinn is so fucking stupid sometimes.”
Big shot to his feet, but Ken grabbed his arm and hauled him back down.
“Let it go, man,” he hissed.
“Why should I?” Big demanded. “He’s insulting Khun Kinn.”
“Don’t you think he’s earned that right?” Ken said. Big frowned, about to ask what he meant, but Porsche gestured with his half-empty bottle and interjected, “Ken gets it. I’m allowed to call Kinn a dumbass.”
“And why is that?”
Porsche grinned, his eyes nearly all the way closed in drunken bliss. “Because I’m his favorite,” he said smugly. Big rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink. He couldn’t even argue with that. For some godforsaken reason, Porsche was right.
—
5. Unapproved physical contact with Kinn, part 2
It got worse. Porsche simply couldn’t keep his hands to himself and one of these days Big was going to go rogue and shoot him himself, consequences be damned. His unauthorized physical contact with Khun Kinn crept past the friendly, informal touches and light slaps that Khun Kinn tolerated for reasons unknown, and into something completely unprofessional. After a long stakeout that left all concerned parties (Porsche, Ken, and Big) on-edge and exhausted, they returned to the big house to recoup and debrief. They reported to Chan, naturally, since the intel they gathered wasn’t important enough to go directly to Khun Korn. Despite this, Khun Kinn waltzed in halfway through their recounting of the night. Porsche, who had been listing slightly to one side, snapped to attention and fell silent. Khun Kinn waved at them to continue on and perched on the arm of the couch they were sitting on, next to Porsche. Ken took over the explanation while Big watched in disbelief as Porsche slumped over and rested his head against Khun Kinn’s shoulder. The disbelief got stronger when Khun Kinn lifted his arm to curl protectively around Porsche and Porsche snuggled into his side. No one else in the room acted like this was any kind of weird, so Big chalked it up to him hallucinating due to exhaustion.
—
One would think that after the number of shootouts he’d endured, at some point, he’d stop being scared of them. Even though they made it safely out with absolutely no injuries, Big’s hand still shook as he holstered his gun. He turned to check on his fellow bodyguards and pulled up short at the sight of Porsche wrapped around Khun Kinn like a living scarf. He had his face buried against Khun Kinn’s neck and Khun Kinn cradled the back of his head with one large hand, stroking his hair. After a moment, he gently shoved Porsche back and said, “we have a job to finish.”
Porsche nodded, finally properly chastised for once, and got back to work. Big glanced between them, trying so hard to make it make sense.
—
+1) Big figures it out
The third Thursday of every month was Big’s turn to pick up Khun Kinn’s guest. Part of his deal with Khun Kinn was several standing dates throughout the month, with more available on request, and it just so happened that it was Big’s responsibility to pick him up on the third Thursday of the month. So when he arrived at the comfortable apartment to retrieve said guest, it was a surprise to him when the man wasn’t standing outside waiting for him. He pressed the doorbell and waited for the answer.
“Yes?” The man—Bank, if Big remembered correctly, though remembering each and every one of Khun Kinn’s revolving door of pretty boys was a full-time job in and of itself—said, sounding surprised.
“I’m here to pick you up for Khun Kinn,” Big said. Bank shook his head.
“Kinn terminated his contract with me almost a month ago,” he said.
“What?”
“Mm. Too bad, I liked having him as a client.”
“Did he say why?” Big blurted out. Bank gave him a considering look.
“He did not,” he said slowly. “But I took care of Kinn for years. He’s a very particular man and doesn’t change his routines easily. If he’s not getting it from me, he must be getting it from someone else. Have there been any new boys hanging around?”
Big shook his head. Bank leaned against the doorway, tilting his head, considering.
“Well, that’s very odd.”
Some dusty, unfinished thought clicked in the back of Big’s head.
“You said he broke it off about a month ago?”
“Yes. I heard something about him getting injured, so at first I thought maybe he just needed time to heal and he’d re-up his contact once he was better. But he never did.”
A month ago….that injury Bank spoke of was from when Khun Kinn had been kidnapped. Porsche, too.
Porsche, who had been different since his time in the jungle. Porsche, who suddenly stopped complaining about being a bodyguard, who suddenly took his job a lot more seriously. Porsche, who never got in trouble for speaking back to Khun Kinn. Porsche, who went to Khun Kinn’s rooms late at night in casual clothes, who hugged him on missions, who Kinn touched with such gentleness. Him.
Big felt slightly sick.
Bank clicked his tongue. “Ah, so there is a new boy.”
“I’m sorry, I have to go,” Big said faintly. Bank gave him a look that was half amused, half pitying, and bid him goodnight.
Big retuned to the compound on autopilot, mind reeling. He had all the evidence right there in front of him, but the conclusion kept slipping away from him, like trying to catch an eel with his bare hands.
After all this time, all these years of serving and protecting and being the best possible bodyguard…. Khun Kinn couldn’t just pick someone else. He couldn’t just pick Porsche.
But when he returned back to the house, there were a pair of figures sitting by Tankhun’s beloved fish pond, and they were kissing.
Big swallowed, hard. Khun Kinn didn’t kiss anyone, ever. Except, apparently, here and now. Except, apparently, Porsche.
He left the two of them undisturbed and went back to his room.
“Did you know Porsche is fucking around with Khun Kinn?” he asked bluntly, dropping onto the couch in the rooms he shared with Ken.
Ken turned down the volume on the TV but didn’t look away from whatever he was watching.
“I think you’re the only one here who didn’t,” he said, sounding bored. “And don’t let anyone else hear you calling it that.”
“What should I call it? It’s not like they’re dating. They aren’t in love or anything.”
Ken turned up the volume again.
“Right?” Big asked, with more urgency. He grabbed Ken’s arm. “Ken. They’re not in love or anything, right?”
Ken gave him a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Big sat down with his head in his hands.
“Fuck,” he groaned. Ken patted his shoulder in sympathy.
It was official: Big fucking hated Porsche.