Chapter Text
has been called in for a routine medical exam to measure that he's keeping in shape. He doesn't much care for them as he's always keeping in shape and they just seem like a bother, but the last time there hadn't been any tension between him and Arm - who's leading the physical exam - either. And last time, Pol hadn't been in the room, watching Porsche unbutton his shirt and unashamedly leering.
"And why is Pol here?" Porsche takes off his shirt and lays it unto the bench.
Arm just gives him a look over the rim of his glasses before continuing to type something on his laptop.
Pol grins at him before rucking up Porsche's shirt, his warm hands-on Porsche's skin, touching more than necessary as he sticks tape and cables to Porsche's naked chest.
The room is small and every centimetre is used, stuffed with medical equipment. Porsche stands in the middle, right next to the treadmill he'll run on soon. He looks at it to not look at Pol. The man is close and in this sterile room, Porsche can smell his aftershave. He won't lie to himself and say he's never fantasized about Pol before, or Pol and Arm together. But even after walking in on the two in a questionable sexual situation and them being open about their attraction to Porsche, nothing ever happened. The tension has become unbearable. Sneaky looks across the gym and in locker rooms and now, Porsche doesn't know what to do with his hands.
Pols large hand wraps around the side of his waist like he needs leverage to push himself up again. They're eyes catch and Pol's want is open and bare and simple and Porsche is so jealous of how anybody could be this vulnerable and free.
Pol steps back and slumps against one of the large medical devices before taking out a bag of gummi bears and starts eating, his eyes roaming over Porsche.
A gentle hand touches Porsche's shoulder, and he's jerked out of his trance to look over at Arm who nods towards the treadmill, "if you will."
His wifebeater is slowly sliding down his chest again from where Pol has crumpled up underneath his armpits, hiding most of the cables. Porsche doesn't feel the need to drag it down fully and just gets on the treadmill, waiting for Arm to start the program.
It's starts slow and almost boringly. Porsche feels the need to break the unusual silence now hanging between the three of them. When they're together in the dining hall or at Thankhuns, they never lack conversational material, and ping pong off each other in a way Porsche enjoys a lot. He wouldn't have survived his time in the mafia without these two oddballs, and he loves them. He wished things were different and he had met them under different circumstances he would know how to explode the tension between them and take it to the next step. But here, in this world, he has a weird relationship with Kinn going on. His boss who he might be in love with, might hate, might be a little bit afraid off, might see a future with.
Arm and Pol's eyes are on him as Arm ranks up the intensity. Soon, Porsche starts sweating, the nice, physical ache putting him into calmer headspace. The room filling with his heavy breathing and the loud thumping of his shoes on the treadmill as he runs. He could run faster. He thinks he might be able to run forever. He looks over at the iPad in Arm's hands, begging it to ramp up the speed even more, until he reaches his limits and let him stay there. He looks up and Arm catches his gaze. Like he's reading Porsche's thoughts, his finger moves across the pad slowly, while the speed ramps up slowly and Porsche keeps up. And Arm keeps accelerating and Porsche keeps up. He feels like he's flying over the treadmill now, every long leap pressing his thighs nearly to his stomach. A wide grin crosses over Porsche's face and Arm grins back, pushing up his glasses in an almost shy manner as he focuses on Porsche’s feet, quick to slow down again and catch him if necessary. And behind him, Pol has set down his gummi bears, looking ready to intervene in any way necessary. That's why Porsche loves these two guys so much. They have his back. In a world in which everyone wants Kinn dead and are willing to use Porsche to get to him, Porsche knows that these two he can trust. He sprints, his breathing becoming throaty, his foot placement less sturdy and straight, the burn in his thighs and calves almost unbearable.
"I'm slowing down again," Arm warns before he moves that finger of his again. Very slowly and lets Porsche come down to a light jog. His legs are trembling and unsteady but his breathing catches again and he blinks sweat out of his eyes, shaking his wet hair away from his forehead and exhaling laughs out loud.
"Oh man!"
"You're Superman," Pol agrees, starting on his gummies again.
Arm snorts, "almost." He slows down the treadmill to walking pace now. "You've definitely improved all around. Good job."
"I guess all those near-death experiences has trained my heart. It can take anything now." Porsche finally staggers off the treadmill before Arm leads him to a scale and notes the weight which has gone up with the added muscle.
Then he takes off his sweaty wifebeater for the electrodes to be removed by Pol and for him to get his body fat measured.
"Don't you usually do this before the treadmill?" Porsche would've remembered the cold air on his sweaty skin and hands on him while he's overheating.
Pol just grins as he measures his weight, "P'Pol just wanted to touch your sweaty body."
Porsche slaps the back of his head and he 'uffs' in his theatrical manner before rubbing the back of his head.
Arm smiles beside him as he notes down the measurements, looking wholly unaffected except for the slight blush and the way his eyes keep sneaking down Porsche's body.
Porsche can't help but preen under the attention, stuck between these men, and he wraps his arms around their shoulders to draw them in at a sudden surge of affection.
"Ugh, Nong Porsche!" even in his clear disgust, Arm still remembers Porsche being called little brother, so Porsche doesn't take his admonishment about being pressed tightly against his sweaty form seriously as he nuzzles into the man’s hair.
Pol just laughs, and slaps his abs in a friendly manner, giving his shoulder a quick kiss.
Porsche repays him with a forehead kiss, "I love you guys."
"Love you too, Nong," Pol chortles.
"Yeah, yeah," Arm grunts and pushes out of Porsche's arms again. "We're not finished here yet."
"You still need more jerkoff material?" Porsche winks at Arm and doesn't let Arm's icy glare get him down.
Whatever happens next with Kinn and the family, he knows he can rely on these two.