"idk i just like torbek LOL"

Torbek tugs at the tubing running through his left forearm with a grimace. It hurts and itches, a pretty uncomfortable combination that makes him scratch through his fur. The lights in the old shed are just a little too bright and the voices are being extra bitchy today and his ass is getting cold sitting on the table, but Gideon promised it’d only be 10 more minutes and they’d be done, so Torbek will be patient. Torbek can’t say Gideon is always the best at keeping time, or the most honest, but when it comes to these tests he’s practically down to the second. He doesn’t like keeping Torbek in the workshop for any longer than is necessary.

*Wouldn’t want his little pet project to bother him with its’ incessant whining, would he?*

Shut up, Torbek thinks, scratching harder at the point where the Witchlight tube meets his skin. The pain helps distract him from the nasty things being whispered into his head. The Other is quieter these days, or maybe Torbek is better at filtering him out, except when Gideon needs to run a test. On these occasions, he takes every opportunity to make Torbek’s stints in the workshop as miserable as he can. Torbek hopes it’s a sign that Gideon is making progress getting the Witchlight apparatus and the personality that comes with it out of Torbek’s body.

*If you truly believe you’ll ever be rid of me, you’re a bigger fool than I thought.*

‘Torbek didn’t aaask.’ He grits his teeth and gives the tube a solid yank. He jolts at the feeling of a warm hand pressed between his shoulder blades, holding him still while Gideon fiddles around with the tanks protruding from his back.

‘Keep scratching at it and yer gonna get another infection.’ Gideon says. There are a few clicks and Torbek feels his balance shift backwards slightly. Whatever part of the canisters Gideon had been looking at re-closes with a soft *kerchunk*.

Torbek makes a noncommittal noise. ‘Torbek alreaaady has more infections than he can count… what’s one more joining the partyyy?’

Gideon laughs but there’s no real humour in it. The hand rubs up and down his back. ‘Just don’t go pulling yerself apart, that’s my job.’

‘…Torbek is sorryyy.’

‘Ain’t no sorry.’ Gideon walks back into view, engineering workbook open and a tired expression on his face. ‘Savin’ you the trouble, is all. Takes a hell of a time to heal ‘em up.’

Gideon would know better than anyone. Torbek tries not to stare at the old scars littering his skin above and below the hefty manacles, failed attempts to pry the metal away by force. Torbek’s own arms must look the same underneath his fur by now, many months of scratching and pulling and biting around the tubes taking their toll. It makes Torbek feel a little sick just thinking about it.

Gideon must be able to tell because his demeanour softens. He settles down onto his rotating stool, right next to where Torbek is perched on the bench.

‘That fella upstairs giving you trouble?’ He pats Torbek’s knee and glares at the space just above his ears. ‘Tell ‘im he better watch himself if he wants to act funny – puttin’ clowns in the ground is my speciality.’

In the confines of Torbek’s subconscious there’s a vicious growl, along with the mirth of a few different voices at The Other’s expense. Torbek pays none of it any mind. It’s a lot harder to get lost in his own head with Gideon right in front of him. The man gives his knee one last squeeze before pulling a stub of a pencil from behind his ear and making notes on an intricate diagram in his workbook.

‘Just gotta finish up this sketch an’ we’re outta here, darlin.’

Torbek feels his ears flap and a happy noise rumble out of himself before he can process it. He likes it when Gideon calls him darling. He likes it when Gideon calls him anything in a low, sweet voice like that.

That’s the contradiction of these shed sessions with Gideon. Torbek hates being interrogated and answers any questions Gideon can throw out as earnestly as possible. He shies from manhandling of the Witchlight gear and wants to lean into Gideon’s touch for comfort, no matter how clinical it might be at the time. He prickles at the feeling of eyes studying him and preens under Gideon’s warm gaze. Gideon always wears his tiny golden spectacles during these tests, to get a better look at the equipment, a better look at him. He hates them, Torbek knows. Says they make him look like some lame poindexter. Torbek thinks he looks cute in them, peering through the lenses at whatever part of Torbek has drawn his focus.

He may writhe under the light of the workshop and all the bitter half-memories these moments bring up, but any time one-on-one with Gideon makes him swoon. The lingering fear and growing affection swirl together in a combination that leaves Torbek feeling very confused. Also, a little horny. More than a little, but of all of this, that surprises Torbek the least. He wonders if he could somehow talk Gideon into wearing the glasses while they have sex.

*The pity fuck doesn’t get to make requests.*

Torbek isn’t-

*Oh, please. Men like Coal are drawn to desperation for as long as it keeps their egos fed. You’re no special case. Give it a month, he’ll tire of you and leave you to rot like the lost cause you are.*

Torbek wants very badly to believe it’s not true. Past experience tells him otherwise. He’s always prepared for the other shoe to drop at this point, for Gideon and all of the crew to come to their senses and run him out of the happy life they’ve cobbled together despite it all. Despite Torbek.

His hand reaches up again to worry at the tube in his forearm. Pain to counter pain. Something else to focus on while he delays the inevitable.

The scratch of pencil on paper slows to a halt and Gideon grumbles under his breath. Reaching out, he taps a finger against the back of Torbek’s knuckles.

‘Quit that.’

Torbek wilts and lets go of the tubing. He’s fucked up again, he can tell, Gideon is probably-

Whatever that train of thought was going to become, it jumps the tracks as Gideon laces his fingers between Torbek’s own. He holds his hand firmly but not too tight, rubbing circles into Torbek’s fur with his thumb.

‘Five minutes and countin’ down. Almost there.’

At a loss for words, Torbek nods. It’s enough to satisfy Gideon, who turns back to his diagram, pencil in one hand, Torbek in the other. His hands are warm and calloused. Grounding. Every now and again he glances back up at Torbek to take note of his mechanical gear, meets his eye, gives his hand a gentle squeeze and marks the remaining time. Three minutes. Two minutes. He rambles about the diagram he’s editing, some engineering jargon Torbek can’t even pretend to understand, but the gist of it seems like good news. If anyone in Torbek’s head has anything to say on it, he couldn’t give less of a damn. The time passes in an instant with Gideon’s steady grip keeping him occupied.

With a final few strokes of graphite, Gideon casts a discerning eye over his work.

‘Reckon it’s comin’ together. I told ya I’d figure this out.’

Absentmindedly, he brings their clasped hands up to his mouth and presses his lips to the back of Torbek’s hand. Torbek feels his brain short-circuit for good six seconds. Every nerve lights up at the tickle of Gideon’s beard. It’s small, but gods does it feel intimate. Forget everything Torbek had been worrying about five minutes ago – things are good and Torbek is going to live forever.

It also takes Gideon a moment to process what he’s just done. He clears his throat and pulls their hands away from his face, hair crackling while he composes himself. He still hasn’t let go of Torbek’s hand, probably because he’s a huge sap who liiikes Torbek.

‘Don’t gimme that look.’ He rolls his eyes when he spots Torbek’s shit-eating grin. ‘I was just, uh. Checkin’ yer pulse. For my notes.’

‘Suuure.’ Torbek snickers at the excuse. ‘Torbek totally believes you, Gideooon.’

‘Well, good, cause it’s true!’

‘Uh-huuuh. You forgot to write it dooown… Torbek thinks you better check again.’

‘That so?’ A roguish grin creeps along Gideons face. He stands up, flips Torbek’s hand with his own and ducks his head to press a kiss into Torbek’s wrist. Sparks race through Torbek’s veins from the point of contact, making him gasp. He feels Gideon smile into his skin.

‘I dunno, I can’t feel it so good here. Lemme try another spot.’

Torbek squawks with laughter as Gideon peppers red-hot kisses up the length of his arm, some light, some with a hint of teeth grazing him. He’s gentle around edges of wires and tubing, merciless everywhere else. Covering his face with his free hand to hide his blush, Torbek peeks through his fingers, entirely smitten. It's all he can do not to moan as the kisses become harder and more passionate at the point of his shoulder – he even fails there, groaning while Gideon sucks a hickey into the base of his neck.

‘Gideooon…!’

‘There’s that pulse. Yer hearts racing like a jackrabbit, darlin’. What’s got ya so riled up?’

Torbek wriggles with delight, and for a few other reasons too.

‘T-Torbek’s not suuure…’ He shoots Gideon a lecherous smile. ‘You knooow, Torbek heard somewhere that it’s easiest to check your pulse from your diiick - for suuuper scientific reasons, Torbek prooomises!’

Once Gideon has recovered from his laughing fit, he takes Torbek’s hand again and urges him off the workbench. ‘You fuckin’ horndog. Let’s test that method somewhere that ain’t here.’