Oh boy, what have we done?

He’d known coming back would give him what he needed. He’d also readily admit he’d forgotten the particular taste of salt in the air before the drizzle and breeze would give way to stormy seas and angry clouds full of thunder.

This was were he’d always found solace before, though. Almost 20 years later and a good few inches taller, this apparently hadn’t changed.

There, on a secluded part of the island where tourists never treaded and even islanders had limited access to, there was a small little beach house - a cottage really. Old, but sturdy. Small, but charming. A little wooden porch, eroded in some places, looked out over the stretch of beach and rocks the sea lapped against, its waves growing with the tide and a fast approaching storm.

The havoc to come from above was almost laughable in comparison to the one that had wreaked havoc in Type though, before coming to rest on the very steps he hadn’t moved from for hours at this point.

Type went ‘missing’ a few days after an unexpected...episode not quite 5 years into the last bad memory of childhood trauma that had felt fresh with every nightmare. Years into therapy, the trauma (or rather his explosive response to it) had subsided but it had taken incredible effort, much like the waterline fighting for every inch against the tide - it would never be truly gone as it had become a part of Type he’d come to understand made him who he was and that was something he could live with.

Now, all that was left of this fight were annual check-ins with his therapist and the odd dream chased away by a warm circle of arms as well as the occasional video call with Tar later than appropriate if it were anyone else. Of course, it would probably remain an eternal scar but Type was dealing with it as best as he could. 

Granted, the most recent episode hadn’t lasted for long but the impact had been much bigger due to both the intensity as well as the fact that it had been quite a while. This paired with the recent move to their ‘forever home’, as Tharn had affectionately called it, had flared a kind of homesickness in him. Type suspected this longing for home was also instrumental as to why he’d found himself on the steps he’d last seen when he was small enough to need a stool to reach the upper cupboards of the cottage’s small kitchenette. No secret place Khom’s parents had ever hidden sweets in had ever been safe from Type.

So Type had gone back home - the island he grew up on - but not to visit his family home; that would come later. Instead, he’d gone to the only place Type’s parents had never known about. He’d needed to go to a place that connected him to the few things capable of rooting him back to the ground that were not Tharn or, oddly enough,  Tar’s small studio atelier in Paris. So, Khom’s family cottage it was.

With the warm wind in his hair and his eyes closed to lose himself to the song of waves that had accompanied him, a trusted companion, through his childhood. Eyes closed, Type centered himself on the white noise of water rushing against the shore and slowly distanced his thoughts from the chaos he’d dragged with him from Bangkok. The tension in his shoulders unraveled, bit by bit. He fully found back to himself when a hand softly settled onto his shoulder, startling him out of his quiet solitude - opening his eyes, Type’s gaze settled on Khom, who carried a mug in hand, cocoa by the smell of it. Type smiled as memories of skinned knees and soaked clothes accompanied by childish laughter flooded his consciousness. 

Type must have been pretty out of it not to have heard Khom come in the back entrance and roam around in the drawers. But he was grateful it was his old friend. He was not quite surprised Khom was the one who found him either. After all, Khom had given him the only set of spare keys the day he’d left for uni all those years ago, and for this precise reason - a safe heaven to return to. Back then, Type had never thought he would actually make use of it but had nonetheless appreciated the gesture.

Wordlessly, Khom joined Type on the porch and handed over the mug before looking out onto the sea and quietly waiting for Type to speak, his own silence companionable. Khom was one of the few people who knew, come hell or high water, Type in a mood would sooner leave than talk if pressured. So, wait he would.

“Thanks,” came Type’s voice, a scratchy, rough sound from not having used it in a few days, most likely.

“I figured that, if you’d ever make use of the keys, you’d probably appreciate mom’s trusty recipe.”

Sipping slowly, never quite taking off his eyes from the shoreline, another moment passed before Type spoke again.

“How did you find me?”

“Aow, Type...give me some credit. You may have left the island a while ago but I am still your best friend.”

“.......don’t tell No.”

“Oh, he already knows. Trust me. We had a whole drunken thing about it at your last birthday party. He’s one of your best friends, I was simply the first. He’s not mad about it.”

Type looked apprehensive but Khom’s tone was too calm, a subtle note of mirth in it, to spark any real doubt he was lying to reassure Type.

Khom continued, scratching the side of his nose, “Besides, we’re all grown up by now, Type,” and upon Type’s less than convinced look, he added “sure, some more than others but we’re all way past the friend-pulling stage, don’t you think?”

Type was sure there were some people who would never get past that stage, but luckily none of them were people he knew, so he didn’t bother to speak.

Khom watched Type take another sip. At the rate he was going, Type’s cocoa could only be lukewarm by now. Type’s silence marked an end to this particular line of discussion and a peaceful quiet washed over them.

For a while, that was how they stayed: shoulder to shoulder, watching the rain fall, the droplets disappearing in the sea by the thousands without ever making it rise. It was in a deliberately hushed question that Khom broke their silence.

“What happened?”

“The usual. Just...it’s been a while. Took me by surprise.”

Khom nodded to himself and turned his body a fraction closer to monitor Type’s facial expressions a bit better, subtly.

“...Do you...want to talk about it?”

Type took a while to respond. Khom almost thought he hadn’t heard the question over the waves growing more ferocious by the minute but then...

“Honestly? I don’t know what to say...or where to start.”

Khom huffed out a chuckle.

“Well, you know what they say. Maybe start at the beginning?”

It took Type a while to gather his thoughts and even then the words only came out very hesitantly.

Type had been sent to one of the company’s warehouses fairly later than usual, tasked with picking up some important samples. As his visit came mostly unannounced and the guy on closing duty hadn’t noticed someone entering the warehouse after his troupe was done for the day, the guy turned off the lights leaving Type completely blind, surrounded by nothing but pitch black darkness. 

This made the sound of the heavy metal doors slamming shut all the more jarring. It was this unfortunate combination of sounds and environmental impressions that triggered memories of the personal hell of his childhood.

“And suddenly I was back there, Khom. I was eleven again and tied to that chair...or at least it felt like it.”

Khom winced in sympathy but didn’t want to interrupt.

“I couldn’t breathe and when I eventually came to I was just cowering on the ground. I don’t know how long I was in there, honestly...but I eventually started knocking on what I thought was the door. The security guard must have heard me and let me out. I don’t really remember how I got home but next thing I knew I had packed some stuff and was on the ferry.”

The silence between them now was heavy. Khom knew about what had happened to Type, but he still felt at a loss at how he could help.

“Okay...but are you feeling better now?”

“....I’m getting there? I think.”

“Can I help in some way?”

“You are helping already. I’ll be fine, just sitting here is enough.”

Assured by Type’s response, Khom shifted and rested his head carefully and slowly against Type’s shoulder - giving Type an out if prolonged touch still proved too much. Khom’s hair had gotten long enough to tickle Type’s chin, drawing an involuntary smile from him.

“So, your man likes the shaggy look?”

Khom barked out a small laugh and punched Type’s thigh lightly. 

“You know it suits me, don’t deny it, you ass.”

Khom couldn’t see it from his position but he would bet his husband’s whole-ass TikTok account but he only does cover dances of girl groups (and he’s damn good at it too) that Type had his trademark smirk on his face - the idiot.

“Does Tharn know I’m here?”

“Take three guesses who called me for help because a certain someone disappeared without warning and ... well, he knows you, Type.”

Khom felt Type nod slowly and could hear the cogs turning in his head, worry creeping into their crevices.  

“I told him you were safe and I’d call him once you’re ready to be picked up,” Khom added in an attempt to stop Type’s worries from manifesting any further.

“...thanks, really, Khom. I mean it.”

Well ... that just ruined the mood, Khom thought and laughed.

“Love you too, stud.”

This is something I wrote by myself and talked over with J a few times before posting it here.

It’s technically part of the gym AU universe but can also be read as a standalone.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

S

First of all: *SORRY* This took forever (we literally have no excuse other than life getting in the way and sometimes we are lazy bastards) BUT we hope you take some joy from this little instalment of insanity - firmly set in the gym AU verse:

“What the actual fuck is a Vårsta? It sounds like a veenirial disease.” Forth asked, trying to make sense of the numerous little bits and pieces laid out before him. 

Tutor, nose buried in the Vårsta manual and completely done with Forth’s bullshit ever since they had stepped foot into IKEA earlier that same day, replied with a saccharine abomination of a smile: “Oh yeah, something you’ve got first-hand experience with?” 

Pete choked on the soda he had been drinking during this ‘friendly’ exchange and sprayed a mouthful right into Forth’s face. 

To Forth’s credit, he simply blinked, raised his hand to wipe the sticky mess out of his eye and fumbled in his pocked for a tissue or something to wipe his face with. 

Pete turned as red as a tomato and started stuttering an apology while Tutor died laughing, commenting: “Classy!”

Needless to say, Forth was not amused. 

Pete picked up on the growing tension and chided his twin with a timid “be nice”. 

Tutor, having none of it, simply raised an eyebrow and addressed his baby brother with: “Me? You were the one who literally spit in his face a moment ago.” 

Pete, flushing an even deeper shade of red, whined in protest: “But you accused him of having a veenirial disease!” 

Forth, simultaneously fascinated and disturbed by the fact that he was the grown up in this situation, tried to diffuse the conflict before it escalated and brought Ae into the mix: “Guys! Can we please just get on with it before Pharm is done with the snacks?” 

That was the breaking point for Tutor whose temper had been fraying all day. Fine. Bitchy-mode activated. 

“Oh, that’s RICH coming from you, Mister I-am-man-I-don’t-need-to-read-the-instruction-manual-I-can-make-fire-like-the-Neanthertal-I-am!” 

The scene Pharm, wanting to check on the kitchen furniture status, came into with a tray of snacks and drinks for his little crew of helpers was the following:

Tutor was holding a hammer raised over his head like an enraged Thor waiting for thunder to come to his aid. 

Forth, on the other hand, was wielding a screwdriver like a knife as if to stab someone and smack between them with his palms raised like Chris Pratt in Jurassic World was Pete, desperately trying to keep the two human-shaped velociraptors from attacking each other.

Pond, who had been roped into helping with Dean and Pharm’s move by Ae and the person who held the door for Pharm assessed the situation and came to the only logical conclusion: He backed away slowly all the while belting the Jurassic Park theme song from the top of his lungs. 

The rest of the moving crew only heard Pond’s screech of terror and three sets of feet running through the empty halls shouting profanity. 

 _____

Thanks for your support, let us know how you liked it?

Well, hello there!

We do apologise for the delayed response - life caught up somewhat, so we have both been rather busy.

Let us begin with saying thank you for your kind words. Your comment put a smile on both our faces :)

Reading that there are people other than ourselves who enjoy these tidbits of insanity and mayhem that we produce every once in a while gives us joy and motivation to keep this project going.

Since you mentioned tying the characters together - do you have any favourite crossover or scenario with your favourite characters that we could create something for? Let us know~

Be healthy and be wealthy,

Out of all their, admittedly, quite epic novelesque adventures, the day they turned themselves into drenched poodles was probably their favourite.

It started out with an accidental kiss - how did it end up like this? It was only a kiss. Well, not only one, exactly, but it serves the sake of story-telling, so bear with us please.

The clouds had been hanging heavily over the city all day, threatening to burst at every moment. Coupled with the fact that it was the middle of summer, humidity was high and Saifah and Zon were just about dying in their work uniforms. 

Nevertheless, they had work to do, and a delivery to make. While they were packing up the last boxes, the first clouds gave way to a light drizzle. But in this heat, neither of them minded a bit of a cool-down if it meant the air would become less stifling.

The first few drops of water felt like relief, even though the rain itself was warm. Their polo shirts already clung to their skin with humidity and sweat, but the increasing drizzle was not making it better, turning the initially felt relief sour. Both Saifah and Zon were a little annoyed by the time they arrived at their destination, hair frizzy and boxes slightly damp.

Handing the boxes over went off without a hitch. Signed, stamped, delivered. After a little small talk, Saifah and Zon realised that there was still some work to do at the shop and they were actually still on the clock. 

Quietly discussing amongst themselves what else they still had to tick off the list that day, the only saw that the drizzle they had come in with had turned into a full blown downpour by the time they were almost out the door.

“Well, fuck.”

The deadpan delivery made Saifah snort. For all that Zon still turned into a blushing mess a lot of the time, he had quite the mouth on him. 

Clearly, a decision had to be made: Run back to the store, getting even more drenched all the while or staying at the gym and waiting it out, most likely getting in trouble for leaving the store unmanned for an extended period of time. With great power came great responsibility.

Looking from Zon’s put-out expression to the waterfalls outside and back, an idea started to grow in Saifah’s head, from a tiny inkling to a fully grown plot. Oh, this was going to be fun.

“You trust me, right?”

Zon snapped out of his reverie at Sai’s sudden question, turning his head from the spectacle outside to his boyfriend. He wasn’t sure he liked the mischievous twinkle in Saifah’s eyes. 

But before he could contemplate whether or not Saifah was up to no good again, a large hand wrapped around his wrist and tugged him out of the gym and into the warm outpour.

Zon’s indignant protests were drowned out by Saifah’s cheerful laughter and the sound of rain hitting the pavement.

They started running down the street, hair stuck to their foreheads and clothes a shade darker and quite a bit heavier. Their shoes made squelching sounds with every step, the water having soaked through completely.

It was only when they were halfway back to the shop that Saifah suddenly stopped short, Zon only skidding a few steps further before turning back, ready to ask why his boyfriend had stopped moving.

Through the rain it was hard to catch, but Zon knew Saifah’s face just as well as his own and there was no mistake in what he saw: there it was again, that god-damn twinkle, promising that, whatever happened next, it would make Zon half-furious, half-endeared and, a little further down the line, very much grateful for a fond memory to remember.

Sliding one arm around Zon’s waist, Saifah pulled him flush against his own body, clasping Zon’s hand in his own.

Zon looked completely baffled at first, but, once he figured out what on earth Saifah was doing, he knocked his head against Saifah’s chest and snickered into the fabric of Saifah’s wet shirt.

“What are you doing, Sai?” 

Saifah smiled at the giggle in Zon’s voice and looked down.

Zon’s eyes stared up at him, dark and sparkling with amusement. Further in their depth, Saifah thought he might have seen something like that big four-letter word starting with L, but it was gone again before he could figure it out. Quirking his own mouth up into a half smile, Saifah bent down and pressed his lips agains Zon’s forehead, tasting a mixture of water and salty sweat. 

Instead of giving a direct answer, Saifah started swaying them to a tune that could only be heard in his head, keeping his lips close to Zon’s forehead.

“Remember that one time we got caught up in the rain and you literally fell for me?”

Zon snorted and gave him a small chiding tap with the hand resting on Saifah’s shoulder.

“I slipped and you’d do well to remember that, my good Mister Sai.”

“Agree to disagree, my best Zon.”

Zon huffed out a laugh and both stayed quiet for a while, still dancing in the summer rain, entirely uncaring about being seen by anyone or anything.

When Zon eventually spoke up, it was so quiet that Saifah almost didn’t hear it over the sound of raindrops.

“...Well, looking back I was already a bit gone on you by that point, so...”

Saifah froze, the moment broken.

“Wait, really? You never said!”

Zon looked at him again, and seemed to come back to himself.

“No, absolutely not.”

Saifah’s face fell. 

Zon cringed. Whoops, that could’ve gone better.

“I meant, let’s not have this conversation right now, we still have work to do. I promise I’ll tell you later?”

Saifah smiled, appeased, and let Zon drag him further down the street.

“Over dinner?” he asked.

“Sure, it’s a date.”

“Can we have basil beef?”

Hope crept into Saifah’s voice.

“Don’t push it... but sure.”

In the end, Zon couldn’t say no to Saifah.

The enthusiastic “Yay!” his boyfriend let out also helped, as he dragged him into the shop.

Love is a beautiful thing, and that is what’s usually portrayed in media and the likes.

But real love needs work, dedication, effort and a willingness to compromise. As much as we only ever want to see the happy moments, the good cannot be appreciated fully without there being bad times as well. It is these cracks in the pavement that show what needs working on, but they are also an opportunity to let flowers grow and make way for something that is even better than before.

For most of their friends as well as for most strangers, Saifah and Zon seemed, on the outside, like the picture perfect couple. 

People see them and marvel at how happy they seem to be with each other every single day and start to believe they simply don't have bad days because they are literally idiots that sunshine and rainbows couple that is usually found to be touching in some kind of way, shape or form.

Besides bad grades, draining days at work and the ups and downs of living together and therefore having to get used to being in each other’s space all the time, the average person would assume that they had the couple thing figured out to a tee.

Alas, Saifah and Zon are not actually love doctors or characters in a BL novel. As regular people in a regular, if very loving, relationship, they too have to deal with emotional baggage and the occasional miscommunication or misunderstanding.

Some days, Zon wakes up feeling inadequate for no discernible reason other than that he just feels that way. On those days even the safe circle of Saifah’s arms doesn’t seem to help keep him afloat. It’s even worse if he wakes up without Saifah next to him. But the worst part about it is that Saifah, even after this long together, sometimes still tends to misinterpret Zon’s behaviour as him withdrawing because of something Saifah did. 

As confident as Saifah usually appears, deep down he is still very insecure about his advances and accidentally overstepping Zon’s boundaries. This might be born from their early days when what they meant to each other was still very much up in the air.

But it is not just internal factors that at times take a toll on a relationship.

Prior to their fitness store gig, Zon used to work as a part-time waiter at an upscale restaurant. An exclusive event eventually cost Zon his job in a rather unpleasant manner. He had stumbled over a handbag that was left too far off the chair and poured red wine all over an important businessman who would not accept any apologies or offers of reimbursement and ended up getting Zon fired to appease his wrath. 

For a time afterwards, Zon walked around with a metaphorical thundercloud over his head. Saifah did everything in his power to cheer him up, but did not succeed until weeks later, when he burned pancakes so badly they had to throw out the pan and short-circuit the fire alarm. It was the first time in weeks that Saifah had heard his boyfriend’s genuine laughter. 

The most jarring incidents, however, are the nights Zon actually wakes up from nightmares and when Saifah tries to soothe him and make him talk Zon is crying silently until he has calmed down enough to confess to his boyfriend that he sometimes has dreams about them having been nothing more but Zol's novel. 

These dreamed-up scenarios always fuel Zon’s fear that what they have now has never happened. Saifah can clearly see Zon being very upset at the thought alone which alleviates some of his own insecurities. As a result Saifah proceeds to use the one method that always works when Zon has nightmares: cuddles and soft kisses, coupled with words of affirmation.

During a particularly bad episode of nightmares and the resulting serious and somber conversation, Saifah realises that he wants to chase away Zon’s doubts about them being an item once and for all. 

Good evening, dearest anon!

Imagine our surprise when we went online and saw that we had an unread message. Seeing as both of us mostly have experience with tumblr bot sending a message, this was quite the pleasant surprise!

Thank you so so much for your kind words. It really made OUR day to read things like this and we are happy that we can contribute to yours in a positive way as well.

As a token of our gratitude, do reach out to us and let us know your favourite BL ship or combo (who knows, maybe you like crossovers as much as we do) and we’ll whip you up a little something :)

We can’t wait to hear from you!

Lots of love,

From an outsider’s perspective, Saifah and Zon were the definition of ‘puppy love’.

For anyone who knew them, they’re a walking disaster couple. Cute, but a huge-ass mess.

“I swear to God, if I hear them call each other dumb names one more time, I’m gonna quit.”

“...P’Fight, you don’t even work here. Besides, you give me nicknames too.”

“That is so beside the point. It’s cute when we do it...”

An incredulous snort interrupted Fighter.

“Sure thing, Mister Koala.”

In’s smile was sweet as always. Fighter blushed, feeling called out.

Tutor laughed quietly and patted his boyfriend on the shoulder.

Korn, having witnessed the exchange, walked by and dropped a kiss on the crown of In’s head, huffing in amusement at In’s impishness.

“Who are we calling names?”

Forth’s shark-like grin demanded answers as he joined them, thirsty for gossip as per usual.

In decided to fill him in on the subject matter.

“We were talking about Saifah and Zon usurping Fighter from the ‘cutesy nickname throne’ and P’Koala not being able to deal with it.”

Forth cackled.

“Koala? Seriously?”

While Tutor was usually the first to tease his own boyfriend, couple-loyalty won out.

“Seems like I know him better than you then, Forth. Besides, you can’t tell me that you of all people don’t use nicknames. Not when you call Beam ‘Wifey’ every chance you get.”

Forth laughed.

“Of course I have nicknames for Beam. Doesn’t mean I use all of the good ones in public.”

Beam, who had overheard the last bit of their conversation and never one to pass up riling Forth up, walked by casually and nonchalantly shared with the class:

“Darling and Sweetheart casually, Honeybunch and Snookums when he’s feeling sappy, Doc and Babyboy when he’s horny and My Sun and Stars when he really wants something.”

With every word that left Beam’s mouth, Forth got more and more indignant, while every other face lit up in amusement.

By the time Beam was almost out of earshot, Forth shouted an affronted “BABE!”

“You ate the last watermelon snack Pharm made, even though I told you I was saving it...babe.”

Forth took one look at the gleeful faces of the others and bolted after his boyfriend. It seemed like he had some serious grovelling to do.

After making fun of Forth seemed no longer fun without him actually present, the talk returned to the initial topic of Saifah and Zon.

“Compared to what we just learned, I would say Mister is rather tame,” In reasoned after Zon called out “Mister Saifah” for the umpteenth time in the past 20 minutes.

They were sorting through a delivery of protein bars and checking the item list to make sure everything was accounted for.

“Pass me the last box of bars? The sooner we get this done the sooner we can be out of here, my best Zon.”

Ae, victim to listening to their entire conversation, made fake gagging noises and walked around the counter to clear out the empty cardboard boxes.

“Get a room, you two!”

Zon blushed, both at Saifah’s words and Ae’s complaint, while Saifah just wiggled his eyebrows.

From the office behind the counter, Knock caught Ae’s sentiment and warned “Do not tell them to get a room, Ae, or they’ll fuck in the storage room!” in a voice way too loud for private conversation.

Korn’s head popped out from behind the wall separating the front desk from the office area to add “...again.”

Zon’s head resembled a tomato at this stage, but Saifah was not bothered and only elbowed Zon in the side.

“Well, my dear Mister Zon, I do believe it is time we left.”

Zon huffed out an embarrassed laugh.

“I do believe you are correct, Mister Sai.”

Saifah leaned down to bump his forehead to Zon’s and gave him a private smile.

The invitation to The 46th Annual Medical Charity Gala looked pretentious as fuck.

Those were the first words Kit thought when he ripped open the clearly expensive envelope. What a fucking waste of money.

Ever since Kit completed his residency training in General Surgery and earned his reputation as a fucking stellar trauma surgeon (thank you very much), he regularly gets invited to boring-ass doc functions.

While he would readily agree with the average person claiming him to be the walking stereotype of an arrogant asshole surgeon while on duty, the people closest to him knew what kind of person he really was, and that was good enough for him.

After all, he was there to cut people open, not to make nice with people (which he rarely did anyway).

...granted, the asshole part was not that far-fetched.

This was all the more reason for Kit’s colleagues to be astounded when they saw that their tiny little (fierce) thunder cloud of a trauma surgeon was being followed around (mostly in private) by the personification of a puppy with the sun shining out of his ass when in close vicinity to Kit. 

The first time Ming brought sweets to the hospital (courtesy of Pharm going nuts in preparation for Dean’s birthday), he charmed the socks off the one person even Kit was afraid (ehem in grudging awe) of - head nurse Mae.

Frankly, it was a little scary. He was just there, laughing with her.

Like that was NORMAL.

No, Kit was not at all jealous...not to mention the rest of the staff to be quite honest.

Mae actually came up to Kit one time threatening him to end his poor existence were he ever to break up with Ming, jeopardising his frequent visits to the hospital.

(Kit fucking decided then and there that HE was gonna have to be the one to propose or else might actually risk losing vital organs without anybody being none the wiser...Mae surely had enough capable connections to hide the body should anything go wrong.)

The second time Ming visited Kit’s hospital wing, you could barely see him behind the huge bouquet of Kit’s favourite flowers (had he ever told him even??).

He was alerted to Ming’s arrival by the almost overwhelming source of gasps and coos from various staff members on duty and even the odd patient walking the hall.

It was quite the feat to get Ming out of the nurses’ clutches and Ming was too polite to refuse their mothering himself. 

Kit suspected Ming enjoyed the special treatment to a certain degree but was too proud to admit it, not that Kit could fault him. 

By then, he had lost count of Ming’s visits to the hospital but the most memorable one was probably when Ming casually jogged into the building post run and asked if he could by chance have some water because his bottle was empty.

The following mayhem of hospital staff falling over each other to be the first to supply “the thirsty and glistening boy in running shorts and a low cut tee” (or so Kit heard from the ones rushing towards the commotion in the reception area) with a cup of water was one for the history books.

Kit had become almost immune to Ming’s visits at that point so he knew it was best to let the chaos die down and have Ming find him only to drag him into the next available supply closet for some much needed quality time.

Ming’s blatant popularity lead to Kit’s brilliant idea of dragging Ming along to this annoying pretentious shallow over-the-top excuse of a fundraiser, i.e. the gala.

To exactly no one’s surprise at this point, Ming managed to charm literally everybody on Kit’s supervisory board within the first five minutes of introduction, thus accidentally guaranteeing Kit life-long job security. 

Since Ming knew Kit wasn’t really one for these types of functions, he seemed to have made it his mission to not only make the necessary but dreaded networking much easier by charming everyone for him but regularly excused them from conversation to a) drag him onto the dance floor to slow dance b) to put some food into his nervous and annoyed Kitty, and c) when all else seemed to fail, simply compliment Kit into the bathroom to fuck in one of the stalls.

Kit never claimed to be 100% classy during these events, besides everyone was usually too drunk at this point to notice or care about disheveled hair or missing bow ties. 

“Everything hurts and I’m dying and it’s entirely your fault.”

Beam was grumpy. As excited as he was when first receiving Forth’s birthday present it was no match for the excruciating pain that now resided in every. single. one. of. his. limbs.

“Babe, while I usually take much pride in the accusation of making you sore, it’s just boxing. Your muscles will get used to the different movements. I’m sure it’ll already be better next week.”

Beam groaned, trying to rub some of the ache out of his shoulders unsuccessfully.

“Why do you have to be so goddamn reasonable? Besides, I know you had some ulterior motive, you always do.”

Forth smirked. Beam was right, of course. Not that he’d admit to anything but it was a treat to see Beam post workout. Even if that had not been the only reason behind giving him boxing lessons for his birthday. After all, that would be absolutely preposterous. Completely shameless. Outrageously shallow. 

...Okay, Beam was very hot when he was sweaty, so sue Forth for wanting to see it more often.

“You did really well for your first time, P’Beam,” a third voice chimed into their conversation.

Ming, in all his tall-ass puppy glory, looked unfairly glow-y after the boxing session ended. He had none of the red flush that currently graced Beam’s features. Instead, he looked like the ultimate teenaged girl’s wet dream. It was rather unfair.

Beam chugged down the rest of his water and gave Ming a small smile.

“Thanks, Ming. Once I stop hurting, I might even say it was fun. How’s Kitkat? He can’t be appreciative of you running around looking the way you do, for everyone to see.”

Ming’s smile turned up a notch and he got a wistfully whipped look about him. Forth thought it was hilarious. Beam found it rather endearing.

“Kitty is well. A bit overworked at the hospital, but that doesn’t stop him from bossing me around when he’s home. Not like I’d have it any other way.”

While Ming was fondly looking into the distance, Beam snuck his phone out and snapped a picture of his Nong. Mentally preparing himself for the volcanic eruption that would indubitably follow, he opened Line and sent the snapshot to Kit, along with a short message. 

All the while, he hoped that Forth and him would be well out of the line of fire by the time it happened.

His phone vibrated.

No such luck then.

A short ‘ping’ alerted Ming to an incoming message.

Ming checked his phone, all colour suddenly draining from his face. He looked around, as though looking for something. He trained his eyes back on the message, silently mouthing “we?”

Beam, in the meantime, showed Forth the reason why Ming just went very very quiet.

Forth snorted. 

“Feisty one, isn’t he? Wanna get out of here before we become collateral damage?”

“After you,” Forth made an inviting gesture towards the gym’s exit and he made to leave but realised that Beam had not gotten up yet.

As deadpan as he could muster, Beam said: “If you think I will get up from this floor by myself, see if I let you join me in the shower.”

Forth almost leaped to his aid. There was no way he was missing out on shower time with Beam. He was not above begging.

Later, word reached them about Kit storming into the gym to collect a laughing but placating Ming, all but dragging him out by his ear, cursing under his breath all the while.

Korn and Knock were thinking about starting a Twitter account to report on all the shit that regularly occurred since gaining all these health nutty couples (and their posse) as members. It was sure to be entertaining.

The photoshoot went well. Tutor had not expected Tine to bring an assistant (”Not an assistant. This is my boyfriend Sarawat, he offered to help set up since he was free this evening.”). But the two worked well together, other than the constant bickering. 

Ae had to suppress a strong urge to coo at his phone when he opened the attachment. The only thing to tell the twins apart were their cheeks. Pete’s were just a tad bit rounder, but both twins had the same soft smile. Ae had a feeling Fighter might have a slightly stronger reaction than usual. Tutor rarely did “cute”.

Giddy to start planning for his and Pete’s anniversary with the money he was about to win, Ae downloaded the picture and opened his Instagram.

Hitting ‘share’ felt like the ultimate triumph. 

While restocking the water for the gym goers, Ae’s phone suddenly started vibrating like crazy. After stacking the last of the water bottles, he pulled out his phone and snorted at the amount of notifications that were blowing up on his lock screen. Before he could open them, however, he was distracted by a loud choking noise and the tell-tale ‘thump’ of a body hitting the floor.

~~~

Fighter was on his way from his warm up over to the weight section when he decided to check his Instagram feed before it was focus time again. Nothing could have prepared him for what was waiting for him at the top of the page.

He choked on his own spit and forgot how his feet worked. That led to him making acquaintance with the gym floor. Huh, he had never noticed that there was a tiny pattern on the linoleum.  

Scrabbling for his mobile, which had comically flown out of his hand during the fall, he hit speed dial and waited for Tutor to pick up. While the ringing noise filled his ear, Fighter pulled himself off the floor and went to lean against one of the windows in the weights area. Someone had some explaining to do...

‘Hey P’Fight’

‘What the hell, Tor - why didn’t you warn me?’

‘Huh? Warn you about what?’

‘I just made friends with the floor because Ae posted a picture of you and Pete. Care to tell me what that’s about?’

Laughter filled the other end of the line.

‘Guess you could say Ae won the betting pool nobody thought I knew about.’

‘...’

‘P’Fight? Are you still there?’

‘Ah...yeah. Are you mad that we didn’t tell you?’

Tutor laughed again. Fighter still got butterflies at the sound.

‘No, it’s fine. You’ll make it up to me later, trust me.’

Fighter gulped.

‘H-hold on, what do you mean by that?’

‘Bye, P’Fight~'

‘Wai-’

But Tutor had already hung up.

Fighter went back to Instagram and looked at the photo for way longer than was acceptable, before adding his own comment.

Upon refreshing the feed, he saw Tutor’s comment right at the bottom and blushed.

The only thing he couldn’t quite make sense of was the key.

“Well, mark me down as scared and horny.”

“Brother mine, do you have a moment?”

Pete blinked at his twin. It wasn’t often that they approached one another at the gym to chat, other than the regular ‘hellos’ and ‘see yous’. They texted too much to have a million things to talk about when they saw each other anyway, so neither was particularly bothered by it.

“Sure, Tor. What’s up?”

Tutor grinned at Pete.

 “I have this idea. You know how we don’t have a lot of pictures together, right? So, I was thinking if you wanted to do a twin photoshoot with me?” 

Pete was a bit skeptical. Sure, the idea sounded like fun, but was there really a point in spending money unnecessarily just for pictures they could also take with their own mobile phones? 

His brother’s hesitation showed in Pete’s furrowed brows. 

Tutor remembered his short stint at the cosmetic store and, while he wasn’t a particularly gifted sales person, he knew he had to get out the big guns for this. Otherwise his little adventure with Fighter was in mortal peril. It was time to exploit one of Pete’s ultimate weaknesses.

“Listen, you wouldn’t even have to organise anything. I would take care of all of that. Besides, imagine how excited mom would be if she got a picture of the two of us that she could put up at home.”

Pete’s face lit up, bright grin crinkling his eyes.

Tutor smirked. Hook, line and sinker.

“Sounds great! When are we doing it?”

Tutor let out a sigh of relief. He could almost feel the cold metal of the master key in his hand. He had a lot of things to prepare, both for the photoshoot and for... after.

“How about coming over today? One of P’Fighter’s acquaintances is a photographer and still owes us a favour.”

Pete looked surprised at the short notice and pulled his phone out of his back pocket.

“That should work, but I need to line Ae and let him now that I’ll be home later. Should we meet in the parking lot at 5?”

Tutor gave his affirmation and both of them went their separate ways after a warm hug.

Pete went back to his session on the treadmill, a broad smile gracing his features. 

His brother walked out of the gym, feeling like a cat that got the canary. This had gone rather well. Now, he had work to do. 

When the gym gang ‘regulars’ started to find each other, there was many a situation that led to initial confusion. For one, what were the odds of every single one of them to play for the other team (or at least play for both, looking at you there, Forth)?

Yet another major point of confusion was a string of incidents that led gym goers such as Zon and Forth to believe that Tutor had a split personality.

Zon was more confused than usual (that is saying something considering how confused he is on the regular) when he waved goodbye at Tutor in the changing rooms only to run into Tutor in the front desk area, in different clothes, making googly eyes at Ae of all people. For a second, a range of possibilities shot into his head.

Did Fighter and Tutor have an open relationship going on? They didn’t seem the type though so he brushed it off (too timid to go up and ask, he thought he’d been studying too much or Zol’s been writing into the night again and he’s back in another novel).

Saifah was very confused himself, to say the least, when Zon arrived at his door later that evening only to say: “Sai, I think I’m going insane??” instead of “Hello.”

Saifah raised a single eyebrow: “...again? That’s like the third time this week,” and opened his arms to envelop his ridiculous boyfriend.

On a different occasion, Forth also unknowingly crossed paths with someone who certainly looked like Tutor but didn’t act like him, at least according to Fighter’s tales and from what he could tell from IG stalking the imp (Tutor’s cute, sue him, Beam agrees, they’ve surprisingly similar taste).

So, Forth didn’t know Tutor per se but he did know of him (quite a lot, Fighter tends to overshare). This was precisely why he was simultaneously confused and slightly turned on when he walked into the bathroom, only to bump into Tutor exiting one of the stalls and apologising to him with the sweetest look from under his lashes, and a timid ‘Sorry, P’.

Forth had entered the twilight zone, clearly, but didn’t think much longer about it as he’d already been running late picking up Beam from work.

It all came to a head when none other than Fighter sensed something slightly off when he strolled into the gym and noticed his boyfriend happily talking to Ae in very hushed voices.

Fighter’s fighty-senses started to tingle. Fighter couldn’t quite tell what was wrong about the Tutor he saw - the stance? The posture? The aura? ...the cheeks?

Determined to find out, he approached his boyfriend (?) and gave him a once-over, silently judging whatever he was seeing.

“You look like Tutor but....who are you and why the fuck are you wearing my boyfriend’s face?”

Pete was naturally taken aback for a second and attempted to explain but then Ae whisked him away since his shift had ended and Fighter never really got his answer. 

By that evening, Fighter was almost convinced he had daydreamed the whole exchange because that boy definitely didn’t act like Tutor would have...god, his master’s thesis was truly taking a toll on him...he’s hallucinating Tutor? He should call his boyfriend and see if he could tempt him into mutual gratification over the phone. Happy ending included.

The day that brought salvation to all the questioning and confused members of the gym was rather anti-climatic.

Pete, on his way to pick up Ae from the gym, walked right into his brother, who was just about to leave. 

Not having seen each other in a few weeks, they stopped and chatted for a bit, smack in the middle of the gym entrance hall, in full view of the functional / weights area with the gang lifting away.

Enter Zon, running after Tutor because he had forgotten his phone in the locker room, again. Upon spotting Tutor’s conversation partner, he stopped dead in his tracks and almost dropped the phone.

“Mother of God,” he shrieked, drawing the heads of Forth and Fighter who were closest.

Fighter simply went: “What the actual FUCK?”

Forth realised right then: “This bitch is a TWIN?”

Ae, having witnessed the whole shebang from the front desk, exclaimed: “Wait...you didn’t know?”

So, ladies, gents, and any variations thereof!

(For those actually reading this AU, sorry it’s not an update this time, we’re on it!)

We may or may not have done a thing. We also may or may not have spent actual coin to be able to do the thing. What you can see above is a Sims4 build of what we imagine Korn and Knock’s gym to look like because CLEARLY we are obsessed and have too much time on our hands. 

The only thing missing is the basement / pool / spa area, which is not completely done yet because we do subsist on sleep and food. However, once these are done, we will of course make a separate post because you see, we’d like you to have an idea of where Tutor will use his one day master key exactly. 

...not that this was the only reason why we did this...no.

In any case, please look forward to the new update and feel free to imagine our boiiis in this kind of gym space.

...the fact that building this has given us so many more draft ideas too is frankly alarming...

Cheers,

It was Type rather than Tharn who took Dean up on his offer to help with physical therapy in the gym’s pool area. Dean’s probably more qualified to assist in the water than anybody else Korn and Knock currently have on their pay roll and Dean’s patient but stern demeanour works surprisingly well with Type’s sometimes whiny but grateful attitude.

(Team once witnessed Type actually whining in a very familiar tone of voice: “P’Deeeeean~" but was sworn to secrecy. Type could be actually scary when he wanted to be.

Dean took it gracefully and merely responded with “Pharm does it better.”

Type: “...fair.”)

After a few weeks of aquatic training, Type’s doc finally deemed him ready to move on to more gravity-bound exercise again. The green light came just in time too as Type needed to train for an away-game (his coach did get the OK from Type’s doc on the timing).

Since Type’s little knee accident at his last match and his physical therapy sessions, he realised he needed to put in some extra work to get back to where he was strength and stamina-wise pre-injury.

Luckily, he knows enough health-nuts to ask for some much-needed advice.

Since Korn also plays soccer (and did so competitively during university as well), he agreed to coach Type at the gym and helps him work out a training regimen. He suggests working on his thigh muscles and upper body strength as well as stamina with the help of low prowler sled pushes.

Tharn was almost banned from the gym on days Type uses the sled.

“Come on, it’s just another week. He’ll be healed up enough for physical therapy soon.” Dean tried to reason.

“But the car rides to the gym, to work and literally anywhere are so...lonely without him, man.” Tharn countered.

“...but all you do recently is bicker?”

“Yeah but it’s basically his love language. I don’t know, I just...miss him.”

Dean shot Tharn a fondly exasperated glance usually reserved for Pharm. 

“Isn’t he just about done with recuperating? Post-OP usually doesn’t take that long, does it, Beam?”

“Depends on the surgery but since it was just a minor injury of the knee and nothing bigger, he’s about due for physical therapy, yeah. I know the doc who stitched up our little hothead, there shouldn’t be any complications that prolong your...misery.”

“Very diplomatic way of putting it, Doctor Beam.” Dean commented.

Tharn barely reacted to his well-meaning gym buddies trying to cheer him up. His mind was still with Type, at home, in bed, grumpy from the lack of movement he’s been allowed post surgery.

Type would probably sooner die than confess that half of his bad mood was due to the lack of ... physical activities he was allowed to engage in with Tharn. 

Tharn is trying to be reasonable most of the time but he’d be lying if he said he’s not affected somewhat himself. Although...the sheer amount of cuddling as of recent is rather nice.

Since Type was not able to go the gym, the gym went to him. Tharn and Type’s house has never seen that many visitors since they moved in two years ago. 

Usually, they wouldn’t be all too happy about it but Pharm had offered to cook for everyone and relieve Tharn of yet another chore. The combination of Pharm and Tharn and Type’s frankly enormous kitchen was a lethal one.

Pharm gushed about the appliances and “oh my god, Dean, do you see the amount of storage?”, needless to say, Dean took notes and had a very serious discussion about real estate with Tharn later that day.

Looks like Dean and Pharm might be moving soon.

At some point, their discussion moved from “do you know a house in the area that has a similar kitchen set-up as yours by any chance?” to “actually, I would recommend you try and keep Type away from weight lifting and send him off to the swimming pool on the lower level, much easier on the joints”.

Type still being at the gym without straining himself and barely clothed at that? The thought alone made Tharn quite agreeable.

“Boys, we got a new shipment. Restock the protein powder before you call it a day, alright?”

For other employees this would have been an easy run-of-the-mill last-minute task before closing, but oh no, not for Saifah and Zon. The fact that they’ve been dating for years at this point did not help the fact that they were hopeless at following orders.

This was roughly the hundredth time Saifah and Zon argued in the protein aisle. They could have their “discussions, Zol, we do not argue” literally anywhere in the shop but no, it has got to be the protein aisle. One of these days, they are going to start throwing protein powder at one another only to have to clean it up a minute later...or get fired.

It was a promising Friday afternoon as Saifah and Zon had been ‘quiet’ throughout their shift (or as quiet as they ever get, which is....not...very quiet). At least they weren’t hurling protein bars at each other’s heads. Of course, all went to shit about an hour before closing. 

“NO, what are you doing? These are supposed to be stocked first in first out!“ Saifah lectured.

“...what?”

“The new ones need to go to the back and the old ones should be pushed to the front so that customers don’t buy expired stuff, Mr Zon.”

“Wh-what does it matter? We run out of this stuff almost every week! We are literally stocking this aisle up every shift!”

“It matters because we need to have a working system in place in case this changes!”

“Ugh...but...that’s so stupid.”

“You are stupid.”

“No, you are!”

This ‘discussion’ escalated the moment Saifah straight-up picked up a whole container of protein powder, clumsily undid the lid of one bottle and dumped its contents on Zon’s head.

After a moment of stunned silence, Zon reached for another bottle of protein powder. 

“Oh, this is war, Mr Saifah~!”

The manager wasn’t sure what he expected. He was certainly disappointed but definitely not surprised to find his employees chasing each other around the store with fistfuls of protein power, seemingly trying to cover the other party in as much of the stuff as possible. 

They didn’t seem to realise that most of the powder did not reach its intended target but ended up on the shelves and floor, much to the dismay of the red-faced but exasperated manager.

He was not paid enough for this shit.

The manager’s angry baritone almost completely overpowered the bell of the entrance signalling a customer had just walked in. Forth just needed to stock up on his protein bars and wanted to check in with his bro, Sai, while he was at it, as per usual, when he bore witness to the interesting scene the three staff members acted out.

“....eeeer, I think I’ll come back tomorrow?” 

Forth did a complete u-turn and walked out of the shop before anyone even noticed he was there. He’d been dragged into too many lectures courtesy of Saifah and Zon’s weird-ass foreplay to know this might take a while.

After the thorough scolding about professionalism at the workplace, they were tasked to ‘go clean up that mess, I don’t care how long it takes’ and to secure a collaboration deal with the gym down the street to redeem themselves or finally lose their jobs “for real this time”.