#slabranch

After what feels like hours of the humid, dripping tunnels below the city, Tango emerges, trying to prop up Jimmy, the whirring noise supplying every second step.

During the initial diagnostic in Tango’s run down workshop he’d seen that his foot, from the calf down, was a prosthetic, an old model at that. But with the chip below Jimmy’s spine being practically fried, Tango had other worries, like keeping his customer alive.

But of course things had to be worse than they seemed, they always tend to be like that for Tango. During a short inspection, since that was all they had time for in the darkness of the probably mold ridden tunnels, Tango could see the corrosion on the metal seams and the inside definitely wasn’t going to look any better.

Not wanting to waste any time standing still, Tango has been doing his best supporting Jimmy’s weight during the rest of the walk into the wilderness that lies outside of the bustling city behind them.

The neon lights are faint in the distance, way above their heads. Down here are the ruins of old concrete buildings, overrun with nature.

It is a familiar walk for Tango, even if it has been nearly a year since he’s last been out here. His tail gives a nervous flick that Jimmy thankfully doesn’t pick up on between labored breaths.

With his half broken core chip, now restored to functioning just a little bit above 55% this must feel like a marathon for the younger man. Sharp teeth dig into Tango’s bottom lip. Etho’s cabin isn’t too far out from here, as long as he’s done his gardening within the past year.

The path is covered in some spiky berry bushes that seemingly cling to Tango’s heavy boots, slowing them down further but eventually, nestled between two old towers a cabin is visible - barely. Tango vaguely remembers Etho explaining what they were used for many moons ago. Some power source long gone or something.

With its lights off it looks like they might be out of luck but Tango knows he’ll be home. He always is.

“You still with me, Jimmy?” Tango asks, noticing his own shoulder starting to ache, the months of skipped maintenance on his own mechanical arm coming back to haunt him.

Jimmy’s reply is another wheezed breath. Even to Tango’s higher body temperature, the body next to him is burning up, the power core probably overheating to keep up with how much energy every step burns.

“Okay, just… keep leaning on me, okay? Etho’s a bit… peculiar but he’s a friend. We’ll get you all fixed up, alright?” The lack of reply is more concerning than Tango would like to admit but at least this time he’s getting a small nod. “Good, good.”

Heaving Jimmy up the stone stairs, Tango knocks at the door in a familiar rhythm, one he’s quite sure he’s never going to unlearn, no matter how long it has been.

It doesn’t take long before the door creaks open and a lanky man with dishevelled white hair stands in the frame, soft fabric mask pulled up over his mouth and nose.

“Woke you up from a nap?” Tango can’t help the tease that slips from his lips before anything else. He readjusts Jimmy, Etho’s mismatched eyes and attention dragging over as well. 

“That can’t be good for your back.” Is all that he points out, earning a strained chuckle from Tango.

And just like that, he steps away, not helping Tango with the weight, but letting the two men on the run in.

–

Tango deposits Jimmy on the ancient leather couch after knocking off an assortment of tools and parts that have taken residency there with as much gentleness as his aching body can muster. Taking a deep breath he looks around; the space has not changed since the last time he was here, nor the first time he visited so very long ago.

Etho leans against the door, eyes glued to Tango. Despite half of his face hidden, Tango can see the curiosity burning in those eyes. 

“Care for a chat while trying to fix a busted power core?” The question hangs in the room, filled with hope. Just to make sure, Tango adds, “It’s a military grade one, nothing I’ve ever seen before.” A challenge.

Finally Etho pushes himself off the wall and nods towards a workbench, making some space for Jimmy on the anti-static mat to keep either of them from getting zapped.

Trying to play it off, Etho casually replies, “Make yourself at home, you know where everything is.”

Once Jimmy, barely conscious, is laid out on his front, Tango glances up briefly, before striding across the room, tail tucked close to himself while picking out a variety of tools. A tangled data-link cable, screwdrivers, power converters, a multimeter.

“Look, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t bad. We needed somewhere entirely off Net.” Tango bites his lips, feeling Etho hover behind him as he drops his assembled tools next to Jimmy’s head onto the wood.

“So I’m here for the bad times?” The self satisfied smirk in Etho’s voice is too close to Tango’s long ear, his mind stopping for a second.

He mumbles “Not what I said.” in reply while taking off Jimmy’s button down, the light blue fabric stained with dust, muddy water and who knows what else from their grand chase through the city.

Without being asked, Etho helps him lift Jimmy to get the white shirt beneath off, leaving him shirtless, back exposed to the warm, refiltered air of the cabin. The server towers that keep this whole place going work better than any heater Tango’s shitty apartment ever had.

“There’s a chip right below this metal plate, top of the line, looks to be military maybe? Kid took a hit to the backplate though and the power supply fried. I tried to fix it up back at the shop but this is fancier stuff than anyone in the city deals with.”

Without needing to turn around, he knows Etho is nodding, humming quietly in thought. Tango’s traitorous tail wraps around the taller man's ankle, seeking comfort as his heart is still pounding a mile a minute. He would not want to look at his own diagnostics at this moment.

As Tango starts getting to work popping open the metal sitting right below Jimmy’s neck, exposing the chip, nestled into the socket, getting the small tool in his other hand ready to pop it out, Etho already hands him the power override.

“Plug him into my stuff. Keeps him breathing.”

Crunching his teeth, Tango replies, “I know that.” Still he was used to quick jobs that didn’t require a full on main power source removal. Back in his workshop, just late last night, he didn’t connect Jimmy to anything, instead working fast enough that his body could provide what was needed. But this might be a longer job.

Working with Etho is like coming home in a way that Tango doesn’t want to further think about. It’s not like they ended things on bad terms. There was nothing to end. Etho didn’t want to leave this place to come into the city and Tango was tired, swarmed with longer and longer hours at the shop, leaving just no time to travel all the way out here all too often.

Factor in that Etho is also practically unavailable in any conventional way that doesn’t involve showing up on his doorstep in the middle of the night with a dying cyborg on his shoulder, any relationship was doomed from the start. If it was even a relationship in the first place.

But right now it doesn’t feel like that long since the last time he was here. The occasional input from Etho, the helping hand handing him tools before he even thinks about what he needs next.

“Can you give me the thing, the, uh, clampificator?” Tango mumbles in concentration while focusing on what is practically the mechanic equivalent to open heart surgery. All the tiny nodes coming off the chip, hooked into silicone cables that lead deep down into Jimmy’s body, are now disconnected and hooked up to the server towers, letting the blonde man sleep peacefully.

With the tiniest pair of tweezers Tango gets to work. Hours pass and when exhaustion is making his vision swim, numbers, diagnostics hovering but he can’t focus on them. The feeling of Etho’s shoulder pressing against his jolts his focus back.

“Take a nap. I’ll take over.” For a moment, Tango hesitates. But if there is anyone he can trust enough, it is Etho.

After a little bit of arguing he settles for a sandwich on the sofa, watching Etho work while he gets some sort of rest, or at least tries to. The anxiety about Jimmy is not making this easy.

The exhaustion sits bone deep but sleep doesn’t come. With a weary sigh, he decides to at least indulge Etho while he works.

He’d never ask Tango for the details but just in the way he hovers around and offers help, Tango can tell how nosy he is.

“Jim showed up in my store yesterday just as I was about to close up shop. Could barely keep on his feet and the boss would kill me if I’d turn a customer away. Didn’t know he’d be that much trouble.” His head hits the backrest of the sofa, resting his eyes, just listening to Etho’s chuckle and the metallic scraping noises.

“Didn’t expect a mod like that, but seems like he took a hit right onto his back, fried a few receptors.” Tango thinks back to standing above Jimmy’s unconscious body, mostly concerned about how the kid is going to pay for a repair this complicated.

But not fixing him, leaving the chip damaged and working at a whole 12% capacity would be certain death. And just from a practical point of view, a dead body in his shop would be a lot more paperwork and raised questions.

Slowly blinking his bleary eyes open again, Tango continues. “I fixed him up and let him have my hammock and everything but all I got in return was someone pounding on the shutters just as I was about to fall asleep.”  His ears droop dramatically at that, as if he hadn’t just lost his whole means of existence.

He can hear Etho pause his work at that. “Didn’t know you like to play the hero.” The sounds pick up again.

“I don’t. I’m not,” Tango protests. His eyes travel from the bland ceiling over to the table where Jimmy looks more like he’s peacefully asleep, rather than in an artificially induced coma. Either way, he needs the rest.

Sitting up straight, stretching his arms above his head, Etho looks over to him. A sliver of pale skin is visible where Etho’s baggy hoodie rides up, Tango’s gaze lingering just for a moment. Of course, Etho notices and Tango can practically see his smirk through the mask and a flush spreads around his face, feeling caught.

With a soft grunt, Etho gets up and lets himself fall down next to Tango. “Right. Resident hero mechanic showing up on my doorstep at the crack of dawn with his injured boyfriend-” Tango gently punches his shoulder, “What? You’re telling me you’d do this for just about anyone?”

“Etho,” Tango drags the name out, “I barely know him and he is…” Young? Handsome? A stranger that caused Tango to be unable to return home?

Knowing that he’s right, Etho hums, one arm coming to rest behind Tango. “You don’t have to leave, you know?”

Staying here with Jimmy would be too huge of a risk for Etho. And while he doesn’t mean to get rid of the young trouble, he offers Tango an out. Guilt free with a new place to stay for a while.

But his eyes land on the laid out figure and something inside Tango, maybe guilt or fondness, actually aches. He shakes his head and that’s reply enough. 

With his tail already wrapped around Etho’s ankle, not even having noticed when that happened, Tango rests his head on the tall shoulder next to him, leaning into the offered touch.

Neither of the men moves for a while and Tango nearly manages to doze off, but Jimmy groaning in his sleep immediately has his attention.

Before he can take a step, Etho grabs his wrist. “All systems are online again, he’s just sleeping now. Best to stay hooked up during that, the chip is still damaged. Might be good to give the chip a bit of a break overnight and plug him in somewhere before it overheats again.” 

There’s a pull on his arm and as he turns around, Tango practically falls into Etho’s lap with an embarrassing gasp, one arm around his waist, the other stroking gently along the metal of Tango’s wrist, feeling the seam where barely noticeable screws are embedded. It trails up, Tango feeling the touch once it meets skin.

He can’t help the shuddering breath or the way he leans into the touch. The mix of familiarity and exhaustion allows Tango to let himself relax.

Etho pulls him closer, having Tango fully straddle his lap now, facing him.

“Let me take a look at your arm, I’ve heard the creaking.” Etho says, reaching over to the coffee table for a multitool, already pushing up the fabric of his torn sleeve. His shirt has taken quite a hit between running away from whoever those guys chasing Jimmy were, hotwiring a hovercar and stumbling their way to the cabin.

This was maybe the most eventful night of Tango’s life and his arm is paying the price for that now.

Before there is any opportunity for protest, Etho pushes up the fabric and silently gets to work. There is this slightly weird sensation traveling up from the artificial limb, at least until Etho finds the neural connector and it suddenly becomes a dead weight, disconnected from Tango’s body but Etho holds it in a steady grip, while he allows himself to slouch more against the taller man.

They mostly remain silent, Tango’s eyes trailing Etho’s fingers as they hold the tool with practiced finesse, but they are unfocused and tired, only snapping into focus when he suddenly feels the sensation return, his fingers clenching into a fist, this time without the squeaking noises or unnecessary force.

Quietly he mumbles his thanks as Etho puts the tool and cleaning cloth away, only to be met by a smug, “What was that? Couldn’t quite hear you there.

Tango’s groan comes out way too playful, rather than annoyed and exhausted, because of the smile on his face. Never change, Etho.

Still he shoves his shoulder, now looking up and his brain seems to catch up on the way they’re sitting, like lovers and every ounce of teasing leaves his body. It feels like no time has passed at all.

Slowly, so slowly, Tango’s hand, the one made of flesh and bone, strokes along Etho’s cheek, carefully avoiding the scars that litter that side of his face before moving down to the mask.

There is plenty of time for Etho to object but he doesn’t, he never has.

The fabric gives way and Tango finds himself smiling before leaning in. Etho’s lips are chapped, they almost always are, but soft against his.

For a moment, Tango gets lost in this feeling, until he remembers Jimmy sleeping behind them. Slowly he pulls back.

As if reading his thoughts, sometimes Tango wonders if Etho really can do that with his augmented eye, he pulls him back slightly. “He’s asleep.” His breath is right against Tango’s neck.

“Exactly.” Tango replies, but his nerves get replaced with longing when Etho’s hands settle on his hips.

It’s fine, this is fine. Jimmy is asleep and Etho is… home. In a way.

With a nod, Tango lets his warm hands push underneath Etho’s hoodie, exploring the warm skin with even warmer hands.

Their mouths meet again, slowly, as if they have no time to make up for.

The whirring of the servers fades into the background, only a soft gasp from both men filling the silence when Etho pulls Tango against himself. The soft pants Etho wears do little to hide his want and Tango’s own dirtied cargo pants quickly start feeling too tight.

Together they have Tango rocking back and forth on Etho’s lap and despite the fabric separating them the feeling is intense. Maybe it’s the stress, or maybe he had missed Etho after all.

A kiss to his jaw distracts him from that thought, only letting Tango tilt his head up to give Etho better access.

The flames that make up Tango’s hair flicker in obvious excitement. Meanwhile his tail behind him is swiping across the floor, back and forth until he rests it around Etho’s calf, holding him tight.

With a strong grip, Etho grinds him down, drawing another noise out of Tango. This is too much, and without direct friction, he needs another outlet. Sparing not a single thought on it, Tango sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of Etho’s neck, right in the exposed spot where his shoulder begins.

He can hear him hiss, grasp tightening on Tango who doesn’t pull back. Despite his sharp teeth it’s not a brutal bite, just enough to sting and bruise.

From that their pace picks up, kisses turn messy, swallowing each other's moans, leaning into every thrust. The build up crawls to a peak, Tango definitely already making a mess inside his boxers.

With his member twitching, his climax approaches at rapid speed. Red eyes pressed shut, another bite pressed into Etho’s sweat salted skin, Tango cums. His body is running hot and he’s glad Etho is muffling his sounds for him.

The only thought in his head is how much he wants to be inside Etho right now but instead his pants are all he gets to fill, still leaving him drained and panting.

Needing a moment longer, Etho moves Tango’s hips, the body in his lap boneless, the jaw finally not locked onto his shoulder anymore. He pulls Tango in for a messy kiss, grunting as he cums. They’re both a mess but Tango is way too exhausted to care.

An unexpected kiss finds its way onto Tango’s hairline, staying there just long enough to bask in the warmth of fire and body heat. It’s so quiet, he nearly misses it but Etho mumbles, “I missed you, you know?”

This might be the most genuine he’s ever heard Etho. 

A hidden smile and a quiet chuckle followed by, “Few months go by quickly, huh?”

Tango should consider cleaning up, taking an ungodly shower in the bathroom Etho rigged himself. Brilliant engineer, less so of a plumber.

But now after his release, the exhaustion hits him twice as hard. His eyes are heavy and it doesn't help that Etho is slowly moving him to lay down on the couch. Guilt swims somewhere in his head, and Tango looks over to Jimmy. 

“He's sleeping and so should you” Etho says, throwing a thin blanket over him.

Tango wakes up hours later to the sound of Jimmy taking in a big breath, waking up to his body wanting to take over from the machine again.

Immediately Tango is there, checking and double checking, detaching the data link cable from Jimmy’s port and turning him from his side to his back. “Easy, easy. Just start breathing slowly, your body needs a moment. But you’re good.”

He tries to ignore the disgusting, sticky feeling of dried sweat and cum and instead fully focuses on helping Jimmy get a bit more comfortable without considering what happened hours earlier. “How’re you feeling? Your back must be hurting like hell from the table.” 

The joke is met with a soft laugh and Tango finds himself grinning while brushing carefully over the plate of metal on Jimmy’s back, closing the latch again and then helping him actually sit up. “Your body should be doing a whole lot better, now that it isn’t just barely hanging in there.”

Slowly having collected himself, Jimmy sits up, holding his head. Being taken offline like that for a whole night throws the body off for most. “I feel like I got chewed up and sat back out”, he laughs, causing him to wince.

Unable to help himself, Tango reaches out immediately, as if his hands could somehow fix this or ease the pain. They land on Jimmy’s shoulder, close to his neck and when he realizes that, Tango pretends to just check up on him, sharp teeth biting his own lips to hopefully keep his face from flushing. “That feeling might last another day or so, but we’re safe here for now so, uh, take it easy.”

His hand awkwardly pats Jimmy’s shoulder, trying to swallow down any other words that linger in his mouth. He normally doesn’t care this much for his customers. But Jimmy isn’t really that anymore, and not just because Tango pretty much lost his shop when those brutes broke the door open.

Trying to change the topic, Tango gets him some water, hovering around as Jimmy drinks, busying himself with sorting away some tools next to them.

Taking a step back, giving Jimmy all the time and space he needs, Tango realizes that the young man is very much shirtless. Politely he averts his eyes, now that the other is awake.

“Are you cold?” Is the best he can do.

Etho has been sitting at a kitchen counter turned work desk, tapping away at a holographic screen, eating some sort of soup out of a cheap bowl, clearly pretending not to listen in to the other two. Just by sheer coincidence, he gets up to the small bedroom in the back, that Tango is quite sure is still filled with various tools, parts and other things, leaving little to no space to actually use it for its intended purpose. Still, Etho returns with clothes.

Tango’s clothes. He recognizes that red.

He must have left them here long ago but he clearly recognizes the baggy, red fabric instantly. Awkwardly, Tango clears his throat. “Wow, haven’t seen these in a while. Feeling sentimental?” The teasing feels like a safer ground but is met with a shrug and a way too simple reply. “Why throw them out? Might come in handy when someone decides he needs to crash at my place again.”

The comment isn’t pointed or bitter, just an observation. And after earlier (or yesterday? How long had he slept?) it feels different. Closer again than Tango has been to any person in months.

Deciding not to spend more time thinking about that right now, Tango takes the clothes, noticing another pile below. Some of Etho’s dark and comfortable ones. “For Jimmy.” He merely fills in, who perks up at the mention of his name.

“Oh, right, thanks.” He immediately throws on the hoodie and it fits… Well enough. But it does something unexpected to Tango’s brain, something he doesn’t want to further explore, if he could think about anything at all besides how good Jimmy looks in Etho’s clothes.

This might be worse than having the younger man sit there just shirtless.

Hopefully unaware of any lingering awkwardness from Tango, Jimmy stretches his arms above his head again, looking towards Etho. “Right, I might wanna take a quick shower? If I can with my…” He looks between the two men.

“Oh. yes, should be alright now, the bathroom is right over there.” Tango explains, all too familiar with the little cabin.

When getting up, Jimmy’s legs give out for a moment and Tango is right there to steady him, earning an earnest chuckle. “Thanks, my legs didn’t quite want to get up just yet.”

Slowly stabilising himself, Tango lets go of Jimmy’s arm with more reluctance than there should be.

This doesn’t escape Etho, who at least has the grace to wait until Tango sinks back into the couch cushions with a heavy sigh. He slumps down next to Tango nudging his foot with his own. “You’re fond.”

Tango’s first instinct is to deny it. He’s only just met Jimmy. But the way his eyes are immediately drawn to the bathroom door betrays him.

So instead he huffs, arms crossed. “Fine, I am fond, so what? Couldn’t let him die in my workshop.”

It isn’t about that though, they both know it.

“Uh huh.” And a moment later, much to Tango’s surprise, comes the casual offer, “You two can stay for a few days. Should take them a while to find this place anyway.”