Agent_24

Shin’s already dozing off by time Drifter gets up from his worktable, pleased and satisfied with a sketch of his latest sniper rifle. This one’s gonna have Gambit veterans begging, between the new damage perk he plans to rig into it and the precision shot mod. Yeah, his Sentries are gonna like this one, those sharp-eyed little bastards.

“Hey,” Drifter says, climbing onto his cot to straddle Shin’s back. “You awake?”

Shin turns his head, one eye hidden in the pillow, the other only half-open while he peeks at Drifter in mild annoyance. He only grunts in response.

Drifter grins. “What? Thought you were gonna wait up.”

Shin closes his eye again. “Took too long.”

Drifter snorts, hungry gaze roaming over Shin’s bare body. He undoes his belt, dropping it to the floor and shrugging his shoulders out of his robes before tossing them down too. He runs his hands over Shin’s shoulder blades, trying to entice him into waking, but Shin just shivers, goosebumps rising on his skin. “Your hands are cold,” he mumbles, the air around them ticking up a few degrees.

Drifter leans over him, hands still skating over broad shoulders. “Warm me up then, hotshot,” he croons at Shin’s ear. He gets another shiver in response, and Shin glances back at him again in renewed interest. 

And — well. Admittedly, Drifter gets a kick out of knowing just what buttons he has to push to turn Shin to putty in his hands.

Drifter digs his thumbs in at the base of Shin’s neck, watches the muscle there tense up out of surprise before going slack. Shin makes a faint little noise, and lets out a second, louder, as Drifter kneads into his back, slowly moving down the length of his torso. Shin’s likely to doze off again like this, Drifter realizes absently, intrigued by the way Shin seems to be going limp bit by bit.

Drifter’s always liked getting a taste of things that make him curious. So if he bends down to press his mouth along the bumps of Shin’s spine, if he lets out warm breath against his skin, then it’s only so he can see how Shin will react.

And Shin tenses up, just for a moment. Then, breathless and sleepy, “Feels good.”

It’s only natural that Drifter presses another kiss down. For science.

“Ain’t you gettin’ a little too comfortable uncovering your face in here?” Drifter asks, sour. 

Shin raises an amused brow, shadowed by the hood of his cloak. “Don’t have much a choice,” he says, a hungry little lilt in his voice. “Can’t get my mouth on you, otherwise.” 

Drifter flushes. Seems like he’s been getting hot under the collar in some strange way whenever Shin opens his mouth, lately. It’s starting to make him nervous. The idea of Shin learning his tells is...nightmare fuel, to say the least, and the color that rises to his cheeks whenever Shin makes an insinuation seems a horrible sort of obvious. 

Not that it actually means anything.

“You busy?” Shin asks, as if he’s not already sliding into Drifter’s space, as if he hasn’t already got hands on Drifter’s hips. It’s warmer suddenly; Shin’s in a good mood and it shows in his Light, in the easy way he lets it roam through the room like he wants Drifter to feel him all over before they even get down to it. 

“As a matter of fact —” Drifter starts, except Shin’s already pressing a kiss to the edge of his mouth. Drifter scowls and puts a hand up to Shin’s chest, ready to remind him that it’s broad fucking daylight, thank you, and Drifter’s expecting players to come walking in for bounties any minute now. 

Shin kisses the tip of his nose, playful.

A lot of things happen all at once: Shin goes flying with a little supernova swirling at his belly, his whole body lights up purple, then disappears — evaporates, a little Ghost with a plain shell springing up. Drifter freezes, his brain slowly catching up to the fact that he just killed Shin Malphur on reflex, his heart stuttering quick towards panic. 

Another shimmer of light, gentle this time, and Shin rezzes right where he fell to dust with a surprised little gasp. His eyes flick up to Drifter’s, wide and with some terrible look in them that Drifter desperately doesn’t want to place, mouth half open in confusion.

Drifter grips his own hand, and he shakes a little. 

Shin takes one step back, then turns briskly and heads up the stairs. Drifter lets out his breath and thinks he might be sick.