multifandom one shots

You Found Me Here - Kinn x Porsche (kp)

Show - Kinnporsche
A/N - when i wrote this i hadn't read the novel (i've now read book 1 and 2), so it's purely based on the series, but pretty ooc
TW - drinking, strong language
Word count - 1205
Synopsis - fluff
//title from 'forever and a bit' by mother mother//
Porsche gets drunk one night in the mansion and loses his way to his room. Kinn finds him.

_______

Porsche hesitantly sat at the edge of the sofa, the bottle of gin still clutched in his hands. He knew he shouldn't be here - wherever here was in the sprawling extent of the obscene mansion he now called home. All he knew was that this was most certainly a private area, and if he was found, he could say goodbye to his bones. In his slightly, as he would argue, drunken state, Porsche had become lost on his way back to his room.
He could have sworn from the kitchen it went left, left, right, straight, right, then three doors down before his room. Unless he'd forgotten his lefts and rights, he was sure he came the right way, but taking a large swig from the glass bottle, Porsche somehow grew sober and realised that he didn't actually know his lefts and rights without using his hands, and on the way back, his hands had been in use, carrying two bottles of gin, one of which, he noticed, had disappeared on the way. Maybe he drank it all?
"Fuck," he let out an exasperated sigh, settling back onto the sofa, giving into the fact he wasn't going to be able to find his room that night.

The sofa was more than comfortable, and was probably worth more than his old house. He finished the bottle quickly, and kicked off his shoes, because, although he wasn't supposed to be there, Porsche still had manners, and shoes on the sofa wasn't polite. He swung his legs up, unsteadily dropping the bottle on the floor. He folded his arms behind his head, and closed his eyes.

Someone behind Porsche's head cleared their throat. He bolted to a seated position, regretting it instantly as his head screamed. Nausea flushed through him, but he held on, swallowing anything about to come up. Cautiously, he turned around only to be met by dark eyes, glowering at him.
"Fuck."
"What are you doing?" Kinn stared down at him, arms folded, one eyebrow raised.
The simultaneous return of sobriety and nausea raising throughout Porsche's body kept his reply short, "Jus' sleepin'."
"On a hundred thousand Baht sofa?"
He nodded once, eyes drooping.
"I'm gon' be sick," he mumbled.
Kinn's expression softened to concern, but perhaps it was panic that the sofa was about to be ruined, Porsche couldn't tell.

Kinn helped Porsche to his feet, hanging his arms over his shoulders.
"Hold on, hold on, don't throw up yet," there was a definite tenderness to his voice, despite the haste in his movements.

Porsche must have blacked out for a few seconds, as when he came around, Kinn was telling a half-naked man to go home, and that although he enjoyed his company, didn't want to see him again. The man cursed and nodded, collecting any discarded clothes he could find, and running out the room.
"Hey, Porsche? Are you awake?"
A half-hearted groan and tap on Kinn's back signalled that he was.
"Do you still feel sick?"
"Sleepy. Bed looks comfy. I sleep."
He tugged his arms from where they rested on Kinn's shoulders, and stood swaying slightly. Kinn observed with fascination at how Porsche effortlessly tilted forward and flopped on the bed, head smothered into the thick covers. He groaned, raising one arm, flapping his hand. Kinn couldn't tell whether it meant 'go away' or 'come here', but going over seemed like the best decision considering Porsche was still in his suit, which, from experience, Kinn knew wouldn't be comfortable to sleep in.

Shaking his head, Kinn meandered over to the bed. He rolled Porsche on to his back, where he opened his eyes and grinned up at him. A loose arm hit Kinn's face and dragged down.
"You're pretty. If you were a girl, I'd ask you out."
Kinn froze, "You would?"
"Yeah. 'Cause you're pretty."
He didn't know why his stomach flipped and fluttered at Porsche's words, but no one had made him feel like that before. The edges of his mouth twitched, hinting at smile. He cough in an attempt to clear his mind from these stupid, ridiculous, dangerous thoughts.

"You'll strangle yourself if you sleep with a tie on."
Porsche seemed to find great amusement in the idea of being killed with a tie, as a high-pitched giggle emerged from his mouth. Kinn had been concerned about him before, but now he was close to panicking that Porsche wasn't just drunk.
"Are... are you okay? You haven't been drugged, have you?"
"Nah, jus' gin," he grinned, unsuccessfully attempting to undo his tie.
"Let me," Kinn carefully removed it and placed it on an armchair, "How much did you drink?"
"Dunno. One or two?"
"One or two what?"
"Bottles."
Kinn cleared his throat to prevent himself from physically gasping. Drinking two bottles of cheap gin was bad enough, but there was no way it had come from outside the mansion, and Kinn made sure they only had the best quality alcohol in all of Thailand, if not the entirety of Asia. Porsche had probably drank a good thirty-thousand Baht's worth of gin in one night. At least with the inevitable hangover in the morning, he would receive more than enough punishment, without Kinn having to be inventive.

"Help me," Porsche was tugging at the top button on his shirt and the confines of his waistcoat.
It was too hot and tight and constricting but Porsche's hands weren't obeying him and just flopped around like a dying fish.
God, it was actually quite endearing at how little he could do, only able to make small noises of frustration, Kinn thought.
He smiled softly, gently removing the offending black waistcoat, and popping open the first few buttons on Porsche's shirt.

"Now go to sleep."
Ah, there was his usual demanding tone.
Fuck.
Porsche looked like he'd just been stabbed by Kinn with the way his entire face dropped.
"What?"
"Areshole," he pointed, letting his arm fall to hang of the side of the bed.
"Why?"
Kinn knew he couldn't even try and deny it. He was an arsehole, true. But, it was sort of in the job description - if being a son in a mafia family had a job description.
"You're jus' gonna leave? I thought you liked me."

Kinn was sure he hadn't said anything about how he truly felt about Porsche. Surely there was no way he could know?
"I was joking but... Do you like me?"
Porsche sounded more sober than he had ever done.
Shit.
Kinn nodded slowly.
"I think I like you too," Porsche grinned with sincerity in his eyes, "Even though you're not a girl. I do. I like you."
"I like you too. Now, go to sleep to try and reduce the hangover."
"Mmf," Porsche mumbled closing his eyes, a smile plastered on his face.
Kinn leaned in, pressing a tender kiss on Porsche's forehead, before settling on the sofa opposite the bed.

God, he was so cute when he slept, he affectionately smirked to himself.
Kinn vowed to stay awake that night, to watch over him, to protect him if anyone tried dared to try anything. No one would get through him. Tonight, he would be Porsche's bodyguard.