Moment of Glory (Kinn x Porsche) (KinnPorsche)

Chapter 4: Shaky Truces

The first thing that hit Kinn was the heat.

Then the largest flag he'd ever seen, proudly flown he supposed, but it really seemed excessive. He'd get used to it for a week and go home with stars behind his eyelids mingled with stripes of white, red and a dash of blue by the end of the trip.

It was dry, unbearably so, and he felt that all of his clothing that he was currently lugging around would fail him. They were all designer suits, designer pajamas, hell, even his shoes were designer and looking over to Porsche who was dressed in a comfortable white t-shirt and denim combo, he felt overdressed.

"Don't tell me you didn't look up the weather before deciding on this suicide mission Kinn?"

"Shut up Porsche. I thought we'd get picked up immediately and transported to the house. Not made to wait outside for our ride," Kinn just fanned himself as he stood there. His jacket removed, sleeves rolled up to the elbows and top buttons undone as he looked around. He noticed a lot of people coming in and out of George Bush Intercontinental with the same generic look – similar to Porsche – t-shirts and jeans. The toppers were those hats.

Considering the sun was blistering and flushing his face red, he supposed they served a purpose other than looking ridiculous and he sighed.

"Want me to buy you a cowboy hat Kinn?" Porsche stuck his tongue out at the man, side-stepped the kick aimed at him that was weakly done and snorted. He could see that the other was getting overheated and looked around. He trailed over to a nearby vendor, dug around for a couple of bills that he had been handed by Chan back in Thailand, reading on the currency exchange on the plane, and returned with two chilled bottles of water. The smile on his face at the successful barter had Kinn snort.

The chill of the plastic against the back of Kinn's neck had him sigh in relief, eyes closing instantly and relished in the feeling, "Just keep it there...ah. Refreshing. It's so fucking hot here."

"I'm not your servant Kinn. I'm your -quote on quote- bodyguard," Rolling his eyes, Porsche's actions said differently to his mouth as he made sure to slide the bottle along the nape, watched as beads of water dripped down Kinn's throat and drew a wet line down the open-front of his chest. His eyes stared a touch too long. The pectorals hidden beneath the white shirt peeked over the top and he wanted to let his tongue follow.

As upset as he had been about how events transpired, there was no backing out now. His bar was in repairs, Porchay was situated in school, Kinn needed his help after Porsche had been the one to get him into the problem. Besides, traveling was fun right?

"Find something you like?"

"Narcissistic bastard," Porsche shoved the bottle into Kinn's hand with a grumble, uncapped his own and started to chug it down as his thirst was insanely evident. The corner of his eyes picked up Kinn's self-assured look and he sighed to himself. Keep it together Porsche. One week. Make it through one week and go back.

"Anakinn Teera...Teerapool? Were ya named for the Star Wars villain? That's pretty damn cool sir! Name's Ranger. Not Texas Ranger, just Ranger. Pleasure to meet ya!"

Kinn turned to see a short, portly Caucasian male who stood at Kinn's waist height wise and had the scruffiest facial hair that Kinn wasn't sure he could find a face underneath the bush. The uncovered skin was ungodly pale. How was that possible with the scorching sun?! Firmly ignored Porsche laughing his head off at the butchered pronunciation of his name in the Southern drawl. His nose wrinkled a little as he wasn't sure to answer or not. His English was fluent enough as he had a lot of business partners that took to the language, and Porsche assured his back alley English lessons from tourists would get him by just fine. Kinn did his best to not linger on Porsche getting English lessons with women or men jamming it down his throat in hot make-out sessions. Focus Kinn.