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[kobes]

– yeah, maybe.

[it’s absurd. he’s here for a reason, he has a job to do, he has expectations riding on him from back in sydney. 500k by the end of the month, or he’s stuck back under alvida’s thumb indefinitely, earning the money she’s owed for raising him before he can even think of doing anything else. koby absolutely shouldn’t be wasting any time learning how to swim, of all things.

but – here he is, soaked and smelling of expensive british soap and looking up at a complete stranger and agreeing to let him teach swimming lessons. because he’s never learned. because he can, maybe. because instead of immediately trying to cop a feel like he’d expected, quentin was just smiling at him in a warm, pleasant, irresistible way.

the question has koby shrugging, leaning to grab some conditioner – might as well – and pouring some into his hands.] I go to all the parties. Figure that’s kinda the whole point of being here, right? Turn around, lemme get this sitting, you gotta let it stay for the full sixty seconds or it doesn’t work.

[longitudinal]

The parties are some of it, yeah. It's my first time here so I'm just getting the lay of the land and pretending to prepare for training. I don't know that I'm succeeding.

[ it's a nice view, koby like this in front of him, the water at his back, the pink of his hair matching the flush of heat in his cheeks. he wants to reach for him, get his arms around him, holding him close to his chest. he looks impossibly warm, and quentin has always been drawn to warmth. ]

Conditioner, too? I didn't realize I was in the shower with a master stylist.

[ but he turns, even tips his head back so koby can better reach, which puts a pretty arch in his back. ] The water stays warm here no matter how long you run it. Incredible, really. But - you know the party scene. Take me to one. Something tells me you know where all the fun spots are.

[kobes]

Yeah? My first time here too.

[he’s heard about it, of course – knows a good amount of the people here, either personally or by reputation. quentin’s been off koby’s radar, though, since olympians tend to be a little too clean-cut and image-focused to be susceptible to shady business ventures. that and the complete lack of anticipated handsy behavior has koby caught off guard. softened, somehow.

a swallow, an exhale, then he rubs his hands together as quentin turns around, bends back, the line of his spine going tight, arched. koby drags his eyes upwards with a stuttering inhale, before starting to work the conditioner through the heavy, silky curls tumbling down quentin’s back.]

Conditioner is like basic shit, dude. [the accent thickens, drawls now, another guard let down.] It’s one level above soap. I’m not making you use gel or mousse or any shit like that.

[koby blinks a couple times, running his fingers slowly through quentin’s hair, coating every inch with the silky, sweet-smelling conditioner.] Yeah? There are some cool spots, for sure. The casino they set up down in Otherworld kicks ass, and people are always throwing parties on the roof or in the garden or whatever. Kinda the Balfours’s whole thing.

[longitudinal]

[ it's silly to close his eyes but he does, the feeling of koby's fingers in his hair soothing, some of the tension further easing itself from his back. he's half listening, and even with his back turned he reaches back, idly steadying himself with a hand on koby's side. ]

I use conditioner normally, thank you, but I was giving you an out. I'm a gentleman first.

[ he can't even say it with full seriousness, huffing a little laugh. ] I'm not complaining, though. You have nice hands. And something tells me you'd be very good at poker. It's a real riot here, though. Parties at all times and every day - the money must be nice.

[ not that he doesn't have money - he has enough to be paid to compete, enough from his father that if it falls through there's plenty to be had there. but he doesn't want to rely on his dad - his dad who is kind and adoring but wants the best for him. quentin doesn't know what the best is, either.

his eyes open slowly and he lets out a low sigh. ] Turn around - I'll do yours while mine soaks in.

[kobes]

Oh. [it’s soft, a response both to the words and to the gentle, almost soothing hand pressed to his side. koby’s eyes skip down for a moment, twining quentin’s dark curls around his fingers, and he lets out a soft huffing exhale.] Right. Yeah. Uh – well, it’s. In there. Soaking.

[a cleared throat and koby’s turning around quickly, nearly slipping, setting a hand against the tiled wall to support himself.] Y-Yeah, it’s – yeah. Riot. All kinds of money, yeah. Not that it’s much use here – I think any of the casino wins are set aside til we go home. Don’t really need money when room and board’s paid for.

[back to quentin, koby finds himself half-anticipating the press of those long, clever fingers into his hair, remembering the odd calm it had prompted before. he tells himself it’s because the almost-massage had helped with his headache. nothing else.]

I’ll show you the cool ones. The parties. You looking for, what – sponsorship deals? Is that how it works?

[longitudinal]

[ quentin can't help the reaction - reaching out to touch koby's side again and grip him, steady him until he's back up on his feet proper. his fingers linger a little longer, making sure he's not going to slip again before he pulls them away.

he squeezes some of the conditioner into his hands and reaches to slowly work it into koby's hair, ends to root, taking his time with it. he massages koby's scalp again, slow and steady, waiting for the conditioner to have time to settle into the hair, but this is an easy way to keep his hands busy. ]

No sponsorships. This trip is all fun before the work begins. Besides, the Olympics has their own sponsors, I don't have to worry about that, thankfully. But The cool parties? That's what I want to know.

[ he slides his fingers down to koby's nape, rubbing tension out of his neck. ]

Once I'm back in training it's non-stop until the games.

[kobes]

[quentin gives them away, the touches of his broad, warm hands, like it’s easy. like he’s not second-guessing every glancing bit of contact, paring out himself in neat, bite-sized portions. koby can’t even conceptualize it, that sort of open, easy warmth.

but he relaxes into it, bows his head at the return of the strong, warm, lingering touch down the back of his neck, through his hair. like welcoming something familiar home, a thought that flickers in his mind like a ghost of something s̴̜͔͔͆̌́o̸̝̭̓m̵̢̉͜ě̴̝ṫ̵͓͖h̸̢͔̐͜ḭ̵̤̲͑n̶̹̮̿̀̚g̶̹͚̈́̇]

Ahhh, you’re burdened with the good old-fashioned need to have a damn good time, huh? [koby grins over his shoulder, turning with his outgrown hair – pink at the tips, blond at the roots – flopped into his face, his cheeks rounded on that smile that reaches his eyes as they catch quentin’s.] I can help you with that.

[a soft chuckle, a relax into the working massage of those hands, knots of tension melting like ice, the water endless and plentiful and so, so warm.] Stick with me, Q-baby, I’ll take good care of you.