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[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.