Work Text:
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The town of Caerwell wasn't big enough to be called a city, but it was loud enough that Porchay never felt alone. Mornings were his favorite: smoke curling up from chimneys, bakers setting out loaves, milkmen clanging their bottles, children chasing each other down the cobblestones barefoot. And then there was him.
Every day at nearly the same time, Porchay's route down Ashcombe Street collided with Officer Kim Theerapanyakul.
Kim was... different. Not just because of the uniform, though that helped- the deep navy jacket, polished boots, hat sitting at just the right angle. It was the way people went quiet when he passed. The way he seemed to see everything. The way Porchay's heart thudded louder than the bicycle bell every single time their eyes met.
Porchay was good at covering it up with chatter.
"Morning, Officer! Fine weather today, huh?—oops, sorry, didn't mean to almost run you over again- oh, let me just- " crash "—yeah, that's my last copy rolling into the gutter, don't mind me."
Kim never said much. Sometimes a "Careful." Sometimes a raised brow. Once or twice, Porchay swore he saw the corner of his mouth twitch.
But that was enough to keep Porchay's chest buzzing the rest of the day.
🤍
Weeks turned into months, and their "collisions" stopped feeling accidental. Porchay slowed down near Ashcombe Street even when he didn't have to. Kim always seemed to be patrolling that corner, even if Porchay delivered earlier or later than usual.
They started talking more. Well- Porchay talked, Kim listened.
One chilly morning, Kim handed him a cup of tea from a street vendor. "You ride too early to eat," he said simply.
Porchay nearly dropped the cup. "You- you noticed?"
Kim gave him a look that was neither yes nor no, but Porchay grinned into the steam anyway.
Other times, Kim walked him a stretch of the route. Porchay filled the silence with ridiculous headlines.
"Listen to this! 'Councilman's Goose Escapes Again.' Honestly, shouldn't the man just let the goose live free?"
Kim didn't laugh outright, but his eyes softened. "Maybe the goose doesn't want freedom."
Porchay blinked at him. "That's... weirdly deep, Officer."
Kim shrugged. Porchay tried not to stare at the way his jaw looked in the morning light.
Some evenings, when Porchay was late, Kim was there too, escorting him back without being asked. Porchay pretended he didn't notice the way Kim's hand hovered close to his back at every crossing.
It was friendship, maybe. Or maybe something more. Porchay didn't dare assume. But the warmth spread wider every day, and soon it was impossible to ignore. Porchay realised- he might have fallen for the handsome officer.
🤍
It happened on a Thursday.
Porchay was strolling by on his usual his route, chatting with a seamstress about her health and work. By the time he reached the square, the gas lamps were already lit. He was pedaling slow, humming under his breath when a scream tore through the evening.
A carriage barreled out of control down the street, horse panicked, driver shouting. It crashed into a lamppost, sparks flying. In a heartbeat, wood splintered, oil spilled, and flames licked up the side of the bakery.
People scattered. Porchay froze.
And then- Kim.
He appeared like he'd been waiting for this, sprinting straight into the chaos. He shouted orders, pushed people back, and grabbed a bucket from a startled vendor.
Porchay should have left. But then he saw a child crying near the burning cart, and without thinking, he dropped his bicycle and ran.
"Chay!" Kim's voice cut through the smoke.
But Porchay was already pulling the kid free, coughing as the flames flared higher. Heat seared his arm; sparks bit at his hair. He stumbled, half-carrying the child until strong hands grabbed both of them.
Kim.
He shoved the child toward safety, then yanked Porchay close. But in the next second, a burning signboard crashed down from above. Kim twisted, shoving Porchay out of the way—taking the brunt of it on his shoulder.
"Kim!" Porchay screamed.
They both hit the cobblestones hard. Porchay scrambled, dragging him up, ignoring the blood seeping into Kim's sleeve.
"Stay with me! please, please- " Porchay babbled, voice breaking.
Kim's face was pale, jaw clenched. But his hand found Porchay's wrist, squeezing once.
They stumbled out of the smoke together, bruised, coughing, trembling. The fire was eventually tamed. But the fear, Porchay had never felt anything like it.
The thought of losing Kim had ripped something raw and undeniable from his chest.
🤍
Kim's quarters were small, barely more than a room above the guardhouse. Porchay insisted on staying, fussing with bandages, hands shaking as he dabbed at cuts.
"You're terrible at this," Kim muttered, wincing.
Porchay glared through his tears. "Shut up, or I'll make it worse." His voice cracked, betraying him. "Do you have any idea how- how scared I was? Y-you just- "
He broke off, pressing a hand to his face. His shoulders shook.
Kim reached out- hesitant, then firmer, pulling Porchay's hand away. His eyes, sharp even in pain, softened in a way Porchay had never seen.
"Chay," he said quietly. "Don't cry."
"I almost lost you!" Porchay burst out. The words tumbled over each other now, unstoppable. "I don't care if you're the officer and I'm just the idiot boy who throws newspapers at your chest- I like you, Kim. I've liked you for so long, and I can't- " His voice broke again. "I can't pretend I don't anymore. Not after tonight."
Silence. Porchay's heart crashed against his ribs.
Then Kim leaned in and kissed him.
It wasn't careful, or measured, or polite. It was raw- like he'd been holding himself back for months and finally let go. Porchay gasped against his mouth, then melted, clutching at his shoulders.
Kim's good arm pulled him closer, breath harsh, lips fierce. Porchay kissed back with everything he had- relief, fear, want.
They only pulled apart when air became impossible.
"I tried not to," Kim said hoarsely, forehead against Porchay's. "I told myself it would ruin you. But when I saw you run into those flames- " His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. "I can't lose you either."
Porchay trembled, tears still wet on his cheeks. "You wont have to."
Kim kissed him again, harder this time, and nothing else mattered.
🤍
The bed was barely big enough for one, but they didn't care.
Kim pulled Porchay down with him, mouths never parting, hands desperate. Porchay tugged at buttons with shaking fingers, laughter and gasps mixing when fabric wouldn't cooperate. Kim's patience snapped. He shoved his jacket off, let Porchay peel his shirt away, bruises stark against pale skin.
"You're hurt- " Porchay started.
"Doesn't matter," Kim cut him off, kissing him breathless. "Need you."
Porchay whimpered, heat curling low in his belly. He'd never been wanted like this, never been touched like this. Kim's hands roamed over him with a hunger that made his skin burn, but always careful, grounding him when he shook.
"Tell me to stop," Kim whispered against his throat.
"Don't you dare," Porchay gasped, dragging him closer.
Clothes fell away. The room filled with the sounds of breath, the creak of the bed, soft curses muffled against skin. Porchay clung to him, nails digging, hips arching helplessly into every touch. Kim groaned, low and rough. It was their first time, both were inexperienced. When Kim finally pushed inside- slowly, Porchay cried out, half pain, half pleasure. Kim froze instantly, kissing his temple, murmuring low words.
"You okay?"
Porchay nodded frantically. "Yes- please, Kim, I need- "
And then they moved together, messy and desperate, all fear and fire and aching relief pouring out of them. Porchay sobbed his name, clutching at him, while Kim held him like he'd never let go.
The climax hit hard, overwhelming, leaving them both trembling, gasping against each other.
After, they collapsed tangled in sweat-damp sheets, Porchay's head on Kim's chest, heart still racing.
For the first time, Kim didn't hide his smile.
🤍
Sunlight crept across the shutters. Porchay stirred first, groaning at the soreness in his lower half. Then he realized he was naked in Kim Theerapanyakul's bed, wrapped in his arm.
His face burned. But when he glanced up, Kim was watching him, quiet but soft.
"Morning," Kim murmured.
Porchay grinned weakly. "I should be delivering papers."
Kim pulled him closer. "Let them wait."
Porchay laughed, pressing his face into his chest. "You're still grumpy, even after sex."
Kim's lips twitched. "You talk too much."
But then he kissed him again, slow and sure, and Porchay knew: romance was not unknown to him anymore.
Whatever tomorrow brought, they had each other. And that was enough.
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