The footsteps got louder.

Ruaan looked at Harolin with wide eyes and mouthed the words ’what do we do?’ and Harolin looked at Oren already making a fast decision he had already decided he didn’t like.

"I don’t care if you hate this," Harolin said to Oren, already reaching for his own collar. "But you won’t complain because this is your fault."

Oren frowned. "What am I supposed to—"

Harolin was already pulling his uniform shirt over his head.

Ten seconds later a senior officer rounded the corner and stopped at the sight of Harolin standing there half-dressed, hands moving to his belt, completely unbothered by the company.

They greeted each other. The senior officer’s eyes moved around the space once, the automatic assessment of someone who had heard something and come to check.

"Did you hear that sound earlier?" the man asked. "Like someone—"

"That was me," Harolin said flatly. He unzipped his pants. "Zipper caught something."

The officer winced and held up a hand. "Say no more."

"I wasn’t going to."

The man looked left and right one more time. "Are you alone in here?"

"Yes," Harolin said. "Why?"

The officer looked at him. At the half removed pants. At the general situation of a man mid-undress in a shower block at 1am.

Then Harolin pulled his boxers down.

The officer turned away completely. "Right. Sorry to disturb."

He left.

The door clicked shut.

.

While all that discussion was going on...

In the narrow space between the last shower partition and the wall, Ruaan stood and tried not to breathe too loudly.

Oren was caging him. Both hands pressed flat against the wall on either side of Ruaan’s head, body close enough that there was no good direction to face.

Ruaan faced forward and immediately had a problem because Oren’s cock was right there, still at the same general level it had been when he had accidentally confirmed its existence earlier, pressing against his stomach.

He turned to face the wall instead.

That was worse. Now it was pressed against his lower back.

He stared at the tile and thought about other things.

"Mr Oren," Ruaan said quietly, mostly to fill the silence, "are you perhaps interested in men? Because I have a very nice, very enthusiastic friend with excellent glasses who would be very—"

"Shut up," Oren said.

"Right..."

Ruaan shut up.

They stood there.

After what felt like a significantly longer time than it probably was, the footsteps on the other side of the partition receded. The door opened and closed.

Ruaan walked out immediately.

He put several feet between himself and the partition and turned around and looked at Harolin standing in the middle of the shower block fully undressed and making no move to address that situation.

"Thank you," Ruaan said.

Harolin looked at Oren.

Oren stepped out from behind the partition and picked up his shirt from the bench where it had somehow ended up covering things it was never designed to cover and put it back on.

Harolin wrapped a hand around Ruaan’s waist and steered him toward the next section. "Go shower. I’ll be here."

Ruaan went.

.

.

Behind him, Harolin turned back to Oren.

Oren was buttoning his shirt. He didn’t look up. "Before you say anything—"

"You were looking at him," Harolin said.

"I was not."

"When he came in. When he took his shirt off. When you were standing next to him in that corner." Harolin’s voice stayed even. "You were looking."

"He was standing directly in front of me," Oren said, still not looking up. "I had no choice about what was in my line of sight. That is a geometry issue, not a personal one."

"Stay away from him."

Oren looked up then. His expression was flat and direct and completely unimpressed. "Section two, paragraph one. Officer and prisoner relationships are strictly prohibited. I told you that already. I don’t need to be told to stay away from a prisoner because I have never been moving toward one."

"I’m not warning you about rules," Harolin said. "I’m warning you about me."

Oren looked at him for a long moment.

"You just told that senior officer there was nobody else in here," he said. "While hiding a grey uniform prisoner in your shower block at 1am." He picked up his body lotion from the bench. "You want to talk to me about rules and warnings."

Harolin said nothing.

"Whatever this is," Oren said, gesturing generally at the shower block, at the absent Ruaan, at the whole situation, "is going to become a problem. I told you that yesterday. I’m telling you again." He picked up his folded trousers. "And for the record, I was not looking at him."

"You were."

"I was not."

"Your body had a different opinion."

Oren put his trousers on with precise, focused movements and said absolutely nothing.

Harolin watched him finish dressing and pick up his bag from the last bench by the wall and walk toward the door.

"Oren," Harolin said.

Oren stopped but didn’t turn.

"I mean it," Harolin said.

Oren walked out without answering.

.

.

The shower block went quiet.

Just the sound of water running from the section where Ruaan was.

Harolin stood by the bench and looked at the door Oren had just walked through.

Then he got in the shower.

.

They met at the bench afterward.

Ruaan came out with his hair wet and his uniform back on minus the shirt which he was carrying in his hand and already calculating the laundry situation. Harolin was already dry, sitting on the bench in his full uniform like he hadn’t just been undressed in front of a senior officer twelve minutes ago.

"I need to go wash this and dry it before I go back," Ruaan said, holding up the shirt.

"Come sleep in my room."

"The game is tomorrow." Ruaan looked at him. "I need to be in my cell. I need to be ready. I can’t risk Oren catching us again and I especially can’t afford to be tired for Thursday."

Harolin looked at him. Then he smiled. The version he had that wasn’t quite warm but it wasn’t cold either.

"Good luck," he said.

Ruaan narrowed his eyes. "You’re still going to sabotage me."

"Absolutely."

"You just said good luck."

"I meant it genuinely." He tilted his head. "You’ll need it."

Ruaan stared at him.

"Why did you want to meet at 1am?" he said. "You didn’t say earlier. You just said 1am and gave me your watch and walked away."

Harolin shrugged. "Do I need a reason to see you?"

Ruaan opened his mouth.

Harolin reached forward and put two fingers under his chin and tilted his face up.

Their eyes met at close range and Harolin looked at him in a way that made Ruaan feel like he was being read like something written in a language Harolin was fluent in and Ruaan hadn’t known existed.

"Were you expecting something?" Harolin said quietly.

"No," Ruaan said.

"Don’t lie to me, Ru."

The words landed somewhere warm.

Ruaan’s cheeks went red before he could stop them and he knew Harolin could see it because they were very close and the light in the shower block was sufficient and Harolin saw everything.

Harolin kissed him.

Not like the first time, which had been sharp and immediate and tasted like a decision being made in real time.

This was slower. His hand moved from Ruaan’s chin to the side of his jaw and held him there gently and his mouth moved against Ruaan’s.

Ruaan’s hand found the front of Harolin’s uniform without him deciding to put it there.

Harolin’s thumb moved along his jaw and Ruaan felt his own breath change.

The kiss deepened for a moment, warm and unhurried, Harolin’s other hand finding the back of his neck, and Ruaan felt the specific warmth of wanting more and the specific frustration of knowing he wasn’t going to get it tonight.

Harolin pulled back.

He pressed his lips to Ruaan’s forehead and held them there for three seconds.

Then he stepped back.

"I’ll still sabotage your game tomorrow," he said it like a reminder.

Ruaan looked at him with red cheeks and said nothing.

Harolin picked up the soap from the bench beside him and held it out.

Ruaan took it automatically.

"Good luck, Ru," Harolin said again.

He walked out.

Ruaan stood at the bench and looked at the soap in his hand. Harolin’s soap. Second one now.

He stood there for a moment.

His face was still warm.

His brain was doing something he was refusing to examine in detail at 1:57am in a shower block.

"I need to shower again," he said, to the empty room. "My mind is absolutely rotten."

He looked at the soap, put it in his pocket and went to do his laundry.

.

.

Thursday arrived without asking anyone’s permission.

The alarm went off at the same time it always did.

Ruaan opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling and felt the day land on him like something physical.

It’s finally Game Day.