Stepping beside him, humming softly, Faysal dropped his voice to a low whisper. “Agent Toyama, your outfit adorns you just as well as the art suits these gallery walls.”

I - but - that’s so fucking sappy and cheesy. Ash blinked. His embarrassment only grew with the praise. He swallowed around the lump tightening his throat. “Oh, uh… um… thanks?” Garbled thoughts turning into white noise in his head, Ash froze, finding himself stunned into silence. He blushed hotly when Faysal reached over to smooth a curl of his hair back behind his ear. Ash’s mouth dropped open as he fought to find his words. The gentle touch lingered as Faysal uncurled it from around his fingers, fingertips tracing under his ear and along the edge of his jaw. Feeling himself burn under the searching gaze, Ash stepped back, nervously fleeing back the way they’d came. “Really, there’s no need. I can fix it later, Zen-”

“Faysal.”

Ash found himself in front of a portrait of a young woman, one he recognized as a friend of Masako’s. She was abstractly painted in a flowing dress, color swirling around her. He vaguely wished that they were anywhere but in the crowded gallery room. It took a long moment for what Faysal said to register, his gaze sweeping over the partygoers before he snapped it back to the painting to avoid looking at him.

“What?” Ash weakly asked. He felt more than saw Faysal step past him.

“We’ve seen each other a few times already,” the blond explained, turning his back on him. Disappointment coiling uncomfortably in his chest, Ash stopped himself from reaching out to stop him. Drawing his hand back, he gripped his elbow instead. Faysal looked at him over his shoulder, giving him a warm smile. “My name. I’m asking you to call me by my name. Faysal.”

Ash looked away, furtively scanning the crowd to find the teenager hidden amongst them. Masako stood with a small group of other teens, their laughter drifting over the low rumble of the conversations taking place around the room. The same awkward, jittery feeling that’d came up as they stood in the Suzuki’s dining room sent him wheeling back around, a no dying on his tongue. Whipping his head around, he frantically searched for where the other man had disappeared to, resisting the urge to fall into a sprint when it became obvious he’d walked off.

Hesitating when a happy shout elsewhere in the gathering had Ash craning his neck to look for the disruption, he weaved his way through to find Faysal on the other side of the hall. His face was upturned toward another painting—this one filled with straight lines, sharp angles, and swirling curves, a myriad of color—and his arms folded behind his back. Ash settled in beside him, his expression carefully neutral as he waited. Faysal’s expression softened when they saw each other. Ash cleared his throat and let his attention fall back on the art in front of them. You stupid, handsome menace, he thought, exasperated, You did this on purpose so I’d follow you. “This one is really cool,” he commented instead.

“Hm. I helped her with it. You have good taste, Toyama-san.” Eyes sparkling with mischief, Faysal bumped their shoulders together. When it received nothing more than a snort, he looped an arm around the agent’s waist, pulling him even closer. Ash sucked in a breath, his jaw slack and eyes wide; tucked warmly against his side, he didn’t resist as Faysal tilted his chin up with his fingertips, meeting the pointed gaze. “I pride myself on mine, too.”

Ash wasn’t prepared.

Faysal was touching him.

Not just touching him. He had his arm around him. Even through the layers of clothing, Ash shivered with the feeling of his fingers pressing into his hip. His heart pounded. His skin tingled with the soaring tension. He untangled himself from the other man, pushing away the feeling of loss that came with the separation. Smoothing out the bottom edge of his jacket, Ash kept his head low to keep from having to see the man that made his blood run hot.

“That’s great.” Ash straightened up once he was sure most of his blush had dissipated—not enough, if the grin Faysal gave him was any indicator—and shook his head. “But I don’t think they’re going to take your ‘taste’ into consideration if they see us.”

“…They who? Masa? She won’t care.” Faysal frowned, a crinkle appearing between his eyes, and Ash didn’t know what to do with the wave of affection that washed over him.

The agent took a breath, letting his wild nerves settle enough to turn to the other man with a rueful, apologetic smile. Ash gave him a hopeless shrug. “I’m sorry. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I have to focus. It’s not good if I’m being distracted by-”

He snapped his mouth shut, his teeth clicking together. He didn’t dare finish that sentence. Not when the only thing that kept running through his head was the fact that he found the other man’s voice alluring and that he desperately wanted to see under the silken suit that accentuated just the right places and feel those hands against his skin. Fuck. Ash blushed, staring at him.

Faysal watched him. A puzzled look crossed his face until understanding softened his features. Eyes half closing, the corners of his mouth came up into a subtle smile. “Hm… well, in that case… could I still keep you company? I’ll stay quiet.”

With a noncommittal shrug, Ash didn’t protest. He didn’t mind the company despite it making it hard to focus. His thoughts seemed to have an agenda of their own, wandering instead to the warm presence beside him once they started walking. Faysal followed his pace with ease as they moved along the outside edge of the party. Catching sight of a brewing argument between a handful of patrons, he subtly directed the closest security guard to address it, humming thoughtfully as he watched it unfold.

“I know them,” Faysal said. Their agreed upon silence broken, Ash rolled his eyes, turning an incredulous look at him. “Their daughter is one of Masa’s friends.”

Ash didn’t have the heart to chastise him, only returning to his leisurely pace as they circled the room. Periodically pointing someone out to explain who they were, Faysal’s voice remained hushed.

“That one is… oh.” Faysal’s most recent explanation cut off. Ash glanced over, his curiosity getting the best of him, but only received a shake of the head from the blond in answer. The man in question, he realized, was the same one Masako had scolded him for speaking to. A look up showed Faysal’s expression changed to one of confusion; it didn’t last long, his smile returning when he caught Ash looking at him. “Nevermind. That’s someone else.”

As he continued to chatter on about each patron they passed, Ash glanced over when he found one unwillingly interesting, murmuring a comment or question about them in return. He thought about gently reminding the talkative man about his promise, multiple times in fact, but couldn’t bring himself to. He has such a nice voice… wait.

Startled by the sudden quiet, Ash paused, turning to look behind him. Seeing that Faysal stopped, his head turned toward yet another framed painting, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He could walk away without being noticed, but his feet carried him over to see what he was looking at so intently. Most of the paintings were of singular subjects, but this one was of a couple. Dancing, if he had to take a guess based on the swirl of color and positioning of limbs.

Ash tilted his head. The fair-haired man turned forward, eyes focused upward, his jaw tensed, and a hand curled into a fist under his chin. His eyes had the unfocused look of someone deep in thought. Staring at his profile, at the way the mostly straight blond hair curled behind his ear and the attractive curves and lines of his mouth and nose, Ash wondered what was going on behind the handsome face as he stared up at the painting before them. Humming, Ash’s eyes settled on his mouth.

The corner curled up.

“Like what you see?” Faysal murmured. His flirty grin grew.

Ash looked away. Realizing the taller man saw him staring out of the corner of his eye, his own widened. He mumbled an apology. Mortified, he covered his heated face with his hands. Ash wished he could go crawl under a rock and never leave again.

Faysal leaned to the side, their shoulders touching, and turned his head to stare at the fuming agent. Ash opened his fingers just enough to look through them. Being so close, the other man’s nose nearly touching the side of his face, he could smell the faint scent of his jasmine shampoo overlaying the same woody, floral scent from the other day and see the humor glowing in his eyes. Faysal whispered in his ear, “Well, I do.”

Oh… fuck. Ash trembled. His hands dropped to stare fully wide eyed at the taller man. All strength in his legs and body vanished, everything in him shuddering. Ash opened his mouth, intending to respond, when Faysal’s grin dropped.

Faysal nodded toward the center of the room, turning away from him. Masako approached, her mouth set into a thin, annoyed line. Faysal put a hand up to take hers. “Ah, Masa-chan. I was just telling Toyama-san about the work I assisted you with and your inspiration behind this one. I’m so glad to see you put them up.”

“Faysal-san, what’re you doing over here?” she asked, her sharp eyes turning to Ash. He straightened, forcing his face into a calm mask despite his heart running a marathon. Annoyance and relief intermingled from the interruption. “And didn’t I tell you to stay over there? What’re you doing?”

“It’s my fault,” Faysal interjected. Masako frowned, by all appearances completely unimpressed. “I’ve been dragging him all over the gallery. You know how much the agents have interested me… I couldn’t resist the chance to ask about his agency.”

Ash’s brow rose. Just how much digging into him had Faysal been doing? His concentration broke when Masako’s disbelieving glare turned back to him. “I mean… I assumed you wouldn’t want me to be rude and tell him to get lost, but if that’s what you’d rather…” Ash said, his voice kept even to hide the sarcasm that lay behind his words.

Faysal looked away, trying and failing to restrain a muted snicker. Masako looked between them, her intense gaze piercing. “Fine, whatever. Anyway…” Turning to the taller man, Masako huffed in annoyance. “I want to show you my newest piece. It’s inspired by our fathers!”

“I’d be delighted. Agent Toyama, it was nice speaking to you again.” Faysal turned to him, the same mischievous grin returning once his back was to the teenager. Ash had yet to see him use that expression on anyone else, and it brought up a lot of questions that he wasn’t certain he wanted the answers to. “I hope you’ll let me pick your brain again someday.”

Giving him a strained, polite smile, Ash nodded. Masako pulled on Faysal’s arm, guiding him away impatiently. Turning to go the opposite direction, he straightened his back. Looking over his shoulder, he said, “Of course, Zenz-san. Anytime.”