after load-in is finished and the bulk of the equipment is set up on stage, the whole crew rotates taking smoke breaks. by now, no one questions it when ghost and roach make their way outside together — it’s almost an initiation ritual for any new hire to catch them shotgunning smoke between kisses in the back alley, if not more. everyone knows they’ll be back in ten ready to work, masks covering presumably kiss-swollen lips.
soap does not know this.
he tries not to be too obvious as he looks around after his sound check, hoping to spot the two masked figures he’s seen stalking around and lifting hundreds of pounds of equipment like it’s nothing. he’s always had a thing for big guys, especially strong ones, and after feeling both their stares on him? he’s itching to try and chat them up.
instead, he again tries to be subtle with his sigh of disappointment when there’s no sign of them, running his hand through his sweaty mohawk and making his way toward the back door for a smoke.
he’s got an unlit cig already dangling from his lips as he pushes open the door, which promptly drops along with his jaw as he sees the two men he was just thinking of.
a chance to talk and smoke with them would’ve been good, great even, but they don’t seem to be in the mood for conversation. he wouldn’t even be able to tell there were two men there at al if the one pinned against the wall wasn’t taller, having to bend his neck to press his lips to the other’s — at least soap assumes that’s what’s happening, all he can really see is the back of one head and the top of another.
he’s almost relieved he can’t see their faces. as much as he wants to, he would want it to be on their terms and not an accident. that doesn’t stop him from drinking up the details he can see — a stretch of tanned neck, tousled curls, hands moving under the back of a hoodie.
soap stares for longer than he should. can’t seem to tear his eyes away, not when his cig drops to the ground, not when a sliver of skin is revealed as one of the men’s hoodies is rucked up, not even when he hears an honest to god whimper from where they’re pressed together.
he only moves when warm brown eyes meet his before promptly fluttering shut, breaking soap out of his trance as he finally stumbles back through the door he never even fully got through.
soap stuffs his hands in his pockets and wills himself to walk at a normal pace toward the nearest bathroom, trying not to cum in his briefs from a kiss he didn’t even properly see.
outside, roach giggles into ghost’s mouth, thigh pushed between his and grinding meanly against his over-sensitive cunt. ghost’s grip on roach’s waist is surely leaving little finger shaped bruises, but he hardly notices as he tries to come down from his high.
roach peppers his face with kisses as his breathing slows, pulling back after a minute to roll their masks back over their mouths. he pats ghost’s cunt as he backs away, and the gleam is his eye says he’ll absolutely be teasing ghost later about coming from a little grinding and eye contact.
but for now they have to straighten out their clothes and get back to work, pretending like they aren’t planning to corner the pretty musician after his set and see if he’ll let them show him a good time.
