it was no small tell that enjin loved physical touch and had to be hands on with his partner at all times.

you, fortunately or unfortunately, were at the end of that stick.

learning it embarrassingly the hard way; it was 6am, just gotten back from canvas town, and enjin was half-draped over you on the walk back to the jeep. no one noticed, then everyone did.

then you were walked in on making out with enjin’s hands under your shirt, no intention of letting you go at all. not even when team child wandered in curiously.

by now, the entire cleaners crew had to have been desensitised by enjin and his need to touch you.

there were many a place of his particular fancy.

but none of which could beat your ass.

the firm yet soft curve, all natural muscle built up from years of work, being squished in his palms as he has his hands in the back pockets of your cleaner uniform had to be one of his favourite feelings. other than the bare thing, of course.

so it was no surprise during a mission briefing, enjin was doing exactly that.

chin on top your head-shoulder area with his fingers hooked through your trouser’s hoops, absentmindedly fiddling with your bellybutton occasionally as he zones out from being half asleep.

simple normalcy.