This is one of the bad dungeons.

The government of Australia is paying him an absolutely staggering amount of money for coming to a dungeon while he is a) on vacation b) without a partner anywhere on the continent c) on no notice with borrowed equipment d) with victims who cannot talk to him even though the overwhelming majority of them ought to be Anglophones. He will think that was worth it later. The Australian government thinks it's worth it because they thought this dungeon was low-priority till they got a psychic on hand to notice that the catatonic victims were being tortured inside their heads. Right now Haru's just fending off the psychic pressure and dodging tentacle monsters so he can drop trackers on people for their teleporter, who's operating from out of state at what must be a dreadful backlash cost, rather than let this one wait another few hours.

He bails before he gets them all. He can't cut it too close, he's not a short walk from June. He could buy a teleport home but it would eat more than half of what they're paying him for the dungeon and maybe he can hook up with somebody. They've found more people to set to the task by the time he wafts down from the portal to the ground. Hello Australian camerapeople, he will smile and smile and say hello to everyone and then wrench himself away for emergency fistbumps. Hello, psychic shieldy person letting the support crew in without their becoming locked in, are you - nope! Hello, psychic shieldy person's partner, do you - nope!

Hello, guy covered in splattered brain monster! Fistbump?

Yeah, fistbump. Recognize his awesomeness, random...

oh, wow.

"Well, it was good for me," Xander says, his eyebrows inching up.

"- yes please? I'm Canadian and don't want to have to teleport home to my usual partner."

Ow. Be better at masking your panic attack, Canadian.

"Sounds rough. And I don't have anything scheduled... maybe a portashower, you got a couple minutes before your bones explode?"

"Yeah, I didn't risk the exploding bones in there." Look, he is TRYING to mask. The fanblogs don't notice.

"Sweet."

Enter shower block. Remove clothes. Turn water on. Cursory scrub to get majority of brain off clothes and skin. His hair's a lost cause, that's not washing out without a damn spa day, but fortunately grey matter mostly just smells vaguely meaty, not too offensive. Also it's a little greasy, it's not coming off the skin fully let alone the cloth; whatever, this shirt sucked anyway. Re-dress, commando because wet underwear are God's curse on mankind and he'll take wet denim over that any day. Shove underwear in pocket. Total time: maybe a minute and a half?

He emerges, looking somewhat like an Abercrombie model at a rain shoot, if Abercrombie models wore shitty clothes with really concerning stains on them and had kind of greasy hair. Peace sign. "Yo."

"Which is lucky but - hold that thought, Paula," he says, hanging up the phone. "You have a silo?"

"Yyyeah, uh. No. I just go to a love hotel most of the time, unless my partner's got one. I never saw much point in having one, my backlash isn't really... like that."

"I also don't have my own - even home, let alone here - but I can get my mom to clear out of the AirBnB. Like that how?"

"Kind of thing a silo helps with. My empathy goes crazy, there's nothing physical to deal with and it's not the kind that makes you outright delusional, those're why people get silos is my understanding. Feel free to turf her out if that's better than the love hotel, they won't miss the custom." he is betraying the love hotels and they will all have to shut down

"If you know a good hotel sure, but the AirBnB is actually quite close - call Ren," he tells his phone, which rings only once. "Hi Mom! Bringing a guy over, can I have the place - oh great, thanks I love you!"

Xander smirks, though the filial affection is kind of raw. (Positive's better than negative, but when he's this backlashed it gets him all wistful.)

He's happy to be directed towards the airBNB. "Did you take a taxi, a train, what?"

"I walked, actually, they needed a bit to get the loaner gear together for me once I said I'd take the dungeon. Less than ten minutes. Uh, if you'd rather a taxi you'll have to get it, I can't book one right now, I can't with the automated systems when I'm backlashed."

"Not at all. I was more checking if we want to ride my motorbike or if it'd just be silly."

Coming to said motorbike, he retrieves and begins equipping a helmet and jacket.

"Oh, I've thought about getting a motorcycle but have always considered the risk level too high. I guess this is a very short trip. You have a spare helmet?"

Underhand helmet toss. "If you're afraid of dying you spend too much time in airports."

"I assume that's a reference to something but now I'm trying to parse it literally." Helmet go click. Does he get to sit behind the Abercrombie model and hug him now. "...can you hear me."

"I can hear you, esper senses. Get comfy for a three-minute ride."

"I'm very comfy, I just would not have been very comfy if you couldn't hear me, I have inability to shut up syndrome."

"Is that literally your backlash? Kind of hilarious, honestly." Actually he's sure it's a horrible nightmare and Haru would be better off dead and he should kill them both in a fiery wreck. But, like, that's normal.

"No, it's a side effect, I'm possibly erroneously assuming that you might not wanna know because of yours? It's public, you can look me up if you want to figure out what was up with me after."

"...probably a good idea, yeah. Part of the crazy for me is pretending I'm not crazy, which is fine until I start cribbing somebody else's backlash because I know too much about it and now there's two crazies."

Not that he doesn't have enough information to start that process already. It's talky, which already goes great with his own stress responses, and this dude wants physical contact even more than normal, which is a clue. He can sink that battleship any time. It's more of an effort not to. Also, "this dude"?

"What's your name?" he asks during a mildly rude merge into traffic.

"Superhero name or what my mother calls me?"

"The superhero thing is so... America. If you like your supername better than what your mom calls you, feel free to share, but I'm not gonna tie anybody to train tracks without it."

"I'm Canadian," he objects. "Anyway, civvie name is Haru. It's an abbreviation for my middle name, my first name is awful. I like the codename because in any situation where someone might be tempted to read off whatever my documents say I can give them the documents that say Traceless instead."

"Oh, that's so fair, I retract everything. I'm Xander, and I wish to God it was less easy to figure out my actual name from that."

It is time to parallel park. Motorbikes make this task straightforward.

Off the motorcycle, off with the helmet. "It's lovely to meet you, Xander."

"Oh, I'm sure."

Stowing gear. Haru presumably has a key to his own airBNB. Xander has no idea how to even interact with the concept and will resolutely refuse to care if he gets fluids on the comforter-or-what-have-you, it's probably factored into the cost.

The AirBnB has a code, which Haru does know but has to say out loud while he's inputting it while staring with inordinate concentration at the number pad. "It's... I remember it's... seventeen thirty-two because Ren sort of sang it to herself to memorize it, right. Probably they change it between guests or something anyway." Beep boop boop beep and they're in.

"I'd look up if anything interesting happened in that particular Year of Our Lord if I was allowed to use a phone this backlashed," Xander says, removing his boots. "History book in my head says maybe an eclipse, but it's a pretty shit history book. I think it's just that I know an eclipse happened in the 18th century and I'd think of it for any year you named."

He gets back to his now-denuded feet. "Anyway. You up for some pashing or is it down to business?"

"Is pashing an Australianism I'm not acquainted with?"

"Evidence points to yeah – kissing, making out, swapping spit?"

"Please." And now kissing.

Pashing, even.

He should probably wend his general way towards the bedroom, but he's got no idea where it is, and finding it out seems like it would involve detaching their mouths, so instead he reaches inside Haru's trousers. If they end up rutting in the lounge, well, that's not a negative for him until and unless it's a negative for Haru.

Haru is OK with this outcome if the noises and the clutching are any indication, though it's possible some of those twitches are - yep, there we go, shuffling steps bedwards.

Merrily merrily follow along.

he did not want to get buggered on the carpet and clearly this means that Xander should kill himself for thinking it would be okay to initiate before he knew where the bed is some thoughts can be quiet thoughts which we do not need to actually think.

Merrily merrily and here's the bed. How does Haru feel about the Congress of the Crow, that old favorite for maximizing bilateral fluid exchange, the sixty-nine? It's kind of precarious at the best of times but they're not far from each other in height, especially with a couple of extra inches to help bridge the gap.

but that means a gap in the kissing no this makes perfect sense of course and Haru is all for efficiency.

But Xander sucks cock really well, and probably Haru is good enough to at least get the job done, and so that's not a problem at all –

– seriously it's fine that this guy that he doesn't even know isn't getting the literal optimal hookup experience –

– it's fine –

– it's FINE –

– it's –

– oh fuck he's crying. On the guy's dick. Probably he should die.

Haru doesn't instantly notice this, because he's in a fairly distracting position, but eventually he catches on and stops what he's doing. "- Xander?"

Xander detaches from the blowjob(s) reluctantly. He's tried forcing past this point, and it doesn't go well; he's nauseous already, and this hookup has gone badly enough without literally throwing up mid-oral. "Need... a break," he sniffles, his eyes firmly closed against the tears. "Backlash. Got in my head."

"Okay - hugs all right?" Haru asks, sitting up and holding out his arms.

"Yeah," even though he's going to be interpreting every twitch Haru makes as backlashed agony because he's a monster and also a dumb contemptible asshole who can't even get fucked properly. Wow, he's getting florid. Hugs.

Haru wraps himself very thoroughly around Xander and plops his chin on his shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it or should I try to like, distract you somehow."