Work Header

the bad side of luck

Work Text:

Hasbi has the worst luck in the whole universe and he knows it. On top of that, he makes bad life choices.

Like now.

He doesn't know whose idea is it to make parliament members going out on a trip for 4 days and it is completely by accident that Ridwan put his name on the list. Hasbi has said he couldn't pay for the trip, his money will go somewhere more urgent, but Ridwan said it won't be a problem because he will pay for it. Hasbi doesn't know whether to be thankful of his boss or not. Knowing his senior, the man will work on his reports and any other things during the trip, thus his insistence in bringing Hasbi along with him.

Needless to say, Hasbi will still be working even during his supposed holiday. Hasbi wants to ask Ridwan to stop working for once but he truly fears for his life. But really, he's tired.

They go by airplane, to Hasbi's distress, because he's never liked hovering above the ground in the air. He has bad memories regarding airplanes, mainly because of turbulence, and Hasbi prays fervently so he will get Ridwan sitting next to him. At least it won't be embarrassing if he holds on to the man.

Maybe it's just his luck. Hasbi has known long before this occasion that he doesn't have the best luck.

When he runs into Ridwan's suitcase and promptly gets his feet squished under its weight, it's his luck. When Hasbi realizes he left his scarf at home, it's definitely his luck. When Ganda Hamdan slides into an empty seat next to him, not Ridwan, Hasbi doesn't know who to blame. But one thing he realizes is that the universe really hates his guts.

"Eh, kamu," Ganda spares him a look, which Hasbi replies with a faint smile of his own. Their relationship is non-existent, because Ridwan always warns him to put a distance between him and Ganda. Not that Hasbi is eager to acquaint himself with Ganda, there is something about the man that makes him wants to stay away from Ganda.

"Ngga sama Ridwan?" Hasbi blinks, turning his head to face the older man. Ganda is staring at him patiently, his face lacking his usual sneer that puts him as 'intimidating'. But right now, to Hasbi he's just… curious, nothing more.

Hasbi shakes his head, fiddling with his seatbelt. The plane hasn't taken off but his nerves are making him all fidgety. "Pak Ridwan di belakang, Pak. Duduk di sebelah Pak Ferry."

The other man hums, watching him with a pair of uncannily dark eyes. "Mau tukeran?

That gets Hasbi whipping his head around to stare at the older man properly. Ganda has his head tilted to a side, brows drawn into a slight frown. Not condescending, only… staring. It's weird, the Ganda Hamdan he knows is fast with his jeers, all sharp tongue and even sharper words, and hell if this doesn't tip him off his axis.

"Ngga usah, Pak," Hasbi says finally with a sheepish grin on his face. "Ribet. Saya ngga harus setiap saat sama Pak Ridwan kok." While it's the truth, Hasbi finds himself more relaxed around Ridwan, probably affected by the way his senior brings himself—calm and confident. Ganda only raises an eyebrow before shrugging a shoulder.

"Pucet banget," Ganda offers offhandedly as the plane shakes a little, starting to move on its wheels. Hasbi leans back, taking a sharp breath, his knuckles white from the way he's gripping his armrests so tightly. "Ngga suka naik pesawat?"

His ears ring. Hasbi frowns a little, exhaling shakily when the plane stops shaking and more or less going steady above the ground. "Eh, iya, Pak," Hasbi chuckles sheepishly, glancing at the window. The sky is bright, white grey clouds floating around, but the sight makes him nauseous. "Ng, trauma kalau lagi cuaca buruk, Pak. Turbulen."

The seatbelt light above his head lights up but Hasbi is in no hurry to unbuckle it. Next to him, Ganda hums, and from the corner of his eye, Hasbi could see that the man is rubbing his beard. "Coba dengerin lagu biar santai," he offers without any superior air. In fact, Ganda seems… concerned. "Mau saya pesenin minum?"

Hasbi gapes at the older man for a moment, feeling at a loss. To say that he's suspicious is an understatement, he's apprehensive. But Hasbi swallows down his nerves and shakes his head, managing a shaky smile at the man. "Ngga usah, Pak, ngerepotin."

"Halah." Ganda has the audacity to roll his eyes at him, already calling a stewardess to their seats. "Kamu pucet banget. Saya ngga mau kamu muntah ke saya." 

A defensive response is already hanging on the tip of his tongue and Hasbi opens his mouth to retort, but the plane shakes, a little tremble that gets Hasbi freezing in fear. Nails sinking into the armrests, a desperate attempt to gain his footing in this gripping fear, and of course, Ganda notices. 

"Udah, minum dulu." A warm hand lands on his forearm, causing Hasbi to jerk a little in surprise. His eyes meet Ganda's before he notices that Ganda is holding out a glass of orange juice. "Biar enakan."

It's impossible to reject the offer, not when Ganda is leaning close towards him with a frown on his face so Hasbi nods his head and takes the glass from him. The tangy and sweet juice washes away his nausea, soothing his roiling stomach. He lets out a quiet sigh, sparing Ganda a grateful smile.

"Makasih, Pak." The hand on his forearm is still there, skin warm against his cold one, making his stomach flips in a way that is not a nausea. What .

Ganda nods his head, giving his forearm a squeeze before withdrawing his hand. He doesn't smile, just a small quirk on his lips. Hasbi doesn't say anything after that, only letting out a heavy sigh before he leans back against his seat. Maybe it's best for him to just sleep for the rest of the flight. Surprisingly, the older man has become something of a calming presence next to him, rather than intrusive. Ganda doesn't ask him more questions nor engage a conversation with him, though Hasbi could feel his gaze prickling his neck.

Sleep. Let's just, sleep. Yes, there is still 3 more hours to go, sleep is the best answer.

A moment of unconsciousness never feels this blissful before. It's warm, no shaking occurred, and it smells citrusy, like lemon, bergamot, and undertone of something floral. It makes Hasbi turns his head a little to get more of the soothing scent. 

"Hasbi," a voice murmurs above him and Hasbi makes a sleepy noise of dissent. "Hasbi, bangun. Bentar lagi mendarat."

Hasbi jerks awake at that, eyes wide and—why is everything blurry? He blinks repeatedly, frowning to himself as he gathers his consciousness, and a blob of hand appears on his line of vision. Narrowing his eyes, Hasbi stares at it until the man next to him snorts.

"Kacamata kamu." The glasses is back, perched above the bridge of his nose, and Hasbi feels his eyes grow wide because— "Tadi saya lepas, soalnya takut rusak."

"Astaga—" He can't believe he had just fallen asleep on Ganda fucking Hamdan, what the fuck Hasbi. Heat rushes to his face and as Hasbi glances at the other man, panic and fear and anxiety tangle into one, causing blood to freeze in his veins. But Ganda doesn't seem irritated. The other man appears amused, rather than displeased, and there is a faint quirk on his lips. "Pak, maaf banget, Pak, maaf saya—"

Ganda waves his attempt in apologizing with a dismissive hand, snorting a laugh. "Ngga apa-apa. Mending kamu nidurin saya daripada muntahin saya." There must be something on Hasbi's expression that makes him lets out another snort.

"Udah, ngga usah melongo. Bentar lagi landing, kamu duduk yang bener." Hasbi tenses at that, already buckling his seatbelt (when did he even take it off? ). He shouldn't have gone with the lot, he should've stayed at the barren office, or resting at home. Instead, he's sitting in this damned airplane seat with Ganda Hamdan staring at him as if he's a grade A clown and it would be lying if Hasbi says he doesn't mind being stared at.

The landing is uneventful, slightly bumpy but Hasbi doesn't vomit everywhere. Ganda is out as soon as the airplane door swings open, leaving Hasbi to attend his own baggage, and he trails behind Ridwan because he doesn't want to get lost. His senior expresses his worry for him because apparently, he looks as pale as a plain wall, even under his tan, and the whispers that Hasbi nearly vomited on Ganda has spread everywhere.

Hasbi is not sure who spread the gossip in the first place but when he finds out, he's going to throw hands. Ridwan sends him a sympathetic look, giving him a pat on the back, before he starts talking about the monthly report that Hasbi should be doing, if he doesn't join the trip. Hasbi realizes that this will be a long fucking trip and all he could do is exhaling heavily. If Ridwan is paying for this, Hasbi sure as well will hit the bar later.

His bad luck doesn't stop there. Hasbi quietly weeps for whoever deities he's offended because, please, let me live. He would like to have a talk with whoever suggested to pull a fucking lottery to decide their room number in the hotel—if he hears "an attempt to forge a bond with co-workers" again, he will stab people. 

"Pak, Pak," Hasbi siddles close to Ridwan, peering from over his senior's shoulder. "Dapet nomer berapa?"

Ridwan is frowning at the sheet of paper in his hand, displeasure radiating from every inch of him. "1244. Kamu?"

Oh no. "1236, Pak." Hasbi pauses, looking around for a moment before he murmurs into his senior's ear. "Kalo minta tuker kamar boleh ngga, Pak, kira-kira?"

Just as Ridwan opens his mouth to answer, a voice booms behind him. "Kamar 1236 siapa nih?"

Hasbi freezes, groaning internally, before he turns around to see—yep, that's Ganda and his obnoxious voice, holding a paper with "1236" written in it. How is this his luck, really.

"Pak, tukeran mau ngga, Pak," Hasbi says urgently to Ridwan, who gives him a grimace and inches away from him. 

"Saya mau cari teman sekamar saya dulu, ya." And just like that, Ridwan scurries away and leaving Hasbi standing with a dumbfounded look on his face. Someone peeks from behind his shoulder and without even turning around, Hasbi knows who exactly that is.

"Wah, kamu lagi." An arm slung over his shoulder, pulling him back against Ganda, who's cackling in delight. "Lama-lama nanti kita jadi teman dekat!"

His loud voice causes Hasbi to wince, but Ganda smells really good and it sends his stomach into a flurry of something, so Hasbi doesn't pull away. He only gives Ganda a sheepish grin despite the quickly rising heat to his face and it's with a quiet sigh that he lets himself be dragged along by Ganda.

The hotel room is neat and clean, smelling of floral air freshener. The bathroom is brightly lit, with clean counter and functioning hot water, and Hasbi sighs, feeling much better and—

"Lah, anjir, kok kasurnya yang double?" Ganda's loud voice startles Hasbi out of his thoughts. His stomach twists unpleasantly, the older man sounds affronted, and Hasbi quickly gets out of the bathroom to head to the bedroom. True, Ganda is standing next to the queen sized bed with a frown on his face, arms crossed over his chest. He's gotten rid of his shirt, now wearing a plain, white undershirt. Hasbi is trying not to stare at his arms and fails miserably, not that he minds, because he can appreciate a beauty that is a pair of muscular arms.

Hasbi siddles closer, peering at the other man, who stares back at him. "Mau lapor resepsionis, Pak?"

Ganda is silent for several minutes, the irritated look gone the moment he glances at Hasbi. "Kamu mau tuker kamar?"

Hasbi shrugs his shoulder, averting his eyes away. "Ngga sih, Pak. Ribet. Susah ngaturnya juga." The couch is big enough for him, if he curls up into a ball. His back aches at the thought of spending a whole week sleeping like that but—

The older man's eyes are narrowed a little as he stares at Hasbi, but he heaves a sigh after. "Kamu mau di kiri atau kanan?"

That gets Hasbi blinks in confusion. "Eh?" he manages, head swaying to a side. "Apanya, Pak?"

Ganda rolls his eyes at him, shifting his stance to properly stare at Hasbi. "Ya kasurnya, lah. Apa lagi."

Hasbi frowns a little at nothing, feeling heat rises up his cheeks for no reason. "Saya di sofa aja, Pak."

It's Ganda's turn to scowl at Hasbi, though for an entirely different reason. " Halah. Ngga usah sok-sokan," he grouses, circling the bed before plopping down on the right side of the bed, "kamu yang kiri, saya yang kanan."

"Nanti kalo kamu sakit, saya yang dimarahin Ridwan," the older man adds, still frowning, but he crosses his arms behind his head.

Hasbi watches him for a moment, for the second time in a day feeling at a loss for words. Ganda Hamdan is a confusing man and Hasbi doesn't know how to deal with him properly. One of his weaknesses is people who smells clean and good, among other things, and Ganda falls under that category. Not to mention his biceps and—it's getting harder for Hasbi not to be drawn by his charms, however obnoxious that man is.

With a sigh, Hasbi slowly settles on the bed, carefully folding his shirt neatly. Next to him, Ganda is quiet, but Hasbi could feel the weight of his gaze on him. It prickles his skin, making him want to squirm and it's not an easy feat to ignore him.

When Hasbi quietly arranges a stack of pillow between them, Ganda doesn't protest. "Jangan tarik-tarik selimut, ya," is all he says with a grumble. Hasbi sleeps with no blanket, curling into a ball.

The first morning, Hasbi wakes up on the floor with Ganda hovering above him. Ganda is a blurry blob above him, but when he speaks, he sounds mildly concerned.

"Kamu ngapain—"

"Bapak nendang kalo tidur," Hasbi grouses, half of his side aches from the impact against the hard floor but he flops to his stomach, curling up. "Udah saya bilang saya tidur di sofa aja." It's part whining, but Hasbi is sleepy and Ganda smells good even on early morning.

Hasbi finds himself being tugged to his feet by a pair of strong hands, callouses scraping his skin. It draws a shudder out of him, but when his back hits the soft mattress, he couldn't help but sighing in contentment.

"Kalo saya nendang, bangunin aja." Hasbi might have imagined the hand on his hair because he's half conscious, but it's soothing, lulling him back to sleep.

Apparently, the only time Hasbi sees Ganda is when he wakes up and when he's about to go to sleep. He doesn't mind at all, the less he sees the man, the better. They both have different agenda during the trip—Hasbi mostly spends his day tailing after Ridwan and working, while Ganda probably slacking off somewhere.

The second morning, Hasbi wakes up still in the bed, thankfully, but with no Ganda next to him. The right side of the bed is still warm and unmade, a sign that the man has only gotten off the bed recently. Hasbi sighs, rolling to his back and makes a starfish, arching his back. He doesn't sleep on his back, lest he will hit Ganda on the face. But sleeping on his side makes a half of his torso aches a little and it draws a grimace out of him.

He also needs to pee. With a grunt, Hasbi grapples for his glasses and gets to his feet while setting his glasses on. Ganda is nowhere to be seen when he heads to the bathroom, no sound of shower running as well. It's sometimes around 8, maybe the man is out for breakfast.

Humming quietly, Hasbi pushes the door to the bathroom open and—


— takes a step back to slam the door close. His face must be flaming red because he caught a glimpse of Ganda, in front of the mirror, shaving his beard. He's also shirtless. His biceps are really—

Hasbi stands frozen in front of the bathroom, the urgency to pee completely forgotten, and it's not much later when the bathroom door slides open to one very amused Ganda Hamdan. He's dressed up, thankfully, but the beard is gone, making his grin visible. Ganda honestly looks better without the beard—


"Kalo mau masuk, ketuk pintu dulu," he breezes past the still frozen Hasbi, who sobers up and sends him a glare.

"Kalo pake kamar mandi, dikunci," Hasbi grouses, cheeks still flushed red and enters the bathroom, Ganda's insufferable cackle booming behind him.

The third morning starts with Hasbi waking up before Ganda does. Careful not to rouse the older man from his sleep, Hasbi slides off the bed to use the bathroom—Ganda spends a long time in the bathroom, for whatever reason, and when it's Hasbi's turn, they run out of hot water. This time, Hasbi makes sure he will get the hot water.

When he gets out of the bathroom, Ganda is still asleep, snoring faintly into the pillow. Despite the noises Hasbi makes when he gets ready, Ganda doesn't stir awake. Ridwan wants him to be up early and stand by his room around 8 AM so Hasbi does just that. He doesn't bother saying goodbye to Ganda—why would he do that anyway?

Ridwan insists on dragging him around the town all day and when he finally releases Hasbi from his hold, it's 10 PM already. The sole of his feet hurt, and Hasbi is a grunting mess when he drags himself back to his hotel room. To his surprise, it's dark with no sign of another person in the room. Ganda hasn't returned yet and Hasbi only feels the slightest worry at that. He is not complaining, it means he's got the room, the TV, the bathroom—all for himself.

Hasbi is immersed on finishing his reports—so Ridwan will stop nagging him—and when the door bangs open, he flinches violently, nearly dropping his laptop. His eyes dart quickly to the clock—sometimes after midnight and with a sigh, he shuts his laptop close. A moment later, Ganda slinks into the room and unceremoniously drops himself on the bed.

The man is grumbling to himself, not even bothering taking his coat and shirt off, and when Hasbi sneaks a sniff, the sharp stench of alcohol is strong on him.

"Mabok mulu," Hasbi huffs, nudging the older man to his back. He doesn't know what gets to him when he takes Ganda's coat off, the sense of responsibility Hasbi doesn't know he has in him is surprising. Probably because the man is technically his senior, he did the same when Ridwan drank himself to unconsciousness.

Ganda squirms a little when Hasbi takes his shoes off, blinking owlishly before his eyes land on him. Hasbi freezes under the gaze, uncannily sharp even when Ganda is all sluggish from alcohol. "Hasbi?"

"Iya, Pak?" Hasbi doesn't mean to sound so tentative, but something about Ganda's gaze unsettles him. The older man pushes himself up to a sitting position, still staring at him, before scooting closer and—

—promptly dropping himself on Hasbi's lap.

Hasbi blinks, heat rising up on his cheeks because Ganda is breathing so close to his—

"Pak." Hasbi pokes the other man, grimacing a little. "Pak Ganda."

Ganda doesn't even budge, only making himself more comfortable in his lap. An arm sneaks around his waist, to Hasbi's horror, hugging his middle. Shit. Now Hasbi has to fall asleep with his senior, his very attractive senior who he might or might not have a crush on, sleeping on his thighs and breathing so closely to his groin.

He could just shove him aside but—Hasbi plops back on the bed, careful not to jostle the older man. It's somehow domestic, with this arrangement, and Hasbi places a hand over Ganda's shoulder. His legs tingle a little but it's easy to ignore it when sleep tugs him the moment he shuts his eyes.

A cheery noise coming from his left startles Hasbi awake and he grunts, hand reaching out to turn the alarm off. Something has draped itself over his back, huge and so impossibly warm, and there are arms circling his—

His brain stutters to a halt, as well as his breathing. Heat is quick to rise up to his cheeks, his consciousness following, and Ganda's breath is warm against his neck that it makes Hasbi shivers. Shit, shit, shit.

They're pressed flush against each other, Ganda a firm presence against his back and the line of his thighs, with his knees tucked behind Hasbi's. Somehow, Ganda has managed to make Hasbi into his bolster and the worst part? Hasbi doesn't even mind.

"Hasbi," Ganda murmurs, his stubbled chin brushing against Hasbi's bare neck. It tickles, causing him to squirm. "Berisik. Bobo lagi." His arms tighten around his middle, nearly squishing the breath out of his lungs.

Hasbi gulps audibly, cheeks hot, and he carefully turns his head to glance at the man behind him. "Pak?"

"Hm?" comes Ganda's sleepy response. 

"Ini, anu, kita—"

"Gantian. 'Kan kamu udah nidurin saya." When he puts it like that, it hits differently, but Hasbi sighs, patting the arms around his stomach. At least there's no morning wood poking his—

Okay. Okay, no need to go there. It's their last day of the trip and they're free to go anywhere they like. Not even Ridwan is willing to drag Hasbi around the town again, since the man is probably just as tired as him. Judging from the alarm, it's probably sometime around 5 in the morning. Too early, no wonder Ganda is all grumbly. 

When Hasbi wakes up for the second time, his cheek is pressed against one broad chest and it's so comfortable, warmth enveloping him, that he couldn't help but curling up a little. A chuckle could be heard from above him, fond and a little amused, and—

"Pak Ganda, maaf, Pak, saya ngga bermaksud—" It's incredibly hasty of Hasbi to push himself off the older man. Everything is blurry, but his embarrassment is too strong for him to care about the fact that he literally cannot see anything. A warm hand is on his back, forcing him to stay still, and it's gentle, when Ganda pulls Hasbi close to him.

"Tidur lagi." When Hasbi is still frozen in shock, Ganda sighs. "Udah, sini."

"Pak—" His face heats up and as Hasbi makes to untangle himself from the older man, Ganda huffs.

Strong arms curl around him, forcing him to lie on top of Ganda. "Kamu lucu kalo lagi tidur. Udah, merem."

Ganda smells really good, Hasbi realizes with his sleep muddled brain, embarrassment fades into the background.

When Hasbi wakes up for the third time in a day, the space next to his bed is cold, blanket neatly made. Maybe he was imagining things, there was no way Ganda would let him sleep on the older man. Part of him is sighing with relief, but the rest of him is disappointed, for a reason he doesn't want to think about.

Hasbi doesn't see Ganda even when they're checking out of the hotel. The man already took his suitcase out of their room before Hasbi did, and Ganda is nowhere to see when they arrive at the airport. It's fine, it's not like he's actively searching for Ganda. He doesn't have anything to do with the other man anyway. It's completely fine.

Ridwan is next to him when he settles on his designated seat. His senior is beaming at him, but his eyes are darting around as if looking for something, or someone.

"Nyariin siapa, Pak?" Hasbi inquires, making himself comfortable and buckling his seatbelt. Ridwan makes a sound of dissent, tipping a shoulder up.

"Ngga. Ngga nyariin apa-apa." He aims a distracted grin at Hasbi which he returns with a narrow look. Does Ridwan think he can deceive anyone with that look? Something odd settles on the bottom of his stomach like lead, but Hasbi ignores it in favor of not puking all over himself when the plane takes off.

In the middle of the flight, Ridwan unbuckles his seatbelt. He grins at Hasbi's questioning look, gesturing to the toilet behind them with his chin before he gets to his feet. "Bentar, saya mau ke kamar mandi."

Hasbi keeps his eyes shut when Ridwan slides out of his seat. There is an insistent throb behind his eyes and staring at the light hurts his head. Not to mention the nausea mixed with anxiety in his stomach. Shit, now he regrets eating too much breakfast.

The seat next to him creaks, but Hasbi doesn't bother to open his eyes, until a familiar voice murmurs in his ear.

"Pucet banget. Ngga minum Antimo?" Ganda sounds amused but there is an undertone of concern in it. Hasbi whips his head around, eyes wide, and it's really him, not any kind of hallucination.

"Jangan sebut merek." It earns him a roll of eyes and an exasperated sigh from the older man. Before he could help it, Hasbi blurts out, "Bapak kemana aja?"

Ganda raises an eyebrow at that. "Kamu kangen?" There is a cheeky grin on his face, complete with the waggle of his brows. Hasbi feels his stomach flips, fervently hoping that he's not about to throw his lunch up all over the other man.

Apparently, it kicks his mouth filter away as well. "Kalo iya, gimana?"

Ganda is silent after that, his look unreadable, and Hasbi finds it hard to return the stare. "Nanti kamu pulang sama siapa?" Ganda asks instead, his gaze prickling.

"Sendiri, Pak. Naik tak—"

"Pulang bareng saya, ya?"

Hasbi blinks. It's not an order, it is… a request. Which he supposes to find suspicious, but he's only curious. Feeling at a loss for words, Hasbi nods his head. Ganda is radiating relief among other things, in contrast to Hasbi who's still reeling from the question. The plane shakes out of nowhere, a hard tremble that causes Hasbi to latch tighter onto his seat, stomach roiling in displeasure.

"Tenang aja." A warm hand settles on his forearm and Hasbi turns his head around to stare at Ganda. The other man is smiling at him, small but fond, and thumb strokes over the bare skin of his wrist. "Kamu ngga bakal kenapa-kenapa. Saya bakal jagain kamu."

It sounds awfully like a tacky line from a cheap, romance movie but under Ganda's warm and earnest gaze, Hasbi finds himself believing anyway.