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“So?” his coach asks. “What’s the verdict?”
He sounds impatient, Kevin thinks. Which isn’t that surprising, given that the team’s PT has been surveying Kevin in clear bewilderment for the past three minutes without providing any insight to the rest of them.
Not for the first time, Kevin wishes Dan’s teasing that Aaron could be the doctor on Kevin’s team when they’d ended up in the same city had eventuated. Then he thinks about the circumstances that led to the team’s PT being so baffled, and revises his stance.
“Well, he can’t play tonight, that’s for sure…” Nikki says slowly, her eyes still fixed on Kevin. He’s starting to feel like she could give Andrew a run for his money in a staring contest. “But I just can’t figure out how he’s managed to do it.”
At this, Coach Handler’s eyes immediately narrow and he gives Kevin a searching look. Beside him, the defence coach’s eyebrows furrow.
“Now that you mention it, yeah,” Flox says, eyebrows still knit as he drums his fingers against the clipboard with the opposing team’s stats. Kevin can see Neil’s face on the front page in his blue Houston Jackdaws uniform, and feels disgruntled all over again. The Chicago Royals are a good team—Kevin wouldn’t be on it if they weren’t—but without him on the court, they’re completely doomed. It’s not about a lack of faith in his current teammates; it’s about knowing his former ones—and their game—as well as he does. “He obviously didn’t have this in training on Wednesday. And I can’t think of anything me or Lou would have assigned him in the reps that would have risked an injury like that.”
Kevin thinks ‘injury’ is somewhat grandiose a term for what’s happened; he can’t play, but it’s not like he’s wounded. Other than his pride, maybe.
(In the back of his head, Allison rolls her eyes. Your scale is skewed, she informs him. Your reaction to Neil after being tortured by your ex-cult’s psycho wannabe frat hazing was to ask him if he could still play. Also, you know, your hand. You have literally no concept of normal injury response, no matter how much you used to lecture Neil about it. Kevin mentally flips her off, but grudgingly concedes the point. A recurring theme in his interactions with Allison Reynolds, both real and imagined.)
“Lou or I,” mutters Annals, who is both the conditioning coach and the Lou in question. She reminds Kevin of Jean, sometimes. Nothing on Neil’s level of antagonism, but -- there’s something in her refusal to swallow down truths, be they grammar corrections or dogged criticisms of poor behaviour, that reminds him of Jean. Of holding onto that last little inch. Luckily, the Royals are not the Ravens, and the most that happens is Flox rolling his eyes and flipping her off.
Riko would have cut something off.
“He didn’t just not get it from the Wednesday training; I can’t figure out how he’d manage to do it at all,” Nikki says, sounding more and more confused by the second.
There’s a part of Kevin—a not-inconsequential sized piece of him—that rankles at being discussed like he’s not there. It’s been a long time since he was a Raven, and even then, it was only ever Riko and the Master who could act as if he weren’t present and expect him to bear it silently.
The rest of him, however, is aware that the second he opens his mouth to remind them of his presence, he’ll be immediately barraged with questions about the—and he uses this term grudgingly—injury.
Which. Well.
He doesn’t exactly want to answer those.
Once again, the universe does not consider his wants. Flox turns to him expectantly, everyone else following suit.
“Well?” Annals prompts. “What happened?”
-
“You know,” Aaron says, close to breathless, “you led me to believe you were a lot more coordinated than this.”
It’s teasing, though; affectionate, even. Kevin ducks his head shyly in the warmth of it, even if he buries his head in Aaron’s neck to save face. Somehow, Kevin thinks, listening to Aaron’s snort, he hasn’t sold the act.
That’s okay, though. Aaron’s still here, and he’s smiling. Kevin can put up with some embarrassment and teasing if it means that stays true.
“I’ll have you know, Sports Illustrated called me the Sportsman of the Year,” Kevin says in a huff, grinning a little at the way Aaron immediately squirms from where Kevin’s breath tickles his neck.
“That’s unfortunate,” Aaron says, casual as anything, as if he isn’t working his hand down Kevin’s trousers, fingers dancing over tingling skin. “Someone better tell them their criteria needs work.”
“Dick,” Kevin says, neatly ignoring the fact that his own is in Aaron’s hand. “I suppose that someone will be you?”
Aaron hums. “Depends,” he says, arching an eyebrow at Kevin. “Kinda thought you had other plans for my mouth.”
It’s a little unfair how easy Kevin is for him. One line like that and Aaron’s cool gaze, and here Kevin is, cheeks heating up like he’s some flustered schoolboy instead of Kevin Day: superstar, national champion and the only Son of Exy left.
Kevin glances at the time, then says, “I have to leave in about half an hour. Can we—” He cuts himself off, realising there’s no good way to end that sentence.
“Romantic,” Aaron says dryly, shaking his head. “It’s a miracle you’ve got space in your schedule for me with smooth talking like that, Day. Can’t believe you’re not drowning in booty calls with those moves.”
Kevin flushes—he’s really not beating the flustered schoolboy allegations, he thinks woefully—then frowns a little. He knows Aaron’s just teasing him, but it makes him think for a moment.
“You know I’m not…” he starts, then trails off. “You know you’re the only one I’m… right?” He groans a little, aware that he hasn’t actually said anything useful, and stares up at the ceiling in askance. Then again, if there were a higher power that a) cared about him and b) felt called to assist with communication matters, they’d probably have intervened any of the times Neil opened his mouth around Riko. So. No dice.
Aaron nudges Kevin, drawing his attention back. He looks – fond. Exasperated, a little, and maybe a bit pink, but there’s something shining in his eyes, and he’s looking at Kevin in a way that makes him feel warm all over, like maybe there are smaller victories to be had than comeback stories and winning championships.
“I know,” he says, voice gentle. It sounds strange, like he’s not used to speaking like that, but Kevin takes the magnanimous approach of not pointing it out. Also, Aaron’s still holding his dick, so. “Anyway,” Aaron says, clearing his throat. “What was I thinking? Obviously you don’t have time for anyone else, Mr. Can We Get It Done Quick.”
“I didn’t say that,” Kevin points out. Which is technically true.
Aaron huffs a laugh, snaking his hand back out from Kevin’s trousers. Kevin feels bereft immediately, and says, a little frantic, “Hang on—”
“All right, casanova,” Aaron interrupts, tugging on Kevin’s shirt. Kevin shuts up. “Half an hour, you said? Better make it worth my while.”
-
“It, uh,” Kevin says, which isn’t a great start.
One time, back at PSU, there had been an incident with Kevin’s exy racquet, Andrew’s keys, and a feral cat that Neil dragged into their shared bathroom because he thought it needed a bath. (It seemed like what Andrew would do, he’d said at the time, as if that were any defence at all, while Kevin and Nicky stared at him incredulously and Matt blocked Aaron’s attempts at strangling him where he stood.) (Kevin doesn’t like to think about the whole incident in detail very much, even all these years on. It comes in at number nine on his list of Times Neil Josten Caused Undue Stress, significantly below every instance of opening his mouth around Riko and somewhere above buying both twins their weight in ice cream as a criminal act against Kevin. On his birthday.)
Ten minutes before Andrew came back that evening, Kevin had paced in front of the couch at increasing speed, muttering to himself about what the plan of attack was. Aaron and Neil, because they’re menaces the universe decided to inflict on Kevin specifically, had both just looked at each other and shrugged, entirely unperturbed by the whole thing. It was just his luck, Kevin had thought with no small amount of exasperation, that the only time they’d stop pretending they weren’t similar would be to make his life more difficult.
I really don’t care, Aaron had said.
Just tell him, Neil had said, shrugging again.
Neither of these were helpful responses. Kevin told them so; predictably, they just rolled their eyes at him.
The point is, Kevin Day is not very good at lying to people who know him. He’s excellent at putting on his superstar façade—at least when not faced with a Moriyama, but even Neil tends to give him a pass on that front—but when it comes to actually lying, his instincts aren’t… great.
“I fell,” he says lamely. Nikki looks even more nonplussed than before, but the coaches look suspicious. Which. Great. Predictable! But. God.
Before any of them can say anything, Neil barges into the locker room. Kevin can already feel a headache forming.
To make matters worse, he’s not alone. Andrew trails behind him, his slightly-raised eyebrow the only hint that he’s not entirely bored, and with him—Kevin swallows—is Aaron, looking resigned. And—Kevin winces internally—somewhat bruised. He meets Kevin’s eyes, cheeks flushing slightly.
What Kevin can see of them, anyway. You know. What with the bruised cheekbone.
God. There’s definitely no higher power. Or if there is, it’s one that specifically enjoys the torment of Kevin Day.
“Why aren’t you on the gameday squad?” Neil asks, ignoring Kevin’s captain in the corner saying, uh, security breach?
Andrew, turning from where he’s shooting Lorimer a cool look, immediately raises his eyebrow again when he sets his eyes on Kevin. “Did you walk into the world’s tallest supply of sandpaper?” he wants to know. “Why are your wrists like that?”
-
Kevin’s top three things to do in bed with Aaron are—
Actually, scratch that. His three favourite things to do in bed with Aaron might not even involve getting undressed. Anyway, they’re not technically in bed right now. So.
Kevin’s top three things to do when hooking up with Aaron are going down on him, edging him, and kissing him.
(Okay, the third isn’t as much in the spirit of the genre as the other two, but Kevin can’t help it. He likes kissing Aaron. He cricks his neck half the time he does it, and Aaron point-blank refuses to do it in the mornings before they brush their teeth, but Kevin likes it anyway. He likes when Aaron smiles against his lips, and the little hitches in his breath when Kevin tilts his head just so, and the way his grip tightened on Kevin’s bicep the first time Kevin licked inside his mouth.
And Aaron’s good at it. Kevin thinks he’s probably a better kisser than Kevin, but Kevin’s a national champion who dragged himself back to the court out of sheer determination and spite; he’s dedicated himself to learning what Aaron likes, to making it as good for Aaron as it is for him. From the way Aaron sighs into their kisses sometimes, warm and soft and fucking fond, Kevin thinks it is. Kevin hopes it is.)
As a general rule, Kevin doesn’t really care what his apartment looks like. So when his team manager found an apartment that met his requirements—two bedrooms, spacious living room, large fridge with a good vegetable drawer system, nice shower, close to the stadium, an assigned parking space—he snapped it up and never looked back. Allison made him buy matching living room furniture, muttering the entire time about useless boys; Andrew told him that the carpeted statement wall in the lounge was stupid, which was as close to an approval as Kevin had anticipated; Nicky called Andrew a hater, which was equally expected; and Neil informed him that his apartment had too many windows but the building security system ‘wasn’t bad’ and ‘it would take Andrew at least five minutes longer than usual to break in’ while Kevin tried to ignore Renee quietly telling Andrew that wasn’t a challenge behind them.
Jeremy had a plant delivered as a housewarming gift. It’s nice that Kevin has at least one friend fluent in etiquette.
Unfortunately, while Andrew’s etiquette could use some work, he’s probably correct about the carpeted wall.
Kevin comes to this conclusion while he’s got Aaron pressed up against it, naked from the waist down, Aaron’s own teeth holding the hem of his shirt in place, half to give Kevin easy access and half because Aaron is convinced that everyone can hear him through the walls, no matter how many times Kevin points at the term SOUND-PROOFED in his lease.
He’s making good on his promise to make it worth Aaron’s while by going down on him. Aaron’s legs are hooked over Kevin’s shoulders, and part of Kevin is thinking about how it’s a shame that Aaron doesn’t play Exy anymore, because the way his legs are shaking but refusing to release would probably make for an excellent conditioning exercise. Aaron’s got one hand in Kevin’s hair and the other splayed out against the wall, scrabbling for purchase. Kevin told him to just lean on the shelf, to which Aaron had given him a scathing look, saying, “Just because you can lift me like a ragdoll doesn’t mean I don’t weigh anything,” and then the debate had paused because Kevin had started thinking about how much he liked being able to pick up Aaron, and had gotten distracted by the urge to kiss him. So he did.
Still, Aaron’s up against the wall, writhing around because of Kevin’s mouth on him, and Kevin’s cursing out the interior designer for his apartment, because Andrew was right.
Aaron’s shirt is protecting most of his back, but Kevin’s got his hands over his ass -- which, to be fair, is mostly because he’s bracketed his arms against the wall to keep holding Aaron up, but also because it only took a few of Aaron’s more enthusiastic reactions for the risk of his ass being rubbed raw to become immediately clear.
Kevin hadn’t even thought about it, just automatically shifted his hands to act as a barrier between the carpet and Aaron’s bare skin. He can kind of feel it in his wrists, the rub of the friction, but he’s distracted by the wet heat of Aaron against his mouth, the warmth of Aaron’s thighs around his head, the muffled moans Aaron is letting out above him.
Nicky once told him that his single-minded determination was freaky as hell. Kevin’s pretty sure he meant it as a compliment, or at least, not an insult; still, he suspects Nicky didn’t expect said focus to be applied to this situation. It’s true, though. Kevin is determined. And he’s determined to make Aaron come.
-
“And why is your face doing that,” Andrew says flatly. From anyone else, it would be a question. When Andrew says it, it sounds like a death knell.
Unfortunately for Kevin, everybody he’s ever known has always listened whenever Andrew speaks. (Well. Neil chooses not to listen when he says Andrew is being a drama queen, and Aaron sometimes pretends he doesn’t, but they’re probably the only two people in the world more attentive to Andrew than Kevin himself. Maybe Renee. Betsy and Wymack can battle it out to round out the top five.) This means that everyone immediately looks at him again.
“Are you having trouble speaking?” Handler asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the way Kevin is rubbing his jaw.
Actually. He is. He hadn’t really been thinking about it, though, given how completely mortifying the last fifteen minutes has been.
“Please don’t tell me he dislocated his fucking jaw,” Annals mutters.
Aaron’s the first one to move. He slips out from behind his brother—Neil automatically shifting out of his way—and strides over to Kevin, reaching for his face.
It’s an impatient move, quick and terse, but he still telegraphs it, making sure to put his hand in Kevin’s line of direct sight, even though it would be more efficient to come around the side. It makes something in Kevin ache, that part of him that never used to look at Aaron until that day when Abby raised her hand to reach for a roll of bandages above their heads and Kevin had felt Aaron flinch beside him. A barely-there thing, one he’s not sure Abby even noticed, despite how observant she is; but barely-there is still there, and Kevin had noticed. Kevin had felt it, had seen it. Had understood it.
(That’s not why he likes Aaron. That’s not even why he kept looking. It was just the first time Kevin had really seen him; the first time Kevin had been pulled out far enough from his own all-consuming fears to think about the fact that being Andrew’s twin wouldn’t be enough to qualify him for the Foxes, that drug addict was more likely a symptom than a cause.
So it was the first time he really looked, really saw Aaron. And he’s just never quite figured out how to stop looking.
Luckily, these days, he doesn’t think Aaron really minds.)
Aaron’s hand is still moving towards his face, close enough that Kevin can feel his skin prickling at the proximity of such a known touch. He tilts his head, angling it so that Aaron can examine it more easily.
He feels Aaron’s smile more than he sees it – quick, fierce and gone sooner than Kevin would like, expression already changing as he focuses on Kevin’s jaw. But that’s Aaron for you – he’s got as much sheer determination as Kevin does, just in a different direction.
Kevin tries not to wince at Aaron’s touch, but he does. It’s not as bad as he’d braced himself for—Aaron’s fingers are always cold, and it helps, a little—but it’s enough that Aaron immediately frowns, gaze skittering towards his eyes in concern before flicking back to his jaw, running his hand gently across it.
“Are you—” Aaron begins, before cutting himself off as he steps back, brow furrowed. “Uh,” he says, turning towards Nikki, then pausing. Kevin suspects he’s trying to remember whether anyone’s actually introduced them, or if he’s only heard her name from Kevin’s complaints. It makes something in Kevin’s chest ache. He’s benched for one of his favourite fixtures of the season, he’s running out of answers to give his team management and two of his closest friends that don’t expose his sex life and its embarrassing consequences, and his face hurts like fuck, and here’s Aaron, trying to figure out the best way to address someone without inadvertently throwing Kevin under the bus. He wants to laugh, but he’s pretty sure that would be a bad idea with how his jaw is feeling.
“Could you check his jaw?” Aaron asks. “I think…”
Andrew narrows his eyes at that, but Nikki nods, moving forward to examine Kevin. She doesn’t telegraph her movements the way Aaron did, but she’s efficient and thoughtful, making humming noises as she goes.
“Yeah,” she says, turning to Aaron. “Contusion at the very least, but…”
Aaron pulls a face. “Might have pulled something,” he says, nodding.
“What,” Andrew says.
“Really?” Neil asks. He sounds curious, and when Kevin glances at him, he’s trying to peer at Kevin over Aaron’s head. Kevin scowls at him for good measure. Neil meets his eyes thoughtfully, then immediately rummages for his phone. Kevin watches him with mild alarm—what is he doing?—before he’s distracted by Andrew coming in close.
“Explain,” he says.
“I don’t think it’s dislocated,” Nikki says. “Or at least, he should be able to tell from the pain.”
“Normally I’d agree, but this is the ultimate comeback kid,” Flox points out. “His medical history kind of speaks for itself.”
Kevin wants to huff. He’s not Neil. Other than his hand, his hurts from Evermore have always fallen in the realm of explicable and non-serious. His pain tolerance is not that skewed, c’mon.
“You are overestimating his pain tolerance,” Andrew informs them all. Predictably, Neil and Aaron don’t even bat an eye, but Lorimer—who should really be warming up for the game, now that it’s clear Kevin’s not going to play; actually, Neil and Andrew should be too—shoots Handler a mildly concerned look. Handler just pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head.
To be fair to his captain, Kevin thinks it would probably come across as a less alarming sentiment if it were expressed by anyone other than Andrew.
“I don’t think it’s dislocated, but if it is, it’s only slightly out of position,” Aaron says. “Otherwise it would be more obvious, even accounting for the swelling distortion.”
“Which is funny, because Allison says you definitely didn’t look like that when she called you at lunch,” Neil says quietly, slipping his phone back into his pocket as he moves to Kevin’s side. His voice is pitched low enough that Kevin doesn’t think anyone else can hear; not even Andrew, who’s closest to them.
“If only you were as comfortable with texting back at Palmetto,” Kevin grumbles. Or tries to. It’s recognisable, but his tongue feels too thick in his mouth, or his mouth feels too small for the words, or --
Or maybe his jaw is throbbing.
-
This is when it happens:
Aaron’s breathing gets heavier, faster, and his thighs are trembling. He’s close.
Kevin hums against him, laying his tongue flat and swiping up. His cheeks are slippery, slick and sticky enough that Aaron’s thighs would be sliding off his shoulders if they weren’t clenched so tight around him, but Kevin likes the mess. Likes that Aaron wants him.
The position isn’t ideal, given the lack of free hands when he’d like to finger-fuck Aaron right now, but he’ll make do. He’s Kevin Day. He doesn’t give up. So he readjusts his grip on Aaron, bouncing him up a little further, and latches his lips onto Aaron’s clit to suck.
He sucks—lightly grazes his teeth—flicks his tongue, one, two, three—rinse, repeat—hums—
Aaron shudders, throwing his head back. It collides with the wall with a thud and a low curse, but Kevin can’t even try to divert his attention there, because Aaron is coming, his thighs clenching tight around Kevin’s head, so tight that he thinks he hears his ears pop. The satisfaction burns hot in his gut—he did that, he brought Aaron to that brink, he drew those heaving breaths from Aaron’s lungs—but the force of Aaron’s orgasm—of his thighs; Kevin so wishes he were still training for Exy—catches him off guard, and he staggers backwards.
That sends Aaron careening wildly to the left, one arm trying its hardest to clutch onto Kevin’s head, the other sweeping around for purchase and accidentally hitting the shelf, knocking some decorative pieces off. At the same time, Kevin is trying desperately to regain his grasp on Aaron, but he forgets about the rug on the floor -- more specifically, the fact that it’s snagged on part of his floorboards, which caused him to stumble and almost send him and Aaron headfirst into his dining table when they’d first arrived into his apartment.
If pressed, Kevin couldn’t describe the chain of events. He just knows that one second, they’re both mostly upright—if unbalanced—and so is the furniture in their immediate vicinity; the next second, they’re both on the floor, Kevin having twisted to get himself underneath Aaron to cushion his fall, his shoulder banging into Aaron’s face.
Aaron groans, and Kevin tries to make his heart calm down.
“Jesus,” Aaron says, rubbing gingerly at his cheek as he glances worriedly at Kevin. “Fuck. Are you okay?”
That’s about when Kevin realises that his face feels sticky. He lifts a hand to his cheek, and winces. It stings.
He looks at his hand, and blinks. Oh. Slick. That would explain the stickiness. A bit of it has trickled down to the back of his hands from where he swiped it off his face; they look red, a little raw, which explains the stinging.
“Yeah,” he says belatedly. “I mean, fuck, my back’s a bit sore, but—” He rubs at his face, wincing again. It hurts a bit, but he figures that’s because he just, you know, collided with the floor whilst carrying (ish) another adult. “Is your face okay?”
Aaron makes a funny noise. “Yeah—I mean, it’ll bruise, but that’s fine. Is your back going to be okay for tonight?”
Kevin isn’t sure, but he figures it might feel better after a hot shower. Which, speaking of—
“Fuck, it’s 5:30,” he says, looking around wildly. “I’ve gotta—”
“Kev!” Aaron interrupts, removing himself from their entanglement to drag himself next to Kevin. “You’ve gotta clean your face first,” he reminds him, cupping one side of his face. It’s such an easy gesture, fond as anything. It makes everything in Kevin ache, even the parts of him that didn’t just bash themselves against his floorboards.
“Oh, right,” Kevin says, dragging himself upright into standing position. Fuck. He doesn’t want to go. But he’s going to be late, and so will Aaron if he’s meeting Andrew and Neil at the stadium before the game, and he has to get clean, and he --
He doesn’t want to go.
He’s got to, though.
But first --
“Hey,” he says, smirking a little. It kind of hurts to do, but Kevin doesn’t care. He’s feeling smug enough that it outweighs any discomfort.
Aaron looks wary. “Yeah?” he asks.
“Bet that was the first orgasm so good it literally knocked you on your ass,” Kevin says proudly. Honestly, aches and all? Totally worth it. He’s going to replay the sound of Aaron’s shuddering breath every night he’s got an away game this month.
Aaron goes red, then scowls at him, pointing to the door. “Oh my god. Go,” he says. “Get out before I murder you.”
Kevin laughs, swooping down to brush a kiss over Aaron’s forehead. Aaron grumbles, but he snags Kevin’s shirt collar before he can pull back fully, and drags him into a proper kiss.
“Now go,” he says, releasing him. He snatches up a shelf-runner that fell to the floor during the collision and throws it at Kevin. “Here. And no earthquake jokes!” he yells after him.
Well. There goes Kevin’s brag about it being earth-shattering. That’s fine, he thinks to himself as he heads out the door, chuckling as he wipes at his face. He’ll say it later.
That’s one thing Kevin’s learned to believe in. There’s always a next time with them.
-
“I saw everyone I wanted to talk to every day anyway,” Neil says with a shrug. “Allison only made me get better at it when she graduated.”
Before Kevin can answer, he hears Nikki say to Aaron, “I still don’t see how he did it. Like, what kind of fall gives you carpet burn on the back of your wrists?”
Neil immediately snaps his gaze back to Kevin’s face, disbelief written all over it.
Andrew is no better. “He fell,” he says. It somehow sounds even less convincing when Andrew says it, Kevin thinks glumly.
Yeah, okay. Kevin could barely pull off a lie to his team management. There’s no way in hell he can lie to any of the Foxes.
“I mean, we did,” Kevin says, then winces. He’s starting to figure out the extent of usable movement for his jaw; unfortunately, he said that quickly enough that he thinks he found the limit.
Andrew’s gaze sharpens. “We did?”
Immediately, Kevin realises his mistake. “I—”
“What, like a fight?” Flox asks, looking at Kevin incredulously. Kevin is actually a little offended. Obviously, he was not fighting, and wouldn’t risk that on a game day, but still. He can hold his own in a normal fight. It was just Riko he wanted protection from, and that was less about Riko’s physical power than his psychological one.
Surprisingly enough, it’s Lorimer—who Kevin still thinks should be warming up instead of contributing to this trainwreck of a conversation—who figures it out. “What, like that’s the only thing he’d be doing with someone else?” he scoffs, folding his arms across his chest. “C’mon. He was probably pent up, if you catch my drift. Like, you’ve met him, right?” He glances at Kevin. “No offence.”
Kevin thinks he should probably be offended, but he’s too busy rewinding the events that led to this moment, trying to pinpoint what he did that led to the universe deciding he deserved this.
Annals catches on first, and snorts. Handler doesn’t even look surprised. Kevin cannot—absolutely cannot—look at Aaron right now, or he will simply combust.
He sighs. “Yes,” he says. “It was -- we were—” He huffs, then says, “It was during sex. Things went… awry.”
It’s quiet for a beat.
“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone,” Neil says. There’s something thoughtful in his tone, and it takes all of Kevin’s willpower not to immediately glance at Aaron. Instead, Kevin lifts his head slowly, scanning over all his friends’ faces with a deliberate casualness.
As soon as his gaze crosses over Aaron, though, he realises he has no idea what to say. They haven’t – talked about it. Not really.
(Two hours ago, Aaron was teasing him about being in a rush, and Kevin’s focus had been on how flustered he was in the moment. Now, all he can think about is Aaron’s first comment. Romantic, Aaron says dryly, shaking his head. Romantic, romantic, romantic.
Kevin wants. Kevin aches.)
-
One time, when Kevin was little, his mother showed him around her old flatmate’s garden. He doesn’t know how old he was—he thinks about four, maybe five—but he remembers her pointing out a rosebush, the various buds in different stages of unfurling.
He doesn’t remember her friend’s name, only the way she’d snorted when Kevin had asked Kayleigh why they didn’t have a garden.
“Shut up,” his mother had said to her, laughing, then kissed his cheek. “Plants and I don’t get along,” she’d told him. “But I like to look at them.”
“Even the ones with thorns?”
“Especially those,” she’d said, like a secret. “It’s like Exy—the harder you fight for the victory, the better it tastes. The ones with thorns are the prettiest. And—” Here, she’d lifted him up, pressing her face in close to his. “They’re like you.”
He’d been offended at that, he thinks. “What? How?”
With her free hand, she’d poked at his teeth. “Their thorns remind me of my little vampire,” she’d said, laughing as he giggled. Her friend had smiled at them, then asked Kevin which of the buds was his favourite, clipping it for him when he chose.
He doesn’t know how accurate this memory is. It’s hard—he was so young, and there’s nobody he can ask. But every little piece of his mother he’s ever been allowed to keep, he’s clung to so tightly that there’s no tearing it from him. After he and Jean found her letter to the Master and he’d nicked it, he’d spent countless hidden moments tracing over her handwriting with his finger, memorising every curve of her pen like it was her smile.
It’s kind of funny, the things that stick in your head.
It was inevitable that Aaron and Kevin would gravitate towards each other when they ended up in the same city again. Neither of them had ever been very good at keeping real friends—Kevin maintains that Aaron’s best friend being his ex-girlfriend only proves his point—outside the Foxes, and it was easy to fall back into rhythm with each other.
It’s not that Kevin was lonely. He had Exy, and everyone left who mattered had always only been a phone call away. He probably talks to Allison more now that neither are at PSU than either of them did as Foxes. At some point, she decided they were people who FaceTimed together, and Kevin fell into it. It’s kind of nice, anyway. Not their conversations—Allison’s just as blunt and unflinching as she was back at Palmetto, and like Aaron said all those years ago, it’s not as if Kevin’s ever been shy with his opinion—but the fact of them at all. They’re something he relies on now, a known quantity in his scenery.
And it’s not just Allison. Jeremy texts him constantly, Nicky is always sending him posts on Instagram, and he sees Dan and Matt semi-regularly between Matt’s games and Dan’s loyalty to Wymack. Even Neil texts him at times, and whenever Kevin calls, he knows Andrew will pick up. Besides, he still sees them during the season as opponents—same with Matt, Jeremy and Jean. Renee chimes in on the Foxes group chat whenever she has signal from wherever in the world she is, and he makes sure to visit Wymack and Abby when he can.
So it’s not that he was lonely, but when Aaron moved for his residency and flicked Kevin an i’m fucking starving. what’s good around here. it can be vegan idc as long as it’s fast text, something familiar settled in Kevin’s stomach. A little like coming home.
The first night that Aaron invited Kevin back up to his apartment—a tiny thing with barely enough space for Kevin to stand up in, all paint-chipped walls and shitty insulation, but Kevin’s third-favourite place in the entire city due to the presence of its occupant—the air had been cold and the moon had been full. It felt a little like a memory even while it was still happening.
Kevin’s heart had been in his throat, rising up with hope and that specific brand of adrenaline that feels like you’re standing at the very edge of a cliff, but five minutes later, he’d buried his hands in Aaron’s hair and was pressing him up against his door, kissing him as intently as he could.
He’s not sure what he did. Kissed Aaron harder than expected, or tugged Aaron’s lip between his teeth, or just grazed his teeth against Aaron’s mouth, but Aaron had pulled back. His breathing had been ragged, and something in Kevin had swelled at that—and in his trousers, but that was less heady than whatever was blooming in his chest—and then --
Aaron had run his tongue over his lips—red red red, Kevin thinking I did that, me, with the kind of self-satisfaction he normally only felt on the court—and huffed a laugh. Vampire, he’d teased, and everything had felt caught in the amber-slowness of the moment.
(Their thorns remind me of my little vampire, his mother is saying, pressing her fingers to his mouth. The sun is shining, warm on his skin. There are buds blooming in the rosebush. Vampire, Aaron is saying, kiss-swollen lips quirked to the side. Moonlight is streaming through the window, the thin glass misting over from the night air outside. This feeling is rooting itself in Kevin’s chest.)
Kevin’s not good at plants. He’s done his best to keep Jeremy’s housewarming gift alive, and he’s been the diligent owner of a mini cactus since the day he graduated and Renee gave it to him when she returned to PSU to attend his and Matt’s ceremony. But he doesn’t particularly like them—he doesn’t find them relaxing, unlike Jean, and he doesn’t inherently enjoy being surrounded by them, like he thinks his mom did.
But he nurses a soft spot for buds mid-bloom, those things in the process of becoming their next self. He mentioned it once to Betsy, a year and a half after that first time he told her about that memory of his mother in her friend’s garden. She’d just looked at him, humming a little, before saying, “We’ve talked before about you being allowed to find out who you are outside of Exy and your mother’s legacy. But—” and here, she’d paused, leaning forward a little to look him in the eyes, before continuing, “—owning something because it belonged to your mother does not make it any less yours.”
Aaron is an unfurling thing, with thorns, but slowly showing his soft petals. It was happening back at Palmetto—slowly, slowly, but going, watered by Katelyn’s love and Nicky’s warmth and Andrew’s unwavering dedication—but Kevin thinks he’s in full bloom now, here in Chicago. With his shitty apartment, and exhausting residency, and favourite greasy hot dogs around the corner from the coffee shop Dan always beelines to when visiting.
Here in Chicago, with Kevin.
-
And all of a sudden, Kevin just wants to say it.
He wants to be done with this conversation, because he’s extremely bad at dancing around the point and lying to people who know him was a lost cause from the outset. He wants to be able to open memes from Nicky without catching strays (the Reductress headline reading Is it a 22-Night Stand or a Relationship? had him staring at his ceiling in disgruntlement for twenty minutes straight). He wants to kiss Aaron whenever he wants, because it’s one of his favourite things to do these days.
But he doesn’t know where Aaron’s at with all this, so he can’t say that.
But.
But.
But he can at least tell one truth. The kind that’s his to tell.
I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.
“I don’t know that I am, officially,” Kevin says to Neil. His eyes are still on Aaron. In the corner of his eye, he can see Andrew’s eyes narrow; can see him scanning his brother’s face, cataloguing his bruised cheekbone, and then the carpet burn on the backs of Kevin’s hands.
“But,” Kevin says, before pausing, swallowing, continuing, “I’d like to be.”
Andrew’s expression looks displeased, but Kevin thinks that’s less about the realisation of the who than it is the sheer sentiment Kevin is expressing. He doesn’t think Andrew and Neil would ever get married, but he’s pretty sure if they did, Andrew’s legitimate wedding vows would involve a percentage and a death threat. It doesn’t change the fact that Andrew’s love for Neil is one of the only things in life that Kevin knows how to rely on.
Aaron’s eyes are wide, but his lips are tugging up at the corners. He looks quietly, brutally pleased in a way Kevin hasn’t seen on him since he showed Kevin his shitty apartment the first time—the actual first time, when Kevin was just swinging by to bring Aaron some fresh vegetables because Aaron’s freezer died and ruined his meal plans, and even with that setback, Aaron had been so pleased. So proud. Like, yeah, maybe it’s a matchbox with shitty wiring and insulation, but it’s mine.
And here’s Aaron now, looking like that again. Looking at Kevin like that.
Kevin watches as Aaron tilts his head, nods at Andrew, then squares his shoulders.
“Andrew was right,” Aaron says. It’s casual, but it’s too casual. Kevin hears it immediately, and Andrew; he thinks maybe Neil does as well. “That carpeted wall is stupid.”
There’s a moment of complete silence. Then—
“Oh my god,” Annals says, looking between them in amusement. Nikki has her head in her hands, like she’s too mortified to look at them directly.
Flox sits down. “You’re a doctor,” he says despairingly to Aaron. “Like, an actual medical professional. I get this happening to Day, maybe, but you’re meant to be smarter than this.”
“Hey,” Kevin snaps, indignant, but Aaron shoots him a quelling look.
While Aaron is mollifying his defence coach—or maybe just defending himself, Kevin can’t be sure—Kevin feels a tap on his shoulder, and turns to see his head coach.
Handler just sighs. “Look, kid, I don’t care what you do,” he says, looking at Kevin. “But no more of this shit on game day, aight?”
Kevin flushes, nodding.
“We’ll talk about this after the game,” Andrew says, but Kevin thinks he sounds more exasperated than anything. Aaron pulls a face at his brother, who raises an eyebrow right back. Kevin looks at Neil; he’s watching the twins’ facial expressions with no attempt to conceal his delight.
“Seriously, none of this answers anything,” Lorimer says, exasperated. “Two people in this room are morons, sure, but that doesn’t explain how this happened.”
“I'm fine with that. I really don’t care how it happened,” Handler says, dragging his hand down his face. “All right, everyone playing tonight, whatever team you’re on, out. Go warm up. We don’t need more avoidable injuries.”
With some grumbling, everyone starts filing out. Kevin wants to grab Aaron’s hand, but Neil’s managed to drag him to his side.
“Yeah, actually, how did you not notice Kevin’s face?” Neil asks, cocking his head. “If it’s fucked enough now that you considered it being dislocated…”
Aaron—somehow—looks simultaneously sheepish and mutinous. “It was -- sticky, at the time,” he says. To his credit, he doesn’t shy away from saying it. Kevin chooses to focus on that positive, instead of that Neil now knows that Aaron’s slick was on Kevin’s face when they lost a fight with gravity and his apartment.
Andrew starts walking faster, away from the conversation, but Annals overhears and cackles, clearly having worked out the physics.
“Hold up, Minyard, you did that to his face with your thighs?” She whistles. “Damn, Day.”
“Do not call him that during this conversation,” Andrew orders over his shoulder, disappearing out to the court with a shake of his head. Neil shakes his head fondly, speeding up to follow him out. Everyone else follows suit—Lorimer clapping Kevin on the shoulder as he goes, in what Kevin suspects is an attempt at bro camaraderie—but Kevin paces himself a little slower once he catches up to Aaron.
Aaron gets the hint, and slows to stay at his side.
Kevin literally just told his entire team management, captain, Neil and both twins that he is not only sleeping with Aaron, but would like to be something more official. It should not be hard to take Aaron’s hand.
But he just keeps brushing their hands together.
With a huff, Aaron snatches his hand instead. Kevin’s heart swells.
“You’re so annoying,” Aaron grumbles. “If you want to hold my hand, just hold it. It doesn’t bite.”
“You do,” Kevin says, unable to resist.
Aaron scoffs. “Coming from you,” he says accusingly. “Fucking vampire.”
But there’s something so goddamn fond in his voice that Kevin can’t figure out how he’s waited this long, how he’s managed to get so used to biting back the moves he wasn’t sure he was allowed to want.
He stops still, then reaches out his hand towards Aaron’s face.
Aaron lets him.
Kevin leans down and kisses him, sweeter than usual. Because now he can. And it’s not that he couldn’t before, so much as he didn’t know if he could. But now he knows.
“You’re so sappy,” Aaron murmurs against his lips. He presses a quick peck against Kevin’s lips again before pulling back. “Hope it’s not contagious.”
“Oh, please,” Kevin says, scoffing. “I’m not the one who kissed someone in the middle of the court after a game once.”
Aaron quirks his lips up to the side. “You remember that, do you?” he teases. “Kinda sounds like you’re angling to give it a go.”
Kevin swallows. “Maybe I’m just angling to be able to kiss you whenever,” he says. It feels too honest, even to his own ears.
“Oh my god,” Aaron says, but his cheeks are burning. “Yeah, you’re definitely the sappy one here. Oh my god. No, stop, I can’t even look at you.”
That makes Kevin laugh, and he slings an arm around Aaron’s shoulders. “Wanna watch the game together? Seeing as I can’t play.”
Aaron snorts. “People are going to think we got into a fight,” he points out, but he doesn’t sound against it. “Especially if you’ve got an ice pack, which you should. Make sure to grab one from the subs bench.”
Kevin grins. “I always follow doctors’ orders. Anyway, let them think what they want,” he says, shrugging. “Besides. It’s probably better than the truth.”
The sound of Aaron’s dry chuckle rings through the hallway, and through Kevin’s chest.
-