Work Text:
| 2008 |
Kevin
Eden's is a routine Kevin will miss when he graduates.
That's not to say that there won't be clubs in his future—he knows for a fact that tons of pros take time after their games and in their weeks off to let loose, relax a little—but nothing can beat the easy familiarity of the club where Kevin learned to dance. The drinks are shitty and the dance floor is packed, but knowing he has people back at the table waiting for him is more comforting than he'd like to admit.
Aaron's presence at his side is comforting too. He never has to ask to be accompanied to the dance floor after his first (few) drinks; Aaron's just always there, ready and waiting to get lost in the throng of bodies and movement until either of them needs to refuel. After everything, Neil and Andrew have been too busy for him, their still, silent conversations too much to bear when the itch under Kevin's skin needs him to move. Beyond Kevin's inability to be alone, Aaron doesn't ask questions, doesn't push Kevin to explain why he downs drinks like water or try to hold him accountable for anything beyond being the smaller man's personal snowplow when he wants out of the crowd.
Offering their nights up to the gods of Eden's is a ritual that Andrew's group has always performed with reverence, introducing Kevin to their worship of oblivion the very weekend after Andrew and Kevin first shook on their deal. He didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't the flashing lights and easy nothingness the club provided. Kevin, weak (of both will and body) as he had been when he first flew the Nest, was grateful for the escape, and took to the routine as a fervent acolyte. Since that first night, Kevin found himself looking forward to the practice with more enthusiasm each week.
Kevin, Aaron, the dance floor.
Routine has always been essential to Kevin, and the club, the dancing, and the drinks are no exception. Years of repetition have ground this, the escape of the club and the lights and Aaron's steady, silent presence, into Kevin's marrow.
Kevin's first time at Eden's, Aaron was assigned to him like a babysitter by Andrew right before he disappeared for the night, slinking off somewhere to do whatever the fuck Andrew did before he had Neil to pretend to ignore all evening. It was insulting, but mollified the piece of him that protested going anywhere alone. Plus, it was a bonus that Aaron didn't really care about him. The freedom to dance without fear of Raven reprisal was heady, though he knew that no matter how far he flew he would still live in the shadow of Moriyama retribution. But for moment, there was only Kevin, Aaron, and the dance floor.
Kevin, Aaron, the dance floor.
This slice of freedom is one that Kevin can see fading away with graduation. He won't have his family to go out with when he graduates, and even with the Moriyama's protection all but guaranteed thanks to Neil's deal, the idea of going alone is daunting, but somehow freeing. It's always been easiest to self-destruct without anyone to stop him, without anyone to pull him back from the ledge.
Kevin, Aaron, the dance floor.
♛.♜
| 2012 |
Kevin
Kevin never knows what to do with himself after games. Without the Foxes to rally around, and with the DC Sentinels just…different than his Foxes, he finds himself alone in the locker room more often than not. No matter how many invites he gets, he's yet to be interested in any of them beyond what they can offer him on the court. It's not personal, but after four years with Andrew at his back and three swimming in captain Neil's wake, none of the Sentinels pack the same punch that the Foxes did. None of them feel as real as the Foxes did.
Despite the lack of company, Kevin finds himself more often than not at a club. The strobing lights and bone-rattling music offer a different kind of catharsis than the court, one bathed in anonymity and sweat-slick dancing in a sea of strangers. The familiarity of a strong drink and adrenaline-fueled oblivion under the lights is soothing, easy. Some small part of him pangs with guilt when he remembers Thea, but she's in Houston, half a world away and winning games of her own. He loves her, but she isn't here, and he needs this. He loves her, but he needs this.
(Kevin, a faceless stranger, the dance floor.)
It's been a month since they've seen each other, and it's as good as it's always been. Thea gets him in a way no one else but Jean can, and Jean is a bad idea for too many reasons for Kevin to even pretend to entertain. Thea's strength proves there is existence outside of the Nest, reminds him that there are ways to stop being a Raven and still survive. She's perfect, and he loves her.
Loving Thea doesn't stop him from throwing himself headfirst into the writhing mass of drunk revelers at whatever club catches his fancy that night, downing four drinks to smooth out his hesitancy and then losing himself in pressure and sweat and skin. No one here knows him—despite his relative fame in the exy world, the buzz about the Kevin Day has died down since college, since Neil's story became the number one search result that populates after searching "collegiate exy." Kevin doesn't mind.
It's the only reason he gets to do this, get too drunk and too close and too loose and too hot until the room is spinning and he doesn't remember his own name. Most of the time, the night ends with Kevin, sweaty and sated, heading to his apartment to shower off the night before heading to bed, exhausted and alone. He loves Thea, and finding someone discreet and appealing is far too much effort for the risk anyways.
That doesn't stop him from leaning in when hands start to brush too low, from grinding forward onto faceless strangers who want to own him for the night. Kevin knows he's beautiful—it just hasn't ever mattered, hasn't done anything for him that didn't hurt.
Tonight is no different, too many drinks making him too brave, and it's a simple thing to keep dancing when a warm pair of hands snake up his stomach, up his chest, smoothing firmly over his pecs until he can feel one slim hand caress his neck, the other grasping at his waist. Another faceless nobody to lose himself in, to push him further towards the truth he's spent decades building his exy career on:
Everything will be easier if he remains heterosexual. The thought is stronger every time he gets a glimpse of blond hair on the dance floor, muscle memory turning him towards whoever it turns out to be only for him to shake it off.
(It used to be Kevin, Aaron, the dance floor. It never will be again.)
The one night stands don't matter. They're fleeting, easy things that only give him a taste of what he can never let himself have. He's straight, in love with Thea, and will eventually marry her when the time is right in their respective careers. It's a good plan—a great plan, and the Raven part of Kevin will always be in love with the simplicity of it all. It doesn't matter that Thea rarely factors in during his lonely evenings out: she's doing what she has to do to further her own exy career, Kevin's perfect match.
Warm hands travel lower now as they dance, and Kevin's skin tingles in the path they leave. His shirt is unceremoniously untucked, and the bass of the music shakes the floor in cadence with his pounding heart. Exertion has always been an escape—whether exy or on the dance floor, the adrenaline and sweat are enough to get Kevin out of his head, and he reaches out to catch onto the person in front of him before they change their mind. Even though whatever he finds tonight is temporary, it's better than going back to his cold apartment, calling Thea on the phone for an hour or so before going to bed alone.
♛.♜
Aaron
Aaron doesn't get out often, and ends up in a club even less, but tonight he's glad he made it. There's not much to write home about regarding DC's nightlife—particularly when nothing will live up to easy nights at Eden's with the only people that really matter (and Neil)—but for once, something exciting is happening.
Kevin fucking Day is here.
Seeing Kevin around is common enough. DC had never been a huge city for exy, but it got more popular once the 'Queen of Exy' signed to their hometown team, so seeing Kevin's face plastered to metro stops and billboards had become more and more normal. What's also annoyingly normal is how often he's paired with Thea Muldani in the ads, exy's power couple dominating popular athletic-wear branding campaigns like it's their birthright.
Aaron gets a sour taste in his mouth if he thinks about her for too long, thinks about how Kevin barely spoke about her in college unless it was to defend the Ravens or their horrifically inhumane bullshit. He knows what its like to defend the only stability you've ever known, even when it's hurting you. Knows that the longer Kevin stays latched to Thea like she can keep his head on straight the harder it'll make it when reality finally blows the whole thing apart. Aaron might be paying a little too much attention to the Queen of Exy.
Katelyn had said something like that to him his first year of med school. He'd lingered too long on a stupid YouTube ad with Kevin's face on it, scoffed one too many times at one of his fake-ass interviews, let his face tend too close to nostalgic when he recognized the way Kevin's smile strained during interviews, that look on his face that said he wanted to bite back but had to stay polite. She'd turned to him with a look he'd never seen before, one that was as sad as it was wistful, and asked him how long he'd been in love with Kevin Day.
It didn't take long for him to realize she was right.
Denial was a habit he thought he'd given up after Andrew chose Neil over their deal—it was hard to pretend like the things he saw and felt weren't real when the evidence of their reality was staring him in the face—but somehow his own feelings towards Kevin had stayed hidden, even to him. Aaron didn't know when it had started, but if he had to guess it was probably pretty early on, something in Aaron resonating with a boy who gave up everything just for the chance to be accepted, to be loved.
It was batshit, it was stupid, but Aaron wasn't in the business of pretending anymore.
So if Andrew could fall in love, could give up one of his precious deals for the sake of the one man on the planet who would choose him back, anything was possible. Fuck, he was in love with Kevin Day.
Katelyn hadn't been mad, thankfully, but that didn't stop him from feeling like a rotten piece of shit about it anyway.
Aaron was sure that he wasn't the first man to be dumped for Kevin Day, but it did leave him with a lot to figure out. Leave it to Kevin to still give him grief without even talking to him. Seeing him with Thea after he realized—after Katelyn made him realize—how he felt was torture, and even more torture in that he could see the struggle on Kevin's face, even if the motherfucker probably didn't even know he was feeling it. Aaron would have had to be blind to miss out on the way Kevin's face relaxed around Andrew and Neil, how he could go from tense to calm in a moment as long as they were there backing him up. The calm he saw then was blatantly absent when the looked at Thea, when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders for the press.
Whether Kevin knew it or not, Thea couldn't be what he needed. He was certain Kevin was oblivious, and certain that his own dumb fucking crush wasn't going anywhere, even once Kevin's trade to the DC Sentinels was announced. They didn't really even talk anymore, much less connect on any sort of personal level. Kevin was busy, Aaron was busy, and the dance floor was light years away. Being in the same city again didn't mean anything, and Aaron had been left alone yet again wanting something he could never have.
Somehow, Aaron still hasn't stopped feeling a jolt of longing at his stupidly handsome face despite it all. It stems from the part of him he ignores, the part of him that still aches for Katelyn, the part not worth thinking about. It's been years since school—nearing half a decade—so there's no point in humoring the what ifs. At least, there hasn't been, not until Kevin is less than four bodies away from him on the crowded dance floor and getting felt up by someone who Aaron doesn't know. Someone he suspects Kevin doesn't either based on the way Kevin refuses to meet her eyes, instead sliding his hands down to her waist and pulling her close.
He's moving before he can even tell his body to do it—reaching for Kevin is more reflex than anything, at this point. His brother's relationship with the man had been a matter of public knowledge, and that had made hiding his own bullshit regarding the striker that much easier. Andrew had been taking up space in Aaron's life from the moment they met, a towering monolith to hide behind whether he meant to be or not. Andrew's problems had always taken precedence to Aaron's, and that was fine, it just meant that Andrew had won Kevin's undying loyalty, relegating Aaron to a background character in Andrew's story. Kevin had never had time to notice Aaron reaching for him, and that was fine.
Aaron watches his hand close around Kevin's wrist where it grasps woman in front of him with determination.
He can't think about what it does to his heart that Kevin barely registers the touch, doesn't think twice about another set of strange hands on his skin. The Kevin he knew loathed a strange touch, conditioned into a startle response that rivaled Andrew's after so many years being Riko's fucking punching bag. On the bad days Aaron can admit to himself that he knows the feeling. Kevin's wrist is slick to the touch, the sweat of the club is omnipresent, coating the two of them in a way all too familiar from the exy court. It's as easy as making a pass to slot his body to the front of Kevin's, stealing his attention from the stranger in one breath.
She leaves easily enough. She doesn't know what she's losing, but Aaron does.
For a blinding, beautiful moment, Kevin's hands grasp tightly to his waist. Time flashes back to those nights at Eden's, to the times that Aaron can admit now he watched Kevin dance, wondered what it would be like to dance with him, rather than just next to him. Body on body, the court and his classes and his brother far away. It would have been perfect. It would have fucked everything up. Andrew had almost killed Katelyn, and she'd been a stranger to him. Andrew would not have tolerated the betrayal from Kevin. But god, it would have been good to have this, then. There's an ache in his chest for his past self, for the envy he remembers eating him alive whenever he watched Kevin and Andrew together without knowing what it was.
He deserved some of that intensity, that devotion.
He still does, he thinks.
Aaron groans when the music deepens, encouraging Kevin's movements to slow into something filthy. He's clearly wasted—Aaron knows full well what wasted Kevin looks like—but that doesn't stop Aaron from leaning in. Green eyes slit open curiously at the sound, then flick down. Widen.
"Aaron? What the fuck are you—"
"Drink, Day? You've worked up quite a sweat getting your rocks off with strangers." Aaron can feel the judgemental look on his face, the one he knows he wears when he's trying desperately to hide how he wants something. Aaron's hands, now free, slide up Kevin's chest so he can pull himself flush with the man. He tugs and Kevin ducks his head easily, without resistance. So much time bowing to Riko and the move is still a habit all these years later.
Aaron hates it, but it's too fucking loud in here to talk any other way.
"Come grab a drink with me. Unless you have somewhere else to be?" Aaron flicks his eyes past him, towards the direction the handsy stranger disappeared. "Your…girlfriend wasn't too keen on sticking around, and I hope for your sake that you're not still pathetic enough to go chasing after someone who doesn't really want you." He's only partially talking about the nameless woman.
"Fuck you, Minyard." Kevin scoffs, "I don't owe you shit."
Aaron cocks his head, leaning back a bit to look Kevin in the eye. Brow furrowed, skin glistening with a sheen of sweat that does nothing to detract from Kevin's angular beauty. "You don't, but you have to miss it too. Dancing with someone who knows you has always been better than dancing alone."
Aaron's mind flashes back to easy nights at Eden's, so vivid he can taste the shitty vodka on the back of his tongue, and the way Kevin's eyes drop to lips for a moment tells Aaron he's remembering the same.
Kevin, Aaron, the dance floor. Kevin, Aaron, the dance floor.
Kevin's shoulders drop and he sighs. Leans in to respond, "Fine, lead the way, if you can get people to move for you." And a lot has stayed the same, but this much has changed. Kevin doesn't need to push through people, Aaron trailing in his wake anymore. Aaron takes the lead, finds them a seat.
It's a fucked-up mirror of how things used to be, how many times they knocked back one, two, three shots together before going back to the throng and losing themselves for the night. There was a sort of camaraderie to it, an understanding that both of them were looking for something they knew they'd never find. Aaron hopes, for some stupid fucking reason, that they can find that understanding again. For the night, at least.
Kevin's fucking beautiful.
He always has been, but his time in the pros has sharpened him even more than getting out of the Nest had. Gaunt doesn't begin to describe the Kevin Day that first dropped onto the Fox line—he'd filled out nicely thanks to Abby's hovering—but the Sentinels clearly have him working out more, eating more, and the flashing club lights only serve to highlight the defiant queen piece adoring his cheekbone.
They find a seat near the bar and there are drinks in front of them before Aaron can blink. Kevin tosses back two of the shots like water and Aaron does the same, forgetting that it's been a while since he's had the breath to eat, much less drink anything substantial. Med school is great, it's worth it to finally feel like he's working towards something that matters, but it's been killer on his health. No time for a workout, much less the rec exy that he still hangs onto when he can.
What feels like seconds later, Kevin's turning in his bar stool to regard him. His eyes are sharp despite the drinks, only slightly hazy. Green and sharp and beautiful, which is a thought Aaron has to keep to himself. Kevin has Thea, even though the Foxes all knew it'd been doomed from the beginning.
It was honestly kind of wild that they were still going.
Fuck them for still going.
"So how's," Kevin clears his throat, his eyes dancing to the side and back to Aaron's, "uh, how's med school?" It's clear that Kevin is reaching, that he doesn't know how to do the small talk with someone who's seen his soft underbelly in the way Aaron has. Aaron watches his glass empty in long swallows, eyes tracing the bob of his throat as he drinks. He licks his lips and tries not to think about tracing the line of it with his tongue.
Aaron doesn't answer. He can't, not when the words on the tip of his tongue are desperate and pathetic and horribly greedy. Kevin's eyes flit away, away, away, and the greedy thing in Aaron's throat bursts out anyway.
"Don't go with her. Come home with me instead." Instead of shame, energy rushes through him, something insistent that he not waste this random encounter on small talk and stupid bullshit. Not when he's seen Kevin at his lowest, not when he still hasn't seen him at his best.
Aaron hadn't meant to blurt the words out like that, hadn't mean to sound quite so desperate or quite so wanting, but it seems like Kevin hasn't noticed the way his voice trembled. Their knees are still touching where Kevin is seated, Aaron's left practically slotted between Kevin's own in a way that makes him dizzy if he scrutinizes too hard.
"Come home with you?" Kevin's voice is reedy, incredulous, like he can't believe what he's hearing, and fuck, even that's endearing. "Come home and do what, Aaron? It's been three years, don't you have something else to be doing?"
And if it were anyone else, Aaron would be surprised, but Kevin has always had a hard time believing anyone really wants him. The music is still loud as hell, and Aaron has to lean in close, tipping his head almost all the way down to speak in Kevin's ear at a volume approaching normal.
"What the hell do you think, Day? What do normal people do with men they bring home from the club?" Aaron's surprised at the hunger in it, surprised at how much he wants Kevin to come home with him. He's not stupid, he's aware of Thea (fuck is he aware of Thea), but he's selfish enough not to care about whatever he might be ruining. Kevin's a big boy—he can make his own choices. To make the invitation clearer, Aaron lifts one hand to Kevin's sweat-damp hair, slides it down the side of his neck until he can cup his chin. Adds pressure, just enough to tip Kevin's gaze to his. Turns his head so his lips brush Kevin's throat. "Come home with me."
"I—"
"I'll have you home before midnight, promise. Cinderella can't miss her game next week, and if you're at all like you were in school, you've got a routine. Don't worry, princess, I won't disrupt your perfect life. Just have some fun with me, tonight." Bitterness leaks into his voice by the end of the invitation, but it's not like Kevin's got the ability to notice. If the quiver in his throat is enough of an indication, Kevin is, at the very least, interested in what he's offering. It's no pain on Aaron's part to convince him that Aaron's what he wants. Who he wants.
For how many times he's imagined it in the year or so since his revelation regarding the Queen of Exy, it's practically muscle memory for Aaron to close the gap between Kevin's skin and his mouth, tongue flicking forward to taste the sweat there. It conjures memories of tense locker rooms and adrenaline-fueled celebration, of the feeling of rightness that came from a good match gone the Foxes' way. Kevin gasps something out that's lost to the noise of the club, but the way his hands come up to clutch at Aaron's shoulder and hair are unmistakable.
Aaron pulls back, just a touch, making eye contact with Kevin again. The other man's eyes are half-lidded, pupils wide and cheeks red. The med student in Aaron knows it's at least partially the drinks, the exertion of dancing, but the man in him revels in the thought that it's a reaction to him, his closeness, the offer. "Come on, Day. Live a little. Don't pretend you haven't thought about it."
"Shit, Aaron, we can't—I mean, I'm not—"
"Why not? You were happy enough for a quick fuck when it was someone you didn't know, am I too much of a challenge for you?"
Kevin's eyes flash at that, and oh, there he is. This is the Kevin Day that learned exy with the wrong hand, the Kevin Day that chose the queen piece, the Kevin Day that took the worst team in D1 exy and made them champions.
"I'm not afraid of you, Minyard. I'm just not gay." Dark brows furrow above shining green eyes, and Aaron wonders if Kevin can feel the lie on his face. The denial Aaron can hear, plain as anything with the way it echoes in his own voice in his head.
If he weren't so hungry, so resolved not to miss this opportunity now that Kevin's practically landed in his lap, he would keep it to himself, but he can't help but push. Aaron may be the less threatening Minyard in the eyes of the general public, in the eyes of the courts, but he's still a Minyard. He can feel that same, slick smile steal across his face as he leans in again, murmurs against the thin skin of Kevin's neck—
"Prove it."
"How can I—that doesn't even make sense, Aaron. I'm dating Thea, she—"
"I fucking know about Thea, Kevin, trust me." Aaron scoffs, tightens his fingers on Kevin's jaw just so and can hear Kevin's breath catch thanks to his position at his throat. He presses a light kiss to the sensitive skin under his jaw. "She doesn't have to matter. She doesn't matter to me, at least. I said what I said. So you're not gay," he swallows around the tightness in his throat. "Have sex with me anyway."
For a moment, Kevin stills.
The thrum of his heart beats wildly under Aaron's lips almost loud enough to drown out the thumping bass that fills the club.
A thrill seeds in Aaron's gut when Kevin's chin dips, slightly at first and then with more conviction.
"Okay. Let's go."
They're up and out of their seats in a heartbeat, Kevin tossing some money on the table that he doesn't take the time to count as they leave. Kevin won't meet his eyes, but Aaron can't make himself care. He knows what he's getting into—knows Kevin's only doing this to feel something—and he tells himself it doesn't matter, if he can just have him this once. Get him out of his system. Everyone has a celebrity crush at some point, right?
The drive back to Aaron's flies by. Kevin is confident behind the wheel, but Aaron can see his fists clenched around the leather, holding tight to some emotion that Aaron can't name. The two of them are mostly quiet, a murmured direction here and there as Aaron navigates them towards his student apartment. Once the car is parked in the visitor parking, the trip up to the apartment is a blur of parking garage, elevator, hallway, door, fumbling with keys and the click of the lock behind them, and then everything is still. Quiet again.
Kevin looks around for a moment, assessing, and Aaron can't bear to watch this careful evaluation of his living space. He walks further into the living room, his keys clattering into their bowl on the way, then speaks. "So…how do you want to—mmph!"
For a man that isn't gay, Kevin kisses like a maniac.
It's a clash of tongues and teeth immediately—no warmup, no warning. Kevin kisses like he's hungry, like he's tasting something he never will again. Aaron makes a startled noise, and then presses up into the kiss with everything he has. He's not the only one getting a taste of something forbidden. Aaron has to strain upwards to reach Kevin's mouth, but its easier than it has any right to be. Kevin's lips are dry, and he still tastes like the last shot of vodka Aaron watched him do, and the thought flashes into Aaron's mind that Kevin probably tastes like vodka more often than not.
Shoving the striker against the wall is easy—Aaron can't think too much about why—and even with their height difference, it's good. Kevin's hair is soft and his scalp is sensitive—judging by the groaning shiver that rips through him when Aaron winds his fingers through the short hair at his nape and tugs, he likes the pain, too.
Aaron's been imagining these sounds for longer than he even really knows, and getting to hear Kevin's involuntary whines while his hips grind forward into where Aaron has him pressed to the wall is better than anything he's felt in a long time. The Kevin that Aaron remembers was desperate for stability, always looking for someone to take the lead and take the burden, and it seems like that much, like most of it, has stayed the same. It's practically second nature for Aaron to commandeer the movements of their lips, a devouring, hungry dance that Kevin follows willingly. Little gasps puff against Aaron's mouth every time their lips part, and the wet slide of their tongues is enough to have Aaron achingly hard.
Kevin breaks the kiss, panting, and the look in his eyes is wild, like a cornered dog. He looks shaken in a way that Aaron's only seen a few times before, and his eyes flick between Aaron's own and eyes and lips. Kevin licks his lips, chest heaving. "Don't—say anything. Kiss me again."
Aaron is more than happy to oblige, but can't resist a tease. "Whore," he mutters into the soft curve of Kevin's mouth, and delights in the way that Kevin shudders against him, leaning more of his weight into the wall behind him like he can't bear to stand any longer. Aaron's never been one for whimpering, pathetic partners, but the potential of a weepy, fucked-out Kevin in his bed has him licking deeper into Kevin's mouth, pressing bruises into his hips where his hand grips tightly. It's heady, to reduce Kevin to this—there's a power that comes with being the one to dismantle the unflappable Kevin Day.
♛.♜
Kevin
Even though Aaron is short, kissing him is easy, kissing him is good. It's warm in a way kissing Thea never is, lips slick against his own and hands satisfyingly strong where they grip his hair and waist. It's so good that Kevin can ignore the bubbling in his chest, in his stomach, that screams that this is dangerous and wrong and going to get him killed. Aaron groans, pressing further up into Kevin's grip, and the place where his hands tug at Kevin's hair send shocks of pain tingling down his spine.
"Fuck, Day," he pants, "God, bed?"
Kevin's stomach drops. He can't, he can't, but he wants it more than anything. It's gonna cost him everything if it gets out, but Aaron's right in front of him with spit-slicked lips and a dazed grin on his face and he can't even consider saying no.
He nods before he can think too much about it, and then Aaron is ushering him towards a closed door that leads to a clean bedroom that Kevin doesn't have time to really examine because Aaron yanks him closer, the both of them falling into cool sheets that smell like Aaron. If he closes his eyes they could be back in Palmetto, falling into a dorm bed, but he opens them again and it's years later—still the same Aaron, though.
Aaron's body is small but dense, his weight across Kevin's thighs hot and heavy where he's pinned. Neither of them speak. Kevin doesn't think he could conjure words to save his life—his thoughts begin and end with the way Aaron's abs flex when he whips his shirt off and over his head. It's not like Kevin hasn't seen him shirtless before, but the context is everything. The echoing of their breaths, the slick taste of Aaron's tongue on his own, the fact that Kevin is allowed to touch—it's an intoxicating combination just as addictive as the booze. Aaron slots their lips back together and Kevin's hips twitch of their own accord. The movement slides Aaron forward just enough that he settles into Kevin's lap fully, and shit.
Kevin's head pitches forward to press against the space between Aaron's neck and shoulder and he whines, the weight and friction of Aaron's ass against his lap almost too much to bear. Despite a brief but heroic effort on his part, Aaron's smug grin is enough to tell him he hears the moan Kevin tries to trap behind his teeth. It's wrong, it's wrong, and the wrongness settles in his chest and stomach like a big meal eaten too quickly. Kevin is a greedy man.
"Eager, are we? Getting it up pretty quickly for someone that isn't gay, no?" Kevin tries to protest, scrabbling for an excuse, that it's been a while, but it's too little, too late. "Shh, it's okay, princess. I know you, I know how you dance. Let me take care of this." Aaron scoots back just a few inches, enough to glance down at where Kevin's erection presses against his slacks, and the flush on Kevin's face burns hotter at the way Aaron's lips part, just a touch, at the sight.
Those same lips twist into another smile before Aaron rolls his hips once. The friction lights Kevin up from the inside out, and he reflexively clutches Aaron's hips in his hands. "F-fuck, Aaron, you can't—"
"Can't what? If you want to stop here, you can go home." There's something strange in Aaron's voice, something defiant and challenging, but he rolls his hips again and Kevin stops caring. "Or are we good?"
Fingers dance up the column of Kevin's throat to his jaw, and Kevin can't help but fucking flinch, stupid fucking reflex, but it gives Aaron pause. "We good, Kevin?" The tone of his voice has shifted further away from the smug teasing and into that strangeness, that thing that Kevin can't name, and Kevin's heart bumps against his ribs for a second of silence, two. Just as the moment begins to suffocate, he finds the strength to reply.
"Good, Aaron. Just—just don't give me time to think about it too much." Aaron's eyes shutter, hiding away whatever thing was there for a moment, and that grin returns. Warm hands re-settle on Kevin's chin where they wrap loosely, tipping his head this way and that as darkened brown eyes survey him.
Aaron's other hand wanders down his still-clothed chest to the button of his slacks, popping it open and tugging the zipper down. Blonde brows shoot up when Kevin's cock springs free, and Aaron's eyes narrow with barely-restrained amusement.
"Really, baby? I know I said eager, but this…" Kevin's stomach drops, and he knows how it looks, he does, but it's really not like that, he just—the hookups he finds are supposed to be quick and really, the underwear just gets in the way, so it's easier to just—
None of that explanation comes out of his mouth. What comes out instead is somewhere between a moan and a yelp as Aaron wraps his hand around Kevin's dick and squeezes once, then starts a sliding rhythm that has Kevin seeing stars. Hand never stopping, Aaron leans back down to kiss Kevin again, and their lips catch over and over in time with Aaron's movements. It's not until Kevin's thighs start to quake for real and he gasps out, "Wait, Aaron, I'm—" that the other man lets up.
"Yeah? I hear you, Kev, hold on then." For the first time this evening, Aaron looks hesitant for a half second. "Do you…can I top you?" The words come out quickly, like he's afraid he won't be able to get them out if he doesn't say them all at once, and they hit Kevin squarely in the chest. Arousal crowds his brain-space with fog when he thinks about Aaron between his thighs and in him and he doesn't give himself a chance to second-guess it before he nods. He's never been one to do things halfway.
Plus, it's not like he'll ever get the chance to do this again. He's got a future to think about, one that involves brand deals and Thea and not attracting Ichirou's attention, and one that can't involve Aaron Minyard. He can't let himself be gay, but he can let himself have this, just this once.
A slick, smug grin tugs at the corners of Aaron's mouth at Kevin's nod, and he leans over to the side of the bed to rummage in a drawer Kevin can't see from his back. He returns with a bottle of lube and another scorching kiss for Kevin, tugging at his pants and shirt at the same time. Before Kevin can blink, he's bare and a lube-slick finger is prodding at him, circling his rim and then steadily pressing its way inside.
"God, Kevin, shit, you're tight," Aaron groans, breath puffing across Kevin's collarbone, "Gonna get you ready for me, promise it'll be good, I swear. Fuck you so good you'll forget she even exists." The latter part of his words trail off into a mutter, like they weren't meant for Kevin to hear, and something hot simmers in his chest. He can't stop himself from smoothing his own hands up Aaron's bare chest, grasping and groping at any part of Aaron that he can reach while Aaron pries him open, makes more space for himself inside of Kevin than he's already taking up. The fingers inside of him crook at just the right angle every so often, sending sparks down Kevin's spine, and he feels himself break out in a sheen of sweat as he flies higher and higher.
And Aaron's not even really doing anything yet.
Kevin can't think. His lips part, and he tries to say something, anything, to mask just how fucking good Aaron's fingers feel, but he can only gasp when Aaron flicks his eyes up from where they'd been glued to the stretch of Kevin's hole around them. The other man's eyes are dark, iris all but swallowed by the black of his pupil, and his pale face is flushed, hedonistic. Kevin feels devoured, trapped, and Aaron's still mostly dressed.
This is something he can fix. With trembling fingers that he painfully unclenches from the bedsheets, he fumbles at the button of Aaron's slacks until he has them undone enough to yank open, Aaron hissing in relief as the pressure on his dick lessens.
"Ah, baby, you're almost ready, let me do this right, Kev." Aaron gasps, but Kevin ignores his words. With Aaron between his legs, he doesn't get much of a look, but he can feel everything he needs to, and his head falls back.
"M'ready, Aaron, shit, I swear," He pants, head tipping back when Aaron teases a fourth finger at his rim, "Fuck, please, shit—ah, just do it. I'm ready, I'm ready."
"Whore," Aaron says in response, but his tone is gentler, more reverent. "You sure?"
"Mhmm, swear. I want it, I want you." Kevin's response seems to hit Aaron like a punch, and it's his turn to shudder, a tremor wracking his whole body. He leans back, eases his fingers out, and reaches for the lube again. He's not even going to— "Wait, Aaron, wait."
Aaron freezes immediately, eyes darting to Kevin's face with concern. "Everything okay, Kev?"
Face hot, Kevin trips over his tongue where it lay heavy in his mouth. He lets his eyes wander up and down Aaron's form once. There's an imbalance, here, Kevin's tan skin pressed against Aaron's grey slacks. Kevin on his back, Aaron hovering over. He feels flayed open like this, like Aaron can see inside his head and into his soul, like he can see how badly Kevin wants this, despite his earlier insistencies. His stomach twists when he considers the possibility that Aaron may think less of him for this. Grasping for balance, he gasps, "Want to see you. Take—take them off." He tugs at Aaron's pants by the beltloop as he speaks. He needs something, anything to feel like he's got some control over this encounter.
Aaron's concerned face softens, eyes shining in the lamplight. "Okay, princess, I hear you. Hold on." And then he's pushing away to stand, to peel out of his slacks and he returns to the bed naked. Hot skin skims against the backs of Kevin's thighs, Aaron pushing his knees to brace Kevin's legs open, and Kevin twitches when he feels the heat of Aaron's cock brush his hole. "Ready, baby?"
♛.♜
Aaron
This isn't real. Kevin isn't real, Aaron isn't real—this is a sick fucking dream that he's going to wake up from alone and sad and pathetic like the uncountable other delusions in which Aaron's had Kevin like this. It can't be real, not with the widening of Kevin's eyes and the gasping, punchy breath that leaves him as Aaron starts to push. Not with the high, keening whine that follows, winding around Aaron's ribs like a leash and yanking him deeper.
He feels his jaw drop, mouth gaping to pull air into lungs that refuse to inflate. "Fuck, Kevin, oh my god, shit."
Kevin nods frantically, big hands grasping at Aaron's hips to pull him deeper and hips tipping to help Aaron find just the right angle. "Aaron, I—ah, kiss me again, please, please, please, I need it, I—god, I need, I need—"
"Breathe, Kevi." Aaron shushes him. He can't tear his eyes away—Kevin is fucking gorgeous. The freckles scattered under his lower lashes glisten with a light sheen of sweat and his dark brows knit together with every thrust. Kevin's pleas continue, coating the walls of the room like condensation dripping down shower tiles. His lips keep moving, babbling, even when Aaron bends down to grant his request—the kiss is shockingly familiar, but twists at Aaron's heart. He knows he won't get to taste it again after tonight.
It's that thought that spurs him on, his thrusts quickening as he aims for Kevin's prostate. He shifts to yank Kevin's hips up to a better angle and air punches out of the man under him. Suddenly, Kevin is a vice around him, a strangling clench that makes it almost impossible to keep moving. "Jesus, Day, fuck. Feel so good, baby. Don't know how long I've wanted this."
He didn't mean to say that.
"Ha—hm?" Kevin pants, the sound escaping through gritted teeth, eyebrows gritted against the pleasure. "Wha—? Aaron, you—?"
Thankfully, Aaron is in a perfect position to distract him.
"Hush, Day." He thrusts hard, once, and Kevin's eyelids flutter. "Ah, there it is, sweetheart. Feel good?" The words are mocking, but his tone is gentle. He really does want to know if it feels good. Aaron's watched Kevin suffer through so much. If he can bring him just a little pleasure, just for one night, all those years of watching him with Thea in the tabloids will have been worth it. Kevin can't even gather himself enough to respond. Instead, his head bobs in a nod that doesn't stop, hair mussing against Aaron's sheets with every movement.
Aaron can't help but press his lips to every part of Kevin that he can reach—throat, chin, and shoulders all kissed with eager attention and followed by sharp bites that leave behind mottled red crescents in their wake. The bloom of red blends with the blush spreading across Kevin's chest, and when Aaron looks up to Kevin's face, his eyes are glassy and half-lidded. He can't help but push.
"Still straight, Day?" Aaron pants. His hips slap against Kevin's ass in a sound Aaron's going to remember for a long time, and Kevin groans. "S'okay, princess. You don't need to answer. I'll fuck it out of you eventually."
Kevin's mouth drops open like he's going to respond, like there's anything he can say that will hide the way his cock smacks against his stomach every time Aaron thrusts. Like he's going to deny the sounds coming out of his mouth, like saying the words will change the truth of it all. Aaron doesn't know if he can take hearing it right now, the insistence that this is nothing, a fluke, like Aaron could never be anything more than a desperate experiment.
Instead, Kevin surprises him.
"M'not," he pants, "m'not a princess. I'm the queen." And one of his legs leverages up and out, nudging Aaron's arm out of the way until Kevin can hook it over Aaron's shoulder, raising his hips to meet Aaron's every movement. The change in angle is devastating, and Kevin's words hit Aaron right in the chest.
Somehow, Kevin's confidence has snuck back in when Aaron wasn't looking, leaving him face to face with a Kevin that seems to remember who he is. Green eyes flash with defiance even as Kevin keens, his cock bobbing and slick precum dripping onto his stomach and into his happy trail. Helplessly, Aaron wraps a hand loosely around it, stroking in time with his thrusts and making Kevin's eyes widen. There's not enough friction there to get anything done, but it's enough to make Kevin bite his lower lip, moans leaking out no matter how he seems to want to muffle them.
One hand still anchored to Kevin's hips, Aaron lets the other tease at the head of Kevin's dick, slipping easily over the glans and down the shaft in a movement that has Kevin writhing. "Fuck, ah—I'm close, hah—"
And Aaron can see it in his eyes, wide and glassy with pleasure and almost shocked—like he can't quite believe what's happening. That disinterested, placid look that Kevin always wears for the press is nowhere to be seen; the Kevin under him now is vivid and warm and real in so many ways. Aaron aches with the thought that this Kevin will never exist again, doomed to be buried under the weight of The Perfect Life Plan Kevin seems so determined to ruin himself with.
"Give it to me, Kevi, c'mon baby." Aaron hears himself speak, but he can't feel anything other than the knot of tension at the base of his spine and the clenching pleasure of Kevin's body. He's all long legs and arms and hot skin, and it's like he's everywhere around Aaron, his smell and touch invading every part of Aaron's world.
He still doesn't tighten his grip around Kevin's cock, but aims every one of his thrusts right at the spot that makes Kevin's eyes glassy. "Bet you can come just like this, huh? Don't even need my hand on you, just need me to tell you how pretty you are when you take me so well. Laid out like a queen, all for me. No thoughts in that head, hm? God, you feel so fucking good. Can't believe I finally get to have you."
In one long, drawn-out shudder, Kevin comes. He clenches desperately around Aaron's cock in pulsing, grasping waves, and Aaron fucks him through it, the slide eased further with Kevin's come. Tightening his hand around Kevin's cock, he keeps stroking him until Kevin is writhing with overstimulation, Aaron chasing his own release that he can feel like a wave on the horizon. The tension finally breaks when a sob rips from Kevin's chest, one borne from a mix of dizzying pleasure and overwhelm. It's the look on Kevin's face that does it, eyebrows knit together in wonder and confusion, like he's seeing Aaron for the first time, like he's seeing Aaron in a way he has before but never thought he would again.
(Kevin, Aaron, the dance floor.)
He doesn't even stop to ask, to consider that Kevin might not want him to come inside, before his hips stutter and he groans deeply, orgasm ripping through him like a lightning strike. Kevin's big hands clutch him close, one wrapped around the back of his neck and pulling him into the cradle of his neck and shoulder while the other smooths over Aaron's ribs, the other man's panting breaths echoing loud in his ears, a pale imitation of the exertion of an exy court.
Aside from their breathing, everything is quiet. The sheets rustle when Kevin shifts his hips, but other than that, Kevin seems to be recovering. Aaron knows he is. His thighs are shaking from exertion, chest sticking to Kevin's where they press together. It's not until Kevin shifts again that Aaron leans back just enough to pull out, watching where he leaves Kevin's body. He has to stifle a groan at the sight of his cum starting to leak, glistening a slick white against Kevin's tan skin.
Wordlessly, he reaches for the shirt he discarded earlier, cleaning Kevin up as best he can in easy, gentle swipes. Kevin sighs, throwing an arm over his face like he can't bear to look Aaron in the eye, but Aaron doesn't pay it any mind. It was…more than he expected, so he can't fault Kevin for needing a second to pull himself together. After Kevin is mostly clean, Aaron collapses next to him in the bed, torn between kissing him again and wanting to ask how he's doing.
It's nice, for a moment, and it strikes Aaron that it's grossly domestic in the most familiar ways. This isn't the first time they've laid in the quiet together—far from it. Though the context is different, the atmosphere is the same. It's easy. Aaron knows what Kevin sounds like asleep versus just relaxed from days spent studying in the same dorm, from bus trips to matches, from years spent in each other's lives. When Kevin's breathing changes, quickening to the pace of a man that's come to a conclusion, Aaron knows the peace is going to be short-lived.
Kevin inhales, but Aaron twists up on his elbow, leans over Kevin for a moment to rest a reassuring hand on his chest. He waits to see if Kevin will look at him, but the man refuses to pull his arm away from where it's thrown over his eyes. "Don't leave. Just…stay here, for a while."
"I can't." Kevin's tone is cold, flat, but Aaron can hear the edge of panic on it, the filthy words he said to Kevin during sex finally catching up with him and registering. Of course not. Aaron's too much for him, too gay or too real, and he's gonna run away when things get scary. Typical Kevin, always looking for a chance to leave.
Aaron aches to pull Kevin in, to walk him through the same talk that Katelyn pressed with gentle kisses to his head when she dumped him. It would be so easy to fall to comfort, to reassurance, but Aaron also knows that Kevin responds to gentleness like a threat. Tenderness has never been a language the two of them shared; as much as Aaron aches for it now, it's just not meant to be.
Aaron grasps for something, anything, the right thing to say. "Kevin, it's fine. You're not any gayer for staying the night than you are for having sex with a man. It's too late now, so save yourself the drive and just chill."
Unsurprisingly, this doesn't work.
"Aaron, you don't, I'm not—I have to leave. This is—" And Aaron gets it—expected it, really—but that doesn't mean this little homosexual breakdown is something he's capable of dealing with right now. It's not like Kevin's the only one impacted by this, he just thought that maybe there was a chance that they could talk through it together. He tries, really, to keep his tone even.
"What, Kevin? It's not what?" He should have tried harder.
Kevin wrenches his shoulder away, throwing off the covers to yank his pants back on and pace by the side of the bed. He shoves his hands into his hair, and Aaron remembers acutely what that hair felt like between his own fingers. "It's a disaster, Aaron. I fucked up, I can't be gay. I have too much to lose if I lose these brand deals, the Moriyamas, you don't—"
"I don't what? I don't get it? Because no one could ever suffer as much as the great Kevin Day? No one else has ever had problems, or been scared, or had to do things they don't want to do? Fuck you, man. At least I'm not selling out for a game that can't love me back." And Kevin's head whips up, something nasty and mean flashing on his handsome face.
"No, you just spent the first two decades of your miserable life taking punches from a mother that couldn't."
It's becoming blindingly clear that in all but name, Kevin is still a Raven.
The words hit him right in the stomach. Aaron should have known better than to think Kevin coming home with him was progress—that it was anything more than classic Day self-destruction—but it's crushing nonetheless. Yet another time Aaron doesn't get picked. He imagines that next time he'll be more prepared for it.
For a moment, Aaron is silent. He doesn't know what his face looks like. He just stares at Kevin in the dim light of his bedroom and tries not to throw up. There isn't a hint of remorse on the other man's face, and it’s in this moment that Aaron gives up. He just can't, and he won't put himself on the chopping block again and again just for Kevin to decide he's not good enough.
Kevin never looked at him during school. Aaron doesn't know why he thought things would change when Kevin's the same spineless asshole he's always been.
"Go, then. Get the fuck out."
Kevin looks up, startled, and Aaron can see that the panic he was fighting earlier is winning. He's sure Kevin is spiraling, but it just isn't his fucking problem. He can't let it be. "What?"
"Leave, Day. You're right, you clearly can't handle whatever crisis this is causing, so run the fuck away and go home to your perfect girlfriend and perfect life and leave me alone. I won't text you again, and if we see each other out again, we're strangers. I get the message."
♛.♜
Kevin
"I—"
Kevin can't feel his hands. He knows they're in his hair, knows he's standing to the side of Aaron's bed where they just—he feels sick—just had sex, but he can't seem to figure out what Aaron means. He was leaving, he was, he has to, but then Aaron started talking and then they were fighting and now Aaron's looking at him like he's never seen him before.
Kevin's not sure how he got here, not sure how they went from Aaron looking at him in amazement and something deeper to the angry, hurt expression he's sporting now. Ice creeps up his spine, the sinking feeling telling him that he's fucked up, but it's too late to take any of it back, and it's not like Kevin's wrong. Ichirou doesn't care if he's gay, but the industry will. Kevin's seen it happen, heard whispers about promising players whose careers ended too early because they couldn't be discreet.
And even if he wanted to be selfish, wanted to throw everything away for a chance at this with Aaron—with anyone—he's not the only one who's wrapped up in this deal. Kevin doesn't know the particulars of the deal Neil worked out to save all their lives, but he won't risk the chance that the others get punished for Kevin's failure to hold up his end of it. Neil and Jean have taken too many hits in Kevin's name; he won't be responsible for any more.
"—oing to go, or what?" Aaron is talking again. Kevin doesn't know when he started. "Jesus, Day. I'm not asking for your hand in marriage," his voice gets quieter, loses some of its edge, "Just…either get the fuck out or don't. Decide, but don't pretend like this wasn't something for you. You still don't owe me shit, but you might owe yourself something."
And that's too much. The ringing in Kevin's ears is back, and he stumbles, silently, through the motions of dressing himself. Aaron is silent from the bed, and Kevin can't decide if that's better or worse. He doesn't follow him to the door, doesn't emerge from the bedroom when Kevin's hands shake, fumbling with the deadbolt. Silence follows Kevin as he leaves Aaron behind.
Ten minutes later, while Kevin's waiting for a cab, his phone pings with a text. His number hasn't changed since college.
Aaron, 1:05 AM
i hope shes the love of your life. i hope u find what ur looking for.
The night is cold, and Kevin is alone.
♛.♜
Aaron
Aaron hasn't heard from Kevin in six months.
He's seen him around, sure, on the TV and the news and the papers and YouTube and every fucking where, but he hasn't heard from him since that night. It's fine. He's moved on, at least as much as he can. His MS4 year has crawled by, but with his residency applications sent out and interviews on the calendar, all he can do is keep his head down and push through his last rotations. Thankfully, he's kept too busy with his ER and neuro rotations to think about Kevin much, but he can't help but look at his neurosurgery program interviews in the DC area with building trepidation.
He's silently on the phone with Andrew one day when he offhandedly mentions that he's looking to move away, maybe somewhere south again. Away from Kevin. Aaron can practically hear the eyeroll.
"You can't let that coward chase you away from an entire city. You may be pathetic, but you have more spine than that."
Aaron scoffs. "It's not about him, Andrew. There are excellent neuro programs all over the country, and if it happens to get me away from him, great. At least that way I don't have to look at his stupid fucking face every time he's in the news with her." He hears how he sounds. He's gotta redirect. "Maybe something in South Carolina, I know you miss me."
The phone line is silent for a few seconds, then, "Being your brother is a curse." And the line goes dead.
Aaron isn't offended, particularly not when Andrew sends him links for open Zillow listings of apartments close to the university the next day.
Things are okay. Things are fine.
♛.♜
| 2013 |
He matches with Johns Hopkins University's Neurosurgery program as a resident on March 15th, 2013. He calls Andrew, then Wymack. Matt texts him, and Renee and Allison call. He doesn't hear from Kevin.
He does, however, see him on TV the next day as he's mindlessly flipping through channels, stopping when he lands on some shitty news show that has Kevin's face plastered all over it.
"—for a while, yeah. Muldani was always too good for him anyways—"
Aaron ignores him in favor of the scrolling headline at the bottom of the screen:
"Exy Superstar Power Couple Split! Could This Be The Downfall Of The Queen Of Exy?"
His heart jumps in his chest as he focuses in on Kevin's face, noticing now the gauntness to his cheeks, the way his skin washes pale in a way that can't just be written off as paparazzi flashes. He looks tired, sallow, lifeless. Like he's missing something vital that used to sustain him. Bitterness coats Aaron's tongue like poison. Of course breaking up with Thea would crush him like this, his master plan to the perfect life shattered. Some small part of Aaron finds satisfaction in it, in seeing Kevin brought down to his level.
There's no real satisfaction in the feeling, though. Kevin's always deserved better than what he allowed himself, and Aaron knows that even if that better isn't him, it would be a waste for Kevin to throw his life away chasing mediocrity. The Kevin that Aaron met, that Aaron danced with for those short nights, wouldn't put up with anything less than the best. Aaron hopes that Kevin still exists.
Over the next couple of months, as he enters his new residency and all the horrors that that entails, Aaron keeps an eye on the news for mentions of Kevin.
There's the usual Sentinels news, off-season trades that don't include Kevin, but there are also frequent mentions of the striker in some less-than-savory productions. More than once, Aaron finds himself staring at Kevin on tabloid magazines in the grocery checkout lines, heralded by splashy headlines like "Kevin Day's Single Era Responsible For Off-Season Sentinels Blowup" and "Failure On And Off The Court: The End of the Queen's Reign."
The articles are idiotic, of course, but the pictures accompanying them tell Aaron everything he needs to know: Kevin's not doing well. Even months after his breakup with Thea, that famous Kevin Day resilience still hasn't shown its face. Every photo shows Kevin in a worse state, like each club he visits takes something from him, like he's chasing something he just can't catch.
There's no reason for Aaron to feel nauseous at the pallor of his skin, the way his eyes seem flat even in the flash of the camera's light. Kevin's life isn't Aaron's business. Kevin's words that night might have been out of line, but he'd had something of a point. Aaron is done wasting time on wanting people who don't want him back.
♛.♜
| 2014 |
The next time that Aaron sees Kevin again, he thinks he's hallucinating. He's at the same club from two years ago, nursing the same drink that Kevin kissed into his mouth at the apartment he still rents.
Kevin had made it clear that he was done with Aaron after ghosting him, didn't even bother with a text after he matched or any of the nights after. It stung, but it wasn't surprising. Aaron had learned a long time ago that he was never going to be the one that got picked, it just really sucked shit that he still couldn't help getting his hopes up once in a while.
But when Aaron looks up from his drink, his fourth of the night, it's like traveling back in time—the lights are just as strobing, the bass just as loud, but this time, Kevin's alone. At first, Aaron doesn't notice it, and it's only when the light flashes and illuminates Kevin's tattoo that Aaron realizes what's happening. Not only is Kevin alone, but he's pushing through the throng of bodies towards Aaron like he's on a mission. The look on his face is one that Aaron is used to seeing right before he scores a goal—focused, confident, deadly.
It's one that Aaron hasn't seen in two years. After two years without it, having Kevin's full attention on him makes his hair stand on end, and he freezes on the dance floor, heart pounding harder and harder as Kevin approaches.
By the time he reaches him, Aaron is flush with adrenaline. "Kevin, what the fuck are you—"
Kevin still kisses like a maniac.
One broad hand cups his chin, the other fisting the front of his shirt to drag Aaron up and against him. Aaron is frozen in disbelief, until Kevin makes a frustrated noise against his lips and pulls back, panting. His lips shine in the light, and his brows crease. For a blinding moment, they just stare at each other.
"We need to talk," Kevin says, and Aaron can't decide whether to hit him or kiss him again.
"You think? Fucking asshole. What the hell are you doing?"
"I—Aaron, I fucked up." Kevin is the most sincere Aaron's ever seen him, but he's also the most idiotic.
"No shit, idiot, but we can't fucking do this here. Jesus, it's like being the most famous name in exy doesn't mean anything to you. Come on." Aaron grabs Kevin by the front of his shirt, dragging him off the dance floor and into one of the corridors off the main room of the club. It says "employees only," but this is important. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"I've been looking for you," Kevin starts, but Aaron doesn't let him finish.
"You couldn't have sent a text? Like a normal person?"
Kevin stops whatever he was about to say, and pats his pocket like he forgot his phone even existed. "Oh. Um."
"Okay," Aaron pinches the bridge of his nose and tries not to smile, fondness creeping over him at the realization that Kevin is still his Kevin, blind to anything that doesn't serve his immediate goals. "You forgot about your phone. That still doesn't explain why you hunted me down and kissed me after not fucking talking to me for two years."
At this, Kevin does pull out his phone. He flips it open—its the same fucking flip phone, even though Kevin surely has the money to upgrade to something touchscreen—and shows Aaron the text he sent that night.
i hope shes the love of your life. i hope u find what ur looking for.
"She wasn't, Aaron. I was so—" he swallows, lowers his voice, "She wasn't what I was looking for. She was simple, but she wasn't," he gestures out to the dance floor, then meets Aaron's eyes, "She wasn't this."
Aaron has to be hallucinating. Kevin's eyes are so sincere, bright with conviction and focus in a way he's only ever seen leveled at the exy court, but when he reaches out to touch Kevin's face, it's real. His breath is stuck somewhere between his lungs and his brain, and all he can think of is how much he grieved this when he lost it. But now here it is, dropping itself right back into his lap, a chance at happiness grabbing him by the neck.
There a conversation to be had, questions Aaron needs answers to and, honestly, some answers he owes Kevin in return, but they can wait. He grabs Kevin's hand, presses it to his own cheek. Sighs.
Tomorrow will come, but the sun is down and the music is loud.
Aaron pulls Kevin back to the dance floor.