Chapter Text
Walking into the restaurant feels like walking into a giant freezer, and Kevin's heart sinks as he finds the source of it: Andrew is sitting at their usual table, tucked into a corner behind a plant, and for half a second, Kevin's eyes betray him, making it look like there are ice crystals on the big leaves covering most of Andrew from view.
Kevin hadn't known he could be so connected, so attuned to another person. It had never been like that with Riko, and only developed with Thea after he had learned to trust Andrew.
Andrew shouldn't be here, earlier than him. They are supposed to meet in front of the restaurant, so Kevin can take his jacket and pull out the chair for him. It's ritual, routine, it's what this is built upon, and now Andrew is too early, already inside the restaurant, and frost is creeping up Kevin's spine.
He smiles at Nino as he walks past them to the table — they don't seem to notice, and that's all that keeps Kevin from telling Andrew to get out of here immediately, because if nobody but him is noticing, then Andrew is still enough in control of himself. Kevin's heart beats hard against the glacier numbing his chest.
It's been more than two months since they played the last time, but it's not the first time that it's been more than two months.
Championships. You know he cares, and what it takes for him to acknowledge that.
Kevin doesn't touch Andrew's shoulder like he usually would as he walks past him, and doesn't insult him with a fake smile. As he sits down, he takes his phone out, sets it to do not disturb, and puts it screen-down on the table.
"Hi," Andrew says.
"Hi," Kevin says back. It's never awkward between them and isn't now, but there's nothing more to say when it feels like Andrew's breath is hanging in the air between them, the cold liquifying the water vapor, tiny drops of water visible as fog.
Andrew has not taken off his jacket, but Kevin can still see the new tattoo peaking out, and it clicks.
Replacement.
He almost asks why Andrew didn't call him, but Kevin knows the answer is the gold medal hanging over his bed. Once he had finally started to understand how much effort it takes for Andrew to take care of himself and how that is always, always the first thing he stops doing when things get hard, the furious frustration about Andrew had changed flavor, gone from anger to desperation. In one of his lowest moments, at the end of his time at PSU, he had drunkenly begged Andrew to take care of himself.
You fucking idiot, Kevin thinks as he talks to Nino, declining to try the new summer hors d'oeuvres. He isn't sure if he's insulting himself or Andrew. Probably both of them — Andrew for not opening his mouth, himself for not noticing.
They order the usual, and they eat, and because it grows colder whenever Kevin stops talking, he talks. Pumpkin seeds still taste like oiled up bark, and leave a foul taste on his tongue. Andrew's eyes flicker around, from his food, to the plan, to the tables around them, not settling on Kevin for more than a few seconds.
Kevin pays for their food, then Andrew allows Kevin to open the car door for him. It should take a bit of the tension out of Kevin, but it doesn't until Andrew stands in his hallway and says, "Yes."
Yes. This is fixable. They can do this. It's not the first time Andrew has been close to dropping. Kevin tells Andrew that his clothes are on the bed, and goes to get the bag with the oils — he's sure they won't need them tonight, but the routine helps. He runs through the stages of the evening in his head and takes a deep breath before knocking on the door.
Andrew stands in the middle of the room, looking lost. Kevin usually doesn't pay attention to how small Andrew is unless they're on the court, but right now, the slightly oversized shirt pooling around him, he can't help but notice. You're going to be okay, Kevin promises as he drops the bag on the desk, then stays there with his back to Andrew for a few seconds.
Finding Command is as easy as breathing, but the cold following Andrew is so chilling that every breath hurts. Kevin closes his eyes, reaching for the warmth inside of him. It feels strange, like putting one hand in cold water and one in hot water, and then putting them both into the same water — the relativity of sensation, both hands in water of the same temperature, but opposite perception of it. It's that, but it's Kevin's connection to Andrew, and drawing away from Andrew by chasing the warmth inside of himself. It's loss, however temporary, and the staggered breath Andrew takes when Kevin leaves him alone in his cold is frostbite on Kevin's mind.
Warmth wraps itself around Kevin's body. Only when the goosebumps recede Kevin does notice how cold it had actually been. He draws on the warmth, breathing it like hot summer air, and turns around to Andrew.
Andrew falls to his knees hard enough they crack. He locks his arms behind his back, shoulders straight, head bowed, perfectly angled towards Kevin. He looks even smaller like that.
"Good," Kevin says.
The praise whips through Andrew's body — he isn't falling out of position, but he's trembling. It's still so, so cold.
Kevin walks closer, putting weight to his steps, and looks down at Andrew. He can see how the muscles in Andrew's neck tremble, how his shoulders rise and sink with every breath.
"Eyes on me," Kevin says.
Andrew throws his head back fast enough his neck cracks. When their eyes meet, warmth lashes out and they both take a deep breath.
Kevin also drops to his knees. They are kneeling so close their legs are almost touching. "Focus on me," Kevin continues. His voice feels bigger when he's using Command, like it's desperate to burst out of him. "Just on me."
"Yeah," Andrew says. He sounds out of breath, and his mouth isn't completely closing as he keeps looking at Kevin.
"Nothing outside of this room matters now," Kevin continues. Phrases that do not harm Andrew have become second nature, it's as familiar to him as voicing requests without using please. There's a list in his head of all the words that hurt Andrew. "We are both here in this room, and I will decide what happens."
Andrew nods. There are still cold shards in the air, lacing it like mold, but the warmth is slowly melting the ice.
"I will touch your face," Kevin says. He has blanket permission to do this unless Andrew says no, and Andrew knows he is always allowed to say no — it's the breathtaking beauty of knowing each other, knowing and trusting each other's intentions.
In their first year, they had to go through a checklist before every session, making sure there were loopholes and ways out for Andrew. It's been years since then, and they only need to talk about the foundation of their powerplay when something changes for either of them.
Kevin slowly raises a hand. "I got you," he tells Andrew as he follows the line of Andrew's cheekbones with his thumb. Another shiver wracks Andrew's body.
"I'm here for you," Kevin says. He learned how to do this with Jean, and he's glad the city never gets so dark that he could mistake his home for the Nest.
It's a different kind of domming. It's the same effervescent power rushing through his veins, the same dazzling force on his tongue, but it's more than that: It's being so, so fucking careful. "I'm taking care of you, you're safe with me," he continues, and that's what finally does it: Andrew tilts forward and his head hits Kevin's chest hard. He's breathing raggedly, but it's not desperate anymore, it's the first breaths without water blocking the lungs after almost drowning. If this was any other day, Kevin would put a hand on Andrew's neck, pull him closer, but he doesn't dare to — there are angry black edges covering Andrew's neck now.
Obviously, the tattoo artist hadn't dommed Andrew, but that doesn't mean this tattoo isn't a sign of submission. It is uncharted territory: Kevin still vividly remembers how some of the Raven Subs had reacted when a Dom they didn't kneel for touched their Dom's marks on their body. If there is one thing he will do anything to avoid, it is crossing Andrew's boundaries, even if he doesn't yet know where they are drawn.
Instead, he runs his fingers through Andrew's hair, making sure his hand stays on the upper half of Andrew's head, and focuses on his own heartbeat. The warmth around them pulses with it, spikes of energy with every beat, a calming metronome for Andrew to cling to. It takes several minutes, but finally, Andrew sags even more, falling out of the self-imposed rigid position entirely.
Kevin catches him.
*
Everything hurts, but it's not acute pain anymore. It's muscles that are sore after skipping warm-up, it's pain with an end date and without an injury to tend to. For the first time in days, Andrew is not freezing, not moving through a viscous world. The hand in his hair is a radiator, chasing away the remnants of cold. He slowly raises his head from where it rests against Kevin's chest and finds dilated eyes looking at him, pupils blown so far there's almost no green left.
I'm safe, Andrew thinks and leans into the hand holding his head. He's at home, here, kneeling in front of Kevin. He can actually believe what Kevin tells him, all those phrases that would be empty if anyone else said them ring true when they come out of Kevin's mouth, because he's proven again and again that he means it.
"Can I massage you?" Andrew asks. He's rewarded with a smile.
"Yes," Kevin says and stands back up together with Andrew. Andrew is dizzy, blood still not circulating completely right, but Kevin has a hand on his head, anchoring him the same way Neil's tattoo gun had kept him from falling.
"Clothes?" Kevin asks without Command. His voice sounds as if he hasn't spoken in three days, rough and unused.
Andrew shakes his head and slowly makes his way for the bed.
"No, stay here," Kevin interrupts him.
Andrew turns around.
"Here," Kevin repeats, and Andrew is pulled closer, almost involuntarily dropping to his knees again.
Kevin pulls the chair to the middle of the room and sits down, his back to Andrew. "Start with my left shoulder."
Andrew does. The fabric of Kevin's shirt is soft under his hands, and he can feel the heat of skin under it. Kevin guides him, using more commands than most days, and Andrew is too drunk on submission to mind the special treatment.
When he kneels in front of Kevin, he finds so much tension in Kevin's hands that he briefly considers asking if Kevin has had any massages since becoming US champion and world champion within the space of a week, but Kevin's worried looks tell him more than enough about the reason.
Maybe they both need this right now. Kevin's noise when Andrew starts working on his thumb goes straight to his core, pleased warmth spreading through his body for a job well done. Kevin's hands are never soft, there are too many calluses and scars on them, but Andrew wouldn't know what to do with softness anyway. After he's worked the tension out of the second hand, he sits back, looking up at Kevin.
Kevin smiles at him. "Well done," he says, and Andrew lets himself fall forward again until his head rests on Kevin's thigh. Kevin runs his fingers through his hair, and Andrew lets the movement and the lavender smell of the oil take over his consciousness.
It's the first time in weeks that Andrew does not think about Neil the second he stops distracting himself.
*
Kevin's phone is still on do not disturb, but when he checks it for the first time since walking into the restaurant, Thea's message is only three minutes old. Andrew is standing at the rail surrounding the roof garden, looking down. If Kevin closes his eyes, he can feel Andrew's heart beating too fast in the way the lingering warmth pulses back and forth between them. The tension in Andrew's shoulders is back, and he has just lit his third cigarette after staring at the lighter for so long Kevin had almost hoped he was finally going to open his mouth.
[26/08, 12:38 am] Thea 🐦⬛️🖤: I hope your evening is going well. I am considering disowning my mother if she gives me more plant tips.
He smiles. Thea would give up Exy for her mother, and she'd murder Thea for it. He still doesn't get how their relationship survived the Nest, but he's glad she's got a mother that threatened to castrate him if he hurt her daughter — not that Thea needs protection, but she deserves the love fuelling it.
[26/08, 12:42 am] Kevin: It could get late tonight.
[26/08, 12:42 am] Thea 🐦⬛️🖤: Is Andrew okay?
[26/08, 12:43 am] Kevin: Working on it.
His message gets marked as read, but Thea doesn't answer immediately. Kevin watches Andrew smoke, one mechanical movement following the other. Three minutes later, Andrew lights the fourth cigarette without turning around to Kevin, and Thea texts back.
[26/08, 12:46 am] Thea 🐦⬛️🖤: I asked if I can sleep here. Mom is kicking up a fuss about not having enough eggs for breakfast.
He smiles again.
[26/08, 12:46 am] Kevin: Thank you. I love you.
[26/08, 12:47 am] Thea 🐦⬛️🖤: I love you too. Take care of him, and call me if you need to.
Kevin puts his phone back on the table and joins Andrew at the rail. The apartment complex is not one of the biggest buildings in the city, but the view is still spectacular. Ten stories are enough to make even Kevin's breath stop, and the tension Andrew radiates is palpable.
"Talk to me?" Kevin requests, quietly.
Andrew tenses up even more, and Kevin almost takes a step back to give him more space, but then Andrew finally looks away from the abyss, cigarette half-crushed between his fingers.
"I met someone, and I think I like him," Andrew says slowly.
It's not something Kevin ever expected him to say. He knows Andrew fucks and dominates men, though he has never asked about the specifics. He has met a few of them; Roland had been the first, but there have been others since. Not once has Andrew talked about romantic attraction, let alone the possibility of pursuing or even wanting a relationship.
For half a second, he asks himself why that is so much of a problem, but then he remembers how many nights he'd gotten drunk about still wanting Thea after leaving her behind — wanting someone, wanting to be with someone. It had been different with Andrew and Kevin, because they'd been glued together by their deal, the cage built on promises giving them enough protection for their relationship to grow.
"Tell me about him," Kevin says softly and steals the cigarette pack. Usually he only allows himself two cigarettes, but smoking together keeps their little bubble intact.
"The tattoo artist who did the piece on my back. Neil." Andrew frowns at his cigarette — it's beyond saving, so he throws it over the rail. It doesn't sufficiently distract from the way his voice got softer when he said Neil's name. "Renee recommended him after seeing me in goal against the Krakens."
Kevin winces. "I am sorry." He should have been there. Should have seen what Renee had, but he'd been too focused on Exy.
Andrew's eyes narrow. "Shut up."
It's hard not to promise that it won't happen again, but Andrew's boundaries have always been clear, and this is one: Kevin isn't allowed to take the responsibility for Andrew's submission needs from him. Apologizing for not noticing is already very close to overstepping. Kevin nods.
"We... talked. A lot. Enough that Neil needed three sessions instead of two."
Talking with Andrew is not easy, for most people. Especially not when he's in a bad place. Kevin only knows what to say in those situations because they've had years to get to know each other. Neil, he thinks. A nondescript name, one you hear in passing and forget about again.
When Andrew says Neil's name, it doesn't sound transient.
"He told me about his past, how he ended up doing emergency tattoo sessions." There's something derogatory in Andrew's voice as he spits out emergency, and it makes Kevin's skin prickle. "I won't tell you details but he's... like us. Neil could have been a Fox."
Like us. A few years ago, that would have meant broken. It had taken until after graduation for Kevin to understand that Foxes were survivors, not broken.
"I thought it was just... I wanted him to dom me instead of tattoo me. And I thought that would be solved, now."
Kevin opens his mouth and closes it again. Scratch the possible romantic interest, Andrew wanting to be dommed is way more shocking. After Andrew had finally been taken off his meds, it had taken months for him to feel his body's needs for submission and domination again, and it had taken many bureaucratic battles to allow Bee to dom him instead of sending him to the designated PSU power play care department. Almost a year later, Andrew had told Kevin his rules, and they had settled into their dynamic.
"But you still want him?" Kevin asks, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. He's glad about the cigarette between his fingers, it keeps him from fidgeting.
Andrew rubs the bridge of his nose. It's the Wymack habit neither of them can kick. "It's a stupid idea."
Kevin drags on his cigarette. "Why?" If Renee hadn't recommended Neil, he might be less... hopeful about this, but if there's one person he trusts with Andrew, it's Renee. Renee wouldn't recommend Neil if he wasn't worthy of being trusted.
Andrew's jaw works. "I don't... need. That. In my life."
It's a thought as familiar as a cane to the calves. "We stopped living like that," Kevin says quietly.
There's silence, and the air cools down. The afterglow is staggering, as if Andrew is fighting with shutting Kevin out. Kevin looks at his cigarette and stays where he is, watching it burn down half an inch and then die.
"I hate you," Andrew says flatly, and the familiar assertion floods the air with warmth again.
Kevin turns his head and smiles. "Show me a picture of him?"
Andrew pulls out his phone. Kevin doesn't comment on the tattoo studio's website being open in his browser already.
Neil is brutally handsome. He has red hair, startlingly blue eyes, and scars on his face. He also doesn't look too happy about being photographed, and he doesn't smile or look into the camera. It's not the kind of picture Kevin's PR team would approve of, but if Kevin tried to picture a man who might catch Andrew's attention, it'd be close to the man staring at him from the screen.
"Ask him on a date?"
"I don't... date," Andrew finishes a bit lamely and flips him off.
Kevin lights up the sad remnant of his cigarette.
"I asked Renee to ask him if she can forward his number to me," Andrew says next.
Kevin raises an eyebrow. If Andrew had really believed being dommed would solve the situation, he wouldn't have done that. "And?"
"She sent his number thirty minutes later."
"Did you ask him already?"
"No."
Kevin hides his smile behind his cigarette. If someone had told him ten years ago that he would be standing on his rooftop garden, listening to Andrew Minyard being anxious about asking a guy on a date, he would have considered it less likely than Riko owning up to a mistake.
He's proud, and from the way Andrew scowls at him, he also knows it.
"Text him."
Andrew shoves his phone pointedly back into his pocket. "It's one a.m."
Kevin accepts the excuse because it means Andrew will text Neil in the morning. They smoke another round of cigarettes together before they go back inside — Andrew asks when Thea will come back home, and Kevin tells him that she's sleeping at her parents' house, so they watch nature documentaries until the sun paints the living room golden. Andrew declines to sleep here, but he promises to text when he has arrived home, and hugs Kevin when he leaves.
An hour later Kevin is dozing on the sofa when his phone vibrates.
[26/08, 08:26 am] Andrew 🦊🧡: Home. Texted him.
Kevin smiles, sends back a heart, and goes to bed. Before he falls asleep, he sees another message light up his screen:
[26/08, 08:29 am] Andrew 🦊🧡: Thank you.