Work Text:
While it wasn’t the last thing he wanted to hear about Gavin’s welfare, he still felt the weight of dread reading the text message that Officer Garcia sent a few minutes prior as he stepped through the threshold of his apartment, having finally arrived home from his shift.
22:43: “Hey Gavin got kicked out- can you come get him please?”
He groaned at the message, whispering irritably “Reed, you son of a bitch,” but began to move back out the door, responding with “yeah- be there in 15” as he made his way back down to the parking garage he had just so eagerly left.
Of course Gavin would get his dumb ass into another altercation.
As he drove to the bar, he wondered if he should’ve just taken up Gavin’s offer to go drinking, even if he’d been a bit abrasive about it. Maybe if he had, in Gavin’s whining words earlier that day, “Lived a little,” he could have stopped Gavin from doing whatever warranted getting kicked out. A lesser offense than being outright banned, but still. He was a cop of all things, he could handle himself so much better than that.
If he’d agreed and gone along with Gavin, they’d probably be home by now, tangled up together at Gavin’s apartment, falling into their unstable sleep patterns with a sense of contentment after being apart for well over a week.
But no, that hadn’t happened. Instead, Kent had found himself irritated at Gavin’s claim that he had no life, and his condescending and deliberate use of “Kenny.” They had both stayed set in their opinions, getting more hostile at each other. In the end, they both hung up without even saying goodbye. Gavin was clearly resentful over Kent’s disinterest in going out with him after work; even though both their shifts, in a truly rare occasion, were scheduled to end at nearly the exact same time. Kent was left drained and exasperated from the argument; and he had no interest in mentally replaying what they had said to each other as their tempers rose. Instead, he sunk himself into training and then paperwork as the evening progressed, holding off returning to his quiet, lifeless apartment until he was too exhausted to put much thought into his argument with Gavin.
He saw Gavin seated on the curb next to Garcia as he pulled into a parking space a few spots down from them.
Neither looked pleased about sitting there or even being near each other. Gavin was slumped on himself and stared off at the opposite side of the street, his lips drawn into one of his typical scathing pouts. Garcia sat next to him, stock still and shoulders crossed, not acknowledging Gavin or the dried blood on his face.
Garcia stood up slowly as Kent walked up, relieved. “Oh good, thanks! He’s all yours. I’ve had a long day,” he hurriedly explained, before turning around and walking down the street.
“Haven’t we all,” he muttered spitefully as he glared after Garcia. Sighing, he turned his attention to Gavin. He crouched down next to him, brought his hand up to Gavin’s face, and gently turned his head towards him. The main trail of dried blood originated from his nose, and a scratch on his right jaw displayed another consistent line of dark red. Gavin didn’t look at him.
“Christ, Reed. You’re lucky you still have your nose in one piece at this point,” Kent murmured.
“Oh shut it, old man. You just show up to tell me that shit?” Gavin complained, words slurred.
Still mad at him, as he’d figured. Kent wrapped an arm around his back and under his arm, and began to lift him up. Gavin grumbled and resisted at first, but he stood up himself as Kent lifted him more insistently, though his balance swayed.
He guided Gavin to his car, opening the SUV’s front passenger door for him and
ensuring he was situated before he started the car and drove off.
The journey to Gavin’s apartment was silent, as Gavin ignored him and stared out his
side window, which was fine by Kent. He knew they’d have to address their spat at some point, but he doubted it would be tonight. There was plenty of time for him to lecture Gavin on his actions once he was sober and, Kent could only hope, better-rested.
Gavin continued to sulk the whole walk and elevator ride up to his apartment, flopping onto his couch as Kent efficiently collected the first aid kit, a wash rag, a bowl with warm water, and an ice pack and cloth from their respective places, having had far too much experience doing so already.
Kent finally broke the icy silence between them when he approached the couch with the supplies, placing them down on the coffee table. “Sit up, Gav,” he ordered softly.
Gavin huffed in disdain but sat up anyway, resting his forearms on his lap and avoiding eye contact.
The wounds were routine, and thankfully nothing Kent couldn’t take care of himself. Gavin sat quietly as Kent held the side of his face and tenderly wiped away the dried blood with the washcloth. He flinched when Kent disinfected the scrape, and took the ice pack wrapped in cloth silently, alternating it between his nose and jaw.
“Been a while since we were together like this,” Kent noted as he began to clean up the rest of the supplies. The statement was partially to get Gavin talking to him again, but he also reflected on it himself. Holding Gavin’s face reminded him that they had barely seen each other recently. Part of him wanted to keep touching Gavin’s face, as he realized he’d missed how soothing it could be. Or just stay by his side and regain that sense of companionship he felt around Gavin that had waned from their time apart. But those would have to wait for now; until they were on better terms again.
Gavin responded with a flat, “yeah.”
“What happened?”
“Some asshole bumped into me as I was sitting and holding my glass. He wasted part of my beer and told me to ‘watch where I was going’, the fucking nerve of him,” Gavin recalled idly as Kent shelved the first aid kit. “You were wrong earlier. I don’t always go looking for fights, Kenny ,” he spat the nickname as viciously as earlier, before continuing tiredly, “They find me.”
Kent sighed, exasperated at his snide use of “Kenny” yet again, “How’d you get kicked out?”
“We started yelling at each other. I tried to get out of the booth to shove him away and he punched me in the nose. I got mad, so I got up and shoved at him, and he got me again. Garcia pulled me back as I was about to get him and the manager kicked all three of us out.”
He considered Gavin’s account. “Well, I wasn’t there and Garcia didn’t fill me in on anything, so I can’t officially take a side. But I guess the fight did, in fact, find you that time. Was he wearing a ring?”
“Yeah. Some kind of gem was on it.”
That explained the painful-looking scratch. “What a dumbass. That must’ve hurt him too when he punched you.”
“Clearly too much booze went to his head,” Gavin mused.
Kent hummed in agreement. “A bar brawl amateur.”
Gavin tentatively stood up off the couch and walked away to his bedroom, his balance wobbling slightly.
Kent watched him and considered whether or not he should follow after him. He concluded that Gavin wasn’t too drunk, and thus not at much risk of falling over. He took a seat on the couch, leaned back, and contemplated the day. The argument earlier hadn’t been that bad and Gavin’s mood seemed to have lifted a bit, but he didn’t want to stick around and test his luck. He’d tell Gavin goodbye after he was ready to sleep, and begin the drive back to his own place. It’d be best if they continued cooling off apart.
Several minutes passed before he heard Gavin settle into his bed. Sitting on the couch had reminded him just how tired he was, and it was harder than he wanted to admit getting back on his feet.
He opened the door quietly, treading up to Gavin, “You’re not asleep, are you?”
“I’m up,” he replied groggily.
“I’m heading home now,” Kent stated before turning and beginning to leave.
“Kent, wait,” Gavin’s voice was softer than before.
“Hm?” he turned and looked back at him, standing in the threshold.
“Stay.” A pause. “...please.”
Though it wasn’t what he’d expected Gavin to say, he decided to take him up on his offer. He was pretty exhausted, and he hated driving when he was in such a state. And despite that argument and the frosty tension between them, he missed Gavin. He never, ever wanted to say it, but he’d rather be with Gavin than in his own apartment alone, even when he was being annoyingly sulky.
“Alright.”
It took him a few minutes to turn off the lights in the apartment and remember where his old clothes were stored in Gavin’s dresser, but he found them and got changed. He managed to feel his way over to the opposite side of the bed in the dark, and slipped under the covers.
He settled onto his back, letting out a long sigh.
Gavin stirred and moved over to him, laying partially on top of Kent and resting his head on Kent’s shoulder as he slowly wrapped his arms around his waist.
His behavior struck Kent as… strange given his earlier mood, but Gavin wasn’t drunk enough to forget the events of the day. Though the argument had been caused partially because Kent had turned down an opportunity to spend time with him…
Oh goddammit, why hadn’t he thought harder about Gavin’s perspective earlier in the day? What the hell kind of lover was he?
“You just wanted to be with me, didn’t you?” he murmured. Gavin’s breathing was soft and even, and he wasn’t expecting a reply.
“Finally figured it out, old man. I’m impressed,” Gavin replied after a pause, light sarcasm in his voice but no bite to the nickname as before.
“Paperwork was godawful. Should’ve procrastinated longer on it,” he stated. He hoped Gavin caught on to his passive apology, even if he was still tipsy.
Gavin hummed softly and reflected as he nestled his cheek into Kent’s shirt, “I called you short notice. Could’ve texted you earlier. Turns out Garcia’s a boring drinking buddy.”
Kent relaxed. So he did.
“Don’t worry about it,” he whispered and wrapped his arm around Gavin, gently combing his fingers through his hair.