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Jay had never in his adult life experienced what it was like to be carried — as in, literally carried by another person — before the Men in Black. Now, he was used to it. It was alarmingly frequent that Kay would haul him up, for a variety of reasons and in a variety of positions. Jay wasn’t exactly light . He didn’t think it was easy for Kay, but the man never complained. Well, to be fair, he never complained about anything.
The fireman-style carry seemed to be the most manageable for him, because it distributed the weight evenly, but it required some organisation or manipulation to get into, something they often didn’t have time for when it was a matter of seconds between life and death. In those situations, sometimes he opted for slinging Jay over one shoulder, or a bridal-style carry, like he was doing now.
Jay wasn’t one hundred per cent sure what had happened; the throbbing in his head explained that. Kay had been running, but now he’d slowed to a walk. Jay relaxed, assuming they were out of danger. He did that a lot, these days. Despite his sarcasm and sometimes rather harsh words, Kay always looked out for Jay in every situation, always having something up his sleeve (sometimes literally) - from anti-gravity shoes and a grappling hook to snatch Jay up before he became a puddle on the pavement, to some kind of experimental defence system that literally surrounded Jay in — well, not bubble wrap exactly, but some kind of exogenous fluid. They had been working together for more than a year now, and Jay had to admit it had made him somewhat… lax. He wondered if Kay noticed.
He could feel Kay’s arms shaking from carrying him such a distance, but he continued a few steps further and then gently set Jay down on some kind of ledge. Blearily, Jay realised it was the back of an MiB medic truck. Behind Kay was a burning building, and the medics were busy treating several injured aliens. Kay drew his focus back, bending down in front of him to look directly into his eyes.
“Follow my finger,” he directed. Jay did as he said, wondering once again whether Kay had had advanced medical training at some stage or if this kind of thing was just something he picked up on the job. Jay certainly hadn’t learned anything useful in the medical department yet — unless getting injured counted.
Kay tilted Jay’s head forward, his fingers gentle as they ran through his hair, looking for the wound. Jay concentrated on Kay’s shoes while Kay cleaned it and applied a gauze, and peppered Jay with questions.
“You know where you are?”
“Nuh-uh.”
“You remember what happened?”
“Nope.”
“Do you remember the mission we were assigned to today?”
“Mm,” Jay squinted, the memories murky. “Something about.... A factory? A processing plant?”
Kay grunted. “What did you have for breakfast this morning?”
That one was easier. “Didn’t. I was late coming back from the gym.”
“Sounds like a mild concussion.” Jay looked up at the different voice. It was Elle, though he hadn’t seen her arrive. She took over from Kay, bending forward to shine a light in each of Jay’s eyes, watching closely. “It should be fine,” she said after a moment, straightening. “But he needs to be monitored overnight. No sleeping for more than an hour at a time. Can you stay with him, Kay?”
“Can do.”
Jay was still processing everything a bit slowly. Elle disappeared, and Kay put a hand on his shoulder. Jay squinted up at him.
“Good to go, Ace?”
He nodded. Kay helped him to his feet, one hand gripping Jay’s upper arm, the other under his other elbow, steadying. He didn’t ask if Jay could walk by himself, he just slipped an arm around his waist, pulling Jay’s arm across his shoulders, taking his weight.
It was strange. Kay was a cold man, in many ways, and he often seemed almost untouchable — and yet he seemed to touch Jay a lot. Always out of necessity, like right now, and never affectionately — well, if you didn’t count repeatedly saving your life and patching up your wounds as affectionate. Jay wondered — he often wondered — what it would be like to touch Kay in any other context. In a non-professional context, or even an intimate context. It was almost unthinkable, because he was quite sure Kay was asexual, as Jay had generally also labelled himself, in the past — except for the fact that he had a giant, tragic and unavoidable crush on Kay.
He tried not to think about it — and as a result tended to generally think of nothing else, particularly in situations like this, where Kay was helping him into the passenger seat, and leaning right across him to plug in his seatbelt. Maybe it was because Jay was terrible at human relationships in general, and this was the first one, purely derived from being forced to spend so much time together, that was actually going well. Or maybe it was because he’d never in his life had someone be so attentive to his own needs as Kay was — and not just in a first-aid kind of way. He was a man of strict routine, and had instilled the same in Jay in the course of the past year: a regular and strict sleeping pattern, eating right, gym time — things Jay had frankly sucked at before — not to mention the high levels of professional satisfaction Jay derived from this job (if you could even call this something so insignificant as a ‘job’). Despite his course manner and occasional sarcastic quips, Kay gave Jay positive feedback frequently whenever Jay deserved it. He wasn’t afraid to tell him ‘good job, Ace’ at the end of a mission completed successfully, which was honestly more than any senior officers in the NYPD had ever done. He had been an extremely supportive mentor and proved his trust and faith in Jay all the time.
Maybe it was just because of those things, which he supposed were technically part of Kay’s job. Then again, he didn’t see other junior agents having such great relationships with their partners. In the break room, and at the gym, all they seemed to do was complain and look forward to eventual reassignment.
A hand on his knee. “Don’t go to sleep on me, slick.”
Jay blinked rapidly and focussed on the road in front of them. He wasn’t sure if he’d been drifting off to sleep or just a daydream, but Kay had jolted him out of it.
“So… what happened, actually?” he asked, his voice rough.
Kay launched into a bland mission report, which Jay wasn’t really that interested in, but it at least gave him an excuse to look at Kay as he talked. He wondered what Kay would do if he touched him without a work-related excuse. Put a hand on his knee. Cupped his face. Held his hand. It made Jay tingly just thinking about it. Would Kay be non-reactive, in control, perhaps quirk an eyebrow? Or would he stiffen up, step back, push Jay away? There was no way to tell. He didn’t even know if Kay was into men — into anything .
They pulled into the garage at headquarters. Kay got out, walked around the car and opened Jay’s door to help him out. He walked with his arm around Jay’s waist all the way up to his quarters, and left him alone only for 10 minutes or so while Jay showered, and then came back with ham sandwiches. Jay ate them sitting propped in bed, a baseball game on the TV. Kay sat up on the other side of the bed, on top of the covers, his shoes slipped off and his legs stretched out, his jacket and tie folded neatly over the side of a nearby chair. This was about the most casual he ever got.
“Sleep if you want,” he said to Jay, whose blinks were growing longer and longer. “I’ll set an alarm. Every hour.”
“You should... should... sleep too,” Jay managed around a yawn.
He didn’t hear whether Kay replied; he was asleep too quickly.
An alarm was going off; Jay’s first thought was that it was a fire drill, and he was almost ready to leap out of bed, but then a hand fell gently on his arm.
“Don’t panic, slick.” The alarm stopped.
The room was dark. Jay had clearly been drooling into his pillow and he hastily wiped at his mouth, rolling onto his back.
“Know where you are?” Kay asked, from next to him.
“My quarters.”
“Remember what happened?”
“Concussion.”
“Good enough for me.”
Kay was lying on the other side of the bed, on his side, facing Jay. Unthinking, Jay rolled over, reaching for him. His hand fell on Kay’s forearm, and he left it there. Kay didn’t flinch away. Jay took that as a win. When the alarm went again the next hour, it was still there.
The waking him up, the questions… it repeated hour after hour. Despite sleeping, Jay felt like he was getting tireder as the night progressed. Perhaps that's what impeded his judgement, because as it was getting closer to dawn he rolled closer again to Kay. He threw his arm out, all the way over the other man, and pulled himself closer. He buried his face in Kay's chest and inhaled the scent of his shirt and his cologne.
Even if he was about to be pushed away, just this was a reward. The feel of his shirt, warm with the heat of his skin, against his face. His hand on Kay's back. Being this close. Seconds ticked over, and Kay hadn't moved. Jay certainly wasn't going to; if challenged, he would absolutely be feining sleep. Kay stiffened slightly, his muscles moving, and Jay prepared to be rejected. But Kay just carefully extracted his arm from where it was squished between them, and, slowly, put it around Jay.
Jay was certain Kay must be able to feel his heart racing. This was more than he could have hoped for, and he didn’t want to ruin it by moving further. He willed himself to stay still in that position, to relax, and eventually found himself drifting back off to sleep.
When the next alarm went off there was light filtering through the windows, and Kay was gone. Jay reached over to grab the phone to turn off the beeping alarm, and found that it was his own phone. Kay must have left to get ready for the day.
Jay wasn’t sure what to think of that. He hadn’t been shoved away. They had definitely stayed there long enough for Jay to fall back asleep. But Kay had left before he woke up. Did that mean what Jay did was unwelcome? Or acceptable but not discussable? He didn’t know, and he wasn’t about to ruin it by attempting to talk to Kay about it.
All he knew was that it sure hadn’t done anything to help with the size of his crush.