Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I said I’m fucking going,” Proko hisses, stomping to his car, frowning at Kavinsky.

“Stop being such a bitch, Proko,” K growls back, his voice icy cold, and sneaks his arm around Proko’s waist. Normally, Proko would welcome the touch, but tonight he can only see the possessiveness behind it and it makes him even more mad.

He pushes K away. “Get your hands off me.”

If there’s one thing K doesn’t like, it’s being shoved. “Hey, fuck you!” He snarls, his hand curling into fist on autopilot. He doesn’t think twice about hitting him and honestly, Proko isn’t surprised. He is ready for the punch and doesn’t mind the pain. It only fuels the anger inside him.

He knows that K would be able to beat him to bloody pulp when he’s like this, but Jiang gets to them before K can hit him again and forces K away. Despite being skinny, he could be shockingly strong, so Jiang holds him tight.

Proko doesn’t wait around. He turns back to his car and ignores the angry slurs K yells after him. He gets behind the wheel. He knows he drank way too much to be driving, but it’s the last thing that currently bothers him. He just knows he needs to drive away from K and his bullshit.

…

Proko wakes up in Kavinsky’s bed with a headache and no memories of how he got there. The clock on the bedside table reads 1:28 pm. K isn’t anywhere in the room.

Proko groans and rolls onto his back, trying to remember what happened last night. He remembers the party and K being a dick to him. He remember they had a fight. He remembers K hit him. He absently touches his cheekbone, feeling for bruise, but it doesn’t seem like there is any. Is there a possibility he imagined how much the punch hurt? Maybe he had been more drunk than he thought. The very last thing he remembers is driving away. After that – nothing.

He spends couple minutes just staring at the ceiling before gathering the strength to get out of the bed. He notices he’s wearing different clothes than yesterday. Huh. When he passes a mirror he examines his face. There’s no visible bruise there. Interesting.

In the kitchen he finds K with Swan, talking in low voices. They stop rather abruptly when he walks in and they both seize him with unreadable looks. K’s left eye is blackened.

Proko raises an eyebrow at them. “Um, morning?” He tries. He’s not used to anyone staring at him so intensively, even K. At least it looks like K isn’t angry anymore and to Proko’s own surprise, he doesn’t think he is either.

“How are you feeling?” Swan asks, their voice weirdly strained.

Proko shrugs and walks to the fridge to get some orange juice. “Hungover. When did I get back?”

He doesn’t fail to notice how K and Swan exchange looks. “Late,” K says at last.

“Hm.” He takes a swing straight out of the juice carton. “What happened to your eye?”

K seems suddenly very interested in the floor and refuses to meet Proko’s eyes. That wasn’t usual for K at all. “Jiang,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” He wonders how bad does Jiang’s face look after that. K never let anyone hit him without hitting right back.

As if on clue, Jiang walks into the kitchen with Skov trailing after him. They both eye Proko with almost suspicious expressions. Proko frowns at them in confusion. Why is everyone acting so weird today? And what’s even more suspicious is the fact that Jiang doesn’t seem to be hurt. Is there a possibility K didn’t hit him back?

There’s only this much awkward silence Proko can stand, so he breaks it with: “I’m in a mood for pizza.”

Swan laughs a little. “When aren’t you?”

That seems to get everyone from their trance. Skov steps to Swan, wrapping his hand around their waist and kissing their cheek, Jiang opens the fridge and starts reordering things to get to the beer and Proko exhales in relief and jumps to sit on the kitchen counter.

K puts his sunglasses on, but his posture is still a little bit tensed and Proko can sense he’s looking at him. He raises an eyebrow at him in silent question.

K sighs, but walks to Proko and stands between his open legs. He leans in, pressing his face to the side of Proko’s neck. Proko expects him to bite down or suck a hickey there, but he doesn’t do either of those, instead he lingers for few seconds, just breathing.

“все добре?” Proko asks in low voice and the ukranian on his tongue feels like going home after so many years of speaking english. Everything alright?

Some of the tension in K’s shoulders automatically disappears at hearing the language. He nods, plants a featherlight kiss on Proko’s neck and pushes away. “I’ll order the pizza.”

The rest of the afternoon goes by without anything remarkable happening. They eat the pizza and watch movies. Swan and Skov make out on the couch until K has had enough and exiles them to their room. They come back half an hour later, all sly smiles and rumpled clothes, only to make the whole thing repeat again.

Proko spends the entire time pressed against K’s side, with one of K’s arm around his shoulders. He can feel K’s look on him every now and then, but he doesn’t exactly mind. It is a miracle K is able to sit still for so long, since he is so fidgety all the time. Proko didn’t know if it was because of the drugs or undiagnosed ADHD or something else entirely but K could only fully relax after sex or racing. But apparently today he’s content just like this, next to Proko.

The thing is, Proko isn’t stupid. He knows something is up. He knows if he would press K about it, he would tell him. K had a lot of bad habits, but lying to Proko about the important stuff wasn’t one of them. So when K once again kicks out Swan and Skov and Jiang excuses himself to do something (neither Proko nor K ask and Jiang doesn’t tell), Proko silently waits for K to tell him what’s going on.

K stays silent, absently toying with the hem of Proko’s T-shirt, but he tosses the sunglasses away. His eyes are on the TV, but Proko can tell his mind is elsewhere.

Proko watches his profile for few minutes before finally opening his mouth to ask, but K is faster. “не питай.” Don’t ask. K’s voice in bulgarian is so different from his usual english and Proko just loves it. 

“Okay.” He isn’t going to press K when he doesn’t want to tell. He only snuggles more against K’s side, enjoying the way K tightens his grip on him just a little.

He ends up almost falling asleep with his head on K’s shoulder. He’s sure K wouldn’t allow any such thing if the others were around to see them, but now he only idly runs his fingers through Proko’s hair. “Let’s go to bed.”

That was usually K’s codeword for sex and Proko isn’t exactly in mood for that now. He buries his face even further into the crook of K’s neck, inhaling his scent. “Mmh. ‘m tired.”

K nudges him to get him up. “C’mon.”

Proko sighs, but he doesn’t have the energy to fight, so he obediently stands up and allows K to manoeuvre him to his bedroom.

But to his surprise, K doesn’t jump his bones or anything when they get behind closed door. He merely discards his jeans before climbing under the blanket and when Proko slowly follows his suit, confused a little, K brings him closer, draping his whole body along Proko’s back and hums in content.

K rarely allowed cuddling, especially if it wasn’t after sex. Everything was weird today and Proko knows he should ask. K never acts like this. He’s not soft. And considering last night, Proko would be surprised he’s even talking to him, let along letting him sleep in the same bed. Something is wrong and he should ask.

But to be honest, this is kind of nice and he wants to enjoy it while it lasts. Just for a little bit. So in the end he just snuggles to K, relaxing in his arms and closes his eyes. He’s asleep within seconds.

…

One of Proko’s favourite morning activities has since forever been telling the rest of the pack about his ridiculous dreams. Even K, the ultimate hater of mornings, always smiled when listening to him.

“I didn’t dream about anything tonight,” Proko says pensively over his morning coffee.

K pointedly ignores the look Jiang gives him and keeps stirring his cereal aimlessly. Proko notices the weird expression on Jiang’s face, but K doesn’t seem to be bothered, so Proko concludes it’s probably nothing.

“Happens to everyone,” Skov says with a yawn. “You dream, but you forget it.”

“No, it wasn’t like that,” Proko insists. “I didn’t forget. I literally dreamt about nothing. It felt like I was just staring into complete darkness.”

Jiang frowns. Skov and Swan exchange unreadable looks. K eats his cereal without meeting anyone’s eyes, least of all Proko’s.

“I’m sure it was just one-time thing,” Proko adds when no one says anything.

Jiang rolls his eyes, snatches his schoolbag and turns to leave, looking annoyed. Proko would swear he hears him saying: “I doubt it.”

“What’s up with him?” Proko asks, looking after Jiang.

K waves his hand at it and dumps the bowl of unfinished cereal into the sink. “Let’s go. I have chem test to nail.”

…

If Proko thought the pact was acting weird, it was clearly nothing compared to the whole fucking school.

He is sure he’s going crazy. That’s the only explanation why he thinks everyone keeps staring at him all the time and whispering about him behind his back. His english teacher even pulls him aside and asks him if he’s okay. He has no idea what to answer her.

He’s more than glad when the day’s over and he can go back home. He plans to finally ask K what the fuck is going on, but K disappears as soon as they get from school. When he goes to look for him, he hears raised voices coming from the theatre room. K liked to hide there sometimes. He usually didn’t eavesdrop on other people’s conversations, but after the past two days of everyone being so weird he doesn’t give a shit about privacy anymore.

“You can’t keep it from him forever,” Jiang says, his voice angry. It’s not hard for Proko to guess they were talking about him. He slowly creeps closer to the door.  

“I’m not planning to!” K hisses, but his tone doesn’t have the usual bite.

Jiang snorts. “Aren’t you? You’re stalling.”

“So?”

“So?” Jiang echoes. “You have to tell him. And if you won’t, I will!”

Proko sighs. He’s had just about enough. He steps into the room. “Tell me what?” He asks, trying to sound casual. It doesn’t really work, but whatever.

Both K and Jiang turn to him. Jiang looks almost pleased by his intrusion, while K’s expression is unreadable. He isn’t wearing the sunglasses and Proko can see his eyes are rimmed red. He looks strangely vulnerable.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Jiang announces and slips past Proko into the hallway, closing the door after himself.

Proko sighs again. “What’s going on, Joey?”

K runs his hand through his hair. “Sit down.”

Proko raises an eyebrow. “That bad?” He asks, aiming for amused but not quite pulling it off. K pointedly doesn’t answer which doesn’t help with Proko’s anxiety.

 “What do you remember from the night we had the party?” K asks at last, not meeting Proko’s eyes.

Proko doesn’t expect that question. He frowns in confusion. “Um. We had a fight.”

“After that. After you left,” K specifies.

“Oh. Well, nothing much. I remember driving away and the next thing I woke up in your bed.”

K nods, more to himself. He takes a deep breath before saying: “There was an accident.”

Proko frowns. “What?”

“You got into an accident. The car got completely wrecked.”

That makes zero sense. The car in question was currently parked in their driveway, without a scratch. “What the fuck are you talking about? The car’s fine. I am fine. I think I would remember if I got into an accident.”

K looks at him, finally really looks. His gaze is piercing without the sunglasses. “Proko, you… you died.”

He laughs. What else is he supposed to do? What’s the appropriate reaction to someone saying you died? “Is this some sort of an elaborate joke, K? How the fuck am I here if I fucking died?” He asks, his laughter turning a bit hysterical.

He genuinely expects K to start laughing too and make fun of him for believing him or something, but K stays silent and awfully serious. “Because I dreamt you back,” he says in quiet voice, once again looking at the floor.

Proko freezes. “What?” Maybe he misheard. Maybe K said something else.

“It wasn’t intentional. They told us what happened and Jiang kept yelling that it was my fault, so I took fistful of pills and when I woke up, you were just there, like nothing happened.”

Oh, he thinks. “Oh,” he says. K is being serious. This really happened. This is his reality now.

K risks a look at him again. “Are you mad?” He asks and Proko finally understands. He’s scared. Scared of his reaction. Scared Proko’s going to hate him.

“I… I don’t know.” Part of him wants to hate him. Part of him wants to scream at him, tell him it’s his fault, make him absolutely miserable. He has multiple ideas what to say to him to break him. I wish I’d never met you. But he doesn’t say any of that, because how could he?  

“Not really,” he adds at last. He laughs a little, small nervous laughter. “Jesus, is this why everyone were looking at me so weird in school? Because they think I was in an accident? My fucking english teacher pulled me aside and asked me if I was okay.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you… It was kind of a shitstorm.” K attempts to smile as well, but it doesn’t go very well. It’s obvious he’s still uncertain about Proko’s reaction.

“Yeah,” Proko agrees and when K doesn’t move, he steps closer to him. “Why did you dream me back?”

K shrugs. “I told you, it was an accident.”

Proko doesn’t buy that. “You never bring back shit you don’t want.”

K frowns and doesn’t look at him. “Don’t make me fucking say it.”

“Say what?” Proko presses.

“Fucking hell, Proko. Не бих могъл да живея без теб.” I wouldn’t be able to live without you.

Proko blinks. He expected K to say something mean or just brush it aside. Joseph Kavinsky was not soft and he wasn’t vulnerable and he didn’t say stuff like this. Yet here they are. So Proko does the only thing he can possibly do now. He cups K’s face in his hands and kisses him.

K breaks under his touch. He kisses him back like the world would end if he pulled away. Usually their kisses turned rough and violent, all teeth and bloody lips, but now, none of that. Proko knew how to handle K when he was mad and when all he wanted was to destroy things, which was often, but he had no idea how to handle him like this.

“Baby,” K breathes, sounding utterly wrecked.

“I’m here,” Proko assures him and then they’re kissing again and Proko doesn’t care he’s a dream, because he gets to be here and he gets to be with K and that’s all that matters. And apparently that’s enough for K as well.

Chapter Text

Kavinsky won’t remember the dream when he wakes up in the morning, but after taking a fistful of pills, it’s no surprise.

The forest is dark and cold and K can feel it watching him, waiting what he’ll steal this time. “Thief, thief, thief is here,” the trees whisper on repeat.

K doesn’t give a fuck about the trees. He doesn’t give a fuck about the forest. He doesn’t give a fuck about anything but Prokopenko. He tries, tries so hard not to think about his death, not to think about how it was his fault, tries not to think about how it feels like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. He has to focus. He can’t break down now. He has to make this right. He can’t live without him.

“Give him back!” He screams at the forest, desperate. “Give me back my Ilya!”

 The forest makes no indication that it heard him. “Thief, thief,” it only chimes again.

K stumbles, falling onto his knees. “Please!” He screams, his voice breaking. He hates that the forest sees him like this, weak, broken. “I won’t steal him! Give him back to me, I beg you!”

He could just forge him, make a copy, like a damn gold fish, but he can’t bring himself to do that, to disrespect Proko like that. That wouldn’t be right. He could always tell the difference.

The forest doesn’t react, just watches his suffering. K’s sure it can feel his emotions, that it can feel the pain.

“I can’t… I can’t do this without him,” he says, quietly now, shakily. He swallows around the lump in his throat and blinks away the tears. He’s not going to cry. Not here and not now. “Please. Please, bring him back,” he pleads.

The trees hum. Or maybe laugh at him, he’s not sure, but nothing happens for a long, long time.

And then, he sees a silhouette between the trees, just standing there, unmoving. He scrambles to his feet at once and runs, sprints, there. Once he gets close enough he can recognise the blond hair, the black hoodie that belonged to him in the first place, but Proko wore it all the time so it was practically his now, and the pale blue eyes, full of terror. That’s when he realises that Proko is utterly terrified.

He throws himself into Proko’s arms, hugging him tightly, burying his face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent. He smells like home. It takes all his willpower not to start crying now.

Proko hugs him back, his hands shaking almost as badly as his voice when he asks: “Joey? What’s going on? Where are we?”

“I’m so sorry, baby,” K mumbles. “Everything’s going to be alright, I promise.”

“Are you going to take me home?” Proko asks in the smallest voice and it breaks K’s heart all over again to hear him like that.

“Yes. Yes, of course,” he assures him, kissing his temple and wiping the tears running down his cheeks. He pulls away a bit, only to look at the forest around. “I’m taking him,” he announces in the tone that makes it clear he’s not asking for permission. The trees stay silent, so K guesses it’s fine. “Thank you,” he adds quietly.

“Ready, baby?” He asks Proko softly.

Proko only nods.

K wraps his arms around him again. “Take a deep breath.” He waits until Proko does so. “And wake up.”

…

He wakes up to the darkness of his bedroom, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. It takes him a moment to get hold of his body again, but once he does he immediately turns to his side, looking at the other side of the bed.

And there is lying Prokopenko, wearing K’s black hoodie, blinking at him sleepily through the dark. “K? I just had the strangest dream,” he says.

“Oh yeah?” K asks and reaches for him, pulling him close.

Proko goes willingly, practically making a pillow out of K. “Mmh. About a forest.”

K starts threading his fingers through his hair. “It was just a dream. Go back to sleep.”

Proko yawns and snuggles a bit closer. “Okay,” he agrees, falling asleep quickly, and K knows he won’t remember the dream when he wakes up in the morning either.