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"Hey, Kev?"
Kevin sighed. Deeply. He raised a very judgmental eyebrow. "Please refrain from calling me 'Kev'," he said flatly, "I regret engaging in such humorous shenanigans towards Raymond in that regard in the first place, and will regret it further if you continue to remind me of my transgression."
"Jeez," Jake mumbled from beside him, crossing his arms over his chest like a moody teenager. "'Kay. Kevin. Whatever. Look —,” His voice shifted slightly. “I wanted to ask you about something."
Kevin leaned forward slightly where he was sitting straight up in one of the safehouse's living room chairs — despite Raymond's instructions to remain slouched over. He had to remain a little rebellious, and not getting scoliosis would be an added bonus. He met Jake's gaze; the younger man wasn't looking at him from where he was lying sprawled across the carpeted floor with his hand halfway in a bag of some sort of pizza-flavored chips, staring straight ahead at the television screen, where one of his ridiculous robot sci-fi films was playing (at a quiet volume, as per Raymond).
"What about?" He questioned at last, when Jake, predictably, didn't elaborate. The detective seemed to squirm, frowning and grimacing.
"Well," he grumbled, looking rather petulant, as if he hadn't been the one to stir up conversation in the first place, "I guess, uh —," Jake mumbled under his breath for a moment, and then:
"How'd you know that you . . ." He made an errant hand gesture, still not looking at Kevin. "Y'know?"
Kevin just barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Barely. "I am afraid that you will need to be a tad more specific," he responded dryly. Jake seemed to squirm, crossing and uncrossing his arms, tipping his head back to rest on the couch, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth and chewing noisily before responding at last, voice choked and rushed as he swallowed his food.
"How'd you know you were gay?"
Kevin blinked; that had been the last thing he was expecting to come out of Jake's chip-filled mouth. He leaned back fractionally, a small crease between his brows. "I fail to understand how that is relevant," he responded, treading carefully, unsure as to where this conversation was heading.
"It's just —," Jake let out a frustrated sound, and drew his knees up to his chest, grinding his teeth together with audible anxiety. "My friend, Rosa," he continued at last, "she — she just came out. She's bi." Raymond had told him about that, Kevin remembered, and his mind was starting to connect the dots.
He watched as Jake's eyes kept flitting from the television screen to his own face; this was serious, he recognized, and he listened intently as Jake spoke again, his voice quiet, his gaze downcast. "And, I dunno, I started thinking about —,” Jake seemed to cringe in on himself, a grimace playing across his face. “Stuff."
"What sort of 'stuff'?" Kevin pressed softly. Jake looked down at the floor, hands wringing together over his knees.
"I love Amy," he said, voice uncertain — not because he was uncertain of his love, Kevin recognized, but of something else entirely. "Ames is the only person I wanna be with, for the rest of my life, ever. I don't wanna be with anyone but her." Jake seemed to hesitate, wavering between speaking and not, before eventually barreling on, squeezing his eyes shut tight.
"I love Amy," he repeated, "but I — I think —,” Jake was struggling to speak, mouth opening and closing, but Kevin was patient; he knew what he would say, or at least he thought he did, but his suspicious were confirmed when, at last, Jake dug his nails into his knees and forced out through gritted teeth: “I think I might be bi."
Silence settled between them for only ten seconds before the younger man broke it again; Jake jerked his head up, meeting Kevin's gaze, and he looked almost . . . scared.
It didn't fit in Kevin's preconceived notion of the detective. Though to be frank, none of this did.
"I think I always have been," Jake confessed almost frantically, his words coming out in a rush, now, "I just — I didn't consider it to not be — to not be normal, till Rosa came out. I thought that — that we all think guys are hot, and girls are hot, and who really cares, y'know? And I've only ever been with women, and I'll only ever be with Ames now, but I just — I think I am, and — and I needed to tell somebody, 'cause I dunno if it's okay for me to be, with Amy, and —,"
"Calm down, Jake," Kevin interrupted, as gently as he could, recognizing a clear spiral; he taught college students, after all. "Your sexuality is a part of you," he explained, knowing full well that no one ever had to Jake before, “and you would be just as bisexual if you were married to man instead, or if you had always known, or if you were to discover this part of yourself in twenty year's time. It would not change who you are, and it certainly does not mean that anything will change between you and your wife."
Jake exhaled a heavy breath, wrapping his arms around himself. and casting his gaze down at his socked feet, tapping them against the carpet. "Just feels like I should've known it already, y'know?" He said weakly, with a sad, crooked little smile. "Like — I'm pretty much forty, and the first person I'm telling is my precinct's captain's husband. The first person I told should've been, like, my mom in eighth grade, when I thought to myself that the flag football team's quarterback was more hot than any of the girls."
"Well, thank you for telling me," Kevin said, keeping his voice firm but not unkind (and giving himself a pat on the back for not correcting any of the detective’s atrocious grammar), "but you should not judge yourself for not coming to understand this part of yourself sooner. I myself did not fully realize my sexuality until I met Raymond, and many others I know did not realize until they were much older than you.
“I understand that I come from a different generation in regards to such things, but that is irrelevant; discovering your sexuality is not something on a timeline. It is your journey, Jacob, and no one will scorn you for taking longer than you think you should have to find that part of yourself." He paused, and then, as Jake still looked at him with eyes wide as an inquisitive child's, he continued. "And I — as will Raymond be, should you choose to tell him — am proud of you for doing so, and for telling me. Truly, I am honored."
"Well, you were kinda the only option," Jake joked weakly, gesturing about with an errant hand; "safehouse, and all."
"Your hand can be seen from the window," Kevin pointed out with returning humor, "I believe, as Raymond would say, you have killed me."
Jake laughed at that, a grin splitting his face, even if his eyes were a bit watery. He let out a shaky sigh, and dropped his arms to his sides, sprawling his legs back out. "Thanks, Kev," he said, and for once, Kevin did not feel the urge to correct him. "Feels, uh . . . nice,” he added on, gesturing towards his chest. “Less — less heavy."
"Like a weight has been removed from your chest?" Kevin supplied, and Jake grinned at him, a little crooked and very charming, and Kevin understood for a moment why Raymond viewed him like a son.
"Yeah," he agreed, "just like that."