Work Text:
The air is full of music, soap bubbles and a fair amount of glittery confetti, all of which are things that Connor loves; there are rainbow flags and sunshine and shouting, and the whole experience is tiring, in a way, but delightful in all the ways that matter. Connor shields his eyes from the sun with one hand, uses his other to wag his hand along with that one Beyoncé song despite that fact that he’s neither single nor a lady; it’s just a really catchy song and some people in the parade cheer him on when they see him dancing. He waves back.
“Come on, I know you like this song too.” He turns his head, and Kevin is shielding his eyes too, a droplet of sweat finding its way down his temple. He has got a bottle of water in his other hand, and his eyebrows are knitted together. Connor’s elation takes a bit of a dip; he stops shimmying his shoulders along with the music. “What’s wrong?”
Kevin’s frown smoothens out and he offers Connor a small smile, one of his real ones, not the practiced, picture-perfect one that is nowadays saved for distant relatives and annoying salesmen. “Nothing. Sorry. It’s great.” He holds out the water bottle for Connor to take. “You’re great.”
“Why thank you,” Connor replies saucily, accepting the bottle. He doesn’t drink from it however; instead he keeps it in his hand while he drapes his arms over Kevin’s shoulders, leaning close. If he had been taller he would have leaned his forehead against Kevin’s. As it is now, it catches against Kevin’s nose instead, which isn’t anywhere near as elegant, but it feels good nonetheless. “You’re pretty incredible, yourself. I thought you’d love this, though. Costumes and singing and bright colors and all.”
Kevin rests his hands on Connor’s waist, and he is quiet for a moment. “I guess this is more your scene than mine, is all. Not that it matters,” he hurries to continue. He grins, detaches himself somewhat. “You’re pretty into it.”
Connor lets that one seed of a reminder sink into him, that Kevin has never really…well. Never really struggled with his sexuality as much as he has with his identity and his faith. Not at all like Connor, who sometimes feels like his sexuality is at the center of his being and of his decisions and consequent life as well as a reason for being shunned. “I’m pretty into you.”
It is yet another cheesy line, but he knows that Kevin loves that just as much as Connor does; he offers another one of those tiny smiles, a bit of an almost shy flush on his cheeks (or is that just the beginning of a sunburn?).
Someone throws another handful or two of confetti; it rains over them and detaches them from reality for a moment, enough for that hesitant look in Kevin’s eyes to change, and then they are kissing. Kevin’s lips are still cool from the water he has been drinking, it is refreshing and sweet all at once, and most of Connor’s attention refocuses to his boyfriend and nothing else.
When they pull apart Kevin has golden confetti in his hair. Connor brushes it away. “Let’s get out of the sun. I’ll probably look like a tomato soon.”
“No you won’t,” Kevin denies, then takes a closer look. “Well, maybe a little.” The tension has left his shoulders; he hooks his arm around Connor’s. “Let’s go.”
Connor wrinkles his nose, but amusedly allows Kevin to take charge as though it had been his idea. “Lead the way.”