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Kim’s glass was almost empty, the thin layer of amber liquid swirling around as Kim rocked it unthinkingly with North’s voice rising above the conversation at the table. They were packed in tonight—the bar buzzing even over the loud music playing on the speakers.
It had become something of a ritual, even after Kim had left the team, to end up there after a race. Alan bought rounds of drinks until he was too drunk to continue and Jeff had to drag him home, supporting a sappy, deeply-in-love Alan draped over his shoulders. Kim had heard some of the things Alan said to Jeff—supposed to be a whisper but practically shouted in his drunken state—about how much he loved Jeff and how happy he was. The other guys teased Alan mercilessly, but Kim thought it was nice.
“Where’s your boy?” North’s voice, louder than it needed to be over the din of music and conversation, drew Kim from his thoughtful contemplation of his empty glass.
Glancing around, Kim knew Kenta had left to get another drink, but that had been a while ago. The line for the bartender was long, though, so Kim wasn’t that surprised when he found Kenta leaning against the bar, looking only slightly annoyed at the wait.
Kim smiled to himself, a habit by now, as he watched Kenta tug at his shirt sleeves, fabric straining against his bicep, how Kenta’s eyes narrowed as someone tried to muscle in beside him.
“Aren’t you worried?” North asked, bringing Kim’s attention back to the table. North was leaning in close despite Sonic’s attempts to stop him, as if he knew what was about to happen.
Across the table, Babe and Charlie were in their own little world and Jeff was gently prying a glass from Alan’s hands. Par for the course as far as Kim had seen in all the times they’d come here. The only difference, really, was Kenta.
It had taken a while for Kim to convince Kenta to join them for their celebrations. Reluctant and skeptical, Kenta had found excuses for months, preferring to spend time with Kim alone. Kim didn’t mind the time they spent alone—in fact, he craved it—but it was good to get out once in a while too.
So he’d finally dragged Kenta along with him, made sure he felt welcomed and safe with the group. Kim had kept a firm arm around his waist the whole time that first night, just so that Kenta would know he was okay.
“Worried about what?” he asked, draining what was left in his glass. Kenta would be back soon with another and he’d slot right in next to Kim, a gentle touch at his waist that always seemed at odds for who Kenta was. But Kim never asked about it because then Kenta might stop, and Kim didn’t want Kenta to stop anything when it came to their relationship.
“Well, your boyfriend,” North said with a grin, nodding over the crowd at Kenta, “he’s hot.”
Kim barely saw Sonic reach over and smack North on the shoulder, but he heard North’s indignant cry.
North wasn’t wrong, though, and Kim was well-aware. Anyone could see how beautiful Kenta was with his high cheekbones and sharp jawline. Pillowy lips that tasted like cigarettes and mint, his thick neck that only Kim got to clutch at, his broad chest that was always warm under Kim’s hands, pecs he could squeeze and let his tongue do the touching for him. Anyone could see that, but only Kim got to pull Kenta in close and make him blush with a simple kiss placed strategically on his skin.
“And?” Kim asked when North didn’t explain.
North was still rubbing where Sonic had hit him, but he nodded in Kenta’s direction. “And it looks like that guy’s hitting on him.”
Skeptical, Kim followed North’s gaze across the dark, crowded room, over the heads of the many people gathered around tables, dancing drunkenly where they shouldn’t, to where Kenta hadn’t left the bar. But someone else had moved in beside him.
A guy with bleached hair but nothing special stood too close to Kenta, seemingly dragging his fingers up Kenta’s forearm. Kenta just seemed to bristle at the touch, pulling away.
“He can handle himself,” Kim answered North, whose eyebrows rose at his response.
“You’re not jealous? Even a little bit?” North poked at Kim’s cheeks and Kim swatted him away.
There was nothing to be jealous of, Kim thought as he watched Kenta straighten up and take a full step back from the guy. Considering how long it had taken Kim to break through Kenta’s walls, he seriously doubted some bleach-blond twink would get anywhere in five minutes of conversation. Besides, Kenta didn’t belong to him any more than Kim belonged to Kenta. Their relationship was mutual, equal, and Kim wasn’t worried about his boyfriend even when the guy at the bar tried again, stepping up too close.
“No,” he answered North simply, twisting the empty glass on the table. If Kenta was going to cheat on him (not that he would because Kim would dump his ass so fast he’d be left spinning and Kenta knew it), it wouldn’t be in full view of Kim.
“I guess that’s a good thing,” Sonic said from North’s other side, craning his neck to see over the crowd. “’Cause Kenta just shoved that guy.”
Kim’s head snapped over to the bar, rising to his feet without even thinking.
The guy who’d been hitting on Kenta a second ago, all teasing touches and knowing smirks, had transformed with a glowering stare at Kenta hunched over the bar, half turned away from him. Something eased in Kim’s chest, that Kenta wasn’t egging this on, but Kim grimaced as the sucker punch came out of nowhere, knocking Kenta back a few steps.
Kenta did know how to handle himself—of that, Kim was sure. He could take someone in a fight, disarm them, lay them out on their knees until they submitted. He didn’t need Kim’s help to knock this guy down with a quick jab at the throat, a knee to his stomach that left the man groaning on the floor.
It wouldn’t have been Kim’s first instinct, to fight instead of just walking away, but at least Kenta had the upper hand.
He wasn’t about to, though, Kim thought as he saw three guys moving intently toward Kenta, one of them rushing to pull up the guy on the floor, the other two hulking as they squared up to Kenta.
So far, Kim hadn’t moved, watching from afar, hoping Kenta would turn around and come back, forget the drinks and leave the drama behind. But he should have known better. Kenta didn’t run from fights.
“Fuck!” Kim cursed under his breath as he moved, shoving his way past people even as the scuffle started.
The crowd parted, mostly to get out of the way as Kenta swung, catching one of the guys in the cheek and even though he stumbled away, Kenta wasn’t fast enough to avoid the second man’s fist slamming into his face.
Kim could see the blood pouring from Kenta’s nose as he threw himself past the last few people blocking his way, ramming into one of the guys and pinning him to the bar to get him away from Kenta.
“Kenta!” he called, eyes flashing when Kenta met his gaze, something unreadable in the split second before Kenta was rushed again.
The man threw Kim off, and Kim stumbled back, ducking from the fist flying his way. He was pretty decent in a fight, at least strong enough to hold his own, but he was more concerned about Kenta and the two guys now ganging up on him. Blood streaked down Kenta’s chin, smeared on his hand as he tried to wipe it away, mouth open as he tried to breath, eyes darting, calculating.
Kim needed to get to him, a desperate surge rising in him as the other two men surrounded Kenta and grabbed for him, pushing and pulling, yanking him around as Kenta tried to free himself. It was times like these Kim could see the rabid dog everyone had warned him about—the gleam in Kenta’s eye as he twisted from the grip around his wrist, the way he growled and clawed at his attackers—sharp, vicious strikes that left them all bruised and bloodied, but he was still outnumbered.
Kim was distracted, watching Kenta face his attackers, desperate to get between them, and he missed the knee coming up to his stomach. Momentary pain flooded his body as he doubled over, gasping for breath, caught off-guard by the hit. The unattractive, hulking man facing Kim took another swing, but Kim reacted on instinct despite the throbbing pain, seizing his arm and flipping him into his back with a painful thud as he hit the concrete.
“You think you can shove our friend?” one of the guys demanded of Kenta as he swung and Kenta dodged the hit, but the second guy’s fist caught him in the ribs and Kenta gasped in pain.
Scrambling for him, ignoring the throb in his stomach, Kim shoved the guy on Kenta’s right, positioning himself between them and Kenta despite Kenta’s glare, as if annoyed Kim felt the need to intervene. Kim didn’t give a fuck what Kenta wanted right now—he wasn’t going to let him get beat up by some idiots whose friend couldn’t take no for an answer.
What happened next was a blur—a fight that left Kim panting for breath, pain in his chest, his stomach, his shoulder. He knew Kenta was somewhere beside him, could see how he moved, could hear his grunts of pain. It was stupid, this fight, he thought, as he stepped in front of Kenta to take the punch meant for him, darting before Kenta could stop him, could pull Kim back and attack.
Pain bloomed in his cheek, a cut sharp like a knife from the man’s ring, but he didn’t stop. No one was going to hurt Kenta on his watch, even if it meant a black eye.
“Hey, break it up!” A voice shouted over the noise, the music cutting out and leaving the place eerily silent.
Kim didn’t even know who it was shoving him back, several men in black tee shirts, probably security, separating them all. He could only pant for breath, searching for Kenta, distressed when he didn’t find him next to him, but there, he spotted him pinned to the bar by one of the security, a glower on his face, and even that calmed Kim. He was okay.
“No fighting in the bar,” the head of the security snapped, his hand on Kim’s chest to hold him back. “Every one of you, out!”
Kim didn’t care about getting thrown out—his only concern was Kenta with his bruised cheek, his bloody nose, scrapes on his knuckles.
They were thrown, unceremoniously, out the front door, and Kim grabbed Kenta before he could turn to the other guys behind them. Now was not the time to fight again.
“What are you doing?” Kenta demanded as Kim seized him by the shirt and pulled him away from the parking lot, away from the group of guys that looked about as worse for the wear as they did.
“Come on,” Kim just said, perhaps a bit too harshly as the adrenaline turned to anger, dragging Kenta with him into the darkness.
The garage was closest, walking distance from the bar, and that was where Kim went. He didn’t slow down a second with Kenta tripping along behind him, a huff now and then as if he didn’t understand why Kim was walking so fast, why he kept a tight grip on his wrist, fingernails digging into the skin.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Kim asked once they finally reached the garage and the lights came up around them. He didn’t give Kenta a chance to answer, though, dragging him to the bathroom and shoving him up against a sink.
“What are you talking about?” Kenta asked, eyebrows furrowed, the pinch to his mouth as if he didn’t understand why Kim would be upset.
Kim didn’t answer for a second, running the water and grabbing a couple paper towels from the dispenser. Despite the confused look on Kenta’s face, he was still a mess. His nose had stopped bleeding, but the blood crusted on his face and a sharp red bruise blossomed at his cheek. He was going to be a sight tomorrow.
But tonight, Kim huffed out a breath as he came back to Kenta with his damp towels and began to dab at his face.
“Taking on three guys in a bar fight?” Kim said, as if it wasn’t obvious. “You could have been seriously hurt.”
Kenta flinched as Kim wiped the blood from under his nose, but Kim didn’t let him go far, reaching for his chin and holding him steady. His need to protect Kenta had waned, the sudden desperation to keep him safe no longer his top priority now that they were out of immediate danger.
“I’ve been in fights before,” Kenta pointed out, as if Kim didn’t know. He’d witnessed first hand Kenta’s skill in fighting, how cold and calculating he could be.
But he was a different person now. Kenta was no longer shackled to Tony, no longer had to do his bidding or fight his fights. He’d softened considerably, and Kim thought he could take credit for some of that. Tamed the beast, as Babe had said one day, but Kim thought it was less about taming and more about showing Kenta there was life outside of Tony’s house, that he didn’t have to be an attack dog anymore.
“That was different,” Kim answered, poking a little hard at Kenta’s face, and Kenta jerked back. Forcing himself to take a breath, he moved gentler, cleaning off the blood from his chin, rewetting the paper towel and stroking over his skin.
“How?” Kenta asked, sounding annoyed, and Kim wasn’t sure if he was annoyed Kim had stepped in or just annoyed at the whole situation. He stood still for Kim, though, hands curled around the counter top, eyes following Kim’s every move.
“You didn’t have someone else to think about.”
Grabbing another towel, Kim let the warm water soak it. He hadn’t been worried when that guy hit on Kenta, had known Kenta only had eyes for him, but the second those guys had surrounded Kenta, all Kim could think about was losing him.
Rationally, he knew Kenta was strong enough to fight them off, but he shouldn’t have had to. He should have walked away for his own sake, for Kim’s, so he wouldn’t get hurt. So Kim wouldn’t have to clean the blood off his face and feel that tiny pang of worry deep in his gut that next time, Kenta might not get off so easy.
“I…” Kenta said, but he didn’t finish, a crease in his brow that hadn’t been there before at Kim’s words. As if he hadn’t thought of that. It shouldn’t hurt the way it did, a twinge in Kim’s chest that he tried to shake away, because he knew how long Kenta had been alone. How long Tony had used him to hurt others and not think of himself or anyone else.
The blood was mostly gone, leaving a pink stain on Kenta’s chin, his upper lip. The bruises were already darkening around his eyes, and there were finger marks pressed into his upper arm that Kim sighed at.
“I do think about you,” Kenta said when Kim stepped away to inspect his own reflection—the cut on his cheek, the red mark making his face all puffy. He glanced back at Kenta, though, an eyebrow rising.
“Yeah?” he asked, almost skeptical even though he didn’t mean for it to be. Maybe it was too much to expect Kenta to walk away from fights just for him, just because Kim didn’t want him to get injured or worse.
Kenta dropped his gaze to the tiled floor. “I just never… No one’s ever cared if I got hurt before.”
Kim’s stomach swooped, like he’d missed a step going down the stairs, unexpected at Kenta’s words. It made him want to punch everyone who’d ever treated Kenta like an animal, but he also wanted gather Kenta into his arms and assure him vehemently that that wasn’t true.
“I care,” he answered, coming back to Kenta, setting both hands on Kenta’s neck, thumbs stroking gently over his jaw.
Kenta’s soft little puppy dog eyes peered at him through the curtain of his hair, a softness Kim didn’t often see in his gaze, as if recognizing it was the truth. Kenta nodded slowly, and Kim leaned in to kiss him, the coppery taste of blood lingering on his lips when he pulled away.
“I want to keep you safe, Kenta,” he whispered, keeping the words just between them, pressing their foreheads together. “Safe and healthy and happy, for a long time.”
He saw the way Kenta’s mouth tilted into a smile, blurry this close, Kenta’s eyes closed, his hands reaching for Kim’s waist and anchoring in his jeans.
“Okay,” Kenta agreed, nodding slightly, but Kim paused, pulling back.
“Okay what?”
Kenta licked his lips, as if thinking, glancing back at Kim. “I’ll try not to get in fights,” he said finally, pulling Kim closer by his hips. “But if I do, I’ll make sure you’re there with me.”
It wasn’t exactly the perfect answer, but Kim could accept it as a step forward. He sighed, arms circling Kenta’s neck as he leaned in and he felt Kenta flinch in pain even at the gentle brush against his nose. But Kim kissed him anyway—something deep and slow and purposeful because Kenta needed to know. He wasn’t in it alone and he never would be again. Kim would always be by his side to protect him no matter how many stupid bar fights he got into.
*
FIN.