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‘Do girls dig the beard?’ Adrian asks, genuine as always while he wipes away the sweat that has gathered along John’s forehead. ‘Or guys? I bet it tickles. I could never grow a beard, but maybe I should so I can shave it off if I ever need to go on the run.’
‘No,’ John groans, shifting his weight around in the bathtub so that he can rest his entire face against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall.
‘No to girls? Or to guys? Or to me growing a beard? Yeah, I probably wouldn’t look good with one. Are you into guys? I don’t want to make assumptions,’ Adrian says, still squatted at John’s side, perched inches from him and watching intently for the next beads of sweat to form so he can wipe them away. Adrian knew he was really good at this whole taking care of people thing. ‘I’m learning that anybody can be gay, like Lee, which is cool with me. And Chris, did you know Chris is gay? Well not gay, but bisexual, but that’s a type of gay right?’
‘Yes,’ John answers through the splitting headache that makes parsing Adrian’s rapid-fire manner of speech even more difficult than usual. As his brain catches up on the past few seconds, he clarifies: ‘Yes I know Chris is bisexual.’
‘Are you gay?’ Adrian asks directly, hovering even closer to John’s face and quickly wiping away a bead of sweat before it even has a chance to roll down his friend’s face. Oh yeah, he was great at this, he was like the sweat annihilator.
‘I don’t know!’ John is clearly exasperated. He is hung over and curled up in his own bathtub so he knows it isn’t as clean as it should be, and he had fucking Vigilante of all people nannying him while prying about his sexuality. ‘Do we have to talk about this right now? I feel like shit.’
‘Well, yeah, of course you do dude you drank a shit tonne last night! It only makes sense!’ Adrian says, clearly not deterred by John’s irritation. John gathers his strength and turns the opposite direction from Adrian’s delirious smile. When Adrian laughs, John doesn’t even bother looking back at him. ‘How do you not know though? Isn’t that, like, essential information to know about yourself? If you don’t know then how do you know who to kiss?’
‘How do you know who to kiss?’ John retorts, clenching his fist and digging his tattered nails into his palms to provide some distraction from the pain roaring in his head and the frustrating line of conversation Adrian has found himself stuck on. There was no point in trying to change the subject; Adrian had a question and he would want an answer. A decent lie could probably get John out of the situation, but the topic and the current state of his head made that a difficult bar to clear.
After a few beats of silence, John peeks over his shoulder to find Adrian lost in thought, staring up at the popcorn ceiling. The fluorescent light beaming down on him sets his curls aglow, and he looks… pretty. Pretty? Was Adrian pretty? John turns his gaze back to the cracks along the bathtub he is clinging to and tries not to think about that. He’s seen Adrian kill people, a lot of people—a bathroom light wasn’t going to baptise him.
Eventually, Adrian has his answer: ‘I guess I just kiss whoever asks me.’ John can’t help but burst into laughter, easing his back against the wall while he cackles.
‘You can’t be serious,’ John says, but Adrian’s face is completely neutral. ‘Oh, come on, you would kiss anybody if they asked you?’
‘What’s wrong with that?’ Adrian asks, furrowing his brow in confusion. ‘I don’t get asked a lot! Girls usually want to kiss Chris. Sometimes guys want to kiss me but mainly they want to kiss Chris. And Chris doesn’t want to kiss me except when he’s really drunk so what’s wrong with kissing people who want me to kiss them?’
‘Well, you can’t just kiss anybody, right? You’d kiss someone you weren’t attracted to.’
‘Uh, yeah I can,’ Adrian responds petulantly, clearly becoming irritated with John’s dismissiveness of his thoughtful answer. ‘I’m an adult, I can kiss anybody I want.’
‘Yeah, exactly, you’re supposed to want to kiss them,’ John says while shaking his head. ‘If you just go around kissing anybody then you’re going to kiss some ugly people.’
‘I don’t think anybody who would want to kiss me could be ugly,’ Adrian replies, crossing his arms. ‘Anybody who could see how awesome I am has to be awesome themselves. So I would want to kiss them.’
‘So you’d kiss your mother?’ John asks with a bemused smile.
‘What? Ew! No!’ Adrian exclaims, standing up in revulsion. Uncertain what to do with himself, he re-wets the rag he had been using to wipe at John’s brow. Adrian wrings it out aggressively, still annoyed by John’s incredulity. ‘That’s gross dude, that’s my mother. She doesn’t even kiss me on the cheek because that’s so gross. Yuck!’
From his spot on the floor, John could see Adrian in a different light. Still the same fluorescent bulb, still in his dingy bathroom, but from this angle Adrian stood above him as a deity. Adrian being in good shape was not something John had only just noticed, he had certainly admired Adrian’s ability to fight in the past, but this time it felt different. Usually John saw Adrian as his equal, not only in height but also in strength; Adrian was capable of incredible violence but dependent on John all the same. But right now, John felt incredibly small. Adrian, weird as he was, kissed who he liked and probably even more than just kissed. John’s stomach churned, and if he tried he could possibly convince himself it was the hang over even if he knew that was at least partially a lie. A question murmured along his lips, arriving unbidden and unwanted because the answer to it was not something he wanted to hear. But with Adrian facing away from him, the question fell out of John’s mouth before he could catch it: ‘What about me?’
‘Huh? What about you dude?’ Adrian asks in response, turning to him once more. He crouches at John’s side and smiles intently while sopping up the sweat on John’s face. It wasn’t a ‘friendly’ smile or a forced one—if those were even different—just his default expression when he was focused and right now he was totally dominating John’s overworked sweat glands.
John flushes, scrambling his brain in an attempt to get out of what he had just asked. Glancing away from Adrian’s intent gaze, he manages to stammer out something that could pass as a reasonable explanation for his unreasonable question. ‘I was, uh, I wanted- I wanted more, of this.’
That seemed to make sense to Adrian, who nods and smiles. ‘Yeah I am pretty great at this, huh? Don’t worry bud, I’m keeping your sweat at bay. You can count on me.’
The noise that escapes John is half an acknowledgement and half something that sounds like it has been pulled out of him by force. He could count on Vigilante, yeah, but Adrian? Had he ever actually counted on Adrian? If anything, Adrian had to count on him, didn’t he? He felt his brain pulsate as if it wanted to push out of his eardrums, beating in tandem with the blood coursing through him. Was this Adrian right now with him, or was it Vigilante?
‘Uh- both? I mean-‘
Shit. ‘Shit.’ John could evaporate right then and there.
‘What, is that bad or something?’ Adrian half-shouts, taking his turn to be exasperated. ‘They are both me!’
‘No, no I just-‘ John can barely get the words out, he thinks he might puke, he knows now is not the time to have an ‘emotional’ conversation with fucking Vigilante. ‘I’m gonna-‘ Oh, now he knows he’s going to puke.
‘Gonna what?’ Adrian is immediately on high alert, grabbing John’s upper arms tight enough to leave indentations into his arms, tight enough to pull him out of the bathtub, not tight enough to tear his arm off. ‘John?’
‘Water…’ It’s barely audible but he gets it out.
‘Oh, right, it’s right here man!’ Adrian would never forget to leave water at Economos’ side after he got as drunk as last night. A guy as big as John would have to drink a lot to get that wasted, and you need a lot of water to recover from a binge like that. Adrian had actually filled two glasses of water last night, both for John, because he needed it and Adrian liked being what people needed. When he passes the glass to John, he can see the older man’s hand tremble. John can’t even raise the glass to his lips before he almost drops it at Adrian’s next words: ‘Are you scared?’
‘Scared?’ John rasps out, taking a moment to breathe before he takes a sip. And then another, and soon an entire mouthful and then some.
‘You’re shaking,’ it comes out more softly than Adrian’s typical observations, the vague sound of concern that John has come to hear for its true note: curiosity. John’s skin feels tacky under the harsh light of Adrian’s interest; he wants to swallow but his mouth has gone dry.
John takes in another mouthful of water—he can make Adrian wait, and he does, just watching. They have their own rhythm in conversation, because John is one of the few people that actually listens to Adrian. He figured Leota is another close contender, but even she can be dismissive of his rants, ignorant of when his voice falters. John listens.
And now he is supposed to be the one to speak.
‘I just, you know-‘ Adrian doesn’t know yet, and he continues to watch John intently. This might be the first time John has seen him like this, from this close, where he can see that Adrian’s eyes aren’t just brown but also green and amber and golden. John swallows again. ‘Hung over.’
‘Yeah,’ Adrian responds with a deep exhale, finally blinking and nodding his head as if reassuring himself. ‘Yeah, see, I thought that was the case. But I got kind of worried because of what you had asked me before, you know, that maybe you were seeing me like I’m Vigilante all the time. And I thought maybe you were scared, and that’s why you were shaking around me, but that’s silly, huh? We’re friends!’
‘Friends,’ John gasps out, taking another sip of water to calm his nerves.
‘Yeah, of course!’ Adrian enthuses, an eager smile on his face. ‘And since we are friends, you can totally tell me if I ever scare you. I know you get scared a lot, and I don’t want to scare you even more.’ John smiles wryly at Adrian’s almost affectionate reassurance, but the smile gives way to shock as Adrian continues: ‘And I don’t want you to think being okay with your sexuality is something to be scared of.’
‘God, Adrian…’ John groans, setting his glass down and running his damp hand down his face. ‘Why are you so interested in my sexuality all of a sudden?’
‘Well that’s easy,’ he responds with his eyes closed, nodding along with his own words as if they are perfectly logical. ‘I know everyone else’s sexuality. It’s important information to know about your friends.’ Adrian’s eyes open and John almost recoils at their intensity, because Adrian has that look in his eyes again. ‘I know that about all my friends, except for my special friend.’
‘Special friend?’ John repeats, trying to buy himself some more time. He does not want to have this conversation, not now when he’s hung over in the fucking bathtub and probably not ever. But Adrian was fixated on him for the first time in a while, and even if John feels uncomfortable with the intensity he can’t help but want to bathe in the beam of Adrian’s fascination. He wants to be fascinating, to someone, he just never thought he’d want that someone to be Vigilante. Adrian? John shakes his head to clear his thoughts.
That was a mistake. ‘Are we not special friends?’ Adrian asks, his voice smaller than John has ever heard it. When his eyes find Adrian’s again, they’ve gone wide in disbelief and… concern? Worry? John can’t put his finger on what emotion is flickering across Adrian’s face but he knows it is his fault.
‘No, sorry,’ John begins and then restarts. ‘No! I mean, yes we are friends, I’m just-‘ he’s stuttering, shaking again with the fear that he’s fucking things up because he’s always fucking things up and if he fucks this up with Adrian he might just be a lost cause when it comes to friendships. Or even relationships in general. Fuck. ‘I’m just shocked that you consider me your "special" friend. I don’t even know what that means.’
In an instant, Adrian perks back up, reassured by John’s fumbled explanation. He trusts Economos of all people to not lie to him—he jokes around sometimes and he is sarcastic occasionally, but Adrian can practically see his heart beating in his chest because of how honest he is. That’s part of what he likes about him. ‘Well, you can’t be my BFF because Chris is my BFF. And you are really nice to me, but so is Lee, and Harcourt in her own way too, and Eagly is nice to me—even nicer to me than he is to Lee even if Chris says otherwise,’ he accentuates this by rolling his eyes, which draws a small smile across John’s face. ‘But none of them get me, you know? Not even P, sometimes I think he doesn’t really like me as a BFF. You know he doesn’t even talk to me on the phone? Not like you do.’
When Adrian looks over at John there is a hint of bashfulness across his face. John’s mind races, looking for clues, slotting in what he wants this half expression to mean (that even Adrian knows that John likes him more than Chris does) over what it probably means (nothing at all because Adrian doesn’t feel like anybody else). John wants to know how he feels, he wants to understand him better than anyone. It’s mostly because of ego, because John knows how good he is at reading people, how good he has to be to navigate a world where nobody says what they mean and everybody expects you to know how they feel regardless. Except Adrian, who tells him bluntly, who isn’t going anywhere, who brought him two glasses of water and wiped the sweat off his brow and washes his clothes if he gets them dirty in the process of drinking enough to feel he is actually a meaningful part of his own friend group.
John realises it is his turn to say something, but he is at a loss for words again. He knows Adrian is patient with him, but he also knows that Adrian is waiting. The hairs on the back of John’s neck make that obvious enough, a primal response to the awareness of being watched by a hunter. By a killer. ‘I’m honoured to be your special friend,’ he finally says, nodding solemnly in acknowledgement of the weight of this revelation.
Adrian’s face is overtaken by a smile so wide it almost forces his mouth open. John shifts uncomfortably, acutely aware of what his manic expression implies. This is the most intimate conversation they have ever had, despite having talked excessively since they first began working together. Even before John could see Adrian past Vigilante, when the man nannying him was just a dossier of victims and a psychological profile that made him hesitant to even consider keeping this job, Adrian made a point of talking to him: talking to him more than anybody had talked to John in a long time. Back then, John felt like it was a tactic, some form of psychological warfare meant to wear him down over time so that Vigilante could go in for the kill when his defences were lowered. Now, John thinks it might be because John is the first person to have listened to Adrian in a long time.
‘So…’ Adrian says, cutting the lapse in conversation by drawing the word out for an entire breath. ‘If we’re special friends, you can tell me anything. Like if you’re gay.’
John groans and throws his head back hard enough to crack it against the linoleum. Adrian is instantly at his side again, hands reaching out to check on John but stymied by John’s scowl. His hands hover in the space between them, clenching and unclenching and he tries to figure out what to do with them. ‘I told you I don’t know,’ is all John says.
‘How come?’
‘Because I’ve never dated someone!’ John finally admits, shouting loud enough that Adrian takes a step back. ‘Look at me, Adrian, isn’t that obvious?’
‘How would that be obvious?’ Adrian says, shaking his head. ‘You’re a handsome guy, I figured you had been with a lot of people.’
John doesn’t even have the time to process the compliment through his annoyance. ‘Been with a lot of people? I’ve never even kissed someone!’
‘Oh,’ Adrian responds, finally understanding the situation at hand. He sits back down at the side of the tub, crossing his legs and putting his head in his hands while he thinks. The pair are silent for what feels like an eternity to John, who has no choice but to glower in the bathtub and regret saying anything at all. He wants to understand Adrian, not scare him away by revealing himself. John knows part of Adrian’s draw to him is his enigmatic nature, the fact that he doesn’t let just anyone know everything about him. John presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to force the blooming headache back down.
‘Do you want to find out?’ It’s said so softly that John isn’t even sure he heard it. He drops his hands and looks over at Adrian, who is still in the same position as before, still thinking, still looking off at John’s beige wall. John opens his mouth to ask if Adrian said something, but Adrian is faster: ‘I could help you figure it out.’
John’s mouth dries again, and he picks up the glass of water he had set aside and finishes it off. He can’t set the empty glass down because Adrian’s hand is on it instantly, fingers brushing against his own and John shudders involuntarily and releases it. Adrian sets the glass aside and then he’s back at John’s side once more, expressionless when he looks at John and John thinks he could die, right there and then, because Adrian wants to kiss him and he’d rather die happy than let him down.
There’s no rush for a response, but Adrian is waiting. When John thought about kissing Adrian, as he had many times before because he didn’t make his brain and he can’t control what it chooses to show him, he’d always imagined there would be passion and ardent fervour abound, that he would take Adrian into his arms and kiss him in a way that left the younger man breathless, that brought rouge to his cheeks and left his lips swollen and wanting. He had fantasised about kissing Adrian so well that Adrian can’t help but remark on it, can’t help but come back for more, can’t help but let John do more and it’s the implication of more that undoes John every time, he doesn’t even have to think about what more he could want when the release spills out of him. But he does think about it afterwards, when he cleans himself up, when he hates himself for thinking of his friend in such an avaricious manner. Disgusting.
John tries to blink those thoughts away rather than to shake them out of his head but he’s not entirely successful. Adrian is waiting for him, like always, but this time he is waiting to kiss him. To kiss him. To kiss him.
‘O- okay,’ John finally says after summoning the courage to respond. He can’t look at Adrian, not right now, because he knows one look at his face will cause his conviction to crumble.
He expects Adrian to say something, anything, something to lighten the mood and calm John’s nerves. What he doesn’t expect is the hand at his face, a thumb on his cheek and the other fingers burrowed into his beard, a strong grip that turns his face towards Adrian whether he wants to or not. And John does, John does want to see Adrian like this, like he has never seen him before. John’s fantasies all paled in comparison to this, to seeing Adrian’s eyelashes up close, his eyes half-lidded but intent. Adrian is watching him, only him, for right now.
The kiss is not what John expected. In his fantasies, they are both so overcome with lust that they fight to swallow each other’s tongue. It’s hot and it’s heavy and Adrian devours him as if he was starving. But here, Adrian is gentle and almost tentative. When their lips meet, there is still space between them, enough space for John to pull back if he wants to, but he doesn’t. He lets his eyes drift closed as he presses deeper into the kiss and, reassured by John’s eagerness, Adrian reciprocates by bringing his other hand against John’s cheek and framing him in his grasp, holding him with a tender strength that John has never seen from him. Those hands that could kill him with ease are now keeping him grounded in the moment, keeping him here, with Adrian. A shudder ripples down John’s spine as Adrian continues to kiss him with soft persistence, fitting their lips together as if they’ve done this before, swiping his tongue against John’s lower lip and making him gasp at the sensation.
John opens his eyes and finds Adrian watching him as intently as ever, but there is something else there too. Something new, something John has never seen before, something just between the two of them. Adrian is undeterred by John’s gaze and instead continues his careful ministrations, not pushing too far into John’s mouth but instead mapping his lips with the occasional stroke of his tongue. John’s vision begins to swim, his chest feels tight under Adrian’s care, under his watchful eyes and intentional grip. If this is what it feels like to be wanted by Adrian Chase, John never wants to let go.
But it has to end, eventually, because Adrian notices John has stopped breathing before he does and he pulls away slowly. John finds himself aching in the absence, his lips still eager for more as what they’ve always wanted falls just out of reach once again. John thinks he could do this forever, he thinks he could die in Adrian’s arms and that would be okay, if it meant he could be held this close and watched this fervently for the last moments of his life.
‘Was that okay?’ Adrian asks sheepishly, pulling a hand away from John’s face to run it through his hair. It is John’s turn to watch and he can’t help but do so, watching Adrian’s taut muscles flex with his every movement, seeing his hand disappear into those brown curls and wondering what they would feel like in his own palm.
‘Yes,’ John says breathlessly, fighting with himself to look at Adrian’s face again. He summons the courage and looks at him, really looks at him for the first time since seeing him so close. He’s still Adrian, he’s still right there with a goofy smile on his face. Still the same as before, nothing has changed, except everything has changed for John.
‘You know, you’re my first? I’ve never kissed a guy with a beard,’ Adrian says and it makes John’s heart skip a beat. They were each other’s firsts, that kiss meant something to Adrian too. Even if it was only a novelty, the knowledge that they are something to each other kindles a flame deep in John’s chest. ‘Chris isn’t really into beards so I’ve never had the chance.’
It’s just a fact that Adrian is sharing but it instantly sends white hot rage coursing through John’s veins. He can feel himself trembling again as he tries to push it back down. Noticing the change in his friend's demeanour, Adrian helpfully fetches the other glass of water for his friend. John accepts it, and drinks the entire thing, unable to meet Adrian’s eyes as if they had only just met. As if he is scared of him again.
‘So do you think you like guys?’ Adrian asks, because he still wants to know. That was the whole point, John realises, and it splashes freezing water across the fire that had ignited in his chest. Adrian didn’t want to kiss him; he just wanted an answer to his question.
John doesn’t know how to say ‘I only want you, I don’t want to kiss anybody except for you, I don’t want you to kiss anybody but me and I want to tear the tongue out of anybody who has ever even had the chance to kiss you.’ in a way that is socially acceptable, so he settles for the easy answer: ‘Yeah.’
‘That’s awesome dude!’ It’s said so genuinely that John has no choice but to look at Adrian, to meet his gaze, to soak in his radiant smile. A small part of John wants to believe the enthusiasm is for kissing him, but most of John wants to run for the hills before this man shatters his heart like a child playing with a precious heirloom. He can’t trust Adrian, he can’t believe Adrian, not entirely, not about this. ‘I’m so glad I could help you, it means the world to me to help out my special friend.’
Before John can even process those words, there’s a knock at the door. ‘I’m headed out!’ Emilia shouts, and in an instant the all-consuming event horizon dissipates. John is still hung over, he’s still in his bathtub, and Adrian is standing up and turned away from him. John knows that this is it, that this was the culmination of all his wanting and waiting and that he will never have more than this, and the bitterness pools in his throat like venom; he could spit.
Adrian offers him a hand, breaking through the gloom John had summoned around himself. The bathroom light has shrouded Adrian in a halo once more as he leans down towards John, offering him salvation and redemption and all the care John has always craved but never had. It’s all right here, all within his reach if he can only find it in himself to take it, to take what he wants. To take what is his.
He hesitates but eventually accepts Adrian’s offer as he gingerly steps out of the tub. ‘Thank you,’ John says softly.
‘Any time!’ Adrian replies, with that genuine smile John has become so familiar with, that smile that he wants to believe is reserved only for him.
John’s chest aches.