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John changes his mind five times before he parks the car in Nora’s driveway, four more by the time he gets out of the car, and he loses count by the time he actually knocks on the door. Nora smiles at him, welcoming him as she hustles him inside. He doesn’t have time to say more than hello before she’s got him in the living room, reminding him of who everyone is. There’s no hostility or hatred, so whatever happened between himself and Kevin stayed there. Either that or, at some point, the Walkers are getting away with murder, because he can’t find anything but smiles and generosity from each of them.
Except Kevin.
Kevin looks like he’s not sure who he’s going after first, John or Nora. John manages a smile and does his best to lose himself in the crowd, deriding himself for being a coward as he keeps his distance from Kevin. The party seems like the typical Walker gathering from John’s few memories and Kevin’s stories, and the alcohol is flowing faster than the wit and barbs.
John sips his drink, keeping his eyes on everything but Kevin, doing his typical routine. He knows all the alcoves and corners, knows every exit. He’s so careful not to pay attention to Kevin that he doesn’t realize they’re right next to each other until Kevin speaks.
“Why are you here?”
John’s not good at confrontations he can’t control, and he’s not good at dealing with the shuttered look on Kevin’s face. “It’s your birthday. I knew there’d be good booze.” Kevin smiles just enough to know that John’s answer pissed him off. “Besides, your mom invited me. You probably should have mentioned to her that you and I weren’t friends anymore.”
They had been friends once, which surprised them both a little. Kevin fully admitted to not having friends, not having the energy after dealing with his family, and John didn’t let anyone in, between his job and his lifestyle and the fact that the two didn’t exactly mix. Kevin smirks and, for a second, John wonders if he’s going to deny that they were friends, and he’s surprised at the flare of hurt the thought brings.
“You think me telling my mother something would have any impact on what she decides to do?”
John glances over at Nora and then laughs softly. “You have a point.” Kevin doesn’t say anything else, just stands there, far too close to John for his comfort. He wants to say something to alleviate this strangeness between them, but he’s not sure that he knows the words. I was falling in love with you and I didn’t realize it until you were gone seems too abrupt and unfair, and he’s not sure he could say it anyway. It was hard enough to admit that he missed him, that he’d made a mistake. “How are you?”
“Older.” Kevin takes a sip of his drink and John risks looking at him. His hand curves around the clear glass and his throat constricts with the swallow. It takes John a moment to realize that Kevin’s close to drunk at this point, because Kevin savors good liquor, and he’s drinking this like he’s trying to wake up with a hangover. “Wiser maybe.”
“Are you here with someone?”
“I’m here with my whole family, Detective.” Kevin’s smile is sharp and John’s not used to the cut of it anymore, not used to how much it stings when it’s aimed in his direction. “Family and friends and ex-lovers. The whole gang.”
“You know what I mean.”
Kevin turns and looks at John, his blue eyes piercing in ways that make John think maybe he’s not as close to drunk has he thought. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t know.” It’s a lie, and Kevin’s good at lies. His job is ferreting them out, catching people in them the same way John does in interrogation. Kevin’s just smoother than he is, does it with less shouting. “I want you to be happy.” That’s not quite a lie, but he can’t manage to choke out the qualifiers that would make it completely true. “Are you happy?”
Kevin doesn’t say anything for a long moment, then he drains his glass. “I need another drink. Thanks for coming by, Detective.”
John nods and watches him walk away, blowing out a breath that shakes a lot more than he wants to own up to. He drains his beer and sets the bottle on one of the tables and slips out of the house, not bothering to say goodbye.
**
The call comes in four weeks later, and John feels his stomach drop out when the LT comes out of her office and announces they’ve got bodies down at the Harrington building, hostage situation in progress. Everyone scrambles even though they’re superfluous at this point. They need uniforms and SWAT, and John can feel the cold sweat itch down his spine. If this were Dallas, he’d be in the line of fire. Of course, if this were Dallas, it wouldn’t be Kevin’s building under siege.
“We have any particulars, LT? Demands?” Dane looks happy as a pig in shit, and John wants to pull his gun and shoot him in the head to shut him up. Fear and anticipation are alive in his stomach, and he glances at the LT and finds her staring back at him.
“You want a shot, Evans?”
He hasn’t done QRT since Dallas, since he ended up in the hospital with a bullet in a baby food jar that he can’t quite make himself throw away. “Been a while, LT.”
“You’re sniper rated. They need snipers. Four officers already down.” She doesn’t look happy about it, and neither does Carolyn or Dane. Of course, dead officers always mean unhappy cops, no matter what. “Need an answer, Evans.”
“Yeah. Of course, yeah.” He scrambles up from his desk as she tells him where to recon, tossing his first genuine smile in ages in Carolyn’s direction. She makes a deprecating remark that he doesn’t really hear, too busy listening to the blood pounding in his ears and doing his best to avoid the anxiety churning in his stomach. He hits the ground running, suiting up and climbing in the van with the rest of the team, all of them silent. He knows a few of them and respects them all, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s the outsider here, and outsiders get you killed. He closes his eyes and counts to himself, going through his pre-raid routine, the drills burned into his brain even after five years away from the team.
The lieutenant next to him on the elevator in the building across the street grumbles all the way up to the roof, pissing and moaning about the sheer number of goddamn skyscrapers in Los Angeles. John stays quiet, the weight of the rifle familiar in his hands. He breathes carefully, taking in air and then letting it out until everything in the world seems attuned to the same rhythm. Kevin lingers on the periphery of his mind, and John does his best to shut him down, but after a year of being out of John’s life, now it seems like he doesn’t want to go away.
The building across the street is cordoned off and copters and cars make more noise than judgment day, but John ignores it all as he kneels on the roof, sighting through the safety glass until he sights the lead guy on the phone, gesticulating as if him being pissed off is going to make a difference. John tilts his head to both sides and rolls his neck then looks through the sight again. Instructions run through his head as he closes his eyes, breathes, looks again and squeezes the trigger. There’s no noise that he can hear and he keeps watching, careful to see the small explosion of glass, the spray of blood.
Chaos breaks out and sound comes rushing back. John slumps back and exhales, listening to the crackle of radios. Smoke explodes from the shattered window, spilling down the walls like vengeful ghosts and he watches the black ants of other officers swarm through the doors. Someone claps him on the back and he nods and smiles to reminders of the sergeants exam coming up, about joining the QRT. Last year it got lost in the shuffle of him and Kevin falling apart.
He shakes their hands and listens to their advice, leaving the techs behind to clean up. He closes his eyes on the elevator ride down. Everything’s so clear through the rifle sights; he wishes he could view the world that way all the time, sometimes. One single focus and nothing in the way. They hit the ground floor and John pushes past the others on the elevator to get out, navigating the lobby in a post-adrenaline daze. The streets are like something out of a horror movie, but he makes his way through until he’s in front of the building, watching bodies and hostages, employees and police come stumbling out, coughing and hacking through thick smoke that doesn’t seem to dissipate.
Too many goddamn suits come out, their faces buried in their jackets to keep from inhaling the gas. He scans them all, the cool calm of earlier slowly giving way to anxiety as he recognizes faces from the courthouse and none of them are Kevin. He edges over to the ambulances still left, and corners one of the EMTs. “Wounded still inside?”
“Nope. Just doing the clean up. Five left already. Plus helicopter transport for one of them. Lost a lot of blood. First victim down.”
John nods and moves out of the way, eyes still scanning the crowd. He recognizes Carol, Kevin’s secretary and moves over, catching her arm as she comes out of the building. “Where’s Kevin?”
She shakes her head and points to her ears. John nods, cursing under his breath. She was close to a detonation and her eardrums are likely shot for a while. He manages to get a piece of paper and a pen from some asshole still clinging to a briefcase like it’s his lifeline, and writes out the words. Carol’s throat constricts and John recognizes it as the sign of tears as she looks away. He doesn’t wait for her to say anything, just heads for the EMTs again.
“Where’d they take the chopper?”
“Shriners.”
“Where are you going?”
“Good Samaritan.”
“Fuck.” He rubs the back of his hand across his mouth and heads back to Carol, still standing there in shock. He mimes driving. “You have a car?” She frowns for a moment then nods, holding out her keys. He takes them carefully, the ridges of them stained with blood from her hands where she’d been clenching them. “C’mon. Show me where. We’re going to go find Kevin.”
**
Officially he’s now AWOL. He called in and left a message for the LT on her phone and told her where he is and what he’s doing, but it’s not going to excuse the fact that there’s a report that he’s supposed to be filing right now, documenting the firing of his weapon. He’s still got his rifle and he’s still got his armor, though he’s shed the vest to try and cool down. The air conditioning is fighting the heat outside, and John’s fighting the desire to rip someone’s head off if he doesn’t get some answers and soon.
Carol’s sitting beside him silently, her eyes closed and her hands shaking. She clasps them together, but it doesn’t stop the movement, and it’s not until he reaches over and closes his hand around them both that they’re still. He leans in, resting his head against her and murmurs softly, letting the vibration of his voice get through to her. He doesn’t know what he’s saying, and he’s not sure he believes if anyway, but he promises her Kevin’s going to be all right, promises that everything’s fine. The white bandage stands out starkly against her dark skin and she swallows hard, nodding just enough to let him know he’s getting through, but not enough to break their contact.
He hears Nora before he sees her and stands, not releasing Carol’s hand. Nora spies him and freezes, and he realizes that he’s probably not the most welcoming sight, decked out in solid black like the grim reaper with a KJW M700 rifle instead of a scythe. “Where’s Kevin?”
“He’s in there.” He nods toward the door that leads to surgery or whatever other areas of the hospital there are that they rush behind doors that close and lock behind them. Carol stands and Nora makes a sound and pulls her into her arms, and John wonders why he didn’t think of that, but the thought never honestly occurred to him. If he hadn’t needed her to identify her car, he would have left her there alone, his only concern for finding Kevin. “They won’t tell us anything.”
“What happened? I saw the news, but they didn’t say anything.”
“Hostage situation.” John doesn’t give her any more details, doesn’t know any. He knows if he checks his phone there will be messages in louder and louder voices with nastier and nastier curses waiting for him, and if he’d answer, he might know something that might give Nora her answers. “Kevin was the first man down.”
“Why would someone take Kevin hostage?”
John can think of a hundred different reasons, none of which involve guns in any way but euphemistically, but he doesn’t think that’s what Nora means. “I don’t know. Wrong place at the wrong time?” He shrugs and wonders if he should go now that Nora’s there, knows that he has other places he needs to be. “I have to get back to the station. I’ll check back with you.”
“Were you there?” Nora seems to clue into what his outfit means, or maybe she just remembers that he’s a cop. “Did you see?”
“No, ma’am. I wasn’t. I didn’t see anything.” He picks up the vest and puts it on, securing it even though the flak he’s about to face back at the station is armor piercing. “I’ll check in and see how he’s doing.”
“He’ll be okay.” It’s not a question, and John doesn’t really expect it. No one wants to think otherwise, and from what he knows of Nora, she wouldn’t allow it anyway. John nods.
“Yes, ma’am. He will.”
**
Carolyn answers before the first ring is finished, panic and anger hardening her tone. “Where the fuck are you?”
“I need a ride, Care.”
“You’ve got a fucking police issue rifle, you fucking idiot.” She stops and takes a breath. “Where are you?”
“Shriners.”
“Auditorium?”
“Hospital.”
”Goddamn it, Evans, if you’re hurt, I’m going to fucking kill you.”
“Just come get me, Care?” His voice breaks just slightly. “Please?”
“I’m on my way.” She disconnects the call and John slumps back against the wall in relief. He manages to bum a cigarette from another guy, probably an expectant father, if the green tinge of his skin is any indication, or maybe it’s just John looming over him. Either way, it’s not long before John’s drawing thick smoke into his lungs.
Carolyn pulls up sooner than he expects, lights flashing and sirens blaring. She slams on the breaks and is out of the car before John pushes off the wall. “You stupid, fucking son of a bitch.”
“Good to see you too, Care.” He grinds his cigarette into the sidewalk, then tosses the butt into a nearby trashcan before climbing into the passenger’s seat. Carolyn slams back behind the wheel, glaring at him the entire time. “Can you kill the siren, Care?”
“No. LT wants you back ASAP. Fast as my little ass can carry you.” She jerks the wheel, getting them on the road. “You are on everybody’s shit list, Evans. About the only thing that’s going to save you is the fact that QRT is owning up to the fact that you took the guy down.”
“Kill the siren, Care. Run silent. Please.”
She keeps driving, the siren still wailing in the background. “Why were you at the hospital? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
“Then you’d better start fucking talking.” She snaps the words, exasperation and frustration flashing in her eyes. “You’re out in the city with a sniper rifle and no report on anyone’s desk about taking that guy down. You’re in deep shit here, Johnny boy.”
“I know, Care.” He closes his eyes, resting his head back against the seat. He can feel Carolyn’s stare and sighs in relief as she snaps the siren off. “Thank you.”
She’s quiet for a few minutes then sighs. “You’re okay?”
“Yeah. I know I was stupid, Care, I just…” He rubs his forehead with his fingers and shrugs. “I knew one of the guys that took a bullet.”
“One of the cops?”
“No.” He sighs again. “First man down, first victim. GSW. Lost a lot of blood.”
“Oh.” He knows she understands. They’ve all been there too many times. “Friend?”
His hands move to his eyes and he rubs them until he sees stars before easing his hands away, before shaking his head. “Lover.”
Carolyn makes a noise that John thinks is supposed to be a word, and then goes silent for several blocks. When she speaks, her voice is almost unrecognizable. “Lover.”
“Yeah.”
“You said guy.”
John nods. “Yeah.”
Carolyn exhales slowly, her breathing measured. “Okay. So you’re gay.”
He nods again, feeling like something’s broken inside. “Yeah.”
“And is this a new development in your life?”
He looks over at her. “No. Not exactly.”
“I see.” She nods and keeps her eyes on the road. “You’re lying about that, right?”
There’s no tonality to her voice, nothing to give him any clue as to what she’s thinking or feeling. “About which? The being gay?”
“No. The other.”
“No, Care.” He sighs again, too tired to deal with any of this. “Why would I lie about that?”
“Because, you asshole, that’s the only goddamn reason I can think of that you’d keep that from your fucking partner.” Her hands clench tight around the steering wheel for a moment, and then suddenly all he can taste is blood as her fist connects with his mouth. “I’m your goddamn partner, Evans.”
“Ow. Shit, Care.” He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, feeling the split flesh. “What the fuck?”
“Asshole. Fuck.” Her knuckles are white as she grips the steering wheel again. “You stupid fuck.”
“Do you blame me, Care?”
She exhales roughly at his sharp tone and rakes a hand through her hair. “No.” She shakes her head then casts a glance at him. “Why are you telling me now?”
“Because Kevin’s in the hospital, and I’m freaking out.”
“You look fine.”
“Give me a few minutes. That’ll change. Right now I’m still numb.”
She nods, and he knows she knows the feeling. When the bullet hits flesh, something goes still inside, frozen. “So you guys are…”
“No.” He laughs quietly, the sound breaking slightly. “Not even close.”
“But you said…”
“Ex-lover. It’s been a long time.”
“Oh.” John waits quietly, his fingers smoothing over the polished metal of the rifle. Carolyn’s a good detective, and he can tell from her indrawn breath when she figures it out, and he can see the effort it takes for her to keep her hands on the wheel instead of around his throat. “Kevin Walker?”
He licks his dry lips and nods. Carolyn grits her teeth, flashing dangerously white against her thinned lips. “When? No.” She shakes her head violently. “Don’t answer that. Don’t fucking answer that, Jonathan Evans, because I know you’re not fucking stupid enough to screw a suspect. Because if you were that fucking stupid, I’d have to fucking kill you.”
“He wasn’t a suspect, Care.”
“He wasn’t officially a suspect, you stupid, goddamned fuck.” She slams her hands against the vinyl wheel and John watches as her fingers curl back into the molded design, clenching even tighter. “Just because you ruled his pretty blue eyes innocent, doesn’t mean he was. He was still a goddamned suspect.” Anger thickens her voice and she doesn’t look at him. “Thousands of gay men in LA, John.”
“Trust me, I know.” He laughs, the sound bitter. “You’re not telling me anything I haven’t told myself a million times. Not a goddamned thing, Care.”
She pulls into the garage at the station, refusing to look at him at all. “They want you in the Captain’s office. No delays.”
He nods and opens his door, pausing for a moment before getting out of the car. “It wasn’t you, Care. I wasn’t trying to keep a secret from you.”
“Captain’s office, Johnny.” She turns off the car and sits there, staring out the windshield at the dirty white walls. “Now.”
**
By the time he’s free to go, he’s officially been off shift for four hours. He walks out of the Captain’s office with an offer from QRT and two weeks suspension to consider it, as well as a pissed off lieutenant who looks like she’d just as soon transfer him as look at him. He hasn’t been a pariah for a long time, not since back home in Georgia, and he’s not used to the feeling. The other cops on shift don’t look at him and he’s halfway to his locker when he realizes he’s not alone.
Carolyn is leaning against the wall, ignoring all the looks the rest of the guys are giving her. John groans under his breath and gestures to the door. “I know they’re all about gender equality in the seminars and all that, Care, but I think you’re going a little far. Pretty sure it still says ‘guys locker room’ on the door.”
“We need to talk.”
“It’s a two week suspension, Care. You can partner with Roberts for a while.” He doesn’t think until her face goes slack and then her jerks his head out of his ass long enough to remember that Dane and Carolyn aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now. “Jensen’s free.”
“Jensen got his last partner killed.” Her words are like ice and he grabs his jacket and tugs it one. “C’mon. I’ll buy you a beer.”
She stands there for a second, and he realizes this is going to be the first in a series of tests for their partnership. He counts heartbeats in his head, waiting, not breathing until she nods once, barely inclining her head. “You’ll buy me several.”
He nods and lets her lead the way, offering to drive. Drinking sounds good, but his stomach churns at the thought of it, so he’ll let her drink and curse him as much as she needs, and then he’ll take her home. She doesn’t talk as he keeps driving, moving out of the station territory, past all the blue bars, the ones that cater to cops, the ones where everyone knows their names.
He pulls into a parking lot, one of the interchangeable bars where people meet to find someone to fuck, pretending they have purer motives. They’re not fooling anyone, including themselves. Cops know these places in different ways than the other bars. These are the stepping stones to the scene of the crime. “C’mon, Care.”
She gives him a dirty look, no doubt not appreciating the inadvertent tenderness in his voice. He holds his hands up in a mixture of surrender and apology then gets out of the car, hanging back to follow her in and, if he’s honest, to stay out of arm’s reach. She doesn’t bother with the bar, just grabs a table, and John goes over to order her a beer and a shot of Jack Daniels. He settles at the table across from her and slides both in front of her. “Bottoms up.”
“You’re not drinking?”
He shakes his head. “Not yet.”
“Guess you’ve got two weeks to get as wasted as you want.” She downs the shot and upends the glass before leaning back in her seat. Her fingers trace the rim of the beer bottle and she doesn’t quite look at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It kept getting harder.” He shrugs and looks around, noting exits and tucking away the people milling around the bar, his mind wondering if any of them will be the next unlucky victim of getting lucky. “First we had to get to know each other, trust each other. And then…and then every worst-case scenario cropped up in my head. And then it had been too long, and you’d be pissed. Besides, it wasn’t like there was anybody serious. And then there was.”
“Kevin.”
He nods and looks down at his hands. “Kevin. And there was no way in hell I could tell you that or tell you then. Hell, I kept telling myself it was just sex, you know? But it wasn’t and I eventually realized it never was. Then I fucked it up.”
“The bender you went on last year when you and Dane disappeared to Mexico.”
“Yeah. Cheap tequila, cheap whores, cheap drugs, and a dose of penicillin afterwards just to be safe.” He rakes a hand through his hair and can feel his face flush. “I’m kidding about the drugs.”
“So you’re bisexual?”
“No.” He laughs and shakes his head. “I was just really, really drunk.” He sighs. “I stayed away for a year, Care. Scared, alone and lonely, but then…”
“He got shot?” She takes the first drink of her beer, her eyebrow lifting as he shakes his head.
“His mom invited me to a party. I said no, you know? But then I ran into him and I realized…” He shakes his head and gets up, going to the bar and ordering two more beers, drinking half of his before he makes it back to the table. He sinks back down with a sigh and sets the bottles on the table. “Before I left Dallas, I was with someone. Serious. He hated the job. Left me because of it. And Wandell…well, you read his file. We were both gun-shy. I just honestly didn’t think that when we finally got together I’d be the one to pull the trigger and blow it all apart.”
“Bullshit.” Carolyn takes another drink of beer. “Cops are the worst. We’re so used to the bad guys that we fuck up with the good ones.” She pinches her lower lip between her fingers and blows out a slow breath. “I’m not going to break in a new partner, Evans.
He nods and finishes off his beer. “QRT wants me.”
“I know.” She doesn’t say anything for a long time, then she sighs and takes another drink. “Is that what you want?”
“Fuck if I know,” he laughs. “But I was good at it, you know?”
“You were good at it in Dallas, and you still got shot.”
“You’re a fucking beacon of sunshine, you know that, Care?” He rakes his hand through his hair again. “I need a haircut.”
“Yeah. You looked like shit on the news.”
“I bet I…what?” He jerks his gaze back to her. “On the what?”
“Evening news.” She finishes off her beer and signals for another.
“You’re shitting me.” He groans and buries his head in his hands. “How’d they get me?”
“Well, they used your official photo for most of it, until some camera jockey actually got footage of you coming out of the building. Pure, dumb luck.”
“Fucking hell.” He looks up as the waitress brings them each another beer. He stares at the bottle for a long time before he looks up at Carolyn. “I’d understand if you want a new partner.”
“Fair enough,” she agrees and his heart sinks somewhere into his stomach. She takes a drink of her beer and levels a look right at him. “And hopefully you’ll understand that if you say shit like that again, I’m going to kick your ass.”
John nods, smiling for the first time in what seems like forever. “Understood.”
**
It’s nearly three days before John works up the guts to go back to the hospital. The benefit to his sudden notoriety is that he gets the number of Kevin’s room without a fight or reminders of visiting hours, which is nice, especially since he no longer has a badge to back any of it up. He feels naked as he rides up the elevator, the absence of his badge and gun, and the knowledge that they’re tucked away in a cabinet somewhere weighing heavily on him, not offset nearly enough by the weight of his ankle holster and his spare.
The hallway is quiet of everything but the buzz and hum of the machinery and the low rumble of nurses milling around. Even that doesn’t overwhelm the property that hospitals and libraries share, where even noise seems quiet. He walks down the hallway toward Kevin’s room, his hands shoved in his pockets. Glancing through the small window, he knocks then moves inside before he hears an answer.
Kevin is on the single bed, his face nearly as pale as the sheets, the stubble on his face even darker in comparison. There’s a thick bandage on his shoulder and John can see another where the gown is edged up at Kevin’s side. He takes a nervous step forward, his fingers grazing lightly over the back of Kevin’s hand. “God, Kevin.”
“He lost a lot of blood.” It’s not until she speaks that John even realizes that he’s not alone, which is a shock in and of itself. Normally he knows everything about a room the second he walks into it. As his heart slows back to normal he sees Julia, Kevin’s sister-in-law, sitting in a chair by the window, staring out at the sky, the view broken by hosts of gray buildings. “Tommy and Kitty were matches though, so…Well, he’s going to be pissed that we put conservative blood in him, but all the liberals were different blood types.”
“So if he wakes up straight and votes republican, no one will be surprised?” He hasn’t taken his hand off Kevin’s, his thumb still brushing the skin, bruised and red from where an IV had been.
“Nora said you were here the first day.” She hasn’t glanced his way, and John’s grateful, unsure if he can handle any look she might give him. “I thought you weren’t around anymore.”
“I wasn’t.” He lets his hand slide up Kevin’s arm, closing his eyes, sense memory reminding him of nights of this – touching him, feeling him. “I’m not.”
“So why are you here?” She gets up and moves over to the opposite side of Kevin’s bed. He senses the fierce protectiveness as she faces him.
“He got shot. I just…” He doesn’t have the words to explain it. Doesn’t know how words would make it any better. He wants to make up for lost time, wants to apologize for being afraid. “I wanted to make sure he was okay.”
“He’s fine now.”
“Now.”
“Yes, now.” She laughs, and it’s not a happy or friendly sound. “It took him a while. He liked you. He didn’t just move on. But now he’s better. Seeing someone.”
“Simon?” The name comes back unbidden and John hates the fact that he opened this door. “Is that who he’s seeing?”
Julia’s jaw clenches, and she gives John a look that keeps him from saying anything more. “How do you know about Simon?”
“I saw them together. At the courthouse.” She relaxes slightly, and John’s well aware what any knowledge of his sitting outside Kevin’s apartment building would result in. He’d likely find himself arrested by his own department. “They’re serious?” They can’t be, he thinks, because Simon isn’t here, and if Simon loved Kevin, he’d be here. He’d damn work and damn everything and be at Kevin’s side.
“It’s none of your business.” She looks at him pointedly and then at the door. He knows she wants him to leave, but he can’t quite make his feet move. “Why did you dump him?”
“I was stupid. I was scared.” John knows Julia is Kevin’s confidante, and figures he needs to be honest with someone. “No one at work knows, and we got caught in a situation where someone saw us together. I handled it badly…or didn’t handle it at all, and it all fell apart.”
“And are you out at work now?”
John closes his eyes. “No.”
“And so if one of your coworkers saw you with Kevin, you’d do the same thing again?”
“No.” He shakes his head, even though he’s not sure he’s telling the truth. “I wouldn’t.”
Julia looks at him for a long moment then smirks and shakes her head. “You’re worse than a coward. You’re a liar.” She looks down at Kevin and John aches at the softness in her glance, in her touch. “Get out. He doesn’t need you.”
“I just…”
Her head whips back to his and her eyes flash. She’s angry now, or maybe she has been all along, but she’s hidden in for politeness sake. “Get out. You hurt him. You hurt him worse than Scotty. At least with that, Kevin could see it coming, but you cut him off at the knees out of the blue, and so get out of here and out of his life. He’s happy now, which is more than he ever was with you.” She practically snarls at him, though John can hear the tears choking her voice. “Go.”
John nods and finally releases Kevin’s hand, pulling away slowly. “Would you…” He digs in his wallet for his card and sets it on the bed between them where it rises and falls with Kevin’s breath. “Would you call me when he wakes up? Just let me know that he’s okay?” He swallows hard and looks at Kevin’s face. “Please?”
Julia snatches the card and crumples it in her fist, but she doesn’t toss it away. “Yes. Now go.”
**
He spends the last day of his suspension at the gym, just like most of the other days before. Drinking had quickly lost its appeal, and pacing his living room waiting for Julia’s call is just building on the pent-up energy, so he’s taken to beating the hell out of bags and opponents in the ring, climbing the walls and rappelling down the sides of them. He’s in the best shape of his life, if he doesn’t count his tattered nerves and the fact that he jumps at everything, waiting for the phone to ring.
When it finally does ring, it jerks him out of an exhausted sleep. He fumbles for the receiver, pressing it to his ear as he reaches for the notepad that isn’t there. “Evans. Homicide.”
“John Evans?”
He sits up and blinks in the hazy afternoon light. His first shift back is the midnight shift, and trying to get his body back into the rhythm is harder than it’s ever been. “John Evans. Yeah. That’s me.” He rubs his hand over his eyes and yawns. “Who’s this?”
“Julia Walker. Kevin’s sister-in-law.”
“Oh. Oh. Yeah. Hey.” He sits up straighter and fumbles for the lamp, even though there’s a golden glow across his bedroom. “Kevin’s okay?”
“We’re taking him home tomorrow. So he’s going to be fine. So do us all a favor and stay away from him, okay?”
“He’s…will you tell him I stopped by?”
“No, John. Because we want him to get well, not suffer a relapse of what he went through last year. You made the bed you’re lying in. It’s no one’s fault but your own that it’s not Kevin’s.”
He clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, working at the knot there with numbed fingers. “Will you tell him I’m glad he’s all right? Just…just tell him? I won’t…I promise I’ll stay away.”
“Yeah. You’ve shown you’re good at that.” Julia hangs up on him and John disconnects his end of the call, tossing the phone onto the bed. He rubs at his neck more, trying not to remember the way Kevin’s hands felt on him, easing the tensions of long days with well-placed thumbs that dug into all the tight spots until they uncoiled, mounting into much better tensions as Kevin moved from relaxation to seduction, stroking other muscles until John was pretty much just a vaguely human shaped puddle in his bed.
He settles back in the bed and stares up at his ceiling, knowing for sure he won’t be getting back to sleep. Instead, he gets off the bed and pulls on a pair of sweats, tugging a worn t-shirt over his head. He doesn’t bother tying his shoes, just grabs his coat and keys and makes his way down to the car. He’s only got about twelve hours. He needs to make them count.
**
He checks at the nurses’ station to make sure Kevin is alone before he goes down the hall to his room. The curtains are drawn, hiding the bed from the doorway, but the door itself is slightly ajar. He pushes it open and then eases it completely shut behind him, walking over to the edge of the curtain. Kevin’s eyes are closed, but he looks a hundred times better than he had before. There are flowers and candy and books and movies and a portable DVD player all over the room, and John wonders if he should have brought something with him. Of course, he’s not sure what it is that says ‘I’m sorry I fucked up’ or ‘I’m glad you’re not dead. Please don’t hate me’.
“Hi.”
He jumps, surprised by the roughness of Kevin’s voice. Surprised by Kevin’s voice period. “Um. Hi.” He turns and looks at him, caught in the dark blue of Kevin’s eyes. “I…I heard you’re going home tomorrow.”
“How’d you hear that?” Kevin elevates his bed and reaches for the glass of water on the tray table beside him, taking a sip. “Is there some sort of APB out on me?”
“No. Just…I just heard. I’ve been trying to keep tabs on you. Not…not tabs, per se. Just, you know, make sure you’re all right.”
“You mean other than being shot.”
“Yeah. Other than that.” John shoves his hands in his pockets and clenches them into fists to keep from doing something wrong like touching Kevin or moving too close. Of course, he’s beginning to think that anywhere in Los Angeles might be too close for his own sanity. “You’re all right?”
“Other than being shot. Yeah.” Kevin smiles and John can’t help but return it. He takes a step forward despite his best intentions and touches the covers at the foot of Kevin’s bed. Kevin watches him and John can’t read his eyes, which bothers him far more than he likes. He used to be able to read the flashes of emotion in Kevin’s face. Kevin was an open book, all his emotions boiling over like a tempest in a teapot. “So, who did you have to bribe to get me alone?”
“I figured since you’re being released tomorrow, today was the one chance I’d have. All of them getting things ready for you.” He lifts his hand in the faint imitation of a shrug, letting it settle right next to the slope of Kevin’s ankle beneath the thin white blanket. “I came by before.”
“Did you?” Kevin tilts his head and the lights catch his eyes, giving John a glimpse of something, and he raises a finger to touch Kevin’s leg, his breath stuttering in his chest at the simple pressure. “Which one ran you off?”
“Julia.”
Kevin nods and John lets his finger move, rubbing small circles through the blanket. There’s another flash in Kevin’s eyes and John isn’t sure what it means until Kevin speaks again. “Why did you bother?”
“You’d been shot.”
“So?” He asks it so lightly, his lawyer voice, and it takes most of John’s strength of will to keep from moving his hand. He stills the sweep of his finger, but doesn’t move it away.
“So, it bothers me when people I care about get shot.”
“People you care about.” Kevin shifts back, relaxing against the pillow and closing his eyes. John huffs out a frustrated breath, wanting to shake him to make him see, wanting to kiss him until he can’t think. “I’m still not quite sure why you’re here then.”
“I’m not saying I don’t deserve this, Kevin, because I do. I handled things badly, but I’d like…I don’t see why we can’t start over. Be friends at least. Before all this started – before anything happened between us – we were friends, weren’t we?”
“You walked away from me and left me to go to my mother’s house alone, so everyone could ask me where you were, where you’d gone. You left me without a word and you…” Kevin stops, and John can see the physical effort it takes for him not to slap John with every painful detail, make him relive it until it hurts again, as much as it ever did. “I appreciate you coming by, John. I do. But I think we’d both be better off if you just went back to your life and let me get back to mine.”
“I want to be part of your life.” John lets his palm rest on the sheet, feeling the heat of Kevin’s body beneath. “I know I screwed it up, Kevin. I do. And I know that it’s some sort of stupid romantic cliché that it took you almost dying for me to realize it, but…it wasn’t that I didn’t know before. It was that I was scared.”
“Yeah, well, we’re all scared, John.” He turns his face away, his gaze focused on the opposite wall. “I’m seeing someone.”
“I know. I…I do know. I just…We were friends once. Before we kissed, before we did anything. When you thought I was straight and I wanted to tell you I wasn’t but wasn’t sure how. We were friends. We talked. We hung out.”
“You don’t go back to that. You can’t.” Kevin looks at him again. “You can’t put all that behind you like it didn’t matter, unless it didn’t matter. Friendship to fucking is a one way street.”
“I don’t believe that.” He shakes his head, needing Kevin to understand. “I told Carolyn. I told her the truth. About me, about us.”
“That was stupid.” Kevin’s eyes are unreadable, his face dark. “There is no us.”
“Coffee.” John forces himself to put his hands back in his pockets, to stop touching Kevin. “Just have coffee with me. Nothing more. Not even Irish coffee. Just coffee in the middle of a crowded place. Please.”
Kevin looks past him at the door and John wants to turn and see who’s there, but something keeps him rooted to the spot, knowing if he looks away, Kevin will turn his head to look into his eyes. “Coffee.”
“One cup. It can even be a small.”
“They don’t make smalls anymore.” Kevin sighs and uses his good arm to rub his jaw, dark with stubble. “One cup. I’ll call you once I’m settled.”
“You will call.”
He nods once and John doesn’t press for more. “Yeah. I’ll call.”
**
He convinces himself that Kevin’s not going to show. It’s easy to do after the night he had and the fact that he hasn’t slept in about 48 hours. All he wants to do is go home and go to bed, but when Kevin had called, all thoughts of bed went out the window. Well, not quite, but the thoughts he’s allowed to have about bed certain did.
He rubs his eyes and finishes his first cup, moving over to the dispenser to dole out another spitting hot cup of ground roast. He doesn’t do anything fancy with his coffee except empty a packet of sugar into it when he’s really tired, but this one requires a couple of sugars and he’d take a shot of whiskey if he could manage one. His suit feels too big and he can feel the weight he’s lost hanging in the fabric of it, can feel the muscles he gained working out making the arms a little too tight. He imagines he looks like shit, but he if he’d gone home to shower and change, he would have fallen into bed and not made it at all.
“Wow. You look like hell.”
“Coming from a man who got shot not that long ago and is recovering from major surgery, I don’t think that’s an endorsement of any kind.” John stifles a yawn. “Sorry. I’ve been up for…a really long time.”
Kevin sits across from him, his hands wrapped around a large cup of something John probably can’t even say. Kevin was never content with something simple like a coffee or a mocha in places like these. He needed to order things that made the baristas look at each other in horror and then try to come up with some cute sounding name that really just meant a shot of a couple of flavors, some cream, some steamed milk and seven or eight shots of espresso. “You look it. You could have asked for a rain check.”
“I didn’t figure you’d give me one.”
“Hmmm.” Kevin nods and takes a sip of his coffee. “Probably right.”
“So I’m here, but if you’re judging me on any intellectual level, please remember that I’ve been keeping our fair city safe from murders and rapists and drug-crazed lunatics and maybe cut me a little slack?” He takes a drink from his own cup, hissing as the heat sears his tongue and his throat, the burnt sweetness of the sugar heavy in his mouth. “I was surprised that you called.”
“You asked me to.”
“I know.”
“I said I would.”
John nods, knowing from the look at Kevin’s eyes he’s caught in a trap, probably of his own making.
“I keep my word.”
“I know that too.” John rubs his fingers along the waxed, scratched surface of the table. “I appreciate it.”
“So.” Kevin took another long drink, his gaze on John. There’s nothing John can read in it, and it’s hard to get used to Kevin being so completely closed off. He’d started opening up to John before it had all gone to hell, had stopped shutting down rather than deal with things, and now it’s like they’re back at square one. Maybe they are. “What do you want to talk about?”
“How are you? I mean, you’re healing up after the surgery?”
“Yeah. Back at work even. It was tough the first day back, even though they’ve cleaned up the mess. Hard to forget the place you ended up bleeding out over your boss’s carpet.”
John swallows hard. “I can imagine.”
“You’ve been shot. You don’t have to imagine.” Kevin’s eyes go to John’s shoulder and John can feel the scar of his own bullet wound itch under his gaze. He can also remember the feel of Kevin’s mouth on it, the touch of his fingers. John shifts in his seat, willing the erotic memory away. “I did a little reading about the aftermath. You were suspended.”
“I kind of went rogue.” John laughs softly, nothing really humorous about the sound. “I…when I saw Carol and realized it was you that had been shot, I just followed you. Left my team, left with my gun. I’m lucky I wasn’t fired, but it’s kind of hard to fire the guy who just took out the bad guy.” He copies Kevin’s posture, wrapping his hands around his cup. “I had to know you were okay.”
“John.” Kevin clears his throat and shifts in his seat as well, though John knows it’s not from any memory. “Thank you for saving my life, but…but there’s nothing between us anymore, there can’t be. You made a choice and I respect that choice.”
“No. I didn’t make a choice, not a deliberate one. I just…refused to make a choice. I took the path of least resistance, the easiest way. I know I hurt you and I know I can’t take that back, but…Kevin, I…” He exhales sharply and shakes his head. “I’ve missed you so much. There hasn’t been anyone else. I haven’t wanted anyone else. I want you. I love you.”
“And I’m in love with someone else.” Kevin looks deliberately at his coffee, avoiding John’s expression. “Did you think I would stop living my life because you left me?”
“No. I didn’t. And I didn’t want that. Or, well, I did, but I knew it wouldn’t happen. I just didn’t want you to fall in love with someone else. I didn’t want you to stop loving me.” He drains his cup and sets it down, rubbing his hand over his mouth. He can feel the stubble scratch at his palm and he can only imagine what he looks like. “But you did.”
“But I did.”
He swallows hard and nods. “I guess that’s that then. I should go home. Get some sleep.” He scratches his jaw and then gets to his feet. “Thank you. For having coffee with me.”
“John.” Kevin reaches out, his fingers barely grazing John’s wrist. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You don’t have any reason to be.” He moves his hand, letting his fingers slide over Kevin’s skin before he pulls away and shoves his hand in his pocket. “Bye, Kevin.”
“Goodbye, John.”
**
After a year of conscious effort to avoid Kevin, it seems strange to not be constantly vigilant about not being where Kevin might. It’s also glaringly obvious that he was right to be on his guard, since Kevin seems to be everywhere he goes. Worse is that Kevin’s – Boyfriend? Companion? Partner? – seems to be just as prominent at the courthouse and nearby coffee shops and cafes. John finds himself wishing for a case to sink his teeth and mind into rather than this constant state of feeling like every corner is going to be another awkward greeting.
Kevin smiles at him and waves and John returns the gestures, wondering what Kevin’s thinking. He supposes it’s professional courtesy or just common politeness, but it feels almost like he’s being taunted with the hints of a friendship Kevin’s already told him is impossible. He knows Kevin’s right. He knows that this isn’t even close to friendship, and if he had the chance to spend time with Kevin he wouldn’t want to stop with dinners and drinks and talking about his day. He’d want to touch him, want to be with him.
He ignores that thought as best he can, which isn’t all that easy given that he’s in the middle of the small deli that Kevin introduced him to when they first met. The owner doesn’t do much more than grunt at him anymore, but he doesn’t spit in his food either, which John’s thankful for. Given his own personality, he’s actually happier with the grunt than the ebullient greeting being with Kevin always got them, too many personal comments made in too public a place.
Taking his sandwich to the small back garden, he bypasses most of the lunch crowd. He was always surprised that more people from the courts didn’t descend on the place, but some people like secrets. Kevin’s sitting at a table in the far corner, his head bent over a notepad and his briefcase open in one of the empty chairs. John glances around and then moves over to the table, knowing he’s probably asking for trouble.
“You mind if I join you?”
Kevin looks up, his blue eyes dark, lost in whatever he’d been doing. He blinks at him and then shrugs, moving his notepad to the side. “Go ahead.”
“Really?” John sits quickly, trying to hide his surprise, but not willing to give Kevin a chance to change his mind. “Thanks.”
“You here for the O’Reilly case?”
“Yeah. I’m testifying this afternoon.”
“Judge Griffith is in a bad mood. Garrett was telling me before lunch that the courtroom is tense.” Kevin takes a drink of his soda, and John gets lost for a moment, watching his mouth around the straw. “Get straight to the point.”
“I will. I keep good notes.” He blushes as Kevin looks up, obviously remembering the nights in Kevin’s apartment as well. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“It’s okay.” Kevin packs away his work and looks directly at John.
“I’ll be on my best behavior.” John manages a smile and takes a bite of his sandwich. “What are you working on?”
“Copyright infringement. Not very exciting, I’m afraid.” Kevin takes another drink and leans back in his chair. “Simon told me he ran into you the other day.”
“Did he?” John swallows past the lump in his throat, taking a drink to wash his sandwich down.
“He calls you my detective.” Kevin looks at John, his gaze sharp, as if trying to gauge his reaction.
“Why does he call me that?”
“You saved my life.”
John nods and eats a handful of chips, the noise a distraction if nothing else. “Does he know about us?”
“It’s not my place to out you. It never was.” Kevin looks away, his attention turned back to his food. “How many times did I tell you that?”
“More than enough.” John exhales slowly. “It wasn’t that I didn’t believe you, Kevin. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you. It was me, being afraid and fucking it up further by not knowing how to fix it.” He looks at his hands on the table then at Kevin’s, watching as he shreds a napkin methodically. “Do you love him?”
“That’s none of your business.”
John nods. “I know.” He licks his lips. “Do you?” He speaks quickly, afraid Kevin might say something, afraid of what he might say. “If you just don’t want to tell me, I’ll assume you don’t and don’t want to give me false hope. So if you do…”
“He’s nice.”
“I’m nice.”
“He’s smart. And sexy.”
“I’m reasonably smart. And I’m sexier.”
“He doesn’t have to pretend about who he is, about who I am.”
“I’ve told Carolyn. I’ll tell everyone. I just want another chance.”
Kevin’s voice doesn’t change and he doesn’t look up at John. “He works normal hours.”
“I have handcuffs.”
Kevin laughs, shaking his head as he looks up at John. His face is still closed off, but he meets John’s gaze. “I don’t want to get hurt again.”
“I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t say that I won’t, but I don’t want to.” He moves his foot, letting it touch Kevin’s lightly. “I’m not expecting us to be what we were. I just want a chance to be something.”
“I can’t make you any kind of promise, John. I’m sorry.”
John looks at him then nods hesitantly. “I just want a chance. No expectations, Kevin.”
Kevin crumples the pieces of his napkins into a ball and deposits it on his tray. Grabbing it with one hand, he reaches for his briefcase with the other. “re you busy Saturday night?”
“This…Um, no. No. Not at all.”
“Dinner? Seven o’clock? I’ll pick you up?”
“I…Yeah. That…that sounds…”
“I have to get back to court. I’ll see you later.” Kevin walks back into the deli, dropping his tray on the rack after dumping his trash. John watches him until he’s gone, then hurries to finish is own lunch before he finds himself in contempt of court.
**
“You’re being a girl.” Carolyn is leaning against John’s headboard, watching him hold a series of shirts against his chest. “Just pick a damn shirt.”
“I’m not a girl. You’re the girl, or at least you’re supposed to be, so maybe you could help instead of criticize.”
“Help, huh?” She thinks for a moment then shakes her head. “No. No. Not in my repertoire. I’m afraid. Look, Johnny, you’re a guy. He’s a guy. You must have gotten some gay fashion sensibility when you realized you were wearing your mom’s clothes and thinking about Crockett and Tubbs while you were jerking off.”
“It wasn’t Crockett and Tubbs. It was Adrian Zmed from TJ Hooker, and I’m gay, not a drag queen.”
“Yeah, right. You probably own more taffeta than a perpetual bridesmaid and call yourself ‘Miss Demeanor’ when you’re not on duty.”
John growled then threw a pair of socks at her. “Pick a shirt!”
“The gray one.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. Unless your goal is to look like an underpaid homicide detective. You know, Evans, this is precisely the reason I don’t have girlfriends.”
“I thought it was because other women worry about you stealing your boyfriends, and you worry about Dane hitting on one of them?”
“That too, but mostly because I hate shit like this.” She threw his socks back at him. “Well, and other women hate me, but really, it’s all because of this.”
John ignores her and holds up six different ties. “Which one?”
“Since when do you own six ties?”
“Since I went shopping. Which one?”
“You went shopping? For ties?”
“I’m going to strangle you with one of these. Which one?”
“The black with the gray stripes.”
“I’m going to look like an undertaker.”
“Hey, you asked for my help.” She leans forward and snags one of the ties, weaving the silk through her fingers. “Are you sure about this, Johnny?”
“What?” He looks up from the knot he’s tying, surprised. “What do you mean?”
“Just…I know you like him. But I also remember what you were like when everything went south. So I just want you to be sure. You’re my partner, Evans. I need you watching my back, not wallowing in a pink sea of gay misery.”
“Your metaphors suck.” John sits down on the end of the bed and looks down at his hands. “Also, ‘gay misery’? Total oxymoron.” He leans over, resting his head on her shoulder. “I’m in love with him, Caro. Have been. Trust me, my life would be a shitload easier if I weren’t.”
“So you’re going to go out to dinner with him and…what if it doesn’t work? What if he says no? What if he tells you that you can be friends or you can’t be anything? What then?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to eat my gun or anything.”
Carolyn frowns angrily and jabs him hard in the ribs. “Don’t even joke about that, fucker.”
“Sorry. Sorry.” He sighs and reaches up to finish his tie. “Then I put it all behind me and move on. I just can’t do that without trying to fix it. I fucked it up. I have to try to put things right so that, if he does say no…well, I’m just really hoping he doesn’t say no.”
“You know if he says no, you’re still going to blame yourself.”
“Yeah. But at least I’ll have tried.”
“That gonna help?”
John stands up with a sigh and grabs his suit jacket and tugs it on. “Nope. Not in the slightest.”
**
Kevin raises his eyebrow when Carolyn opens the door. “Wow. An armed escort? Or is this the bit where I get frisked to make sure my intentions are honorable.”
“You don’t know Evans very well if you think he wants your intentions honorable.” She steps back, holding the door open. “I’m actually just heading out.” She steps to the side so Kevin can enter, grabbing his arm to stop him when they’re side by side. “You hurt him, and your law degree isn’t going to be able to save you from the mountain of tickets, violations and paperwork I’m going to rain down on your ass.”
“I never hurt him, Detective Richards. If that’s what he told you, then his detective skills have definitely gone downhill.”
“Jesus.” John comes into the room. “Tell me you’re not threatening him, Carolyn. Tell me that.”
“I’m not threatening him.”
“You’re a shitty liar. Ignore her, Kevin. She was dropped as a child and got a stick rammed up her ass.”
“I think that was you, Evans,” Carolyn snaps back at him. “Probably why you’re a faggot.”
“I’m a faggot so I don’t have a chance of ever ending up with someone like you.” John waves. “Say goodnight, Caro.” She turns on her heel and heads out the door, flipping him off in response. John waits until she’s at least out of sight before he starts laughing. “C’mon in. Sorry for that.”
“I didn’t know you guys hung out together socially.”
“We don’t. I needed a woman’s opinion.”
“Hopefully not on that suit.”
“Goddamn it.” John reaches for the tie, only to stop when Kevin’s fingers touch the back of his hand. He looks at Kevin’s hand for a moment then raises his eyes, surprised to find Kevin almost smiling. “What?”
“I was kidding.” He moves his hand away, his eyes sliding up and down John’s body. “You look very nice.”
“I look like I should be offering condolences to people as they enter viewing room two.” He tugs at the tie and then smiles. “You can tell me I look like an idiot.”
“If you did, I would.” Kevin shrugs and glances around. John follows his gaze and then clears his throat. Kevin’s gaze snaps back to John and he smiles. “So. Dinner?”
John nods and grabs his keys off the table beside the door. “After you.” He follows Kevin out then locks the door behind them, awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Messes up the line of your suit.”
“I know. But I don’t know what else to do with them, and I look like a complete idiot when I put them in the jacket pockets.” He grins at Kevin’s look. “Okay, like more of a complete idiot.”
“You said it.”
“You thought it.” He bumps his shoulder against Kevin’s as they walk toward the elevator. “And don’t tell me you didn’t. You have the most expressive face.”
“Yeah? You can figure out what I’m thinking.”
“I can,” John gives him a knowing look, his eyebrow lifted significantly. “And you really should be ashamed of yourself. I’m not that kind of guy.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Okay, yes, I am. But really, you shouldn’t be thinking those kinds of things.” He punches the button for the elevator and leans against the wall beside it. “Especially about me.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because this is just dinner.”
“Right. Just dinner.” Kevin’s voice and face both remain impassive, giving nothing away at all. John licks his lips and clears his throat, kicking at the frame of the elevator doors. “I thought we’d go to that new place on Rockefeller. Have you been there?”
“No, but I’ve heard good things. You?”
“Some friends have, but I haven’t. I thought it’d be good. Neutral ground.” The elevator car comes and John waves Kevin in before following him. They settle on opposite sides, watching each other warily. “This part’s always weird.”
“The elevator ride?”
“No. The potential of hooking up again. The ‘I’m supposed to pretend I haven’t seen you naked’ part. It’s kind of the same thing that you have when you meet the parents for the first time and have to pretend that you haven’t done things that would probably horrify the people you’re about to meet with their son. Outside in your car in their driveway.”
John laughs. “I was always perfectly behaved in your mother’s driveway.”
“Pity.” Kevin smiles at him and curves his hands around the bar to either side of him, his body on display. John nods and licks his lips before turning his head to stare at the floor count.
“Yeah. It is.”
**
They make it through dinner in one piece, conversation about the intervening months very carefully excluding any comment on Simon or anyone else that might be considered a rival. They discuss the restaurant – pretentious but decent food, the wine – “You know nothing about wine, John. You drink wine out of a box. Why are you arguing with me again?, and the latest Jason Statham movie – “Kevin, you are not actually trying to tell me you went for the plot?. They laugh, which John takes as a good sign, though he’s careful not to let his hopes do anything more than quiver at the base of his stomach with the low boil of need and want that comes when his foot brushes Kevin’s, when their hands meet for the briefest of moments when they both reach for bread.
“You want to share a dessert?” Kevin’s glancing through the menu, frowning over the choices. John’s more of an ice cream guy – nothing dipped in espresso or set on fire – but he nods anyway. Kevin’s frown deepens as he sips his wine, studying the selections like there’s likely to be a test later.
John’s about to tell him to get whatever he wants when Kevin looks up and the statement is gone, and John’s busy saying something else instead. “Does Simon know we’re out tonight?”
Kevin’s face goes blank, his standard reaction to being put on the spot personally, and John curses at himself inside his head. The waitress comes up before anything more can be said, and Kevin orders something that sounds like some concoction from the depths of diabetic hell. After she goes, Kevin sips his wine again then sets it down, looking at John coolly.
“Forget it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ask.”
“It doesn’t work like that, and you know it.” Kevin plays with his fork, digging the tines into his napkin. He’s not good at sitting still and even worse when things go badly, and John’s worried the napkin is going to die a premature death by shredding at this rate. “You want to know if I told the guy I’m dating that I’m out with my ex.”
“Actually, I was kind of hoping that you told him you couldn’t see him anymore because you were going out to dinner with your ex with the express hope that he wouldn’t be your ex anymore.” He grins, knowing he looks sheepish and probably more than a little stupid. “But I didn’t mean to ever say it out loud.”
“The things you say out loud and the things you don’t could stand some work.” Dessert comes and the waitress sets it down between them, a plate topped with a chocolate brownie and plain white ice cream. The brownie is steaming and the ice cream is melting in thick rivulets. “Dig in.”
John scoops a spoonful of ice cream and sucks on it, wishing the cold would wipe away his heated blush. Kevin spears a bite of the brownie and blows on it, distracting John with his mouth as he wraps it around the fork and sucks the chocolate off. John shifts in his seat, and stares at the next scoop of ice cream, catching some of the flaky brown crust of the brownie as well.
“Yes. He knows.”
“And he’s okay with it? I mean, if I were in his position, I wouldn’t be okay with it.”
“What position is that?”
John curtails any of the flippant answers that come to mind and shrugs. “I wouldn’t want my boyfriend having dinner with an ex.”
“I’m not his boyfriend.”
“You guys are dating.”
“We’ve gone out.”
“No. I saw the way he touched you, the way he looked at you. You’re not just ‘going out’.” John doesn’t look away, watching Kevin for any of the signs that give him away. “Oh.”
“Oh?” Kevin raises an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
“He doesn’t know it, does he?” John watches Kevin shift uncomfortably and nods. “He doesn’t know you’re just going out. He thinks you’re serious. He thinks it’s more than it is. He’s expecting a future and you’re just…”
“I’m just what?” Kevin’s voice is dangerous and John shrugs. The ice cream is rapidly melting between them and John takes another spoonful before it becomes nothing more than a puddle on the sunken center of the brownie. “No. You don’t get to just stop.”
“You’re not serious. You’re enjoying yourself. You probably like him, but you’re not serious about him. You don’t have any intention of letting yourself be serious. Doesn’t matter what he does.”
“I see. After the little time we dated and the ensuing year of not seeing each other, you’ve got me all figured out.”
“I have it figured out that you asked me to dinner. You wanted this. Why did you want this, Kevin?”
“To make sure.”
John watches Kevin’s gaze shift down to the brownie, his fork poking row after row of holes into the crumbling surface. He reaches out slowly, well aware he’s likely risking a fork jabbed into his wrist, and touches the back of Kevin’s hand. “Make sure of what?”
“That I’m really this much of an idiot.”
“You lost me, because I’m pretty sure that I’m the idiot in this relat…Oh.” He manages to keep from smiling, but it’s a close thing; only the shift of Kevin’s grip on the fork suppresses it. John’s voice is sincere, thicker than he wants to admit when he speaks again. “I missed you, Kevin.”
He nods, still looking down at the dessert plate. He whispers the words to the decimated brownie. “I missed you too.”
John reaches out and touches Kevin’s chin, tilting it up so that they’re looking at each other. There’s something hot and powerful about touching him in public, and John swallows hard against the emotion. “Can we try? Again?” When Kevin doesn’t answer, John rubs his thumb lightly along Kevin’s jaw. “Not like before though. Our friends, our families…they’ll know about us. I don’t want to be your secret, Kevin. Give us a chance? Give me a chance?”
“I don’t want to get hurt again.”
“Well, if it helps, I’m relatively certain that if I hurt you again, Julia’s going to kill me, chop me up into little pieces and feed me to a Venus Flytrap.” He smiles as Kevin bites back a laugh. “I can’t promise we won’t get hurt along the way, Kevin. All I know is that I’m willing to risk it if it means I get to be with you again.”
“Carolyn would smack you for sounding like a girl.”
“Carolyn has a bigger dick than I do, Kevin. To Carolyn, everyone sounds like a girl.” His thumb sweeps slowly over Kevin’s bottom lip. “I love you.”
“Now you really sound like a girl.” He exhales shakily and takes a swallow of wine, dislodging John’s touch. “On one condition.”
“Name it.”
Kevin sets his hand on top of John’s on the table’s surface, squeezing lightly. “Sometimes I get to be in charge of the handcuffs.”