Work Text:
"Earth to Kevin."
Aaron snaps his fingers right in Kevin's face, making him almost drop his phone. Kevin knows he's been ignoring the conversation about… whatever it is his band mates have been chatting about, but he thought he was doing okay with pretending he was actually engaged in it. Apparently not.
"Asshole," he deflects instead of admitting he's not listening. "You're new and you act like you own the fucking place."
"Maybe you should start acting like you actually give a fuck. Terrible look for the face of the group, don't you think?"
Aaron was never a part of the plan. To be fair, neither was Kevin, but it somehow makes more sense for him to be here than Aaron. The only reason Aaron is now arguing with him is because they needed an emergency bassist for the upcoming tour. Cancelling the whole thing would be a logistical nightmare and Cat insisted they still go and play, get their name out there. Breaking your arm a week before you're supposed to start performing on your first big tour is rather unfortunate, but life goes on.
"Too bad people actually know my name and yours is going to be forgotten after a week."
Okay, it's not exactly a lie, but it's not the truth either. Of course people know Kevin's name. Everyone in the band has enough appeal to market to a certain demographic, but they all agreed Kevin had a certain star quality to him. Jean calls it being an insufferable diva, but as long as being an insufferable diva sells tickets…
Those who follow the band know who Aaron is, if the statistics on fanfiction sites are anything to go by. Aaron played with them once for a smaller gig as a trial run. Kevin only ever checks those sites out of curiosity, of course. He's curious to see what the fan culture is like, who they think would look hot kissing him. Nothing too serious. There's been a steady stream of new works featuring the newest temporary member already. Maybe Kevin has read an obscene amount of them in his free time. It wouldn't mean anything.
"Right, I am so terrible for not wanting your fucking band to fail. You chose me myself."
"I don't really know many bassists. You're not special."
"Clearly," Aaron grumbles and turns around, but Kevin still notices the slight shift in his expression. Dejection buried under a scowl. "Can we have a break? We're not doing shit anyways."
Aaron is out of the door the second Jeremy nods. Kevin rolls his eyes and sighs loud enough for everyone in the room to hear him. They weren't discussing anything important, they weren't playing yet, so what if he looked at his phone a second too long? It's not his fault the plot of the insanely long fanfiction he's been reading for the past week finally started being interesting. The only reason he clicked on it were all the more… unsavory tags, but they didn't appear until chapter fifty.
"Do you think you can, maybe… tone it down a little? No need to make the tour any harder than it needs to be," Jeremy says get it together in the most polite way possible. He looks tired and Kevin can hear it in his voice he's barely holding himself back from snapping at him. He doesn't want another fight.
Jean glares at Kevin. He won't hesitate to tell him off if he angers Jeremy any more. Kevin puts his phone down and sighs dramatically again. He can't resist. "Alright. We'll behave, I promise."
"Focus."
Aaron doesn't snap his fingers this time, at the very least. Kevin hears the idiot even without Aaron saying it. Okay, maybe he deserves to be called an idiot now. They're mere days away from the first show, everyone is on edge because they need it to be perfect. It will take a little while before they get back into the flow of things.
He doesn't apologize, but he also doesn't give Aaron the middle finger, which he counts as a win. It's not Kevin's fault his bedtime plans got derailed because someone uploaded another story in the same universe he enjoyed last time. Well, maybe it is, but he still deludes himself it's research for fan service. Give them what they want and they'll love you forever.
Aaron seems to be in a good enough mood to not be difficult on purpose. He doesn't know the rest of the bad well and he wants to get paid, so he only ever scoffs at Kevin. The stress is getting to him too, his fingers slip on the strings and he swears under his breath.
"Focus." Kevin can't resist the jab after they have to restart one of the songs again. It's not mean, is it?
"Sorry, sorry." Aaron takes a deep breath. "Again."
Kevin can appreciate his determination, if nothing else. They can probably still be called friends, but they drifted apart, each getting swept in their own current of different people. Throwing insults at each other is what they know best, but they lack the connection they had years ago to make it not sting.
Too bad Kevin still has some lingering unresolved feelings.
Kevin is glad he's facing the crowd for the majority of the performance.
The way Aaron transforms on stage reminds him of how he would change and open up around certain people. He's nothing like during the practice; every glimpse Kevin catches of him is mesmerizing. He's feeling the performance, not just playing his part. The vocalist is always going to have the people's attention, but Aaron is just as compelling to watch.
Like he always was.
The opening show is a success. The crowd's energy is great, the cheers are loud, they know more lyrics than just the choruses. Everyone looks like they're having fun first, trying not to fuck up second. Kevin gets a celebratory alcohol-free colorful drink (he wants a regular one, preferably strong, so badly, but he's actually proud of his progress for once) and buys one for all of his band mates. Aaron raises a brow at Kevin's choice, but he gives him an approving nod nonetheless. All their weird history aside, he's seen Kevin at his worst when it comes to drinking.
The rest leaves the table to call Cat after she spammed them with a whole book worth of text messages. Aaron and Kevin sip their drinks in silence. Kevin doesn't know if he even should say anything. Can they still talk like they used to? Aaron answered his call and agreed to step in. He will go back to his life after Cat recovers. They will drift apart once more, eventually.
Kevin can't even remember how exactly it happened the first time. He was deeply in denial about his feelings, sure, but it's not like he agonized over it every day. He had to let go of so many things in his life he only kept a few close to his heart. Kevin's friends didn't like Aaron, Aaron's friends didn't like Kevin. They spoke less and less. That's just how life is.
Nevertheless, Kevin finds himself pulled into Aaron's orbit again. Many have deemed him forgettable, blending into the background of equally insignificant faces. Kevin disagrees, but he seems to be the only one thinking that, apparently.
"You did surprisingly well," Kevin breaks the silence. He can't suppress the need to cough.
"I trust my skills." Right, because it would kill Aaron to just accept a compliment, even one as backhanded as that one.
"We all do."
There is no way around it. Kevin has to share a hotel room with Aaron.
He was an adult, he could do it. He had to share a room with pretty much every member of the band in the past. Still, he got a little mad on principle as he watched Aaron search for something in his bag.
"Do you mind if I shower first?" Kevin thinks Aaron normally wouldn't ask that, but tour traveling does things to your brain, it seems.
"Go ahead."
There are, regrettably, two separate beds. Kevin wonders what it would be like to share a bed when you don't know how you feel about the person. Pretty boring, probably, each on their own side and turned away until they wake up. A man can dream, though.
Once Aaron disappears behind the bathroom door, Kevin begins his daily fanfiction routine. It's more fun than he would admit; it's a bit stupid, knowing he's reading about who is supposed to be him and his band mate that people know virtually nothing about, but that's what makes it fun. He would never say that. Aaron would never do that. It makes him feel butterflies, or whatever.
Some people are weirdos, of course. There are bound to be. Kevin tries to stay away from the most obsessive fans online, but he stumbled upon multiple threads with wild theories on who Aaron is and what his dynamic with the rest of the members is. It's a bit like watching a car crash, Kevin knows it's garbage, but he can't stop reading. His reading is only interrupted by a notification that one of the works he's keeping up with has been updated.
"What are you laughing at?" Aaron sits down on Kevin's bed. Kevin didn't even notice when he came back.
"…Nothing." Hiding his phone screen would be too suspicious, so he turns away as much as he can.
Too bad Aaron is such a stubborn son of a bitch.
"Show me. You find, like, three things funny." Aaron leans in and he apparently reads enough before Kevin locks his phone, because his face goes through five different expressions within five seconds. "Kevin."
"What? Mind your own fucking business."
"What are you reading? Why the hell was my name there?"
Kevin has to decide what to say quickly. "It's, uh, you know how fans have their own image of the band in their heads? I was curious what the fan culture is like. You appeal to them and they come to the shows, no?"
"I… I guess? But is reading about us kissing necessary to sell tickets?" Kevin notices Aaron's ear turn pink. Cute.
"Well, you see, it's all fan service, right? We could play into it a bit. People don't know how to read you." Kevin prays it works.
Aaron stays silent for a moment. "Play into it?"
"Some teasing on stage, touching, intense eye contact. That kind of stuff. You know, how Jeremy sometimes makes heart eyes at Jean mid-song?"
"I thought they are engaged…?" Aaron tilts his head like a confused puppy, seemingly unaware he's doing that.
"Oh, they are. But, I mean, it still has a certain appeal for the fans. Some absolutely love it."
"So what, I get a raise if I slap your ass on stage?"
"Wha— I never said that!"
"It kinda feels like that's what you mean."
"Don't put words in my mouth."
Okay, maybe Kevin does kind of want it, but he's not that out of his mind to start listing his fantasies to Aaron. He rolls his eyes and stares at Aaron, pouting, but Aaron stares back with the same energy. He's unfortunately one of the few people who have seen through all of Kevin's tricks and who sometimes even throw them back at him.
"Whatever it is you want me to do, I don't agree." Aaron breaks first. "Why would people even want to see that? I didn't think I'm attractive enough for that."
As much as Kevin wants to give Aaron the compliments he's clearly fishing for, he needs to win whatever this turned into. "I was surprised too." Liar.
Aaron shrugs and walks to his bed. "I'm going to sleep. Don't be loud and don't fucking snore."
"Goodnight."
Kevin takes this as his cue to go shower and go to bed too. When he's done, Aaron is already asleep, absolutely buried in the sheets with only the top of his head visible. Kevin sleeps turned the other way.
Despite how much the idea seemingly put Aaron off, he's acting differently. It's subtle at first, Kevin doesn't think anyone but him notices. Whenever he turns around during a performance, Aaron makes sure their eyes meet. He knows Kevin can handle direct eye contact for about five seconds. He still stares, and those five seconds are usually the most intense moments of the whole concert.
It ultimately means nothing to Aaron. He's just fucking with Kevin, that's all. This is the universe's way of punishing him for reading fanfiction about his friend-coworker-something-else, fine. They end up squeezed into one hotel room more often than not, but they never talk about it.
It gets weird after a while, but the fans eat it up and Kevin's too fascinated by how Aaron's brain works to bring it up. He lets him look for as long as he can hold it. Aaron has to breach the topic first, otherwise the illusion will burst and he most likely will clam up and never mention it. Aaron's mind is fascinating and sometimes a mystery to Kevin, but he also knows just enough about its mechanisms to know how to not be completely lost in his interactions with Aaron.
Aaron's eyes are beautiful. Kevin likes to watch the skin around them creases as he smiles. Aaron's stare is too intense for him to fully appreciate the almost golden hue, but when he does look, Kevin likes that the brown specks make Aaron's faint freckles stand out more. More often than not, Kevin looks at those freckles when the eye contact is too much.
He looks away once his eyes slip to Aaron's lips. As if he needed more distractions during the concert. Kevin likes to imagine Aaron is a good kisser. He looks like one, whatever that would even mean. Maybe it's his fuller lower lip. The way he bites it when he concentrates. The lip piercing he got after they stopped hanging out.
The rest have noticed, it would be hard not to, but they gave up trying to bring it up after the third failed attempt. Aaron has made it clear it's a game he's playing with Kevin and Kevin alone. Fine. It doesn't mean Kevin gets no stupid comments, though. His friends suddenly love whatever he and Aaron have going on once it's not affecting their performance.
They really should talk about it. Too bad nobody wants to make the first move.
Even after Kevin trips on a lose wire during an encore and Aaron catches him with one arm, looking insanely smug about it. Even after someone makes a comment about them "openly eye-fucking" for the half of the set. Aaron is the only one who knows the rules to this game. And he's winning.
Kevin doesn't check his usual sites after this. He knows exactly what will greet him. Real life is starting to resemble those fantasies more and more and he's not sure how he feels about it.
"I thought you're not going to do anything."
He confronts Aaron one night when they get a room together again. Someone has to at this point, and if Aaron gets scared, then so be it.
"I'm not doing anything."
"You know damn well what you're doing."
"I thought you wanted me to?" There it is, the mischievous sparkle in Aaron's eyes. He comes across as not caring about anything, and most of the time he really doesn't, but he can be such a—
"Well, yeah, but I thought you would, like, discuss it with me or something!" Kevin yells, pacing the small room.
"Okay. Let's discuss, then. You like it?" Aaron grins.
The way he says it makes Kevin feel a bit lightheaded. "And if I say I do? Will you get scared and stop doing it? Hm?"
"Do you want me to stop?" Aaron stands up from the bed and walks up to Kevin.
"…No."
"The fan service is doing its job, no? We get good crowds."
"Right, yeah. Good crowds."
They stand in silence for an embarrassing amount of time. It's the perfect time for an awkward kiss or admission of feelings. It's also a perfect time to deflect, consider the topic thoroughly discussed, keep doing it until the portion of the tour Aaron's supposed to play at wraps up and go back to square one.
"The fans seem to be enjoying it," Aaron breaks the silence, chewing on his lip.
"They do."
"Do you think we could do something more?"
"More, like…?" Kevin asks, but he knows the answer.
"Like this."
Aaron refuses to go on his tiptoes, so he brings Kevin down for the kiss. Their teeth clash, Kevin is bent at an uncomfortable angle, but it still somehow feels divine. Years of feelings left to fester and frustration building over weeks leads to Kevin getting slammed against the wall, Aaron biting at his lips. It's angry in its passion, almost violent, but it makes more sense than if they suddenly started exchanging soft kisses.
"Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow."
They start again.
Kevin is sure everybody has already picked up on his nervous energy. He and Aaron only went to sleep after their lips were swollen, there were hickeys all the way down to their collarbones (nobody comments on it, luckily), and once this whole thing started heading in a direction too serious to settle in the middle of the night in a hotel room. Ironically, there was only one bed they had to share.
Aaron looks remarkably calm on the surface. Kevin notices all of the small tells, though; he nearly spills his coffee because his hands start shaking, he only relaxes his face when someone is talking to him. He looks through Kevin rather than at him. The satisfaction Kevin gets from knowing the mess on Aaron's neck is his doing doesn't compare to anything else in his life. Knowing everyone can see the marks gives him a sick, possessive thrill.
"Don't do anything stupid." Jean stops Kevin on their way to the venue for rehearsals.
Too late. "I won't. Don't worry about me, really."
"I don't know if I am more worried or grossed out by the idea, actually."
"Trust me."
They drop the topic, but Kevin still gets a decent amount of disapproving side-glances from Jean. This whole thing was stupid from the moment Kevin called Aaron to offer him the job. He didn't plan for it to snowball like that.
He checks the fanfiction sites more out of habit than anything else. It's almost embarrassing now, after he had Aaron in his bed (technically!) and knows what he's like, what he tastes like. Not to say that he will never indulge in any fantasies ever again, but it was so not like how he imagined it.
Kevin hopes this evening won't ruin everything again.
He has done it enough times already to mask his stress well. Interact with the crowd, look like you're actually happy to be there, be convincing. Don't forget the lyrics, preferably. Aaron looks at him from time to time, relaxed. Jesus, they really shouldn't. It's a terrible idea. Why do the worst ideas always have the most appeal?
One of the last songs comes to an end. Aaron walks through the stage. He's so hot when he's confident. It's unfair. Kevin is all nerves, his body an exposed live wire.
Now or never.
As far as Kevin knows, real electric sparks fly when their lips touch. He can't hear anything through the buzzing in his ears, although he is aware of all of the noise. Aaron plays with him, pulling him closer and smiling into the kiss, daring him to take the lead and push it further. They definitely can't be as intense as behind the closed doors, but Kevin dares to bite Aaron's lips anyway.
It's truly one of the worst things he's done in a while. He can't stop.
