Chapter Text
Kevin only had a moment to take in Jean’s appearance and offer a private greeting–close, but not too close, in the peculiar way that male athletes were allowed to be with their friends and rivals–before they prepared to enter the press room and take their spots at the podium for the joint post-game press conference; that was all it took to notice the reddish-brown stain on Jean’s sleeve. “That better not be your blood,” he said in quiet French.
Jean raised an amused eyebrow. “Would you rather it belong to one of your teammates?”
The correct answer, of course, was no. “Oui.”
The corner of Jean’s mouth twitched up. “I'll be sure to tell Neil you said that.”
Kevin grimaced, one problem replaced with another. “Oh–from when you checked him early in the second half?”
Jean shrugged. “I assume so, based on the number of expletives he shouted up at me.”
Mentally replaying the check, Kevin nodded, satisfied. “It was a clean hit, and he's fine. He was egging you on all game, including afterwards. I'd tell him that myself.”
Wymack, who had been standing nearby with Coach Rhemann and politely ignoring their hushed French conversation, took a step towards Kevin and clapped his shoulder. “You kids ready to go out there?” he asked, gesturing towards the open doorway just around the corner.
This time, the correct answer was yes, and Kevin was willing to give it. “Yes, Coach.”
“The sooner we face the scavengers, the sooner we can leave,” said Jean. He looked at Coach Rhemann. “Are you certain you don't want to send someone else out there? Tanner, perhaps? He is like a wind-up toy, I am sure he can share some charming and relatable soundbytes.”
“You're up, Moreau,” said Coach Rhemann. He sighed. “They're still leaning into the whole teammates-turned-rivals angle between you and Day, especially after everything that's gone down with the Ravens over the last year.”
Jean looked sideways at Kevin. “Can I say that he is slightly less annoying now that I do not have to listen to what he says?”
“Hey!” Kevin protested.
“What? That was a compliment!”
“All right, let's save the sparks for the cameras,” said Wymack.
The press conference was, blessedly, unremarkable. Both Kevin and Jean had been media trained within an inch of their lives–quite literally–and, as an added bonus, none of the reporters seemed to be out for blood, theirs or otherwise. Kevin barely had to think about his answers: yes, the Foxes still have plenty to work on, and one of the benefits of playing such a high quality opponent so early in the season is getting the chance to really test the team and discover key areas for improvement; yes, of course he has a lot of respect for the Trojans, they're a strong team, and he's been thrilled to watch how Jean has thrived there; no, he hasn't stayed in touch with any other Ravens or former Ravens, but of course he wishes them the best and hopes that those who need help ask for it and get it. Jean also got some predictable questions about how the Trojans have adjusted following the graduation of their long-time Captain, Jeremy Knox, and Kevin very carefully ignored the contradictory blend of emotions he felt about it.
“He wanted to come, you know,” said Jean in French as soon as they were back in the hallway, away from the press. Wymack artfully led Coach Rhemann away towards his office, giving them some semblance of privacy.
“He has an away game in Seattle tomorrow, of course he couldn't make it,” Kevin responded dismissively.
“Ah, you follow the San Diego Knights’ schedule closely, then?” asked Jean, looking frustratingly pleased with himself.
“I follow professional exy,” Kevin said.
“Who are the St. Paul Caribou playing tomorrow?” asked Jean. “They are the reigning league champions, surely you follow them, as well?”
Kevin clenched his jaw, trying to remember, and then he took a wild guess, trying to sound confident and assuming Jean didn't know either. “They're at home against the Nashville Stars.”
“No they're not,” said Jean gleefully. “They are away, at the Dallas Mustangs.” He paused, taking in Kevin's bewildered stare, then added, “Laila plays for Dallas.”
“See? It's normal to keep better track of teams where you have friends,” said Kevin, leaning a little too hard into the last word of the sentence. “Besides, aren't you–why are you–don't the two of you–”
“We are close, yes,” said Jean smoothly, and Kevin pressed his lips together.
“Don't give me a media answer.”
“Ask the question you actually want to ask, and I'll consider it.” They stared at each other for a long moment, Jean’s gaze defiant and Kevin's frozen, until Jean looked away, shoulders slumping. “You know, one day, I will finally give up on you.”
“Don't,” said Kevin quickly. “Or–that's not fair. Do, if that's better for you. And for him.”
Jean turned slowly back towards him. “Not so long ago, your first instinct would have been do.” He paused. “I think I will take that as a sign to let the red string of fate drag me a little further along.”
“I don't know what you're waiting for,” said Kevin. If he couldn't get clarity now, before Jean walked away, still full of undeserved hope, he felt like he might lose the chance forever. Maybe he'd disappoint Jean anyway, but he at least wanted the chance to do it knowingly.
“You know,” said Jean with confidence. “Once you realize, you'll see all the ways you already knew.”
“What does that mean?” asked Kevin, annoyed, as he pushed away all the signs and feelings and moments that answered the question, and then he frowned. “Oh. That.”
Jean nodded sagely. “You are on the right track, I think. But there are several more stages to go. Let me know when you are further along.”
“What if I never get there?”
Jean shrugged. “I will worry about that later. Probably on the plane ride back to Los Angeles. It is very long.”
Kevin laughed, and Jean's expression turned warm and settled. “See? You will get there.” He turned down the hallway to where Wymack and Coach Rhemann were standing in the doorway to Wymack’s office, trying not to look like they were paying attention to Kevin and Jean. “Coach, I think it is time to go.”
“All right, if you boys are ready,” said Coach Rhemann. “David, thank you for your hospitality, as always. We hope to see you again later on in the season.”
“Same to you, James. Safe trip home,” said Wymack with a nod. As they walked off towards the visitors’ locker room, Wymack watched Kevin. “You good, kid?”
“Yeah,” said Kevin, and it felt oddly true.