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Fiddling with the final button on his shirt, Kent turned, dragging his fingers through his hair and shouted, “Bits! Opinion!”
There was a pause, then Kent could hear the sound of bare feet hitting the wood floor. The woosh of the bedroom door opening sent a waft of air at his face, and his fingers stopped trying to make his cowlicks make sense.
Bitty stepped into the room and froze. “Wow,” he breathed.
Kent turned from side to side, drawing his hands down his ribs. “Fucking nice, right? I spent like two hours inside Ralph Lauren trying to find the perfect blend of what was going to make me look hot as hell, and also wasn’t going to drive me up the wall.”
“Well it worked. And I do not want to know what it cost.”
Kent snorted and turned back toward his dresser, hand brushing along the top until it came to his plastic case. “No, you really fuckin’ don’t. But it was worth it. Anyway I need to know what colour eyes to go.”
Bitty laughed quietly, but walked over, perching his chin on Kent’s shoulder as he peered into the case. It wasn’t the first time Kent wanted to match eyes to what he was wearing, and since this was the first date he’d agreed to go on in months, he was going all out.
“Okay well the shirt is kind of like a smoky colour…”
“What?” Kent demanded. “She fuckin’ told me it was plaid.”
“It is,” Bitty stressed. “But like the dominant colour is this smoky grey ish? The rest is white and black.”
“Thank fuck. I do not want to look washed out tonight,” Kent said. His fingers drew along the braille tags, stopping at grey. “These?”
Bitty hummed, then nodded against Kent’s shoulder. “Yeah. Put them on though, just to be safe.”
Kent huffed a little, but grabbed the two scleral shells from the case and turned toward the bathroom. “This is such a fucking pain in the ass, it had better look good. I don’t feel like doing this twice.”
“You could always just leave them out, since all you do is complain,” Bitty chirped.
Kent laughed as he grabbed the wash and began to clean them. “Yeah fuckin’ right. These eyes are designer. My shirt is designer. My fucking jeans are designer.”
“And your shoes are Keds,” Bitty said.
“Oh fuck you,” Kent said with a laugh. Putting his prosthetics in was less of a pain than he made it out to be—Bitty knew that well enough, but he also knew how dramatic Kent liked to be, and what a production he made out of everything. It only took a couple minutes, and he blinked to get used to them. He’d been going without, after back-to-back infections over the last few weeks, but his natural eyes were finally feeling better, and could stand the prosthetics which made Kent feel better.
He didn’t need them, but he didn’t like going without. Especially on a first date.
“Okay you look amazing, and Alexei is going to just die,” Bitty said. Kent heard the shutter sound of his own camera.
“Dude wait, was I making a weird face? I feel like I was making a weird face. Do not post that to my Instagram if it was.”
Bitty huffed, and Kent could hear the tapping noises of his screen. “Like I would ever let you look foolish, Kent Parson. You look amazing. It was candid but you look so good I’m thinking about breaking up with Jack and running away with you.”
“Exactly what I’m going for.” Kent leant against the bathroom counter, grabbing his toothbrush, and giving his mouth a second scrub just in case. “Okay,” he said, his mouth a little foamy, “tell me again the things I’m allowed to know.”
“Kent…you’re not supposed to know anything. That’s the point of a blind date…”
“Which I still think is like…offensive somehow. Blind guy on a blind date.”
Bitty huffed. “Oh my god, just…will you stop. You were the one pissing and moaning about not having met anyone, and you’re going to like Alexei.”
Kent’s nose wrinkled as he slipped his toothbrush back into the holder, and brushed his fingers along the mirror’s edge until he found his cologne. He spritzed it once, then wafted it toward him. “Well you have to give me something, right?”
“I have,” Bitty said, and moved quickly to the side as Kent breezed through the door, going for his socks and shoes which were waiting for him at the edge of his bed. “He’s nice, he’s got a cute accent, he’s tall. Pretty much your requirements for dates.”
“He’s not a teacher,” Kent clarified.
“No, not a teacher,” Bitty confirmed. Kent felt the bed dip next to him, the light from the bedside lamp dimming as Bitty sat in the path of it. He shook out one sock, and jammed his foot into it. “How tall is tall?”
“Six-four,” Bitty said. “Nice arms. His English is kind of like…not real great right now. He just got back from six months in Russia, but he’s really smart, and one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met.”
“I’m gonna chew up a nice guy and spit him out, Bits,” Kent whined.
Bitty huffed and smacked him on the arm as he reached for his shoe. “You are not. Trust me, will you. I actually want this to work out.”
Kent wrinkled his nose again, but put both feet on the floor, wriggled his toes, then rose to grab his cane from the dresser. “Fine. Whatever, you love me blah blah blah. Let’s get this over with so I can be disappointed and drown my sorrows in that caramel gelato Jack made you get rid of.”
Bitty grumbled something under his breath, but was quiet by the time Kent grabbed his arm. He shoved his cane into his pocket, grabbed his coat on the way out, and let Bitty lead the way down the pavement, and to the kerb where Jack’s car was parked.
“At least he let you take the Jag,” Kent said as he slid into the plush seat.
“Mmhmm,” Bitty said. The engine turned on with a roar, and Kent could feel it under his ass. “Just don’t get drunk and puke in it this time. He won’t forgive you again.”
Kent grinned, nudging Bitty with his elbow. “I make no promises, Bits.”
“Of course not.” Bitty sighed, then with a jolt, started down the street.
***
Kent tapped his fingers nervously on his glass. He and Bitty had showed up early—on purpose of course, because Kent wanted to get a feel of the place. It had been selected by Alexei—something Kent rarely let happen. He preferred restaurants he knew well, in case he had to make a quick get-away from a bad date, which happened more than once. Plus, half the places he frequented started carrying braille menus which meant he wouldn’t have to rely on random dates to help him out.
But Bitty insisted that this wouldn’t be a bad idea. That he would stay at the bar the entire time—looking out for the Save Me Signal if Kent gave it, and he was certain Kent would feel comfortable enough once he met Alexei.
Which should be any minute.
The only real rule Kent had to follow was to talk to Alexei at least a half hour before asking what he did for work, and how he knew Bitty.
So. As terrifying as that was, because what the hell could be possibly be hiding—like Cirque performer? Putin’s bodyguard? –he trusted Bitty. They’d worked together for years now, though it was an unlikely friendship. Kent had been the head of the Maths department at the Providence Community College for two years before Eric Bittle was hired on, first as temp staff, then offered a permanent position teaching various culinary classes.
And it was unlikely that Maths staff and Culinary staff would have interacted much. But Kent had been on a mission to find out what the hell his students kept raving about, and ended up with pie, and a very bizarre friendship with the southern peach.
Bitty had been one of the most interesting people Kent had ever met. He laughed openly when Kent confessed to colour co-ordinating his outfits to his prosthetic eyes—unlike a lot of people who were a little squeamish about the idea—and he made it his mission to teach Kent how to make a proper lattice crust, in spite of Kent always being a disaster in the kitchen, no matter how many years he tried.
“I’m a fucking pre-baked Costco fish guy, Bits,” he insisted.
But after six gruelling weeks and so many dishes of burnt filling he wanted to cry, he finally managed a couple of edible mini-pies, and a couple cookie recipes which finally let him off the hook.
Kent also, at that point, got to meet Jack. Jack, who wasn’t around much, because he was the Captain of the Providence Falconers. Kent had been into sport exactly six months of his entire life. His mother had gotten a temporary job in Toronto when he was eleven, and a neighbour had introduced Kent to the organisation that ran the Blind Ice Hockey league. Kent learnt to skate, and handle a puck, and he was pretty fucking good at it.
But they had nothing like it in the States, and when they moved back, Kent stopped bothering with being upset, and decided he was going to be a maths teacher. No one believed that Kent Parson—he of the designer emotional baggage and if you scuff my shoes I will fucking kill you—would tie himself down to mathematics and classrooms full of annoyed students trying to get their core credits finished, but he’d done it. And fuck those who thought it was stupid, because he loved numbers.
The only good thing about his hockey background was being able to chirp Zimms relentlessly, though Kent never bothered with going to any of Jack’s games, mostly because he could never get the radio app on his phone to work, and sitting there listening to the puck scraping the ice, and occasional, muffled chirps above the screaming crowd wasn’t nearly as fun.
Now, Kent was starting to regret his friendship with Bits. Sat at the table, still alone, starting to freak out a little like he was going to be that loser stood up in the middle of a restaurant on a Friday—and people were looking, he could tell. He was attractive and alone and yeah…
A clearing throat startled him, and he turned his head to the left.
“Sorry,” came a heavy, thick voice, the accent very apparent even in the single word. “Uber is get flat tire, have to go back for my car.”
Kent huffed, but made a gesture. “No worries, man. I already grabbed a drink so I’m good.”
Kent heard the careful shufft of the chair scraping along the thin carpet, and the way the wood protested as the guy sat down. “Next time we have date, I’m have your number, so text if late.”
Kent’s eyebrows flew up, and in spite of himself, he smiled. “Sure of a second date, are you?”
At that, the guy laughed, and the sound was nice, and rich. Kent liked it immediately. “Am confident guy. Like you. Is why Itty Bitty think we are good match.”
Kent’s teeth dug into his bottom lip, and he reached up, scratching under the band of the purple tinted glasses he slipped on. He thought momentarily about taking them off. They didn’t serve more than an aesthetic purpose, and avoided the awkward conversations when people realised his eyes didn’t move and then he had to explain which got…tiring. But he wasn’t sure Alexei would even really care at this point. He’d obviously been briefed by Bitty after Bitty had asked, “You want me to tell him you’re blind, hon?”
Kent had scoffed. “God yes. As hilarious as the whole surprise, your blind date is actually blind might be…and okay like maybe it’s tempting…I’d rather not spring that shit on people. What if he like…walks out or gets weird.”
“Alexei won’t, but I’ll tell him anyway.”
Kent fiddled with the idea, then just slid them off, folded them up, and set them next to his cane on the empty chair on his right. “Okay so,” Kent said, reaching for his drink. He let the whiskey burn against the back of his throat, distracting himself from his nerves. “I’m not allowed to ask you about your job for like another twenty-five minutes.”
Alexei laughed again. “Yes, Bitty tell me this. Say we talk about other things.”
“So what can you tell me?” Kent asked. He folded his hands, then said, “Shit wait. No. They’re gonna come bug us about food in like a minute. We should order an app.”
He heard the rustle of Alexei picking up the menu. “Okay Bitty say you not know this place, so you want me to read all, or make recommendation?”
Kent smiled and shrugged. “You know what, you picked the place, so I’m gonna trust you. But like easy on the dairy. I love cheese but we are not friends these days.”
Alexei chuckled again, then hummed to himself. “Okay. They are have very good calamari,” he pronounced it with the most heavy accent, and Kent tried not to smile at it too much. It’s not like Alexei could help it, and it wasn’t funny really. It was frankly, incredibly attractive. “Is my favourite. But if you not like fish things…”
“Dude, we live in Rhode Island. Like…I’d be pretty fucked if I couldn’t stand fish. That sounds fine.”
Alexei hummed for a minute, then said, “Okay we order that. Maybe some baked artichoke hearts. Little bit of cheese, but very good.” The server arrived a minute later, and Alexei ordered the food. When she was gone he said, "I hope you like."
Kent’s smile widened. “I trust you,” he said again. “Though why this place? Seriously, I kind of expected Russian food?”
Alexei made a sort of derisive snort. “Mama make best Russian food. No place here with Russian people to cook. I’m not trust it. But maybe sometime in New York, we go. Have good place I have before, few months ago. Friend of mine, he take me there, is not bad.”
“Yeah I guess it’s pretty shitty compared to home cooked. Do you cook? Because like, Bitty’s already taken so I’ll propose right now if you’re good in the kitchen.”
There was a small pause, and a huff of a laugh. “I’m not…best in kitchen. Hope is not…” He hummed, like he was searching for the word. “Break date?”
“Deal breaker?” Kent offered.
“Yes. Deal breaker,” Alexei said happily.
Kent figured the guy was smiling. He seemed like the sort of guy who carried around a happy grin, wearing it on his face, in his voice. Normally Kent wasn’t into guys like that, but then again it might be time for a chance considering his history with the brooding, angry types.
“I’ll have to think about it,” Kent said, swirling his drink, then finishing off the dredges. He could feel a slight, numbing haze in his limbs, and knew he should probably switch to water. “So okay, you can’t cook, you don’t like any Russian food here in Providence and…” Kent reached for his wrist, flipping the top of his watch up and feeling for the time. “And fuck, I still have nine minutes. Um okay, so when did you come to the States?”
Kent’s question was delayed by the arrival of their apps. He heard the gentle clink of the dish hitting the table cloth, then the server said, “Be careful with this one. It’s really, really hot.”
Kent bristled. There was probably nothing worse than being brought a dish he couldn’t touch with his fingers. It made digging in a little difficult, and he was enjoying the fact that he hadn’t yet needed to ask for Alexei’s assistance. “Could I get a water when you get a chance?”
“Sure thing,” the server said. He heard her swipe the empty whiskey glass, and he reached in front of him, touching the edge of the appetiser plate she’d set down.
“Okay so uh. I guess I’m gonna need help here because I have no idea what she was talking about with the hot plate.”
“Artichokes,” Alexei said, and Kent could hear him shifting his chair closer. “They bake in dish, with cheese. So dish is hot. But she is give…spoon, to serve. You want me to put on your plate or tell where dish is?”
Kent bit his lip, then sighed. “Uh. Yeah go ahead and just stick one on my plate. But where’d she put the calamari? You can just like…okay pretend like I’m looking at a clock, and use the time?”
“Ah,” Alexei said, and Kent could hear the scrape of the artichoke dish as he spooned a couple onto Kent’s plate. “Odinnadtsat' chasov,” then he laughed. “I’m meaning…eleven o’clock. I push away from hot dish. Hands are safe.”
Kent couldn’t help a tiny smile as he reached out, his fingers brushing the dish. He grabbed a few pieces out of it, plopping them next to the warm artichokes, then found his fork. “Okay so we still have like what, five minutes? So tell me when you got to the States.”
Alexei hummed and chewed. “Well,” he said a little thickly, “I’m meant to come here two-thousand seven. But there is delay, back in Chelyabinsk. So I’m not come until one year later. Then I’m live in Seattle, for six month, but is not good fit, they think, so am sent away. To Boston.”
Kent hummed. “Okay that literally doesn’t help at all. I’m thinking like software company, but I don’t think Bits would try and hide that. And you’re not a teacher.”
“No,” Alexei said with a laugh. “Am not. Though sometime I teach Russian guys now some English.”
Kent laughed at that a little. “Shit dude, how many Russian guys are at your work,” he asked as he cut the artichoke in half and tried a bite. It was good, but not as good as Alexei had insisted, and hot enough to burn his tongue. He hadn’t heard the server return with water though, so he sighed and kept eating.
“There is…many. Is popular job for Russians. We are best.”
Kent’s eyebrows went up again, and he snorted. “Yeah? That’s…literally still giving me no clues. Jesus. Okay um…” He tapped the edge of his plate with his fork, speared a tentacle of calamari, and ate it. “What colour is your hair?”
Alexei choked a little on his drink. “How is that help you tell what job I’m have?”
Kent shrugged. “Maybe you’re a model. Shit. Are you a model? Oh god are you famous?”
There was a long pause, and Kent’s cheeks went hot. “I’m…not model. But I’m have photos once or twice.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Kent accused, poking his fork in Alexei’s direction. He moved to put his other hand on the table, and it collided with a cold glass, sending it flying. He heard the shatter as it hit the tiles nearby the table, and he groaned. “Fuck. How long was that there?”
Alexei hesitated. “Few minutes. She drop off. I should have say something, I’m sorry.”
Kent shook his head as the server rushed over, apologetic and quickly replacing the glass. He said nothing, just brushed the side with his knuckles, then took a drink. “Wasn’t you, man. I kind of need them to like…make noise so I know what’s going on.”
“I tell next time,” Alexei said, his voice insistent.
Kent waved his hand. “Fucking happens, trust me, okay? I’ve knocked like full entrees onto dates before so I think we’re doing alright.”
Alexei chuckled at that. “Okay.”
Kent sat back as he chewed on the last of his artichoke, then touched his watch again, and grinned triumphantly. “Fuck yes. Thirty-one minutes. Okay. Spill.”
Alexei sighed. “Okay. Okay is…”
“Wait,” Kent said, suddenly wracked with guilt. “Jesus I didn’t even ask if you want me to know. Like if it bothers you…”
“No,” Alexei said in a rush. “No, no is okay. Not bother me just…sometime hard to have date where people don’t know. Don’t already have opinion. They think oh, is Alexei Mashkov and they know me already, from twitter, from facebook.” He paused then, like he expected a reaction, but Kent didn’t know the name.
“If it helps uh…that’s not familiar to me?” Kent offered.
Alexei was quiet a moment, then said, “You are not just say this?”
“Nope,” Kent said, popping the P. “Look okay let’s try this.” He pushed his plate toward the centre of the table, then crossed his arms. “I’m Kent Parson—Bits probably told you this much at least. I’m a maths professor. I love teaching. Like I’ve had a few jobs and shit, this is the best one. Um. I grew up in New York, I lived in Toronto for like six months which was pretty sweet but we ended up moving back. I went to Columbia where I got my master’s degree—and I’m still thinking about my PhD but fuck, that’s so much school. Um, I was born with bilateral microphthalmia, which is why I wear the eyes—which by the way I have in literally every colour so I can change whenever I want. My natural eyes are pretty small and only have some light perception. I don’t have a guide dog, but I have the best fucking cat on the planet—if this works out between us you have to meet her. She’s like the final test in dating. I own a condo, obviously don’t drive, don’t date much because people are shitty. And I think I like you so far. So whatever you wanna tell me right now, Alexei, I think we’re good.”
Kent stopped, his mouth dry from the amount he’d just babbled, but it felt good. It felt good because Alexei had sounded a little too tense, and the very least Kent could give him was that. His shitty, boring, half-assed bio.
He was quiet for a minute, then laughing very softly under his breath. “Thank you,” he muttered.
Kent shrugged. “No worries. Also we like…haven’t ordered an entrée so are we gonna do that or what?”
Alexei laughed even louder, then moved his chair all the way round to sit next to Kent, and quietly went over the menu with him, item by item.
***
In the end, Kent ordered the halibut special, and Alexei went with some pasta dish. He moved back over after the app plates were cleared, and Kent got a beer when Alexei ordered a glass of wine. They talked a little more, about how Kent met Bitty, how ridiculous their shared friend was, and how yes, Alexei could still see him sat at the bar pretending like he wasn’t watching.
“God, we should give him a show at some point,” Kent said, letting his ankle rest against Alexei’s.
“Like what. Have big fight, I throw drink in your face, then you slap me?”
Kent snorted. “Uh. Well I was thinking less soap opera but that could work. You’re gonna have to direct me. My sense of direction’s okay for a blind dude, but I’m not fucking Daredevil.”
“I’m watch that show. Is…okay. Give two stars of five.”
“Yeah I’m not even gonna go there,” Kent said with a laugh. “But dude if you wanna take me to Assassin’s Creed for our next date, I’m so down.”
“We are have next date?” Alexei asked. “Even though I tell you nothing? I could be…mafia, even?”
“Hey man, I’d be a pretty shitty witness so I think I’d be safe.” He winked, and heard Alexei laugh again. Kent swore he was never going to get tired of that sound. “Seriously, it’s fine. I get it.”
“No is…okay. Was just nice that someone eat with me, and not know right away.” He took a breath, and before Kent could stop him this time, he said, “I’m play on Providence Falconers.”
Kent’s eyebrows shot up, then he said, “Shit so you like…work with Jack.”
“Yes,” Alexei said quietly. “He have C, I have A. Am Alternate Captain.”
“Dude, that means you’re good, right?”
Alexei huffed. “I tell you Russian is best. Jack just have nice eyes, they are distracted. Am better on ice, better score.”
Kent threw his head back and laughed. “Shit, oh my god. That’s fucking great. So okay you’re like rich, and famous in hockey circles. I’ve hung out with Zimms and Bits to know enough of how that works.”
“Is why I like this place. They are keep people from interrupt my dinner. Can eat in peace, have nice date with cute teacher in peace.”
Kent’s cheeks flushed hot. “Yeah? You think I’m cute?” He shifted his legs even closer, and felt Alexei trap one of his calves between both of his. Kent’s smile got wider.
“You know you cute, Kenny,” Alexei said. “Even if Bitty dress you.”
“Excuse me,” Kent said with a huff, “but that man does not dress shit in my house. If he looks amazing, it’s because he gets his style from me.”
Alexei chuckled. “Whatever you are say, solnyshko.”
Kent’s grin spread. “What does that mean? It had better not be some insult or…”
“Mean little sun,” Alexei said, and dragged the top of his foot along Kent’s calf. “You are have nice hair, like sun. Bright like sun.”
Kent tipped his head low and swallowed because shit, he was falling hard. “Ah uh. Oh. I think…thank you?”
Alexei chuckled. “You’re welcome.”
The food arrived just after that, offering them a distraction, and it was good enough it occupied their attention for long enough to practically lick plates clean. When it was over, Kent pushed on his stomach as he sat back.
“God that was good but so much. I’m gonna die.”
“We can go for walk after this?” Alexei offered. “Is not too cold, nice night. Or Itty Bitty give you ride home?”
“I can send his ass packing, as long as you can get me there safely. I fucking hate the bus this late at night,” Kent said with a shrug. He put his hand on the table, almost a dare, and Alexei took him up on it, fingers pressing to his. “Shit, your hands are fucking huge,” he blurted when he felt Alexei’s hand swallow his own.
“Am tell you, Russian best at everything.”
“What? Having hands?” Kent chirped.
Alexei snickered. “Yes. Having hands. Having feet. Big guys, Russians. But is okay, mean I can protect you from bad people.”
“Bad people?” Kent repeated.
Alexei shifted his chair over again and spoke very low, close to Kent’s face. “Bad guys. Mugger, maybe? Mafia,” which made Kent laugh again. “Maybe future bad date, who isn’t me.”
“Yeah,” Kent said, his laughter dying down. He let Alexei’s giant, soft hand keep hold of his own. “I think I can live with that.”
“Good,” Alexei said. “Then I get bill, and we go for walk.”
“Next one’s on me,” Kent insisted, and Alexei squeezed his fingers again.
“Okay, but remember, I’m have lot of money, and cute little sun with freckles, he can take advantage. If he wants.”
“Even if I don’t kiss you at the end of the date?” Kent asked, wrinkling his nose.
Alexei huffed a laugh as the server collected his card. “Yes, solnyshko. Even then.”
***
It was fairly chilly for the season, but Kent was dressed warm enough, and Alexei’s hand in his was sending white-hot sparks shooting up his arms from where their fingertips brushed together. The restaurant was near the water, so they found a small path near the boardwalk, and it was empty enough Kent wasn’t worried about smacking into too many people with his cane.
“You are know this area?” Alexei asked, his voice carrying over the small, gentle crashing of the waves on the shoreline.
Kent shrugged, letting his thumb brush over Alexei’s massive knuckles. “Uh…like, I got to know the whole city pretty well, but I live near the campus and kind of stick to that area. Makes getting around easier, you know? Because I don’t have a dog, but don’t have enough vision to navigate unfamiliar places on my own. Bits and I will tear up the town when Jack’s on the road sometimes, but normally I just stick to my little corner. Aaaand I’m rambling again,” he said.
Alexei laughed, and tugged him just a little, so they walked a little closer. “Is okay? Like this?”
Kent hummed, and squeezed Alexei’s fingers. “Yeah. This is good.”
They ended up finding a vendor selling hot cocoa and little mini funnel cakes, which Alexei insisted on sharing, in spite of Kent’s stomach being at capacity. But the cocoa was warm, and there was a small bench nearby, and a fountain off in the distance. They sat down, their knees knocking together, and Kent laughed when Alexei attempted to feed him the cake, missing his mouth more than once.
“Jesus, dude,” Kent said, wiping confectioner’s sugar from his nose, “I’m pretty sure I can do better.”
“You say, you show me,” Alexei said, and tapped the back of Kent’s hand with the little plate.
Kent huffed, then tore a piece off, letting the plate rest on his knee as he cupped Alexei’s cheek. He brushed the corner of Alexei’s mouth with his thumb, then lifted the cake up. “Don’t fucking bite me, dude.”
Alexei made a playful growling noise, but his teeth grabbed the cake without touching Kent’s fingers, and he sighed. “Is good. You better than me.”
“So Russians aren’t best at everything,” Kent said, nudging him.
“Just one thing,” Alexei conceded, and leant his head on Kent’s shoulder. “Best at all other things.”
Kent huffed, but he was grinning so wide his cheeks ached, and he sipped his cocoa as they sat there in a quiet silence.
Eventually the chill was getting to them, so they headed back to Alexei’s car, which was parked not far from the restaurant. “Jack drives a Jag,” Kent said, running his fingers along the sleek door before grabbing the handle.”
“Jack is show off,” Alexei grumbled. Kent laughed as he got in, and Alexei switched the engine on. “I’m drive much more sensible. Is smartcar.”
“Oh my god you fucking hippy,” Kent said, but the car barely hummed under his ass, and it puttered along as Alexei pulled into the street.
Using his GPS, Kent let his phone give the directions, and soon enough they were parked at the kerb in front of Kent’s building, and there was a thrumming sort of tension between them. Kent cleared his throat, but said nothing, and he could hear Alexei shifting a little restlessly in his seat.
“I’m…want kiss you good night, but think maybe I should meet cat first. Not want to waste kiss if you throw me out.”
Kent snorted a laugh. “Dude, if that was your way of asking to come up…”
“Only being practical,” Alexei said.
Kent shook his head, but he grinned and shrugged. “Yeah why the fuck not. I like you and I really really want a goddamn kiss goodnight.”
Alexei made a happy noise as he switched the car off, and hustled over to the door as Kent was climbing out. He had his key already, feeling for the building lock, then headed to the lifts, and to his place on the fourth floor.
Just inside, Kent dropped his keys in the bowl, and folded his cane onto the kitchen table. “So just like…basic rules. Don’t move anything if you can help it, help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge, and enjoy the fuck out of the view because I literally can’t, and this place was expensive because of the skyline.”
Alexei chuckled quietly. “Okay but…I’m want meet cat? Where is she?”
“I lock her in the bedroom when I go out, otherwise she gets pissed that I’m not home after an hour and shreds the sofa.” Kent touched his hand to the wall, then walked down the small hallway and opened the door.
He felt the familiar nudging against his calves, and he bent down, scooping the massive, furry cat into his arms. Kit nuzzled him, as she always did, and went a little tense when she realised there was a stranger in the house.
“Okay give her a second to warm up and…” Kent stopped when she launched herself out of his arms and he could hear the soft little pad pad pad of her feet, and tink tink tink of her collar as she trotted over to inspect Alexei.
When he spoke, Kent could tell he was crouched down. He was murmuring in soft Russian, and making little kissy noises. Kit’s bell on her collar jingled as she moved, then it stopped, and Alexei’s words were muffled by fur.
“She is like me,” Alexei said, his voice more thrilled than Kent heard it all night. “So sweet. Soft. She is what cat?”
Kent furrowed his brow. “Oh uh. Ragdoll. She was a gift from my sister when I got this place. My mom never let me have a cat. She said I’d end up tripping over one because they’re so small and quiet, and she didn’t think it was a great idea for me to die by kitten. Sammy just put a bell on her and problem solved.”
Alexei hummed, then Kent heard the thump as Kit removed herself from the bigger man’s arms, and wandered off. He listened to the fading bell, then took a few steps forward, hand out. “Where you at, big guy?”
Warm fingers took his after a second, not pulling, just holding. Kent dragged his hand up Alexei’s arm, until both his own hands were draped on Alexei’s shoulders. He was so tall, so broad, Kent wanted to climb him like a goddamn tree, and might have if it wasn’t the first date. Instead he just stepped into Alexei’s space and let his fingers carefully press into the space between his neck and the collar of his shirt.
“So about that kiss?” Kent murmured.
Alexei, who hadn’t said anything since asking about the cat, hummed, then very quietly said, “Am nervous. You so pretty…is…is not right word.” Kent felt him shift, then the tips of fingers brushed along the line of his jaw. “Best. Best face,” Alexei said.
Kent’s face erupted into a hot blush and he fought the urge to bury it against the front of Alexei’s shirt. “Jesus, you know how to flatter a guy.”
“Am not…am not flatter. Am just say truth,” Alexei said. His grip became firmer, cupping Kent’s cheek instead of just resting his fingers there, and Kent leant into the touch. He gave a whole body shudder as Alexei’s thumb brushed the corner of his mouth, like Kent had done with the funnel cake. “Promise I’m not miss mouth this time,” he said.
It was the warning, Kent knew, before Alexei meant to kiss him. He turned his head into it, parting his lips before Alexei’s met his. They slotted together, a perfect rhythm struck almost instantly. Kent groaned at the swipe of a tongue, though the kiss stayed easy and sweet. Alexei’s other hand wrapped round Kent’s waist, resting at the small of his back, tucking him in close and snug.
When they broke apart, Kent was breathing a little heavy, his fingers digging hard into the fabric of Alexei’s shirt. “Jesus Christ, dude that was…”
“Was okay?” Alexei asked, his voice breathy with a hint of insecurity.
“More than,” Kent said. “More than. God dude, kiss me again, okay?”
Alexei made a happy murmur, and then he did so, backing Kent up in the direction of the sofa. His knees hit it, and almost buckled, but Alexei kept him upright, still snug against his front. “Maybe not too much,” he said against Kent’s mouth. “Go slow. Save some for second date. To the movies.”
Kent laughed and nodded, pressing his forehead against Alexei’s shoulder as Alexei held him tight. “I can’t fucking wait, Alexei.”
Alexei brushed his lips along Kent’s temple and hummed. “Me too, solnyshko. Me too.”