Fic: Once And Again (2/5)
Part twooooooo!
Alex isn’t hard to corner at a club. He never ventures far from the team, doesn’t bother with any of the women that watch him. Really, Kevin should probably feel bad about how easy it is.
“Are you still not seeing anyone?” Kevin asks, and Alex goes red, looks away.
“Heu… not really, I guess.” He looks out at the other groups of people in the bar, like he really, really wishes he was a part of one of those instead.
“But why?”
“I don’t know?”
“I mean, there’s gotta be a reason.” Kevin pretends to study him intently, and sure, some part of him feels bad for doing this to Alex, who looks like he might either punch him or burst out with a confession, but it’s all for Alex’s own good, ultimately.
“No reason.”
“You sure?”
“I just haven’t met anyone still.”
“Really.” Kevin gives him a look that’s exactly doubtful enough that Alex looks decidedly uncomfortable.
Ryan comes back then, looking irritated. “Fucking Lappy, man,” he says, and Kevin hides his grin. Maxim is pretty much the greatest distraction known to man.
“What’d he do?”
“He tried to light a fucking napkin on fire!” At this, Kevin almost chokes from laughing so hard. Maxim’s half-crazy imagination is one of the things Kevin absolutely loves about him.
“Is that why your shirt’s burned?” Kevin guesses innocently. Ryan just glares.
“Glad you find this funny, Juice,” he growls.
“Lucky he didn’t burn all of your shirt,” Alex puts in.
“You mean unfortunately,” Ryan replies, that edge of suggestion in his voice, a bit of a question to it.
“No one wants to see that,” Alex rolls his eyes, but Kevin sees him colouring a bit.
This is exactly what had driven Kevin to his plan, this fucking tension between them, sexed-up and in denial.
“Hey,” Maxim appears behind Alex, and tugs at Alex’s sleeve. “Can you come here a
minute? J’ai besoin d’un traduction.” He pouts, even though he knows full well that only works
on Kevin.
“Ton Anglais est meilleure que la mienne.”
“Il y a quelques mots que je comprends pas. S’il te plait?”
Maxim shoots Kevin a smirk when Alex finally agrees to help him with translating, and Kevin turns to Ryan.
“How have you managed to be here this long and not go home with someone?” he asks. Ryan shrugs a shoulder, already distancing himself.
“No one I want.”
“Right,” Kevin says, lighter disbelief than he used with Alex. Ryan may be closer to full-blown narcissism, but he’s easier to push too far, easier to break.
“What?” Ryan snaps, taking the bait. Kevin shrugs. “What?”
“Just wondering, man. I mean, you’ve got your choice of everyone.”
“So?” Ryan says defensively, glaring.
“Was just wondering, don’t worry about it.” Kevin leaves to go find Maxim, fully aware that Ryan is definitely worrying about it. When he finds Maxim and Alex, Alex is also a little distant, distracted, and Kevin’s positive Alex is worrying, too.
He definitely deserves a medal for this plan.
0o0o0o0o
Alex is still sort of surprised he’s here. Going on dates just isn’t something he does, but he knows why he agreed. Juice’s random bout of questioning made him worry, worry that other people would be wondering too, worry that people would start to draw conclusions that were true, things he just doesn’t want to face when he wouldn’t even get what he wanted in the end.
When Kevin introduced him to his friend, the perfect timing had made Alex jump on an opportunity he’d normally have avoided at all costs, and now, he’s waiting outside a restaurant for someone he has zero interest in.
“Hey,” he hears her voice and turns; this is one of the first things that convinced him to do this, for entirely stupid reasons. She talks like he’s lucky to hear it, and maybe he has a thing for that, because here they are. Emmy’s wearing a black jacket with silver buttons, her dark hair in precise waves around her heart-shaped face, with dark pants and high boots. Not his type, admittedly, but when they’d been introduced, she’d said I’m Emmy, like the award I’m going to win someday soon, and he’d figured that if he had to settle for someone else, this might be okay.
“So,” he says, once they’ve been seated, “you told me you were going to, um, win an Emmy?”
“You ask like you don’t believe it,” she says, offering half a smile at the very last second, before he can rush in with an apology. “I’m in television,” she says.
“Oh, that’s cool. Do you, um,” he doesn’t know anything about that entire business. “Act? I’ve always thought acting would be a cool job. I don’t think it would be a lot of work, maybe? And, heu… where they make movies? Those places seem cool.”
“Definitely not, I hope nothing about me made you think I was an actor,” she says, and maybe it’s her American accent that makes him take this more gently than he probably should. “I’m in directing.”
“That must be really interesting.” He holds back from talking a lot this time, because she hadn’t exactly looked all that interested last time.
“It is, except when the actors decide they think the show’d be better if they did all their directions backwards,” she says, and he grins, caught off guard by the humour.
The brief moments of interest aren’t enough to sustain him, though, and he’s relieved when he can finally leave. He goes to text Kes about it, but stops, because if he’s going to go to all this effort with dating, maybe a step backwards isn’t a good way to end the night.
His resolve last about six minutes, and his I just had the worst date inside my life gets a reply of you mean in your life. Come ovr gettin ur ass kicked at COD will make it better.
0o0o0o0o0o
Ryan’s fully aware he’s being stupid. Fully aware. But after Kevin’s nerve-wracking observation about his lack of a dating life, he’d asked out the friend Kevin had introduced him to. The part that makes him an absolute moron is the fact that he only forced himself to because she’s Quebequoise, and he’s an idiot. 0
“I’m probably saying your name wrong,” he says, and she laughs, fiddling with the napkin in her lap.
“Émilie.”
“I’ve been told my French accent is the worst ever,” he admits.
“Oh, I have heard this about my Anglais!” The opt for the French counterpart of the cognate distracts him, like it has been doing for the entire evening. “I hope it will get better the longer I am here.”
“When did you move?”
“I’ve been here a year! I’m not a fast language learner. I’ve taken a lot of classes, too, but they teach the same things over and over again - I am very good at talking about the weather, because of them.” She talks a lot, Ryan has noticed, and it’s just another thing that he appreciates for all the wrong reasons.
“I know someone like that,” he says, “can’t learn the language to save his life, even though everyone else I know from there is perfectly good at it.”
The date goes by agonizingly slowly, and when it’s over, he gives in and texts Alex, I think having bad dates is catching. Alex writes back a few minutes later to say I just downloaded a horror movie, bring food.
0o0o0o0o0o
Kevin’s sitting on the couch, doing his very best to make a grocery list, when Maxim walks into the living room. Kevin knows exactly what happened as soon as Maxim takes two steps, but doesn’t say anything, lets Maxim come over and sink down beside him in silence. He looks down at his list as Maxim presses in closer against his side.
“How’d it go?” Kevin asks quietly. Maxim says nothing, and Kevin tosses his list aside, reaching over and pulling Maxim into his lap. “I’m sorry,” Kevin says, as Maxim leans into him, arms wrapping around him tightly.
“I should be used to it by now.”
“Max…” Kevin always has a hard time comforting him with this, just because he can’t really deal with it himself, has no explanation, nothing to really offer.
“She says they still want nothing to do with me.” The words are as familiar as an old melody, a tired song that heralds only further destruction. They’re as familiar as the words Maxim never says, the ones Kevin hears in his silence: I never should have told them.
This is all so familiar, what happens after Maxim talks to his sister, when he asks her whether their parents will speak to him. It’s happened again and again, but Kevin knows he’ll never get used to it, to the hurt on Maxim’s face and the hollowness of his voice. Familiarity resounds in every word, every movement, a language he is reluctant to understand. They hate me, Maxim’s eyes say, and the way he clutches at Kevin is his low wail, I want to go home.
All these things Kevin recognises, it makes new things that much more obvious, and he notices the way Maxim grips tighter instantly, the way Maxim tucks his knees up to his chest and hides his face.
“Max…” he doesn’t want to know; more than that, he doesn’t want it to have happened.
“They told her,” Maxim says, face buried in Kevin’s chest, words barely audible. “To stop asking for me.”
“Stop asking…?”
“Said they’re never gonna change their minds, and don’t wanna hear it anymore.”
Kevin doesn’t know what to say to this, just holds him tighter and hides his face against Maxim’s hair, so Maxim won’t see his tears.
“Je ne veux le dis à personnne. Plus jamais, plus jamais, plus jamais.” Maxim has started sobbing, and Kevin doesn’t want to ask for a translation, afraid of what he’ll hear. “I don’t,” Maxim whispers, “wanna tell anyone. Never again.” Kevin just kisses him and holds him, and every shattered “plus jamais,” breaks his heart further.
Alex isn’t hard to corner at a club. He never ventures far from the team, doesn’t bother with any of the women that watch him. Really, Kevin should probably feel bad about how easy it is.
“Are you still not seeing anyone?” Kevin asks, and Alex goes red, looks away.
“Heu… not really, I guess.” He looks out at the other groups of people in the bar, like he really, really wishes he was a part of one of those instead.
“But why?”
“I don’t know?”
“I mean, there’s gotta be a reason.” Kevin pretends to study him intently, and sure, some part of him feels bad for doing this to Alex, who looks like he might either punch him or burst out with a confession, but it’s all for Alex’s own good, ultimately.
“No reason.”
“You sure?”
“I just haven’t met anyone still.”
“Really.” Kevin gives him a look that’s exactly doubtful enough that Alex looks decidedly uncomfortable.
Ryan comes back then, looking irritated. “Fucking Lappy, man,” he says, and Kevin hides his grin. Maxim is pretty much the greatest distraction known to man.
“What’d he do?”
“He tried to light a fucking napkin on fire!” At this, Kevin almost chokes from laughing so hard. Maxim’s half-crazy imagination is one of the things Kevin absolutely loves about him.
“Is that why your shirt’s burned?” Kevin guesses innocently. Ryan just glares.
“Glad you find this funny, Juice,” he growls.
“Lucky he didn’t burn all of your shirt,” Alex puts in.
“You mean unfortunately,” Ryan replies, that edge of suggestion in his voice, a bit of a question to it.
“No one wants to see that,” Alex rolls his eyes, but Kevin sees him colouring a bit.
This is exactly what had driven Kevin to his plan, this fucking tension between them, sexed-up and in denial.
“Hey,” Maxim appears behind Alex, and tugs at Alex’s sleeve. “Can you come here a
minute? J’ai besoin d’un traduction.” He pouts, even though he knows full well that only works
on Kevin.
“Ton Anglais est meilleure que la mienne.”
“Il y a quelques mots que je comprends pas. S’il te plait?”
Maxim shoots Kevin a smirk when Alex finally agrees to help him with translating, and Kevin turns to Ryan.
“How have you managed to be here this long and not go home with someone?” he asks. Ryan shrugs a shoulder, already distancing himself.
“No one I want.”
“Right,” Kevin says, lighter disbelief than he used with Alex. Ryan may be closer to full-blown narcissism, but he’s easier to push too far, easier to break.
“What?” Ryan snaps, taking the bait. Kevin shrugs. “What?”
“Just wondering, man. I mean, you’ve got your choice of everyone.”
“So?” Ryan says defensively, glaring.
“Was just wondering, don’t worry about it.” Kevin leaves to go find Maxim, fully aware that Ryan is definitely worrying about it. When he finds Maxim and Alex, Alex is also a little distant, distracted, and Kevin’s positive Alex is worrying, too.
He definitely deserves a medal for this plan.
0o0o0o0o
Alex is still sort of surprised he’s here. Going on dates just isn’t something he does, but he knows why he agreed. Juice’s random bout of questioning made him worry, worry that other people would be wondering too, worry that people would start to draw conclusions that were true, things he just doesn’t want to face when he wouldn’t even get what he wanted in the end.
When Kevin introduced him to his friend, the perfect timing had made Alex jump on an opportunity he’d normally have avoided at all costs, and now, he’s waiting outside a restaurant for someone he has zero interest in.
“Hey,” he hears her voice and turns; this is one of the first things that convinced him to do this, for entirely stupid reasons. She talks like he’s lucky to hear it, and maybe he has a thing for that, because here they are. Emmy’s wearing a black jacket with silver buttons, her dark hair in precise waves around her heart-shaped face, with dark pants and high boots. Not his type, admittedly, but when they’d been introduced, she’d said I’m Emmy, like the award I’m going to win someday soon, and he’d figured that if he had to settle for someone else, this might be okay.
“So,” he says, once they’ve been seated, “you told me you were going to, um, win an Emmy?”
“You ask like you don’t believe it,” she says, offering half a smile at the very last second, before he can rush in with an apology. “I’m in television,” she says.
“Oh, that’s cool. Do you, um,” he doesn’t know anything about that entire business. “Act? I’ve always thought acting would be a cool job. I don’t think it would be a lot of work, maybe? And, heu… where they make movies? Those places seem cool.”
“Definitely not, I hope nothing about me made you think I was an actor,” she says, and maybe it’s her American accent that makes him take this more gently than he probably should. “I’m in directing.”
“That must be really interesting.” He holds back from talking a lot this time, because she hadn’t exactly looked all that interested last time.
“It is, except when the actors decide they think the show’d be better if they did all their directions backwards,” she says, and he grins, caught off guard by the humour.
The brief moments of interest aren’t enough to sustain him, though, and he’s relieved when he can finally leave. He goes to text Kes about it, but stops, because if he’s going to go to all this effort with dating, maybe a step backwards isn’t a good way to end the night.
His resolve last about six minutes, and his I just had the worst date inside my life gets a reply of you mean in your life. Come ovr gettin ur ass kicked at COD will make it better.
0o0o0o0o0o
Ryan’s fully aware he’s being stupid. Fully aware. But after Kevin’s nerve-wracking observation about his lack of a dating life, he’d asked out the friend Kevin had introduced him to. The part that makes him an absolute moron is the fact that he only forced himself to because she’s Quebequoise, and he’s an idiot. 0
“I’m probably saying your name wrong,” he says, and she laughs, fiddling with the napkin in her lap.
“Émilie.”
“I’ve been told my French accent is the worst ever,” he admits.
“Oh, I have heard this about my Anglais!” The opt for the French counterpart of the cognate distracts him, like it has been doing for the entire evening. “I hope it will get better the longer I am here.”
“When did you move?”
“I’ve been here a year! I’m not a fast language learner. I’ve taken a lot of classes, too, but they teach the same things over and over again - I am very good at talking about the weather, because of them.” She talks a lot, Ryan has noticed, and it’s just another thing that he appreciates for all the wrong reasons.
“I know someone like that,” he says, “can’t learn the language to save his life, even though everyone else I know from there is perfectly good at it.”
The date goes by agonizingly slowly, and when it’s over, he gives in and texts Alex, I think having bad dates is catching. Alex writes back a few minutes later to say I just downloaded a horror movie, bring food.
0o0o0o0o0o
Kevin’s sitting on the couch, doing his very best to make a grocery list, when Maxim walks into the living room. Kevin knows exactly what happened as soon as Maxim takes two steps, but doesn’t say anything, lets Maxim come over and sink down beside him in silence. He looks down at his list as Maxim presses in closer against his side.
“How’d it go?” Kevin asks quietly. Maxim says nothing, and Kevin tosses his list aside, reaching over and pulling Maxim into his lap. “I’m sorry,” Kevin says, as Maxim leans into him, arms wrapping around him tightly.
“I should be used to it by now.”
“Max…” Kevin always has a hard time comforting him with this, just because he can’t really deal with it himself, has no explanation, nothing to really offer.
“She says they still want nothing to do with me.” The words are as familiar as an old melody, a tired song that heralds only further destruction. They’re as familiar as the words Maxim never says, the ones Kevin hears in his silence: I never should have told them.
This is all so familiar, what happens after Maxim talks to his sister, when he asks her whether their parents will speak to him. It’s happened again and again, but Kevin knows he’ll never get used to it, to the hurt on Maxim’s face and the hollowness of his voice. Familiarity resounds in every word, every movement, a language he is reluctant to understand. They hate me, Maxim’s eyes say, and the way he clutches at Kevin is his low wail, I want to go home.
All these things Kevin recognises, it makes new things that much more obvious, and he notices the way Maxim grips tighter instantly, the way Maxim tucks his knees up to his chest and hides his face.
“Max…” he doesn’t want to know; more than that, he doesn’t want it to have happened.
“They told her,” Maxim says, face buried in Kevin’s chest, words barely audible. “To stop asking for me.”
“Stop asking…?”
“Said they’re never gonna change their minds, and don’t wanna hear it anymore.”
Kevin doesn’t know what to say to this, just holds him tighter and hides his face against Maxim’s hair, so Maxim won’t see his tears.
“Je ne veux le dis à personnne. Plus jamais, plus jamais, plus jamais.” Maxim has started sobbing, and Kevin doesn’t want to ask for a translation, afraid of what he’ll hear. “I don’t,” Maxim whispers, “wanna tell anyone. Never again.” Kevin just kisses him and holds him, and every shattered “plus jamais,” breaks his heart further.