FIC: Delayed Reaction (1/1) PG-13
TITLE: Delayed Reaction
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
PAIRING: Kevin/OMC
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: Shoot to kill or don't shoot at all.
DISCLAIMER: Brothers & Sisters and all the characters therein belong to people who are not me. I make no profit from this, I just like playing with them.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The character of John is from RP - a new 'verse where he's a homicide cop. Kevin, of course, is from Brothers & Sisters. This makes sense to no one but inlovewithnight and me, but we think it's pretty.
It’s been nearly a year since the last time he saw Kevin. He knows that because he can feel the ulcer he’s managed to develop churning in his gut, reminding him that he’s alone and it’s his own damn fault. Well, that and the fact that Nora called him this morning, asking him if he was at all interested in coming to Kevin’s birthday party. He said no then got off the phone as quickly as he could, throwing up blood and bile before swallowing a gallon or so of antacid to get him through the day.
Last year he’d celebrated Kevin’s birthday alone as well, having blown up what was shaping up into a decent relationship at the party two days before. He knows he was stupid, but for some reason apologizing seemed as impossible as taking it all back, so he let the words he said hang out there in the air until they weighed him down so much that it was hard to even drag his ass out of bed every morning, even harder to go to work, which is what caused everything to fall apart anyway.
They’d been at the store buying a few things for the party, both of them happy and having a good time. John was more relaxed than he’d been in ages, and Kevin was smiling all the time now, which was something that John suspected he hadn’t done a lot before they hooked up. The law of averages should have told John to expect fire from all sides, but instead he’d been coasting along on being happy when they’d turned the corner and run smack dab into the LT.
Kevin nearly walked into John and John was doing his best to develop sudden and powerful telekinetic skills to tell Kevin to shut up and not say a word, just let him handle it. But Layla had looked at John and then at Kevin and without a word, it was clear that even though the Wandell case had been closed for practically ten months, John was out with a witness, a possible suspect and hell was going to come crashing down like judgment day.
He hadn’t bothered to introduce them, since LT’s eyes were narrowed like she had Kevin and John both in her sights. Kevin said hello, and John hadn’t said a word. Silence had settled between them all like something from a horror movie, ominous and impending doom, and John had opened his mouth and ruined everything good in his life.
“Hey, LT. Look who I ran into. You’d think folks like Walker wouldn’t shop at the same places as the little people like us.”
Kevin’s eyes had flashed from hurt to blank, and John felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. He hated more than anything when Kevin closed down, shutting himself off. John had once accused him of hiding in the closet in his head, and that had prompted their first fight, but since then it had been better, and he hadn’t seen Kevin’s face so unrevealing since.
“Everybody likes slumming, Evans.” Something in her voice had made John bristle, thinking maybe she knew or suspected or worse, but he couldn’t say anything. Layla had nodded to Kevin then started talking to John, and somehow John had ended up leaving with Layla, drinking beer and eating burned ribs with the rest of the shift on Dane’s back patio. He’d gotten drunk and then drunker and then drunker still and ended up passed out face down on one of the deck chairs, waking up at five in the morning with bird shit in his hair and lines on his face from the plastic webbing.
Kevin hadn’t answered his calls and it was the first and last time John used his key to get into Kevin’s place. He’d had it for nearly two weeks, and it had scared him enough that he hadn’t used it, still wondering when they’d gone from hanging out, having fun and having sex to something like a couple, copying keys for each other at the local Home Depot. When he’d gotten there, Kevin was sitting on his couch working on some case and hadn’t even looked up. John had put his present - a book he knew Kevin wanted - on the table and walked out, leaving the key on the table by the door.
He’s not sure how Nora got his number, and Carolyn and Dane are keeping their distance, probably because he’s snarled his answers to every question they’ve asked. He knows he’s not being fair to anyone, but right now he’s tired and angry and horny and lonelier than he thinks he’s ever been, even when he was stuck in the hospital after Evan left him, his wound still seeping blood.
LT doesn’t even look at him when she comes out of her office, barking orders that he needs to get his ass down to the courthouse, the case he’s testifying on bumped up a day. He curses under his breath and shoves away from his desk, muttering about his second best suit and what the hell he’s supposed to do as he grabs his notes and heads for his car. Visions of going home after his shift leave him and he slaps the light on top of the car, not caring that he’s not in pursuit, and just wanting everything over and done.
He recognizes Kevin’s voice the second he hears it, even though he hasn’t heard it in so long, recognizes the cadence and the slight edge to it that always got more pronounced in bed, rough and hot and whispered against John’s skin. He stops and looks to doors of the courtroom and everything inside him coils even tighter. Kevin’s standing there talking to a group of people, his pinstripe suit fitting him perfectly. John feels even more like a slob in comparison, reaching back to make sure his shirt is tucked in all the way around. One of the other guys has his hand near the small of Kevin’s back like he wants to touch him, urge him away from the rest of the crowd, and John knows the feeling. Knows what it’s like to want to get Kevin alone, to taste him, feel him.
“Evans!” The DA shouts out his name, and John can sense Kevin looking his way. His shoulders knot and he nods in the DA’s direction, hurrying down the hallway past the group that Kevin’s in, not slowing his stride. He can hear the soft mockery in Kevin’s tone as he passes, the false casualness of his tossed off, “Hello, Detective”. John blinks hard, remembering nights spent at the mercy of Kevin’s hands and mouth and body, wanting nothing more than to hear Kevin call him John.
The case goes better than he expects, and he’s relatively certain that it’s only because he’s too fucked up to fuck anything up further. He gets the information out, his detailed notes another by product of his being with Kevin - not a relationship, just being with him - as they’d both sit there at Kevin’s coffee table, working on matching sheets of legal paper, trading kisses and mapping out notes and strategies, talking to each other about their days, understanding half, not getting the other half and ending up naked and spent and tangled up for days.
The courthouse is close to deserted when everything adjourns, and John rolls his neck to try to relieve the tight pinch of his nerves as he walks down the dim hallway. Cost-cutting and green measures have overtaken the judicial system, and parts of the hallway seem gray from the fading ambient light streaming in through the high windows. He’s almost past Kevin before he realizes he’s there in one of the recessed alcoves, and he has to thank his lucky stars that Kevin’s not the violent sort, because John is caught completely unawares.
“Detective.”
John licks his lips and nods, shoving his hands in the pockets of his pants, nearly smiling as Kevin rolls his eyes, his frequent admonition about John messing up the line of his suit hanging silently in the air around them. “Hello, Kevin.”
A year ago, John would have said he was off shift and they would have gone around the corner to the deli and gotten sandwiches and gone back to his place or Kevin’s, watched TV or talked or listened to music, laughed, fucked. A year ago, he wouldn’t have felt like his world was at his feet in pieces with half of them missing.
“How are you?”
“Off shift.” John takes a step forward, though it’s not done consciously. Kevin draws back though the wall stops him, polished marble stark and white against his dark suit. “You?”
“The same, I suppose.” Kevin doesn’t move, even as John steps toward him once more. He can’t step away, though the sides are free, and John wonders what the policy on back up in real life situations is. “Heading home.”
He knows Kevin still lives in the same place, has kept tabs on him in ways that are wrong and bad and quite possibly illegal if someone were to look too closely. “Who was that guy?”
“Which guy?”
John knows he’s in trouble as soon he starts talking. He sucks at description unless it’s a witness situation. “Tall, late thirties or early forties. Dark hair with a little bit of gray on the left temple. Glasses. Dark blue suit, worn at the elbows, light blue shirt, non-matching gray tie. Scuffed brown loafers.” Touching you.
“Simon.”
“Simon.” John nods. “Are you seeing him?”
Kevin’s eyebrow rises and John wants to eat his own goddamned gun just to shut his fucking mouth. “I’m a little unclear as to how that’s any of your business, Detective.”
“You’re right. It’s not.” John takes a deep breath and shoves his hands deeper in his pockets, wondering what his odds are on getting swallowed up by one of those giant California quakes they’ve been threatening for as long as he can remember. “I should go.”
“I never asked you to come out to your coworkers.”
John can’t help glancing around even though he knows better. After their first fight about it, Kevin never once tried to pressure him into making them something more public. He’d told John about Chad and how it had all fallen apart and he’d just asked that they spend time together and that John never be afraid to be his friend. “I know.”
“I never asked you to make us anything more than you wanted us to be.”
He gave Kevin the key first. It just seemed right, since he got off earlier than John did most of the time, and it seemed silly for him to wait outside. “I know.”
“Sounds like you know everything, Detective.” Kevin pushes off the wall, his posture ramrod straight and his face that neutral blankness that makes John want to do drastic things - pull his gun on him, scream at him, kiss him senseless. “Have a nice night.”
“I miss you.”
“Fuck you.” Kevin’s voice hitches, and it’s the first honest sign John’s had in forever that maybe Kevin still cares.
“I’m sorry.”
Kevin brushes past him and keeps walking, and John takes a second to soak up the feel of him being so close. He opens his eyes and watches Kevin hurry down the hallway in his expensive clothes and expensive shoes, hurrying home to expensive booze that John remembers as being the best thing on his tongue ever until he tasted Kevin’s kiss.
“Happy birthday.”
Kevin stops for a moment and then starts walking again. John watches and doesn’t move, unsure if the hope sparking in his chest is false or real. There’s only one way to find out, he knows, as he pulls out his phone and dials Nora to change his response to her invitation.
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
PAIRING: Kevin/OMC
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: Shoot to kill or don't shoot at all.
DISCLAIMER: Brothers & Sisters and all the characters therein belong to people who are not me. I make no profit from this, I just like playing with them.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The character of John is from RP - a new 'verse where he's a homicide cop. Kevin, of course, is from Brothers & Sisters. This makes sense to no one but inlovewithnight and me, but we think it's pretty.
It’s been nearly a year since the last time he saw Kevin. He knows that because he can feel the ulcer he’s managed to develop churning in his gut, reminding him that he’s alone and it’s his own damn fault. Well, that and the fact that Nora called him this morning, asking him if he was at all interested in coming to Kevin’s birthday party. He said no then got off the phone as quickly as he could, throwing up blood and bile before swallowing a gallon or so of antacid to get him through the day.
Last year he’d celebrated Kevin’s birthday alone as well, having blown up what was shaping up into a decent relationship at the party two days before. He knows he was stupid, but for some reason apologizing seemed as impossible as taking it all back, so he let the words he said hang out there in the air until they weighed him down so much that it was hard to even drag his ass out of bed every morning, even harder to go to work, which is what caused everything to fall apart anyway.
They’d been at the store buying a few things for the party, both of them happy and having a good time. John was more relaxed than he’d been in ages, and Kevin was smiling all the time now, which was something that John suspected he hadn’t done a lot before they hooked up. The law of averages should have told John to expect fire from all sides, but instead he’d been coasting along on being happy when they’d turned the corner and run smack dab into the LT.
Kevin nearly walked into John and John was doing his best to develop sudden and powerful telekinetic skills to tell Kevin to shut up and not say a word, just let him handle it. But Layla had looked at John and then at Kevin and without a word, it was clear that even though the Wandell case had been closed for practically ten months, John was out with a witness, a possible suspect and hell was going to come crashing down like judgment day.
He hadn’t bothered to introduce them, since LT’s eyes were narrowed like she had Kevin and John both in her sights. Kevin said hello, and John hadn’t said a word. Silence had settled between them all like something from a horror movie, ominous and impending doom, and John had opened his mouth and ruined everything good in his life.
“Hey, LT. Look who I ran into. You’d think folks like Walker wouldn’t shop at the same places as the little people like us.”
Kevin’s eyes had flashed from hurt to blank, and John felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. He hated more than anything when Kevin closed down, shutting himself off. John had once accused him of hiding in the closet in his head, and that had prompted their first fight, but since then it had been better, and he hadn’t seen Kevin’s face so unrevealing since.
“Everybody likes slumming, Evans.” Something in her voice had made John bristle, thinking maybe she knew or suspected or worse, but he couldn’t say anything. Layla had nodded to Kevin then started talking to John, and somehow John had ended up leaving with Layla, drinking beer and eating burned ribs with the rest of the shift on Dane’s back patio. He’d gotten drunk and then drunker and then drunker still and ended up passed out face down on one of the deck chairs, waking up at five in the morning with bird shit in his hair and lines on his face from the plastic webbing.
Kevin hadn’t answered his calls and it was the first and last time John used his key to get into Kevin’s place. He’d had it for nearly two weeks, and it had scared him enough that he hadn’t used it, still wondering when they’d gone from hanging out, having fun and having sex to something like a couple, copying keys for each other at the local Home Depot. When he’d gotten there, Kevin was sitting on his couch working on some case and hadn’t even looked up. John had put his present - a book he knew Kevin wanted - on the table and walked out, leaving the key on the table by the door.
He’s not sure how Nora got his number, and Carolyn and Dane are keeping their distance, probably because he’s snarled his answers to every question they’ve asked. He knows he’s not being fair to anyone, but right now he’s tired and angry and horny and lonelier than he thinks he’s ever been, even when he was stuck in the hospital after Evan left him, his wound still seeping blood.
LT doesn’t even look at him when she comes out of her office, barking orders that he needs to get his ass down to the courthouse, the case he’s testifying on bumped up a day. He curses under his breath and shoves away from his desk, muttering about his second best suit and what the hell he’s supposed to do as he grabs his notes and heads for his car. Visions of going home after his shift leave him and he slaps the light on top of the car, not caring that he’s not in pursuit, and just wanting everything over and done.
He recognizes Kevin’s voice the second he hears it, even though he hasn’t heard it in so long, recognizes the cadence and the slight edge to it that always got more pronounced in bed, rough and hot and whispered against John’s skin. He stops and looks to doors of the courtroom and everything inside him coils even tighter. Kevin’s standing there talking to a group of people, his pinstripe suit fitting him perfectly. John feels even more like a slob in comparison, reaching back to make sure his shirt is tucked in all the way around. One of the other guys has his hand near the small of Kevin’s back like he wants to touch him, urge him away from the rest of the crowd, and John knows the feeling. Knows what it’s like to want to get Kevin alone, to taste him, feel him.
“Evans!” The DA shouts out his name, and John can sense Kevin looking his way. His shoulders knot and he nods in the DA’s direction, hurrying down the hallway past the group that Kevin’s in, not slowing his stride. He can hear the soft mockery in Kevin’s tone as he passes, the false casualness of his tossed off, “Hello, Detective”. John blinks hard, remembering nights spent at the mercy of Kevin’s hands and mouth and body, wanting nothing more than to hear Kevin call him John.
The case goes better than he expects, and he’s relatively certain that it’s only because he’s too fucked up to fuck anything up further. He gets the information out, his detailed notes another by product of his being with Kevin - not a relationship, just being with him - as they’d both sit there at Kevin’s coffee table, working on matching sheets of legal paper, trading kisses and mapping out notes and strategies, talking to each other about their days, understanding half, not getting the other half and ending up naked and spent and tangled up for days.
The courthouse is close to deserted when everything adjourns, and John rolls his neck to try to relieve the tight pinch of his nerves as he walks down the dim hallway. Cost-cutting and green measures have overtaken the judicial system, and parts of the hallway seem gray from the fading ambient light streaming in through the high windows. He’s almost past Kevin before he realizes he’s there in one of the recessed alcoves, and he has to thank his lucky stars that Kevin’s not the violent sort, because John is caught completely unawares.
“Detective.”
John licks his lips and nods, shoving his hands in the pockets of his pants, nearly smiling as Kevin rolls his eyes, his frequent admonition about John messing up the line of his suit hanging silently in the air around them. “Hello, Kevin.”
A year ago, John would have said he was off shift and they would have gone around the corner to the deli and gotten sandwiches and gone back to his place or Kevin’s, watched TV or talked or listened to music, laughed, fucked. A year ago, he wouldn’t have felt like his world was at his feet in pieces with half of them missing.
“How are you?”
“Off shift.” John takes a step forward, though it’s not done consciously. Kevin draws back though the wall stops him, polished marble stark and white against his dark suit. “You?”
“The same, I suppose.” Kevin doesn’t move, even as John steps toward him once more. He can’t step away, though the sides are free, and John wonders what the policy on back up in real life situations is. “Heading home.”
He knows Kevin still lives in the same place, has kept tabs on him in ways that are wrong and bad and quite possibly illegal if someone were to look too closely. “Who was that guy?”
“Which guy?”
John knows he’s in trouble as soon he starts talking. He sucks at description unless it’s a witness situation. “Tall, late thirties or early forties. Dark hair with a little bit of gray on the left temple. Glasses. Dark blue suit, worn at the elbows, light blue shirt, non-matching gray tie. Scuffed brown loafers.” Touching you.
“Simon.”
“Simon.” John nods. “Are you seeing him?”
Kevin’s eyebrow rises and John wants to eat his own goddamned gun just to shut his fucking mouth. “I’m a little unclear as to how that’s any of your business, Detective.”
“You’re right. It’s not.” John takes a deep breath and shoves his hands deeper in his pockets, wondering what his odds are on getting swallowed up by one of those giant California quakes they’ve been threatening for as long as he can remember. “I should go.”
“I never asked you to come out to your coworkers.”
John can’t help glancing around even though he knows better. After their first fight about it, Kevin never once tried to pressure him into making them something more public. He’d told John about Chad and how it had all fallen apart and he’d just asked that they spend time together and that John never be afraid to be his friend. “I know.”
“I never asked you to make us anything more than you wanted us to be.”
He gave Kevin the key first. It just seemed right, since he got off earlier than John did most of the time, and it seemed silly for him to wait outside. “I know.”
“Sounds like you know everything, Detective.” Kevin pushes off the wall, his posture ramrod straight and his face that neutral blankness that makes John want to do drastic things - pull his gun on him, scream at him, kiss him senseless. “Have a nice night.”
“I miss you.”
“Fuck you.” Kevin’s voice hitches, and it’s the first honest sign John’s had in forever that maybe Kevin still cares.
“I’m sorry.”
Kevin brushes past him and keeps walking, and John takes a second to soak up the feel of him being so close. He opens his eyes and watches Kevin hurry down the hallway in his expensive clothes and expensive shoes, hurrying home to expensive booze that John remembers as being the best thing on his tongue ever until he tasted Kevin’s kiss.
“Happy birthday.”
Kevin stops for a moment and then starts walking again. John watches and doesn’t move, unsure if the hope sparking in his chest is false or real. There’s only one way to find out, he knows, as he pulls out his phone and dials Nora to change his response to her invitation.