Shoebox
Title: You've Got Polaroids (and You Even Know How to Rhyme)
Pairing: Kevin Devine/Jesse Lacey
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: shoebox
Summary: Kevin is a packrat.
Word Count: 604
Disclaimer
Notes: For Jexx.
Kevin is a packrat.
Jesse has known this for years. It only really hits him, though, when Kevin hands him this shoebox (and he thinks it's a shoebox for the pair of Chuck Taylor's bought five or six months ago, but Kevin has every shoebox from every pair of shoes he's ever owned, seriously. But Kevin doesn't own too many shoes).
Kevin's wearing this big huge smile, the one he usually reserves for getting cupcakes and hugging people he hasn't seen in a while. "Open it," he urges, and so Jesse does.
There are fireworks inside. Jesse is too excited to wonder if they're legal. "Oh my god!" He says, with a little flail.
"Andy can't yell at you for these," Kevin says, almost serious, but the corners of his mouth are twitching. "They're not fireworks. Firecrackers. Don't blow anything up or he'll kill me."
"Why would he kill you?" Jesse snorts.
"Because he threatened me once."
"What?"
"Yeah! He said. 'Kevin. Kevin, I like you and you are generally a good dude. And I know Jesse is an idiot. But he is also kind of awesome. And if you hurt him I will kill you.' And if you blow things up, you'll get hurt..." Kevin looks down at his shoes, a blush starting to spread over his face, and Jesse grins.
"Dude, you're such a liar." He says.
Kevin rolls his eyes, blush going darker. "Okay, fine." He mumbles. "I just thought it'd be less embarrassing than saying I'd kill me if you got hurt."
"Aww," Jesse smiles. "You're a dork. I'm gonna go set these off now. Wanna come with?"
Kevin shakes his head, ends up going back to his apartment in Brooklyn, taking the bus and then the train, because he refuses to buy a car. 'There's no need,' he always argues, when anyone suggests it. 'I live in New York, seven blocks from the Subway. No.'
It isn't until that night, alone on a Long Island beach with a box of fireworks, that Jesse finds the Polaroids.
There are eight or nine, all from the last few months, all with both of them in it, and he thinks Kevin maybe got the pictures from Andy or Robert or Derrick. Anyone who was on the tour. They are pictures of the two of them or particular moments - Kevin with the black sharpie 'DO ME!' Jesse had scrawled just above his ass, the two of them curled in the back of a van, sleeping, Jesse with the wolf hat and Kevin with his crown - and Jesse thinks, Oh. Oh.
He thinks back through everything. The glances on tour. The time he'd thought Kevin was going to kiss him, and then Kevin hadn't talked for twenty-three and a half hours (which was the longest time they didn't exchange words or touches). The time he'd got sick and Kevin had tried his best to keep him better, going so far as to call their mothers to get the best recipes for chicken noodle soup. Oh.
When he shows up at Kevin's Brooklyn apartment, Kevin has obviously just woken up, still in his clothes from the day before, and NBC on (the news, of course). "You're an idiot," Jesse tells him, as he steps inside. "You should have just said."
"I can't say things like that," Kevin says, and Jesse kisses him, rolling his eyes.
"Shut up. No more watching the news. We're going to watch cartoons, and I am going to steal your food and then we are going to cuddle."
"Steal my food?" Kevin asks, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm hungry. Shut up," Jesse smiles, and Kevin closes the door, and things are exactly as they've always been. Just a little better.
Pairing: Kevin Devine/Jesse Lacey
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: shoebox
Summary: Kevin is a packrat.
Word Count: 604
Disclaimer
Notes: For Jexx.
Kevin is a packrat.
Jesse has known this for years. It only really hits him, though, when Kevin hands him this shoebox (and he thinks it's a shoebox for the pair of Chuck Taylor's bought five or six months ago, but Kevin has every shoebox from every pair of shoes he's ever owned, seriously. But Kevin doesn't own too many shoes).
Kevin's wearing this big huge smile, the one he usually reserves for getting cupcakes and hugging people he hasn't seen in a while. "Open it," he urges, and so Jesse does.
There are fireworks inside. Jesse is too excited to wonder if they're legal. "Oh my god!" He says, with a little flail.
"Andy can't yell at you for these," Kevin says, almost serious, but the corners of his mouth are twitching. "They're not fireworks. Firecrackers. Don't blow anything up or he'll kill me."
"Why would he kill you?" Jesse snorts.
"Because he threatened me once."
"What?"
"Yeah! He said. 'Kevin. Kevin, I like you and you are generally a good dude. And I know Jesse is an idiot. But he is also kind of awesome. And if you hurt him I will kill you.' And if you blow things up, you'll get hurt..." Kevin looks down at his shoes, a blush starting to spread over his face, and Jesse grins.
"Dude, you're such a liar." He says.
Kevin rolls his eyes, blush going darker. "Okay, fine." He mumbles. "I just thought it'd be less embarrassing than saying I'd kill me if you got hurt."
"Aww," Jesse smiles. "You're a dork. I'm gonna go set these off now. Wanna come with?"
Kevin shakes his head, ends up going back to his apartment in Brooklyn, taking the bus and then the train, because he refuses to buy a car. 'There's no need,' he always argues, when anyone suggests it. 'I live in New York, seven blocks from the Subway. No.'
It isn't until that night, alone on a Long Island beach with a box of fireworks, that Jesse finds the Polaroids.
There are eight or nine, all from the last few months, all with both of them in it, and he thinks Kevin maybe got the pictures from Andy or Robert or Derrick. Anyone who was on the tour. They are pictures of the two of them or particular moments - Kevin with the black sharpie 'DO ME!' Jesse had scrawled just above his ass, the two of them curled in the back of a van, sleeping, Jesse with the wolf hat and Kevin with his crown - and Jesse thinks, Oh. Oh.
He thinks back through everything. The glances on tour. The time he'd thought Kevin was going to kiss him, and then Kevin hadn't talked for twenty-three and a half hours (which was the longest time they didn't exchange words or touches). The time he'd got sick and Kevin had tried his best to keep him better, going so far as to call their mothers to get the best recipes for chicken noodle soup. Oh.
When he shows up at Kevin's Brooklyn apartment, Kevin has obviously just woken up, still in his clothes from the day before, and NBC on (the news, of course). "You're an idiot," Jesse tells him, as he steps inside. "You should have just said."
"I can't say things like that," Kevin says, and Jesse kisses him, rolling his eyes.
"Shut up. No more watching the news. We're going to watch cartoons, and I am going to steal your food and then we are going to cuddle."
"Steal my food?" Kevin asks, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm hungry. Shut up," Jesse smiles, and Kevin closes the door, and things are exactly as they've always been. Just a little better.