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Kevin wants to go home.
Standing with his usual press-ready smile in front of the cameras, he considers the childish idea of just dropping to the floor and taking a nap right in front of the press, but decides not to do that since it would bring nothing but more attention and press to himself. He can see the headlines on ESPN already: Kevin Day collapses after match against USC! Is the Queen of Exy prepared for the next season of collegiate Exy, or has the toll of the years finally caught up to him? None of that, actually; Kevin is simply exhausted from playing nice guy for the past three days and he would like to retreat to being somewhat-an-asshole in the comfort of his dorm, thank you very much.
He half listens to Dan praising USC’s performance of the night while silently cursing Neil in his head. Surely the sub-captain should be the one doing the post game interviews, but instead Wymack pushed Kevin into it, saying he “has a better way with words”. Yes, Coach, it’s called media training; perhaps invest in it for that little shit. Regardless, Kevin does it with only mild annoyance; despite losing tonight, it’s not a season game. The Trojans host a charity game every year and all the proceeds go to Little League Exy teams to fund their equipment and other costs. Their opponents are usually chosen from the teams in their own district, however, after Dan found out about it she was very insistent on having the Foxes play against them. Kevin has no idea what the end results are, but if the pre-game excitement is anything to go by, he’s pretty sure the little league is about to have record-breaking monetary donations.
“Kevin, as always your performance had no faults tonight. Fans might even be surprised at how easy you took Jean Moreau’s return to the court against you, even if it’s for a non-competitive game. Did you two connect in your time apart?”
Kevin looks at the reporter and has half a mind to tell them to fuck off. Despite starting the season with the Trojans, Coach Rhymann did not put Jean in the roster for the Foxes and Trojans’ last encounter in spring finals, so this was the first time the fans got a glimpse of Kevin and Jean going against each other outside of Raven colors. Whether that was for Jean’s sake or an actual lineup strength decision, Kevin didn’t know. He still didn’t miss Jean’s close attention while Kevin scored time and time against his new team.
Kevin pushes down the urge to roll his eyes and say Whatever I think about Jean has no place in front of a camera , he smiles small and taut before answering. “It’s always great to see Jean. I can tell the Trojans have truly been an influence in his playing style, and that made for an interesting reunion on the court. I’m looking forward to facing them again in next season’s championships.”
The reporters all shout more questions at him, some clearly amused by his borderline arrogant assumption the Foxes would reach championships for a third time, but Kevin knows his team enough to know he’s not making any assumptions, simply saying the truth. He taps Dan on the shoulder, a silent message that he’s taking his leave, then gives one more media-trained smile before turning around and heading to the Away locker rooms, letting her take the last spotlight. As it should be, since Dan, Renee, and Allison all graduate and move past Palmetto State in less than a month. The charity game was their last appearance on the Court as Foxes.
Kevin swings open the locker room door and barely misses smacking Matt across the face with it. He doesn’t bother apologizing, just walks by him and makes a non-committal sound at Matt’s message that the team and Vixens are hanging out with the Trojans for the night. Kevin does not care for playing friendly anymore for the day. He’s been courteous and amicable to strangers for the past three days and has three more to get through before heading back to South Carolina. He didn’t miss the sarcastic remarks from his teammates all through practice about how nice and polite he’s been with the Trojans. When they did that he simply counted how many balls he’ll rebound off their heads as soon as they touch the east coast.
Kevin is about to enter the men’s shower room when he gets shoved back by a hand against his chest. “Can I take a fucking shower?”
Andrew doesn’t budge, just stands with his arms crossed blocking the door. “Neil’s in there.”
Despite the Foxes knowing all about Neil’s scars and how he got them, they still gave him his privacy in changing rooms. One of those unspoken Fox understandings. Kevin huffs. “Can’t he use the women’s shower?”
“Renee is in there, and Dan’s about to go in. You can wait.”
Kevin cannot wait, actually. He feels all wired up and there’s an anxious knot at the bottom of his stomach. He could blame it on the game even if it’s a friendly one, on his social exhaustion, his physical one, on literally anything he could think of, but Kevin knows the root of the problem. Roots, to be exact, one with golden hair and blue eyes, and another all sharp edges up to his fan—
“Also, I’m hungry.” With that Andrew turns around and enters the shower room, and Kevin understands well enough to know it’s not even a battle to be fought. He sighs and surrenders himself to wait in borderline agony, when he has a bright (stupid) idea.
“I’m going to the Home locker rooms. Don’t wait for me at the party,” he informs Matt while picking up his duffel bag from the locker. Matt gives a silent nod and is about to say something before he gets cut off by Nicky’s voice coming from the other side of the room.
“Say hi to your boyfriend for me! Also, he is surprisingly hard to push for such a small man.”
Kevin rolls his eyes and throws a middle finger in Nicky’s general direction before heading out. Jeremy is not his boyfriend. He doesn’t even have a crush on him. Kevin simply admires his work ethic, how he can go from such an easygoing person to laser-focused on the court, how his thighs look before he sprints for a ball, how easy it is for him to laugh—
Right, so Kevin has a big, fat crush on Jeremy Knox. There’s bigger news for the world to be concerned with.
He pushes Nicky’s taunt and everything associated with it down where it won’t give him even more anxiety for the night and walks into the Home locker room without a knock. He saw the entire team file out while dealing with the press so he doubts there is anyone in here, and if there is he can simply make a bullshit excuse and a smile that will get him out of trouble. Easy work, but he really just wants a shower.
The locker room is empty and silent, clearly awaiting a cleaning crew that will take out the sweat and germs from it. Kevin picks up a clean towel from a rack and heads for the men’s shower room, quickly stopping by the women’s room and knocking on the door to see if anyone is inside. When he’s met with silence, he takes it as a green light to finally, finally take a damn shower.
Except when Kevin walks in, he’s met with the sight of two people sitting on the bench in what seems to be a rather private moment.
Jean’s pale hands are on the sides of Jeremy’s neck, the latter’s hands resting on Jean’s shoulders and his head bent to the side. They’re still in their uniforms, duffel bags open and spilling extra clothes on the bench. There’s a faded dark blue shirt in one of them that Kevin recognizes as Jean’s.
Kevin must have made some sort of noise because before he’s able to walk away, Jean’s gray eyes snap up and look right at Kevin. He wants the Earth to swallow him right this instant to spare him from whatever comes next.
Earth, as per usual, is not kind to Kevin Day.
Jean straightens and stands up, trying to push his hands into inexisting pockets before he realizes he is still in his Exy uniform. He settles for folding his arms as if that somehow hid the evidence.
Evidence that is plastered on his face as two fangs poking from his mouth.
Jeremy turns at Jean’s sudden behavior and widens his eyes at the sight of Kevin, who has adopted the energy of a statue and doesn’t even breathe, like that would make him invisible to the two men. Did he take a ball to the head? He can’t remember.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt, just, uhm, needed a shower. Andrew and Neil— same thing. Yeah. And the girls were still busy. So— thought it was empty.” Kevin is babbling nonsense, trying to find a respectable way out of this situation. If there exists one. “I’ll go now.”
He’s half turned and decided to leave, maybe pull one of Neil’s cards and hitchhike his way back to Palmetto, before Jeremy stands up and grabs his arm.
“It’s okay, don’t worry. I mean, it’s okay?” Jeremy looks back at Jean for permission, who seems to get paler by the second. “It’s nothing new, I think.”
It is obviously very new to Kevin. Not Jean being a vampire, duh, he knows things. He was not aware of Jean feeding off Jeremy.
Jean being a vampire is no secret. Well, to him. The Foxes were mildly surprised when Kevin told them after he crashed at Abby’s house, but it was also nothing new to them. They had Andrew and Allison. What’s another vampire in their lives? Except this one got shipped out to the other side of a country for the embodiment of the Sun to handle, so they didn’t particularly care.
Now Kevin sees how this specific part was handled. He’d gotten updates here and there from Renee, some from Jeremy, about Jean’s progress at USC after leaving the Nest. If words and Kevin’s own experience were anything to go by, it was atrocious at first. Kevin saw it during games even if no one else did, when Jean would have a black cloud looming over him that made his performance sluggish by Raven standards, and Kevin knew Jean was seeing not the gold and red stadium of his new team, but the suffocating black and red of the Nest and the threat of Riko at his back.
So, yeah, it was awful. But there was progress.
Regardless, Kevin never prodded about this. Jean being a vampire was already a sore subject while both were at Edgar Allan, so he felt like he was not allowed to ask who or what was helping Jean at USC. He’d still wonder, when Neil could tell Andrew’s irritation from hunger was different from his usual one (they seem the same to Kevin), or when Renee took Allison feeding from her as something to be proud of and not like a stain to existence.
(Riko always made Kevin feel like something lower than scum.)
“I can leave. It’s fine,” says Kevin.
Jean takes a deep breath before dropping his arms and sitting on the bench. “He’s seen worse things.”
Jeremy and Kevin both give Jean a stunned look because while, yes, Kevin has most definitely seen and lived far, far worse things, he didn’t consider this anywhere near bad, just… awkward. Like, he quite literally walked in unannounced in their feeding session. He’s feeling levels of embarrassment unknown to man. And he lives with Nicky.
Before the situation can get any more awkward, Jeremy clears his throat in an attempt to break the ice. “Actually, it’s great that you’re here, that way you can carry me back to the house after Jean’s done depleting me of my radiance.”
Jean huffs and rolls his eyes, an almost imperceptible bit of tension leaving his shoulders, and Kevin smirks. God bless Jeremy’s mediation capabilities. He steps further into the room and drops his duffel on the bench next to Jeremy, but doesn’t make a move to do anything else. He takes a look at Jeremy and, despite his comment being a joke, he seems to have lost his usual brightness, his skin paler than usual and exhaustion written all over his face.
“Are you okay?” asks Kevin. Jeremy waves him off with a hand and lifts the hem of his shirt to rub his face, and Kevin pointedly does not look at the bare skin, focusing his eyes on a safer target, like his toned arms. Which is also a stupid thing to do, because his brain allows the very intrusive thought of I wonder how much he bench presses to cross his mind and, well, Kevin is now looking at the ceiling.
“I’m alright, just tired. You guys didn’t go easy on us tonight,” says Jeremy while stretching open his arms. It’s true, the Foxes did not hold back against the Trojans even for a friendly game, but they also didn’t spill their entire guts on the court like they would in a normal game. If he was up for it, Kevin could even do some drill practice.
“You still bested us. If anything, I should be the beat up one,” is all Kevin says with a slight smile. Seriously, if his teammates saw him they’d call unfair favoritism towards an opponent , since he doesn’t sing praises to, well, anyone.
Jean cuts in before Jeremy replies. “You played right-handed.”
Kevin shifts uncomfortably on his feet at the callout. It’s not exactly an accusation, but he can hear the question underneath: Why did you not face me at your best?
“You didn’t body-check me tonight,” Kevin points out. If the scratches on Neil were anything to go by, he didn’t get off so easily from his backliner mark.
Jean considers that for a minute, then hums a decisive sound before shifting his attention to the towel next to him, a silent surrender from the conversation that Kevin knows it says You did not face me at your best, but I did not offer you the same. It’s a promise that their next encounter on the court will be an interesting one, more for them than the crowd.
“Anyway,” chimes Jeremy, “Jean, if you give me like, twenty minutes to recover you can have your drink tonight. I just need to—” he straddles the bench then lays back on it, his head on Kevin’s duffle as if it’s a pillow. “Get a quick recharge.”
Jean rolls his eyes but accepts the deal, instead taking his change of clothes from his bag with the full intention of taking a shower. That’s when Kevin gets another bright (stupid) idea. “You can feed from me.”
The words come out of his mouth before he even registers them, but halfway through his brain is sending off alarms of pure panic. He might have actually taken a ball to the head. He’ll ask Abby to check for a concussion, and he’ll make sure to ask if they have a tendency to make the victim lose their head because, what the fuck?
“I mean, it’s just an option,” starts Kevin. Jean is looking at him with gray eyes opened wide. “Like, if you really need to, I’m here. But you can wait for Jeremy. It doesn’t matter. Just— the quicker the better, or whatever.”
Kevin is so stupid.
The silence from Jean’s part is unbearable, but before Kevin can spout any more nonsense he feels a hand grab him by the thigh, and that effectively erases any words forming in his brain. He looks down to see Jeremy looking up at him with a soft smile on his face. God, he’s beautiful .
“Kev, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Neither do you, Jean. It’s alright.”
He’s the voice of reassurance between the three of them. Kevin finds that he actually doesn’t mind at all, even looking forward to it happening. But one look at Jean’s troubled face, and Kevin knows it's not his or Jeremy’s call.
Kevin can see Jean’s line of thought as bright as day. What feeding from Kevin implies. Even with Riko long and gone, his survival instincts are telling him Kevin is off limits. Riko’s property. He’s not allowed to want or even think anything about Kevin.
Except Riko is dead, Kevin and Jean are not, and they’re free to do as they please.
And it would please Kevin very much to be bitten by Jean.
After what seems like an eternity, Jean gives an almost imperceptible nod and sits back down on the bench, leaving enough space for Kevin to sit besides him. He seats too, Jeremy pushing up to his elbows out of curiosity. Somehow having those blue eyes on them makes Kevin more nervous about this whole ordeal.
“Are you— I mean, where is best to… are you sure?” asks Jean.
Kevin takes a deep breath and nods, then extends his arm to Jean, who eyes it closely but doesn’t touch. “Yeah. Uhm, it’s not the first. Like, after—” he doesn’t finish, not wanting to mention anything related to the nightmares at Edgar Allan. “Allison fed from me last year. Once, Renee wasn’t around for her, and we needed a dealer on the court.”
Jean doesn’t ask any questions but seems to have found his reassurance in that, taking Kevin’s arm in his hands and running a finger along the inside of his wrist, looking for a pulse point. Kevin tries his best not to shiver and turns his face towards Jeremy, who is looking at them with keen curiosity.
“Did Andrew ever drink from you?” asks Jeremy. Kevin feels Jean tense up at that, his finger stopping its light touch across his arm.
“No,” answers Kevin. “I offered at first when I got to Palmetto, because he looked awful without feeding, but— it would have ended worse. For both of us.” He clenches his hand into a fist and lets it fall open, letting Jean know he can keep doing his thing. “I think he’d rather die than drink my blood.”
Jeremy snickers at that, clearly amused at Andrew’s odd ways. Kevin didn’t lie, though; he had seen Andrew pale and shaking from starvation and no matter how much Kevin offered himself to be fed from, Andrew was cemented on his decision to not drink from anyone. It always made Kevin wonder what sorcery Neil played to have Andrew wrapped around his finger. Or neck.
Jean double taps a spot on Kevin’s wrist and adjusts his grip. “Tell me to stop.” When Kevin remains silent, he redirects it to Jeremy. “Push me off if it comes to that.”
Jeremy nods but doesn’t seem particularly concerned. “I won’t have to.”
Kevin moves slightly in his seat and tries to not be bothered by the clear intimacy between Jean and Jeremy. Once, that was Kevin and Jean’s. Perhaps not in such a clear, unrestricted way, but in subtle ways that were key to their survival in the Nest. Whatever Jean and Jeremy have going on is far different and sacred than what Kevin had with his previous teammate, and he will simply have to make peace with it.
Maybe.
“Go,” is all Kevin says.
In theory, Kevin knows what being bitten feels like. Awful, terrifying, violent— all courtesy of Riko. His history with traumatic feeding has always made him question why anyone willingly, borderline enthusiastically, would offer themselves to be fed from. Even with Riko’s abuse to the side, he doubted there was anything remotely good or enjoyable about the process.
Kevin is getting his answers now.
Jean’s fangs sink into his wrist with barely anything more than a sharp prick. Kevin doesn’t have any time to register any discomfort or pain yet moves his free hand to grip Jeremy’s thigh, only half aware of his actions as his arm numbs into a faintly pleasant sensation. He feels his body relax, all the built-up tension leading to this moment seeping out like water. Kevin hasn’t felt this relaxed in what feels like years. Maybe his whole life. He spreads open the hand in Jean’s grasp and lets it go loose, letting Jean take full control of the situation.
Kevin should be alarmed. The fight or flight part of his brain is telling him to be alert and retract as soon as possible, but the sense of urgency becomes smaller and smaller the longer Jean keeps his mouth on Kevin’s arm. His whole body feels like jelly and he wants to lay back and let Jean do whatever he desires. There’s something spreading all over him that makes his eyes flutter, his only thought being more.
Then, as suddenly as it came, his body snaps back to reality in an instant.
Kevin opens his eyes and looks at Jean, who still holds his arm but is no longer biting it, his face devoid of any blood but fangs still poking over his lip. He looks utterly confused and perplexed, as if Kevin just said he doesn’t plan on playing Exy anymore or something equally outrageous.
“Did you get enough?” asks Kevin.
Jean only blinks and remains silent. On his other side Jeremy sits up, making Kevin vaguely aware of the death grip he has on the other man’s thigh, and he promptly removes his hand to avoid any further embarrassment to his own self.
“Not that, you, uhm—” Jeremy clears his throat and runs a nervous hand on the back of his neck. “You kind of just moaned.”
Kevin needs to die . Like, immediately.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes you did,” says Jean, who looks just a tad bit less pale than before. “Not particularly quietly.”
At that, Kevin starts coming up with possible questions to ask Andrew that would guarantee an immediate knife to his chest. How’s your relationship with Neil? What would you say about planning Aaron and Katelyn’s wedding? Thoughts on going to the same pro team as me?
“Dude, it’s fine, really. Just wanted to make sure you’re fine,” says Jeremy, then chuckles. “I get it, though. I kind of went a little overboard the first couple of times I got bitten. It’s a bit… I don’t know, exciting.”
That doesn’t help Kevin in the slightest because his brain immediately provides visuals of what Jeremy and Jean would look like. Jean hovering over his neck, Jeremy gasping quietly beneath him, chest painted red—
Kevin stands up before the blush spreading all across his face betrays the filth playing in his head. He cannot be thinking about this if he wants to retain his sanity. He tries to avoid looking at Jeremy and Jean’s concerned gazes and busies himself looking for his duffel, needing to run far away from this locker room and preferably to another country where he’s not known, thank you very much.
“I’m fine. Sorry. Hope that helped,” Day, you’re a mess. “Gonna go now, the others are probably worried— taking a shower, I told them. So, yeah, good night.”
Before either of them says anything, Kevin turns and almost sprints out the door, nearly falling over his own feet in his haste to leave his embarrassment behind. Jesus Christ, he moaned ? What is he, a teenager? A touch-starved man with a shameful want to be bitten?
Well, yes. But he never intended for anyone to know about that.
Kevin runs out of the stadium and in the direction where he vaguely remembers the athlete dorms are. The Foxes were granted two suites for their stay at USC to save themselves the hassle of booking hotels, but now Kevin is deeply mourning that. Being at the dorms means Jean and Jeremy know his exact location at all times (because, frankly, he’s not going anywhere outside of the dorms and the court. He’s anything if not predictable), which means they’re able to come and taunt Kevin for how pathetic he is. Seriously, moaning at a bite on the arm?
Realistically, Kevin knows neither of them will do that, but he feels extremely ashamed of himself. Whatever if he has wanted to be bitten by Jean, or if he wants Jeremy to be included, he was not supposed to do any of that. But now he’s made a fool of himself and is running away from the scene like a kid who just broke a window.
Fuck it, he’s going to deal with it the old Kevin Day way: by completely avoiding the situation.
***
The situation, however, has no intention of avoiding him.
For what it’s worth, Kevin is truly trying his best. He busies himself with Exy practice, but his head is in such disarray he keeps missing shots and messing up drills he’s able to do in his sleep. Multiple times have his teammates asked if he’s okay and even his own father told him to get his act together. Kevin would love to get his game back to normal levels as much as they ask for it, but the hold on his racquet seems to falter every time he hears Jeremy’s commanding voice on the other side of the court holding his team in check.
To Kevin’s own dismay, some vile soul had come up with the idea of the Foxes and Trojans swapping captains for their last two days of practice for press content, so now he has to put up with Jeremy’s undivided attention the entire day. Kevin is so intent in avoiding him he even tries to self-appoint himself as assistant coach for the Trojans, which not only gets shut down by Coach, but also has his entire team opening up two new bets on him: what creature has replaced Kevin overnight if he’s avoiding being glued to Jeremy and is offering to politely help another team, and what would it take to bring him back.
(Unsurprisingly, it is Andrew who chimes in with the correct answer: “Leave him alone with Knox and Moreau.” Stupid, attentive bastard.)
Jeremy doesn’t give him any grief about what happened, instead falling into his role as captain as efficiently and attractive as always. The Foxes follow his lead in an unusually united front, perhaps because of a silent line of respect since their first game a year ago, but most likely because there is no use in defying a man who so easily makes an entire room feel at ease with a single smile. Even then, switching to the Trojans wouldn’t have done Kevin any better, since he would have to bear with Jean instead. Kevin can feel his stare all the way across the court and it is proving to be something of a challenge to pretend he’s completely normal about it.
“Dude, what the fuck? That was an easy shot.”
Kevin snaps back to reality to see Matt looking at him with worry written all over his face. He holds his racquet with one hand, a ball in his other raised in front of Kevin’s face. He has a vague memory of that ball being in his racquet not long ago, which means Matt must have just stolen it out of his grip— a thing that would have been nearly impossible under normal circumstances.
Matt bounces the ball on the floor then tosses it into Kevin’s net. “Seriously, dude, you’ve been completely out of it since the game. Nobody likes losing, but it wasn’t that serious. It was fun.”
“I’m fine, just tired,” Kevin looks past Matt to see Jeremy talking to Allison and Aaron, his hands moving in the air as he points to the goal and does a swinging motion towards it.
“Leave him alone, Matt, he’s distracted by his boyfriend.”
Kevin doesn’t bother turning around and simply swings his racquet back, effectively hitting Nicky across the arm to shut him up. He gives a loud complaint then jogs around to hide behind Matt’s body and peeking over his shoulder. “Kevin, you’re so mean. Is that how you act in front of Jeremy?”
“Stop being an asshole.” Kevin swings his racquet towards the goal and it lights up red as the ball slams against it. “There’s nothing going on between me and Jean.”
“Nobody mentioned Jean.”
Oh, he’s cooked.
Kevin doesn’t look at either Matt or Nicky and simply turns to walk away, yet doesn’t even make it five steps before Matt grabs him by the neck of his shirt and pulls him back. He could pull harder and truly leave if he wanted to, but understands it’s a losing game against these two.
“Care to tell us anything, Day?” asks Nicky. Kevin wants to take off the smug smile off his face with a racquet.
“No. Let me go.”
“Where’d you go the other night?” Matt, too, needs a racquet to the face, Kevin decides.
“Yeah, you and Jean were missing from the party… and so was Jeremy,” points out Nicky.
Kevin doesn’t say anything, just steps away from Matt’s grip and spins his racquet, not wanting to entertain his teammates’ taunts. Any other day he would just push them back into practice with usual annoyance, but today he is anxious enough he doesn't feel like sharing the court with anybody but an empty goal. Kevin looks past Nicky to stare at Jeremy, and wonders how their games would be different if they played opposing positions.
“Whatever is going on between you two —or three— please get it over with by tomorrow morning, it’s actually very unsettling seeing the three-way sad-puppy looks you give each other.” Nicky puts a hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t even think you were capable of making sad-puppy faces, Kevin.”
The last thing Kevin hears before walking off the court is Nicky complaining to Matt, saying Kevin “is one hundred percent liable for his inability to ever play Exy again”. A racquet to the head can be deadly.
***
Kevin stares at the ceiling and wonders if there are any good ice cream places nearby. He’d prefer to go for a drink, feeling the familiar itch under his skin, but he’d rather get hit on the face by a stray ball than face the disappointed look of Renee and his father should they find out he had fallen back into old habits. So, to offset the alcohol, he has instead become some sort of ice cream-connoisseur.
However, he doesn’t want to leave the dorm. Both the Foxes and the Trojans are cavorting around town on their last night together, but Kevin politely declined the invitation (extended by the Trojans) and pushed everyone out the door with the threat of double drills (when the Foxes asked if he’d join). He doesn’t want to risk encountering any of them while on his quest for the best ice cream California has to offer.
Before he can decide whether it’d be worth it to call Andrew at the risk of losing his head and ask him to bring Kevin a dessert, there’s a knock on the dorm door that makes him jump from the sofa. He’s rooming with Aaron, who would most definitely have a key card with him and not bother with knocking. Andrew and Neil would have simply broken in if they needed his presence. He would have heard Nicky and the girls from down the hall. Coach wouldn’t come looking for him unless needed. None of the new Foxes would even go near Kevin even while on the court during the year, therefore he doesn't think they’d simply show up to his door. That only left Matt as a viable option, but he too would have texted before anything else.
Kevin should have gone looking for the stupid ice cream.
Opening the door reveals the one and only Jeremy Knox standing on the other side, tapping one foot against the floor and both hands inside the pockets of his letterman jacket. Of course the Trojans would have those. He finds them rather cultish —bold words from a man who was raised in an actual cult—, but still better looking than the reflective nightmare Dan makes the Foxes wear. Behind him stands Jean Moreau, looking for all intents like he was physically dragged to be there.
Jeremy doesn’t wait for Kevin to school his expression into something less surprised. “Hi Kev. We were on the way to town and thought to check if you were coming. Can we come in?”
Kevin steps aside and extends his arm towards the living room. “Sure, but I wasn’t really planning on going anywhere.” He doesn’t get a response, just a cheery hum from Jeremy as he walks past Kevin, Jean a step behind.
“We were not going anywhere either. He wanted to check if you were alive,” says Jean looking around the place for signs of anyone else.
“Snitch,” Jeremy whisper-shouts, lightly pushing Jean on the shoulder. “But, yes, I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. You seemed distracted and far-removed during practice.”
Curse you and your attention to detail
. Kevin wants to be annoyed at how good Jeremy is at reading him, but can’t bring himself to feel anything but a warmth deep in his chest. He sent Jean Jeremy’s way knowing he’d be in the most caring and perceptive hands available, so he can’t be vexed at how easy it was for Jeremy to recognize Kevin wasn’t being his usual self on the court.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just… worried about the state of the lineup in the fall. We have a lot of work to do,” says Kevin, hoping the topic of Exy steers Jeremy away from any prodding of his own behavior.
“Right, the girls and Matt are graduating. You wanna talk about it?” Kevin shakes his head, not really caring for it. He knows the upperclassmen will be present on campus enough times to forget they are alumni, so their graduation doesn’t affect him the same way it will anyone else. He will be irritated with their replacements on the court when the time comes.
“He will be a difficult piece to replace,” chimes in Jean. Kevin turns to see him staring out the window. “Boyd.”
Kevin hums in agreement. “We have some new people that are respectable enough to call themselves athletes , but nowhere near the barely-decent level needed to be placed in an Exy defense line.”
“Ouch. Has anyone told you words of encouragement and positive affirmation are good methods of coaching? Makes people more open to criticism, too.”
“None of us made it to a Class I team through positivity. You either suck it up and learn to earn your spot on the line or get cut.”
“That’s Raven talk,” says Jean. He barely turns to look at Kevin, seemingly more interested with whatever he sees outside.
Kevin doesn’t know how to reply to that. He knows his words are awfully familiar, but he also knows Jean knows they’re true. You can’t expect to be placed on the court with subpar skills. In a previous life, losing your spot meant the closest thing to death.
“Did you already feed tonight?” The moment the words are out of his mouth Kevin knows he made the situation go from worse to worser. Right, avoid one topic with a situation he has been actively avoiding for days.
“He hasn’t,” replies Jeremy, head bent down like a kid who was just scolded. “That one’s kind of on me. I haven’t been the most diligent with sleep and food the past few days, having the whole team and yours to entertain, y’know.”
“So?” blurts out Kevin, and he immediately tells it was the wrong reaction. “I mean, you always have blood packets.”
“He kinda gave them up once I became his nightly fish-on-a-dish.” Jeremy winks at Jean, who isn’t bothered by it in the slightest.
“I do not feed from him if he is not in good condition,” explains Jean.
Kevin hums but doesn’t reply, instead choosing to silently sit on the huge sofa in the living room. Jean would have that as a ground rule, and it was probably the only reason he agreed to feed from Jeremy in the first place. It took a long time for Jean to accept who he is, what he needs to stay alive, his own existence at odds with the cruelty he lived and witnessed first hand and swore he wouldn’t impart if he could avoid it. Kevin thinks it must have taken Jeremy quite a long time to convince Jean of this agreement.
“You can feed from me if you need to.”
The silence that follows his statement is loud enough Kevin thinks they can hear how loud his heart is beating. Jean looks like a deer in headlights, while Jeremy glances back and forth between the two men, expression indescribable. None of them say a word for a long minute, and it is Jean who breaks the silence.
“I do not think you are… stable enough for it.”
Well, ouch, Kevin thinks briefly. “I’m fine, truly,” he affirms, and his next words he directs at Jean in French. “I don’t want to see you in any kind of suffering.”
“And I will not be the root of your pain,” Jean shoots back. Jeremy sits quietly next to Kevin, not understanding what’s being said but knowing it is something he couldn’t comprehend even if he understood the words.
Kevin balls his hands into fists and looks at the floor before replying, “There’s no way you can hurt me. Even when it was you suffering, you’ve always touched me far too gently.”
There’s no reply, just a deep breath from Jean. Kevin can feel the curiosity radiate off Jeremy in waves, itching to know what is going on but far too conscious to ask anything about it. Kevin thinks that type of mindfulness for space probably made Jean cautious of his every move at first, and it took a long time for him to see it as a way of Jeremy respecting a boundary he didn’t know he needed.
“I will feed from you,” agrees Jean in English after minutes of dreadful silence. “But only the minimum necessary. After this, no more.”
Kevin nods and looks at Jeremy, who stands up and does an awkward spin in place, clearly not knowing where his presence fits in the situation at hand. He starts pointing towards the door as if it explains his lack of words, but gets cut off by Jean. “Stay.”
Jeremy holds his gaze, brown eyes glinting with something close to excitement before he looks at Kevin. “That okay with you?”
“Stay here,” is all he says. Kevin slides up on the sofa to let Jean sit next to him, knees touching. He almost reaches out to put a hand on Jean but ultimately decides against it, hands held tight under his own thighs. “You don’t have to if it’s too much.”
Jean doesn’t reply immediately, eyes searching for Jeremy. The blond sits on the coffee table in front of the sofa and smiles reassuringly at him, nothing else needed to ground Jean to the present. Kevin feels a small ache deep in his chest at seeing the effortlessness of their interactions, how Jeremy being near Jean’s orbit is enough for him to be at ease. Kevin tries to quell the jealousy inside him, reminding himself he was the one who entrusted Jeremy with Jean’s recovery. He’d be a hypocrite if he felt any negative way about the clear progress the two men have made in a short period of time. That is ultimately what he planned for from the start.
Nonetheless, he wishes he was part of it.
“Would you prefer to do your forearm?” asks Jean.
Kevin thinks about it for a second. It would be clean and precise, nothing but another daily task the same way he would eat breakfast. But Kevin thinks about the feeling of fangs sinking into his skin, how his body became pliant under Jean’s touch and his head pleasantly muted, and decides he wants that again. He wants to take it further.
“You can do my neck.” Kevin’s words have an instant effect on Jean, gray eyes opening wide and zeroing on Kevin’s neck. It isn’t for longer than a heartbeat, but Kevin tries to ignore the way Jean’s eyes stopped over his lips before grazing over his face and meeting green eyes.
“Okay.” Jean doesn’t refute Kevin’s decision, just moves closer and places his hands on Kevin’s shoulder, the touch already burning his skin in anticipation. He’s vaguely aware of Jeremy sitting on the edge of the sofa behind him, probably for support should either of them need it.
For a second, Kevin instantly regrets all of his life decisions when he remembers what’s to come, but doesn’t have much time to dwell on it before he feels two sharp pricks on the side of his neck. As soon as Jean’s fangs sink in, Kevin briefly wishes this was another episode of things past. Pain and roughness. Needs met and immediately discarded, if only to make the situation go faster. But Jean’s hands hold softly onto either side of his neck, and Kevin knows there’s no coming back from this.
His hands flail without meaning to in an effort to keep himself in check, and he grabs onto the first thing he feels that is not Jean, which ends up being Jeremy’s thigh (once again. He swears he’s not doing it on purpose). Kevin squeezes both his eyes and hands, and tries not to move or make any noises, hoping neither men notice how his skin is tingling or the glaze over his eyes.
“Kev, are you okay?” he hears Jeremy ask. His voice sounds muffled to Kevin’s ears, the way voices sound when you’re falling asleep. He tries to turn his neck to take a look at Jeremy, but is stopped by a hand gripping his thigh and holding him still.
“Fuck,” Kevin is trying his damn best to stay as still as possible, but knows it is a lost case when he feels lips gently sucking on his neck and a hum against it. “Oh, God… fuck .”
There’s a laugh behind him, no ill-intent in the noise but clearly amused. He feels himself being dragged further onto the sofa, a leg dangling from the side while the other is still held in Jean’s grip. Kevin opens his eyes and tries to focus, but can only see a vague silhouette of an upside-down Jeremy through the haziness.
“Well, this is certainly a way to get you to relax,” says Jeremy. Kevin feels a hand softly run over his side, stopping right on the dip of his waist, and another running through his hair, and deep down Kevin hates how he feels so, so good.
The next words he mumbles are low enough that neither men hear him, but the increasingly minimizing alarmed part of his brain registers them as a throw-away of his dignity and self-preservation. Despite that, Kevin makes a Herculean effort to speak the same words through the numbing pleasure spreading across his body. “Kiss me.”
He sees Jeremy’s eyes widen, the hand in his hair at a stand-still. Under any other circumstances, Kevin would be more aware of the consequences of his words, but now one of Jean’s legs presses in between Kevin’s and he loses his mind , begging through a broken moan. “Now, please .”
There’s a beat of hesitation before Jeremy makes up his mind and presses his lips to Kevin’s in a soft, innocent kiss. It’s a kiss to heed his request while staying respectful and mindful of the situation he is in. Unfortunately for Jeremy, Kevin is in an extremely needy situation, so he doesn’t have more than a second to process Kevin grabbing his neck and properly kissing him. Being upside down makes the angle weird and slightly uncomfortable, but Kevin doesn’t have the time or the mind to figure out the logistics at the moment, tongue swiping across Jeremy’s lips to open his mouth, a moan breaking the silence when he feels Jeremy’s tongue touch his.
There’s not a single thought running across Kevin’s head anymore, only focused on how overwhelmed he feels by everything happening to him. He’s so distracted by Jeremy’s infuriatingly good kissing even while upside down that he fails to notice the fangs in his neck briefly detach themselves, Jean’s breathing fawning across his jawline in quick, short spurts. The next thing he does register is Jean’s hips flushed against his before he rocks forward in a slow, barely-there motion.
Kevin loses all motor skills after that. He’s hard—right, when did that happen?--, and he can feel Jean is too, if anything because of the silent, heavy breathing against his neck and the way he’s fighting to not rock his hips against Kevin’s. He doesn’t have any time for that, though, so he pushes up to meet Jean, and the grunt that reverberates against his throat has Kevin gasping hard enough he’s no longer kissing Jeremy, mouth open and incapable of stopping the soft moans that Jean rips out of him every time he thrusts against him.
“That’s it, Kev, you’re doing so good.” Jeremy’s voice comes from somewhere next to him, the words a soft murmur against his cheek. “You look so beautiful. You both do.”
There’s a hand running across his hair again, another one gripping his leg and wrapping it around Jean’s waist for leverage, and Kevin feels like crying. He’s so overwhelmed in a way he has never felt before and has no idea how to go through it. He wants to say something, do something, but all he can do is lay there and hope Jean and Jeremy understand how he feels.
He can feel Jean’s thrusts getting more erratic, the friction between them making Kevin want more being so close to the edge. He grips Jean’s hair in between his hands and pulls him up to his face, Jean’s gray eyes now black from how dilated his pupils are. There’s smeared blood on his chin, fangs slightly poking out of his mouth, and Kevin fails miserably at stopping his hips from pressing back on a thrust, both men moaning at the contact.
He pulls Jean close and kisses him, the metallic taste of blood spreading across his mouth but not stopping at that. He tongues the sharp edge of the fangs and lets out a small sigh of satisfaction at finally being able to do that. He tried his best to not stare whenever he saw them, avoiding to look in Jean’s direction if possible. There was a part of Kevin that deep, deep down wondered what it would feel to have those sharp teeth against his neck, if it would hurt, if he’d enjoy it. He wondered how Jean would drink his blood, if he was an aggressive biter or if he would make it as clinical as possible, not a drop out of place. But he learned to push those thoughts down where not even he could remember them, obscured by the darkness of his reality.
Now he pushes against Jean’s mouth and wishes, hopes that the man on top of him takes, and takes, and takes if it means feeling this good forever. Kevin is so close, feeling a damp spot growing in his underwear the harder Jean pushes against him. He wraps the leg hanging off the sofa around Jean’s waist and hooks his ankles together, pushing in against the other man’s back.
“Jean,” he tries to say in between kisses, voice rough. “Jean, again, please .”
Kevin doesn’t say anything else, just pushes Jean’s head against his neck and hopes he gets the hint. Jean’s hesitation is now long gone, replaced by open mouthed kisses trailing from his jaw to his shoulder and back up again. There’s a heated intensity now that makes Kevin’s bones rattle inside his body, the feeling of Jean’s lips and teeth against his skin heightened by Jeremy’s voice and wandering hands. He’s starkly aware of the points at where their bodies are touching, how Jean is willing to take whatever Kevin has to offer, how Kevin wants to give him and Jeremy everything he has and more.
The next bite comes silent and fast but pushes Kevin completely over the edge. His eyes roll back as he moves against Jean in short, sporadic moves, the rush of the fangs piercing his skin enough to make him unable to hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears. A part of him wants to feel embarrassed at coming untouched, but it gets drowned out by his own whimpers against Jean’s body, who grunts against Kevin’s neck, fangs still attached, before going still on top of him.
Kevin is slipping away under Jean, a deep but pleased exhaustion settling in his bones. His eyes flutter shut and he would have immediately fallen asleep if not for a thumb brushing against his lips. Kevin tries to focus on the body attached to the finger, but manages nothing more than to have it pressed against his tongue, somehow finding it comfortable.
“You’re gorgeous. You did so well,” Jeremy’s voice is next to his ear, followed by soft lips gently kissing his cheek. Kevin moves to press his face against Jeremy, but is stopped by another pair of lips pressing against the other side of his face, Jean’s post-feed bliss making it more of a lick than a kiss.
If Kevin had any energy left in him, he would be crying. All he does is let out a sigh of contentment when Jean relaxes his body and settles on top of him, six feet of satisfied vampire going nowhere but the crook of Kevin’s neck. Jeremy presses a kiss to the crown of Jean’s head, then another on Kevin’s forehead before standing up.
“Rest. I’ll be here to take care of you. Both of you.”
The last thing Kevin thinks before his consciousness slips away is how a red and gold uniform would not suit him, but he could find a way to make it work.