Chapter Text
Dave looked like an angel, framed in the doorway of the bathroom, his blonde hair mussed and backlit into a halo by the lights. He still looked slightly damp, and very clean, though a touch of the eyeliner had refused to come off. He was still holding the hand towel, as if he was uncertain what to do with it.
Kevin looked up over his coffee, and knew he was doomed. He'd gotten himself back up off of the floor, and even changed out of the too-tight polyester pants and the rest of the Rudy gear and into sweats and a pullover, even cleaned Dave's lipstick from his face, but he wished he hadn't bothered to come off his knees. He wanted to lie down with his face in the ground and beg forgiveness.
Dave was beautiful. Just Dave, all of himself.
He must be insane. He must be drunk and insane and too horny to be fit for polite company...
"I'm... not sure why I put my tie back on," Dave admitted, picking up the end of it idly. "Kind of silly, I'll just have to take it back off. In fact, I probably won't want to sleep in these at all," he said, gesturing to his still fairly crisp slacks and button up. "I'll just have to borrow something and change again. Guess I didn't think far enough ahead, huh?"
He watched Kevin carefully, while he spoke, like he was looking for signs of cracks in a façade.
"Yeah," was all Kevin managed.
"Ah, now see, there," David said, with a brittle brightness, apparently having seen something he was looking for, "the shine's come off, hasn't it? You don't still feel like... don't still want to--"
"Yeah, I do," Kevin said, sighing.
Dave looked down at his tie for a moment, starting to roll it nervously up from the tip. "Really?"
"Just as much. You should probably keep your distance if you want to keep that tie in place."
Dave sank against the doorframe.
Kevin wished he hadn't said it. The image of himself, swaggering up and loosening David's tie, before bending him back into an impetuous kiss became impossible to shake.
"You're undressing me with your eyes right now," Dave said, pointing at him, "ooh, j'accuse."
"I am!" Kevin said, opening his arms in admission, before dropping them into his lap. "I have nothing to say in my defense."
Dave stared, stared like he was seeing Kevin for the first time.
"What..." he tried, gesturing, "what are we..."
Kevin shook his head slowly, letting his eyes drift slowly down from the topmost stray hair of Dave's head to his stocking feet. "I don't know. But whatever it is, I want to keep doing it."
"Kevin, I'm not..."
"Me, neither."
"But--"
"--but can we make out some more?"
Kevin thought this was what they called 'going for broke.' Considering Dave's on-and-off aggression, 'broken' might be quite appropriate.
"Kevin, no, we--" Dave covered his eyes, and sighed. "Christ, gimme that bottle," he muttered.
Kevin sprang up to fetch it, and Dave's glass, but Dave just pushed the towel off on Kevin and drank right from the bottle, and for a long time.
"Fuck," he said a little thickly, after a swallow, "it's hard to get wasted on amaretto." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, shaking his head. "Ugh. I'm going to die of diabetes before I get drunk."
"It's--you'll feel it sooner than you think," Kevin said, embarrassed with personal knowledge of the thing. "You just don't notice it while it's happening."
"Fuck," Dave repeated, eloquently, loosening his tie.
He took another few gulps and pushed the bottle back on Kevin, who was hovering--he hadn't been able to make himself back off, again, after he'd come near--and folded his arms loosely over his chest.
Kevin followed Dave's lead, and drank the cloying stuff from the source. It kept him from grabbing for Dave's tie. Or Dave's shirt.
"So I think the question is," Dave began, and his voice was still sticky with the sugar, "is this. You, we understand, basically--it's that I'm too pretty. But me..."
Kevin watched him expectantly.
Nothing happened. After a pause, Dave said, "That wasn't a question."
Kevin shook his head. "Didn't quite make it, no."
"Why am I, is my question," Dave tried, again.
A little helplessly, Kevin asked, "Why are you what?"
"We've--I've been--you're not--" Dave stopped in frustration and closed his eyes. After a deep breath, he opened them again and squared off his stance, maybe steeling himself, and asked, "Why do I want to?"
"Want to--"
"--yes."
Kevin fumbled to put the bottle and towel back on the table. "Want to m-make out," he verified, though it seemed too good to be true.
"Yes! Why?"
The impossible jolt of need and want shot through Kevin like it had never been discouraged. "Does it matter why?" he asked, a bundle of nerves. "If we want to, and we're drunk, and we're currently bachelors..." He felt his logic was impeccable. He encroached.
"And we work together, and we're straight," Dave countered. "I can't even pretend I think you're a girl."
"I'll put on the wig," Kevin said, desperately, "or, or the whole thing."
"We don't have the make-up, you'd just look like Keith Richards."
Kevin blinked. "I would, actually, wouldn't I?"
"Little bit."
"...Would that help?"
Dave looked like he was considering it for a moment, but shook his head. "No. No, probably not."
Kevin nodded. "Okay. So," he said, tense as a wire, reaching out cautiously for Dave's arms, "so... We could just try..." He stepped back, trying to draw Dave along with him by the elbows. "No--outfits, or make-up, or anything..."
"No excuses," Dave murmured, ashen. "That sounds like a profoundly bad idea."
But he let Kevin pull him over toward the couch, just the same.
"It's--it's fine," Kevin said, calmly as he could manage under the circumstances, as he pushed Dave gently back and down onto the cushions. "We know you can beat me up, so if--God, I sound like such a man--so if you want to stop..."
"I just have to hit you?" Dave replied, sardonically.
"I should get that message, yeah."
Dave hesitated for a long moment, before lifting his hands in surrender, and nodding without making eye contact.
Kevin's eyes tried to roll up into his head in pre-emptive bliss.
He took a deep breath, and came closer, though now that it was planned and licit, he didn't exactly know how to proceed. He started to reach, stopped. Started to sit, stopped. Went to touch, waited.
Maybe Dave was right about the excuses. Kevin was too timid for his own good, when things were out in the open.
And Dave--infinitely more experienced, infinitely more confident--sat frozen and waited, at least as uncertain as Kevin. He certainly wasn't going to make the first move.
So Kevin shifted, forcing himself to put a knee down on the couch beside his friend, reaching awkwardly to touch his shoulder, his face. Dave lifted his arms like they were leaden, to meet him, almost mimicking Kevin's with one hand on a shoulder and one on an elbow. There was enough room between them for another body, at least.
Kevin began to slowly lean his face close, perched unsteadily as he was, and started racing through second thoughts and what-ifs. Was this a bad idea, he didn't want to startle Dave, he didn't want to fall, would his knee hurt if he stayed this way too long...? Maybe he should just sit down, and see if Dave would turn to him that way, and they could be docile and civilized like nervous virgins, all the safe distance in the world preserved between their bodies, no surprises...
But then he remembered the way Dave had gone for the throat, when Kevin had fallen into his lap like a stripper, and he braced and reached past to hold the back of the couch for balance. His heart was fluttering like a hummingbird. Very deliberately, he shifted his weight forward and across, sliding his other knee snugly between Dave's hip and the arm of the couch.
And straddling him, he sank uneasily to rest just a little of his weight down on Dave's thighs.
"Is that--" he began, but his voice was too small, so he swallowed and tried again. "Is this okay?"
Dave's hands gripped automatically, and he nodded, his eyes finally focusing on Kevin's.
Kevin couldn't read his face, at all. "Are you sure...?" he asked, weakly, and Dave responded by tightening his grip and pulling Kevin the rest of the way down, to let his weight fall completely onto Dave's lap.
"Yes," he said, firmly.
Kevin tried to not boggle at the why of the mechanism, and just enjoy its existence.
This close, Kevin could feel the warmth of his friend's body, feel his breath, and leaning in close felt natural. Dave's arms were snaking around him, helping to close the distance, and when their noses bumped, they both smiled a little and rested their foreheads together.
They didn't kiss.
Kevin licked his lips, where Dave's breath tickled them, and his unsteady fingers crept out to Dave's throat. Tremblingly, he slid the knot down the length of the necktie until the loop was wide enough to come off over Dave's head, and Kevin took great relish in removing it, and in freeing two of the buttons that had been hiding behind it.
He would have undone a few more, but Dave cut him off by doing him one better and slipping his hands under the edge of Kevin's sweater, brushing his sides as he pulled it up and off.
Kevin jumped a little, tickled (startled), and shrank into himself, shirtless and a little shy, but Dave would have none of it, pulling him in, again.
They only kissed for a moment, before sliding past, cheek along cheek, until their chests were flush. Kevin landed one wet kiss on the curve of Dave's ear before Dave broke through and fixed on Kevin's neck as he had, before, as if he was determined to fill in the spots he'd missed the first time, determined to mark the new areas he'd uncovered. His hands wandered, warming Kevin's skin in broad stripes where they skated and pressed by turns.
Kevin felt like a plucked guitar string, locked into place between Dave's mouth and Dave's lap, but thrumming. He gripped uselessly at Dave, at a loss for how to participate. Eventually, he managed to slide a hand between their chests, blindly fumbling for buttons to conquer while he fluttered his other fingers through Dave's hair, but it was all overflow. David was completely absorbed.
Kevin didn't know how to deal with that, except to go desert blind in the fever of it.
He didn't realize he was rocking, pulsing primordially against his friend until Dave took a loud breath against Kevin's jaw, clutching to hold him still, pressed hard together.
Kevin's disengaged self-preservation mechanism tried to flare awake, tried to warn him he should brace for the floor, because Dave surely wouldn't stand for the hard points of desperation between them sharing such close proximity, threatening to touch through even that many layers of fabric. And he did tighten his grip on Dave's still half-on shirt, and his hair.
But he didn't expect the way the world spun when Dave moved.
All at once, Kevin had been swung down onto the couch, landing on his back, and the weight of Dave was on him, impossible pressure trapping them together at the hips.
He tried to be embarrassed by the squeaking sound that came out of him, but couldn't. His entire body felt like it was groaning.
Dave groaned, too, and fell at Kevin's neck again. And he might have stayed there, if Kevin hadn't forced the issue and pulled him off with a tight hold on his hair, lifting Dave's chin away so he could have access, so he could litter David's throat with kisses for a moment.
Dave gasped.
Encouraged, Kevin pressed his luck and pushed his hips upward into Dave's, rolling them together as he nipped at Dave's throat experimentally.
Dave moaned.
Kevin reeled. He let go of David's hair at once to free his hands, frantic to try to get Dave out of his shirt, to try to touch more of his skin. But the shock of his nerves when Dave rocked against him, hard, sent a column of sweet ache through him, and he lost the thread completely.
They locked mouths, and dared to twist their tongues together, still too sweet from liqueur, sucking and swallowing and consuming. Dave's random, uneven rocking made Kevin flail, threatened to break him open, and he struggled to move against him steady, trying to impose a rhythm, to draw him in.
Somewhere along the way, he succeeded, and they were sliding in counterpoint, through their clothes. The sweats didn't do much to constrict Kevin, but Dave eventually reached between them to rearrange himself, and sighed into Kevin's mouth in relief when he had, picking up the pace with renewed need. The friction was thrilling and terrible at once.
When Kevin had accidentally bitten Dave for the 6th time (it was hard not to snap when your whole body was moving), Dave abandoned the kiss for his (apparently) favorite pastime. Luckily, he took to a lower spot, this time, so Kevin had room to bite down quietly on Dave's shoulder and brace himself. Maybe the alcohol was catching up with him, but he was caught in a dizzy swoon, and felt like he was falling unstoppably towards some impossible, perfect death.
He let out a little wail when he came.
Dave stammered, "F-fuck," as Kevin froze, fouling up his momentum. "I haven't--"
Kevin shook his head dazedly, momentarily useless.
"What do I--" Dave tried to move again, but the friction was too much for Kevin, and he almost leapt out of his skin, jarred awake.
"Wait," he gasped, "just--give me--" Kevin planted his hands as firmly as he could at Dave's waist, to hold him still, trying to steady his breathing.
Dave was dangerously close to losing it.
"Okay," Kevin sighed, "let me just... think a second..." How could he help? He could hardly figure out how girls (or anyone, really) went about addressing these things from the other side. They made so much sense from his own angle...
"Come here, turn around," he said, breathlessly, inspired, shifting back to lean up against the arm of the couch. He tried to clean himself off surreptitiously with the inside of his sweats. "Lean back against me..."
Dave looked hopeless and almost mutinous, but after a brief but tense standoff, curled around to lay his back up against Kevin's chest and settle his hips between Kevin's thighs.
This, Kevin could figure out.
He felt like his hands were moving in slow motion, as they drifted to wrap around Dave's torso, finishing the unbuttoning of his shirt and unlatching his belt buckle. He felt more than heard Dave's breath hitch, as he slipped the tail of the belt free, and unbuttoned his fly.
This, he understood. He spit into his palm and reached.
Dave arched up and away, so Kevin wrapped his free arm around him, to keep him steady, to keep him secure, to take the excuse to touch his skin and hold him close. He pretended he was only touching himself, with the other hand, but just for as long as he had to to get the feeling of it. When Dave began to react, to help him know what was good and bad, and finally joined him, crowding himself with their two hands together, Kevin knew exactly who he was touching and how. He reveled in it, strange as it was, and screwed up his courage to hook his chin over Dave's shoulder to watch.
It was beautiful and perverse and he enjoyed it way, way too much. Dave would disappear between them, reappear in secret glimpses as they slipped back and forth, now together and now against one another at cross-purposes. When they bumped into one another awkwardly, they even laughed a little, but it was a breathless thing wired through with energy on the brink of breaking.
Kevin was in awe. He kissed the side of Dave's head and face with all the affection in his soul; there was a strangely innocent joy in it, despite the situation, friendly and warm. He felt like he was soaring (though maybe that was the post-climax euphoria), so he kissed Dave some more, and squeezed him across the shoulders, even as he tangled his fingers with Dave's and stroked slickly.
When Dave came, with an almost pained gasp, Kevin wanted to sing, to declare undying love, to tickle him, to cry, but never committed to any of them. He just wiped his hand awkwardly on his already dirtied sweats, and folded his arms together snugly over Dave's chest, holding him tight.
"We don't tell anyone, right?" Dave murmured sleepily, after a while, but he wrapped his arms over Kevin's and curled his knees up in a promise to stay close by.
"Sure," Kevin replied, just as softly, laying his head against his friend's. He added silently, 'Just please still be here in the morning.'
And pulling Dave's shirt back across him, to cover him against a chill, Kevin closed his eyes and fell asleep with his friend in his arms.