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Okay, so it’s not like Kelvin has a lot of firsthand experience on the matter, but he always thought a brisk, cool breeze was supposed to bring about a level of sobriety in a person. So far the gale force wind tunneling through the open air framework of the Jeep doesn't seem to be helping Keefe in that department.
Maybe Keefe's just different. Or maybe it's a lie, like so many other things he learned from movies.
“Keefe, you - hey buddy,” he smiles through Keefe’s startle. “Doing alright?” Keefe death grips his seat belt, so the following frantic nodnodnod doesn’t convey what he thinks it does. “Okay. All good in this car. Good deal. Say, for me though, you remember those breathing exercises we were doing?” Keefe nods, Kelvin nods along with him until they’re bopping in unison - and Kelvin slams off the radio without taking his eyes off Keefe, after a couple misses. No tempting beats in this vehicle, no sir. “So, those breathing exercises?”
“Breathe.”
“Great, exactly.” There is no forthcoming step two. Kelvin rechecks the long, winding back road leading to the main gate. “Alright, memory’s a little fuzzy, that’s okay.”
“Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about.” Kelvin sends another comforting smile Keefe-ward. “Eight seconds in, hold eight, eight seconds out. Nothing fancy.”
Keefe bops his head until he’s facing forward, prompting Kelvin to do the same. He focuses on the dark stretch of road ahead of them, and pinpoints of light just beyond the horizon line. The pull of the compound is his own guiding star, leading them through the darkness and back to the path of light.
“One, two, three,” Kelvin glances to Keefe’s reflection in the rear view, and watches with dismay as Keefe struggles to both breathe inward and count aloud.
“Say, Keefe?”
“Hn, yeah.”
“Good effort,” he starts, squirming through a stinging itch along his legs. (He will never, never let either of them end up in another glue water baptism as long as he lives.) “Just some pointers, really. One pointer. Might be a little easier if you don’t count on the inhale, yeah? You want to give that a shot, bud?”
“Okay.”
“Awesome.” But the stretching possibilities are too much for Keefe in this addled state, to the point where Kelvin fears he may have stopped breathing altogether. “How ‘bout I count? Drive’s been pretty easy on me. Got the Lord watching out.”
“Watching over," Keefe whispers.
“Exactly,” he beams. He drops his right hand to the middle console. The fingers of Keefe’s left hand twitch, and Kelvin turns it palm up, giving his own a friendly little waggle. “I don’t need both. Here,” he offers, cutting through Keefe’s hesitation and sliding their hands together, and bringing them down to rest on his thigh. “Inhale when I squeeze, alright? We’ll do it together.”
-
Kelvin waves a friendly hand to the guard in the little shelter by the main gate, and about plows into the row of guards when it doesn't immediately yield to his presence. Okay, he can work with this. He got wind on the family's emergency alert system that there was an intruder earlier. Daddy's probably on edge enough as it is without some drunk college kid trying to hop the fence.
"Sorry, sorry," Kelvin pleads. "Just trying to get in.
"I'm afraid the compound is on lockd-oh, Mr Gemstone."
"Speaking," he smiles. Kelvin follows the guard's gaze past his own, admittedly, odd appearance to Keefe's blatant nakedness, and sighs with relief when he finds Keefe's collected whatever sense he's still got and covered himself. Good job , he mentally sends Keefe's way. Nice work, good improvement. "Just trying to get home."
"I'm ah, I'm afraid Dr Gemstone said no visitors."
Kelvin maintains steady eye contact with the guard. He knows what this looks like. Even if, say, he was dressed normal this would still be quite a sight. He pops one brow up; just where do they think Keefe will go in this state?
"I'll let you boys through," he says hurriedly. He glances past Kelvin a few times as he hurries to the guard shelter and slams his hand down on the gate switch.
"God bless!" Kelvin shouts. He drums his fingers happily on the steering wheel as the gate swings open. "Nice, very nice. See, Keefe? The Lord is looking - hey, hey now," he gets about fifty feet through the gate and has to pull off to the side. "C'mon now, you're good." He throws the car into park and offers up both his hands. Anything to keep Keefe from bolting into the middle of the fields, or to draw the attention of the guards. Still, he spares a glance backwards to make sure no one’s checking up on them. "I wouldn't get out just yet, bud. Got a ways before we're at the house."
"Well," Keefe squirms, but he takes Kelvin's hands, "Dr Gemstone will be pretty mad," Keefe insists. "He said no visitors, of which I am one."
"Hey now, don't sell yourself short, Keefe. You're not some casual visitor. You’re,” more, he thinks, without a reason why that fits, “always welcome here. And as far as my Daddy is concerned, this is the church helping to bring a soul back to the light of Jesus Christ.”
“Right, it’s work.” (“The most righteous, Keefe. The work of the Lord’s.”) “I’m really welcome?”
“Of course, for as long as you can stand me.” Kelvin gives Keefe’s hands a little squeeze. It draws Keefe’s attention downwards; when he focuses back on Kelvin he’s got the beginnings of a smile. Kelvin smiles back. “Now, why don’t I get us to the house, and we can get you settled.”
-
There’s words he wants to say, bubbling just under the surface, but every time he thinks he’s reached boiling point he falls back to a simmer.
It doesn't help that Keefe's managed to doze off between his impromptu attempt to frolic naked in a field and the drive to Kelvin's front door. Unfortunately there's a very real threat of becoming fused with the seats, or he'd put some serious consideration to letting him stay that way.
"Kelvin?"
"I'm sorry," he blurts out. Keefe blinks, all slow and sleepy (and very, very high). "Um, things were said, by me. Some very hurtful things."
"Oh, right. I remember." Keefe sighs. "You were yelling. Real loud."
"And I should not have."
"You were real hard on yourself," Keefe says, sticking a hot poker right into Kelvin's gut. "I don't think the Lord likes that, when you always try hard to do right by Him."
"That's," he gets all choked up, "thank you. Thank you, Keefe. Well spoken, and most definitely correct. Great remembering." He claps a hand on Keefe's arm. "But I think I should try doing right by you too."
"Thanks."
"Anytime, and I mean that. Anything you need, and I got your back. I swear to the good Lord himself."
"Well," Keefe looks down at himself, "it is getting cold. I wouldn't mind getting inside."
"Can do!" Kelvin throws off his seatbelt and opens the door, and he sticks. He rocks a bit, cringing at the shhhick sound his legs make as they try to peel away from the leather seat. "I just, give me a hot second buddy." He feels hands pushing and gently waves them off. "I got it, I got it-ha!" He frees himself, and sends himself sprawling into the pavement. "Ow, son of - I'm good!"
"Kelvin?"
"I'm good." He pops up, all smiles through the sting of his skinned chin. Keefe starts, chuckling meekly when Kelvin shrugs. "I think we can agree to just say no to any more of that particular sin, eh Keefe?"
"Uh," Kelvin's heart sinks, but he's ready to keep steering things away from Club Sinister, as long as it takes, "yeah." He nods, a little lazy as he sways in his seat. "Agreed."
"Good deal."
"My feet are numb."
"Still?" Keefe nods. "Well, alright. Give me a second."
He helps extract Keefe from the passenger seat and back walks, providing his hands to keep him steady as they make their way up the walkway and into the house. It's much easier than it was at the Club, without writhing bodies and dangerous sharp things littering the floor. The most difficult obstacle is getting his keys freed from the right pocket of his pants. He's a little worried he'll have to cut himself free.
"Wow," Keefe marvels. Kelvin bites back a maybe too cruel joke about him forgetting what the house looks like. But it's not the room Keefe is devoting his wide eyed stare towards.
"Finally got me in some good lighting." Kelvin gives himself a little twist to show off the boots. They stick to the hardwood and he winces. "Don't think I'll be bringing this one out of the closet again anytime soon." He nudges Keefe towards the nearest barstool and rounds the island counter to get a glass of water. "This a munchies sort of situation?"
"Um," Keefe can't seem to move past Kelvin's attire. Kelvin gives him a side eye and grabs a sleeve of saltines. "Heh, the guards almost didn't let you in in that outfit."
"It was a close one." Kelvin grins at Keefe's earnest nodding. "Well, to be honest I hardly recognize myself."
"Yeah." Keefe makes a grabby hand at the water, and gulps down half the glass in one go. "It's all very different. Not bad," Keefe adds, and Kelvin raises one brow. "No, not bad. The eyeliner's real nice." Keefe purses his lips, putting an intense focus on the top of Kelvin's head. "It's just probably nicer on who's really meant to wear it."
"Yeah?" Kelvin leans in over the counter. "You think so?"
"Mhmm," Keefe reaches out and slides his fingers through Kelvin's bangs. He nods. "That's more like it."
"W-well I," Kelvin stammers. "I'm going to have to shower, you know. You too."
"Still." Keefe nods to himself, content with the important work he's done of fixing Kelvin's bangs.
"Okay." Kelvin looks down, feeling uncharacteristically shy. He glances up at Keefe, lips quirking up briefly when he catches him staring. "Here, why don't you eat something," he opens the sleeve of crackers and slides them over, "and I'll go make a quick call. Gotta thank someone for their help tonight."
"God?"
Kelvin chuffs. "Yeah, good point, definitely gotta send my thanks to the big man Himself, but I was thinking of one of His young disciples. One He sent to me to help guide me to you. He wants you in His flock, Keefe. I'm sure of it."
"Okay," Keefe's smile lacks the usual queasiness Kelvin finds himself dispelling almost daily. "If you say so."
"I know so." He taps his fist against Keefe's. "I'll make that call."
-
He keeps Keefe within his line of sight as he dials the Nancy's home phone number. Keefe's good, he's not necessarily more than that but he's being a real trooper. The crackers have him occupied, at least. And heck, the loopy, easy smile is a whole lot better than the panic at the club - Mr Nancy picks up, saving Kelvin from that memory.
"Hello? Um, Mr Nancy, this is Kelvin Gemstone. Sorry for calling so late."
And it is late. Not, say, smashing pixie sticks late, but the sun set a few hours ago. Sensible, reasonable people are settling in for the night. Kelvin's is just getting started.
"Is everything alright? Did Dot do something?"
"Now, you go on ahead and breathe a sigh of relief, Mr Nancy, because while Dot did do something, this something is most definitely the work of the Lord."
"Really?"
Kelvin nods to himself, feeling a little swell of pride at Mr Nancy's disbelief. He did this, he surprised this man tonight. "Yes sir. Why, your young Dot has helped to save another lost soul, and guide it back to the blessed light of Jesus Christ." He glances at said "lost soul", who's currently marvelling down at a saltine. "Why, if she hadn't come to.me with her concerns that soul may still be in the clutches of the devil. I just thought it was fair to congratulate her, with your blessing, of course."
"Lights out is in a half hour," he explains, "but I think I saw Dot and her mother still in the theatre. I'll go get her."
"Thank you kindly, Mr Nancy."
"You know, it's a welcome relief, Kelvin, having this sort of call."
"I'll bet." He smiles. "Thank you. And you have a blessed evening."
Kelvin focuses back to Keefe while he waits for Dot. Still good, still being a trooper. He slow pans Kelvin-ward and his easy smile gets just a tiny bit wider. Kelvin's does too, in response, and he gives Keefe a little wave before he ducks his head and answers Dot's impatient, "what do you want, Kelvin?"
"Just wanted to thank one of the Lord's little angels for doing his work tonight."
"Uh huh. So you got your boyfriend back?"
"I," Kelvin sputters, "yes. No. Dot Nancy, Keefe is most definitely my best friend, and don't you start any nonsense claiming I'm too old for those, but we are not - and just what about that is so funny?"
He fumes at an art piece on the wall, something his Momma pointed to at one of those many, sprawling art festivals she brought him to and just had to have. It found its way here years later, when Kelvin saw it in her office and said something similar. He likes the colors, swirling, bright yellows and cool blues. It's calming.
"Kelvin, you're too easy," she says, finally, after leaving him hanging for far too long. "Bit you got him back?"
"Snatched him up from the jaws of the beast myself," he says proudly, "but I couldn't have done it without your guiding influence."
"Showing you my insta?"
"Still a - yes, Dot. Your Insta gram helped me to help him. I'd say that's the Lord's influence right there."
"Uh huh," she definitely rolls her eyes, but Kelvin knows she's properly impressed with the Lord's work tonight. "So, does that mean you're both coming back to Youth Group?"
"Well, I don't know," he teases. "I made a bit of a scene today. Does this mean you miss me and Keefe not teaching you anything?"
"You're still better than Roland," she makes a yucked out noise. "And if someone says anything otherwise, I can just tell my daddy I don't want to go anymore. Maybe say I'm feeling tempted."
"Why Dot Nancy," he chides, but he's grinning, "that is some awful devilish talk coming from a child of the Lord." He shakes his head. "We'll be back next week. Now, I'd love to chat, but I gotta spend a little time asking another higher power just how the heck you sober up someone that's been breathin' in glue fumes," he pauses, "that is, unless your past as a young deviant has given you any insight."
Dot laughs, "hell no! I only ever went to dance, and sometimes sneak some of Austin's flask. I never did any of the crazy stuff going on downstairs."
"Worth a shot," he sighs. "Have a blessed evening, Dot. And both I and the Lord thank you."
"Say hi to your boyfriend from me," she teases, and hangs up before Kelvin can stop sputtering.
He sets his phone aside on a nearby table, thoroughly convinced if it manages to get into his pocket it's never coming out again.
Kelvin's good. Keefe's good, too, even if he is completely naked and, jeez, happily munched through an entire sleeve of Kelvin's saltines already. Even if the only thing they've managed so far is to get rid of the 'really' in Keefe's declaration of just how high he got, that's still some darn good progress. He's mellow, moving a little slower than usual, but he's not panicked or anywhere he'll wind up doing something else he doesn't really want to do.
So why does Kelvin feel like he shoved an entire beach ball down his throat and inflated it near to bursting?
He comes to stand at Keefe's side, putting a firm hand on his shoulder when he doesn't notice he's got company. Keefe doesn't startle as much as he sort of twitches, but he's all smiles when he turns towards Kelvin and produces the empty sleeve of crackers to him.
And Kelvin's oh so appropriate response is to sob, so not really his best work. He's not crying, there's probably glue jamming up his tear ducts, and more importantly he doesn't feel upset, he just feels everything, all at once. To heck, no, to hell with the glue, he pulls Keefe up from his chair and into a proper hug. None of those noncommittal, tippy-tappy bro hugs they've been doing lately.
Keefe's rubbing his back, it's a little rough over all the different, and sticky, textures of his shirt, but it's real nice all the same. "There's still three more sleeves."
Kelvin barks out a laugh, and the beach ball with it. "I don't know how you do it, buddy. You always know what to say." He digs his chin into Keefe's shoulder. "I missed you."
"Me too, um, you." Keefe gives Kelvin a good squeeze. "Missed you."
"Hm," Kelvin tries to shift, and oh, they really need to start diluting this glue. He extracts himself from Keefe with only minimal tugging of skin. "Let's get you in a bath, huh? Real hot, if you like."
"Umm," Keefe's eyes boggle. "Warm's alright."
"Oh-kay?" Kelvin shakes his head. Whatever Keefe wants. "C'mon, and I'd avoid touching anything on the way. Just to be safe."
-
"You can make it as hot as you like," Kelvin calls over his shoulder. He's so thankful, despite Judy's endless budget for makeup, she didn't have anything capable of withstanding a good washcloth scrub. He looks like a disaster, but he's starting to see signs of his old self peeking out from under the gothic attire.
Behind him he hears the telltale slosh of water escaping over the edge of his tub, and he confirms with a quick check in the mirror. Keefe's already sunk in up to his shoulders, and there's a healthy sized puddle in the middle of the floor.
"You good?" Kelvin drops his washcloth into the sink and turns around in time to catch Keefe's nod. "I meant what I said. Whatever temperature you want is a-okay."
"I understand," Keefe sighs, "it's real generous, but my head's still floaty."
"Okay, no problem."
"I just like being in the moment, you know?"
"Uh huh, what?" Kelvin leans back on the counter. "You got a whole routine for a hot bath?"
"Well, I do start by masturbating," and Kelvin's ears start ringing loud enough to block out whatever else it is Keefe does when he makes his bath water 'real hot'.
"Okay, well," Kelvin chuckles weakly, "you know, I better find you something to wear before I start trying to peel myself out of this."
"Alright." Keefe smiles. He sinks just a bit lower into the water. "Thanks."
"Yep, yes sir, okay," Kelvin propels himself towards the door before he digs this hole any deeper. "Be right back."
Kelvin leaves the door a hair ajar, just in case Keefe forgets. He'd rather not intrude on that tonight.
"You know," he glances up, addressing the big man Himself, "sometimes, when things get real trying like this, I start to wonder just what you have planned for me. Guess whatever it is, it must need Keefe there too."
He likes the sound of that. Good mouth feel. "I'm ah, sorry 'bout all that, Jesus and devil talk, and the me being Jesus talk. Probably not your favorite part of the week. Wasn't mine either."
"It's just," he starts moving, but stops himself, popping one hip, "sometimes you could be a little more direct, you know? Maybe send a plate at my head or something. Guess what you did send my way worked out in the end."
"I'm," he swallows down answers half-formed and foggy. "I think, if I'm not meant to be Jesus, then I suppose being Keefe's Jesus is all I really want."
He starts for his room, and even though God is everywhere he finds himself moving back to the same spot to admit, "I know that didn't really sound right, but I'd sure like it if we could ignore that and pretend I said it good."
-
Kelvin is fully refreshed and also half dead after he manages to free himself from his glue-soaked clothes and take a very long shower. Keefe's long since abandoned the bathtub and retreated elsewhere in the house, which, thankfully, turns out to only be as far as Kelvin's bed.
"All settled?"
"Yeah," Keefe says through a yawn. He sits up abruptly, "that is, if this is okay. I don't mind the couch."
"More than okay, bud," Kelvin mimes lowering Keefe back down, and he follows the motion. "Meant to make the offer earlier, sort of slipped my mind." He slips into the other half of the bed and props himself up with some pillows. "There. Got any requests?" He picks up the remote and gives it a little shake. "Got some classics loaded up and ready to go."
"Something quiet." Keefe, in a rare show of some A plus decision making, leans sideways until his head hits Kelvin's shoulder, prompting them both to shuffle around a bit until their limbs are tangled up together. Chastely, of course. They're on thin ice already.
"Got just the thing," Kelvin whispers, and he powers on the TV.