Archive of Our Own

In retrospect, it should have been obvious. The three of them have been circling around it for months. Since the beginning, if Kevin’s being honest with himself. Like starving prey animals. Too spooked to make a move. Too hungry to let it go.

He and Neil keep snapping and snarling at each other, off the court and especially on it, hands fisted in the other’s jersey, helmet grill to helmet grill, breaths coming hard and fast. He could blame it on their anxiety about the upcoming semifinals. Except it’s not that. Not quite. It doesn’t explain the scorching heat of it, doesn’t explain why neither of them lets go until Matt yanks them apart or until one of them feels the burn of an Exy ball well-aimed at the few inches between shin-guard and shoe. 

When their eyes meet, Andrew watches them like he knows something. Every day Kevin fantasizes of smacking the cold, challenging look off his face.

Today is worse than ever. It gets so bad that Wymack has to send Neil and Kevin on a run around campus with a warning that if they don't use the time to work out what has been bothering them, he will bench both of them for the next two games — even if it means damning their chances of winning the semifinals to hell. 

It doesn't help.

Late evening finds Kevin waiting for Neil on the sofa, the latest Trojans game paused on the laptop screen. His fingers are drumming next to the touch-pad; his body is awash with an anxious buzzing despite the exertion of their late practice.

Neil saunters out of the bathroom, skin damp and pink after his shower. Kevin watches him notice Andrew, watches him change direction as he gets pulled into Andrew’s orbit, watches him lean on the kitchen counter and reach for the mug in Andrew’s hand. The view of Neil’s fingers brushing over Andrew’s makes the buzzing under his skin louder.

“I’m waiting, Neil!” he hisses.

Neil fucking ignores him.

One of Andrew’s eyebrows quirks up but he doesn’t say anything. Hazel eyes focus on Neil's mouth as he sips from the cocoa, then grins and licks the chocolate mustache off his upper lip. 

Kevin feels his blood boil.

“Neil! Stop fucking around! We need to watch the game!”

“Hey, Kevin. Why don’t you stop being a whiny bitch?”

He doesn’t know how it happens. One moment he’s sitting on the sofa, and the next he is slamming Neil into the wall. The mug shatters on the floor next to them, hot chocolate flowing in a stream down the tile grout.

Neil doesn’t even flinch. As if he expected this. As if he wanted it. A taunting smile curls his lips. He tilts his head back and somehow manages to look down on Kevin despite being ten inches shorter. 

The animal living in Kevin‘s chest growls, urges him to get closer, to squeeze and choke, to claw his way inside. He pulls on Neil’s shirt and presses their foreheads together, yelling, “We only have three days until the game and you keep fucki—”

He doesn’t even hear Andrew move. It’s only when he feels the hard pinch on the tendon between his neck and shoulder that he notices him. Sharp pain radiates down Kevin’s arm, forcing him to let go. Andrew grabs them both by their throats and pins them against the wall.

“I’m sick of this.” He emphasizes the last word with a squeeze.

From the corner of his eye, Kevin can see the way Neil goes slack and pliant in Andrew’s hold. He knows he should do the same, but he’s wound up too tightly not to fight back.

“Let me go!” he bites out, struggling against Andrew’s grip. It’s useless. Andrew’s biceps bulges as his grip tightens further around Kevin’s neck. A clear warning. 

Andrew turns his cool gaze on Kevin and sneers. “Are you done feeling sorry for yourself? You’ve been so preoccupied thinking you don’t deserve things that you don't even allow yourself to see you can have them.”

It’s the only thing Andrew has said to him in days. He looks at Kevin like he expects an answer. Like what he said is supposed to make sense. Kevin feels like he’s going out of his mind.

The silence between them stretches. When it becomes clear that Kevin has no idea what any of it means, Andrew huffs out an annoyed breath and turns to Neil.

“And you, are you really still this clueless?”

Neil only frowns. It’s cold comfort that he seems to be just as confused as Kevin.

Softer then, “Junkie. You’re even dumber about him than you were about me.”

It’s strange to see Neil speechless. He blinks once, twice, and then goes perfectly still. He darts his gaze to Kevin, quickly, almost too quickly to notice, and then back to Andrew.

“Andrew, I—”

“Neil. Do you want this?”

For several breaths Andrew and Neil stare at each other. Kevin feels his own pulse thrum against Andrew’s palm.

Neil’s voice is low when he finally talks. “If I do… what happens with us?”

Andrew looks at Kevin. He trails his gaze down Kevin’s face, and stops on his lips. He lets it linger there, a beat too long. Then he locks eyes with Neil and says, “I don’t do things I don’t want to do.”

A flicker of auburn eyelashes. “You mean you also— Oh…” Neil’s lips stay curled around the last word as he goes quiet again.

Kevin bristles. He hates them. Hates feeling like he’s always two steps behind. Hates that they keep looking at each other like they are lost in a silent conversation that he is left out of. Hates that he is versed enough in Neil to be able to tell that he’s getting excited about something and versed enough in Andrew to tell there is tenderness behind the expression everyone else would think is annoyed.

He grinds his teeth, tries to think of a way to set himself free of Andrew’s grip so that he can leave them in their private little world to continue discussing whatever the fuck that was.

But then Neil smiles a smile that takes Kevin’s breath away and says, “Yeah. Yes, Andrew.”

And Andrew snorts and lets Neil go and then he asks Kevin a question that turns his whole world upside down.

*

"Yes or no, Kevin?”

Kevin’s breath catches. It has nothing to do with the twitch of Andrew’s fingers on his throat. “W— what?”

“I want to kiss you. Yes or no?”

It feels like drowning. Like he’s suddenly been plunged underwater and he couldn’t surface if he tried because he doesn’t know which way is up or down. 

“Neil,” he croaks, helpless. Pleading. “What should I…”

Neil steps closer. His overgrown hair, still wet from the shower, paints the collar of his gray shirt darker where it touches. Kevin fights the feeling, the strange dissonance between wanting to move closer and to run away. It’s a good thing Andrew still holds him by the neck, because he isn’t sure which one he would do otherwise. Which one is worse.

Neil’s eyes on him feel like they’re burning him alive. Their color is the hottest part of a flame.

“Just don’t put your hands on him.”

*

Andrew kisses him. Hard. Bruising. Kevin hadn’t expected gentleness, but he never could have imagined this. It’s hot and violent, all teeth and tongue. It’s two years of longing and promises sublimated into a single, ruthless kiss.

He feels Andrew's tongue sliding over his teeth, the roof of his mouth. It feels like he is everywhere, all at once. Blood rushes in Kevin's ears and drowns out every sound. Halfway through it, his legs begin to shake. He is once again grateful for the grounding presence of the hand on his throat.

When they part, it takes him a while to remember how to breathe again. From this close, Kevin can see the way Andrew’s pulse flutters under the skin of his neck. Neither of them say anything. It’s Neil who speaks first. 

“Wow…” He sounds breathless. His eyes are the color of the open sea.

Kevin feels drunk as Neil takes his hand and pulls him towards the sofa.

He follows, wordlessly. Of course he does. There is no universe in which he would refuse this, whatever it is. 

Neil sits down, and Kevin finds himself maneuvered to sit between his legs, back pressed to Neil’s chest. Andrew silently watches from across the room. He begins to approach slowly, never breaking eye contact with Neil as he does. Not even when he grabs Kevin by the chin and tilts his head up.

“Like this?” he lifts an eyebrow at Neil. And when Neil nods, “You liked watching us so much that you needed to get even closer?”

Neil laughs, a warm puff of air on Kevin’s neck that sends a shiver down his spine. Then Andrew leans down and kisses him again.

The second time is just as violent. Just as overwhelming. They crash into each other, like ocean waves against a rock. Andrew bites him, almost hard enough to break skin. It's harsh, and full of fury. It shouldn’t feel this good. It’s the best kiss of Kevin’s life. Something inside of him cracks and spills and he doesn’t think it’s possible to ever fix it, to ever put it back again.

“It's okay to touch me,” Neil whispers, lips ghosting over Kevin’s ear. “Anywhere.”

It is only then that Kevin notices that in his attempt not to touch, he has been squeezing his fists so tightly that his nails are digging into his palms. 

He pulls away from Andrew’s lips. Carefully he unfurls his fingers and places them on top of Neil’s thighs. Neil’s breath feels wet and warm against the nape of his neck. He trails his fingers over Neil’s warm skin, until he meets the well worn cotton of his shorts. As used to the scars on his legs as he is by now, it’s disorienting to see them from this vantage point. He begins to follow them with his fingers, mapping them anew. The silent evidence of Neil’s pain. Of what could have been. A familiar panic threatens to rise inside his throat. 

Andrew, as always, notices. He pinches Neil’s waist, and a look passes between the two of them, and then the panic and all of Kevin’s thoughts come to an abrupt halt, because suddenly it’s Neil’s mouth on one side of his neck, and Andrew’s on the other.

It’s too much. It’s everything he would have wanted, if he’d ever allowed himself to want. 

Andrew sucks on his neck in a way that’s sure to leave a mark, and Kevin doesn’t care. He bites his lips to stifle a moan, but Neil, like the menace that he is, mimics Andrew on the other side, and Kevin can’t help the embarrassing sound that leaves him.

He closes his eyes. The world narrows down to just the three of them. Just the lips on his neck and jaw. Just the fist in his hair and the hands reaching under his shirt. Just Neil’s words spoken into his temple, as his fingers roam over the expanse of Kevin’s stomach and chest. “God. You’re so hot.” 

He gets lost in it completely. The wet, warm kisses. The smell of Andrew’s mint shampoo. Heat spreads through his body, pooling low in his belly. Mindlessly, he digs his fingers in Neil’s thighs and chases the lips that are closest to his, not caring who they belong to. A fist tightens in his hair — Andrew, then — and then a tongue licks into his mouth with a hunger that Kevin begins to recognize. 

He feels hungry himself. Starving. Dizzy with it. Neil’s hands are drawing slow, maddening circles over his torso, and the buzz inside of him gets louder and louder. Whenever a finger brushes over one of his nipples, it makes sparks fly over Kevin’s skin. Heat overflows like the tide. He gives in, allows it to take him.

Andrew leans in further. He rests his knee over Kevin’s thigh, and then, perhaps by accident, and perhaps not, he brushes it over the zipper of his jeans. Pleasure rushes, lightning fast, up Kevin’s spine. He groans into Andrew’s mouth.

He is hard. He hadn’t noticed just how hard. He becomes painfully aware of it, now that it’s been brought to his attention.

Andrew breaks the kiss. There is a distracting blush dusting his cheeks, but his gaze is as cool as ever. When Kevin tries to chase his mouth again, he pulls at his hair, forcing him to stay back.

The atmosphere shifts, the frantic energy of their kisses replaced by something slow and heavy. Charged. Kevin breathes in and half expects to smell ozone.

Behind him, he feels Neil’s chest panting against his back.

Slowly, deliberately, Andrew shifts his knee over Kevin’s straining erection. Kevin closes his eyes, but is unable to help the hiss that exits his lips.

Andrew waits. Patient. Stubborn. When Kevin opens his eyes, he tilts his head to the side, always watching, and does it again. And again.

“Nngh! Andrew.”

A glance over Kevin’s shoulder. There is something happening between Andrew and Neil, another silent conversation. And then—

“Kevin. I want to blow you. Yes or no?” 

Time seems to stop. For a stunned moment Kevin can’t say anything. Neil breathes out a shuddering breath, as if he is the one who feels like he’ll choke on air. All Kevin can do is squeeze the tense thigh muscles under his palms.

He turns around. He realizes he has barely looked at Neil since this madness started.

Neil’s chest rise and fall quickly under the soft cotton of his t-shirt. The blue of his eyes is a narrow ring around his blown pupils. His mouth is slack. Distractingly wet. There’s a phantom twinge on Kevin’s neck, a reminder of where Neil’s tongue and teeth were mere moments ago. 

He wants this, Kevin realizes. For some senseless, inconceivable reason, Andrew and Neil want this. 

Just for tonight, just right now, he lets himself want it too. It would be impossible to say no to them anyway. He knows he will always allow them anything they want.

“Yes. Okay,” he says to Andrew. And then to Neil, “Show me what to do.”

*

A kiss between Neil and Andrew. A few murmured words. Still okay? and God, yes and junkie. The last one is said through a breathy huff that from anyone else would be laughter. Watching them, a weird sensation rises in the middle of his stomach. It makes him feel fluttery. A little nauseous. He doesn’t let himself examine it.

He aches with how much he wants them. His body reacts to what is happening with feverish anticipation, like it’s perfectly normal to be doing this. Like they were always going to end up here.

Perhaps they always were.

Without saying anything else, Andrew kneels in front of him and swiftly opens the fly of his jeans. It makes Kevin's cock throb at the sight, the twitch obvious through his underwear. Andrew wordlessly pulls Kevin's boxer briefs down, sends a final glance at his face through half-hooded eyes, and lowers his head. There is barely the ghost of a warm breath on the tip before he takes him in whole. 

Kevin’s entire body shudders at the sudden spike of pleasure. Every muscle tenses. Every nerve ending prickles.

Andrew sucks his cock the same way that he kissed him, the same way he does everything, when he actually wants to do it. Ruthlessly, efficiently, with singular focus, he reduces Kevin to a shivering, panting mess in seconds.

It doesn't make sense. There is no buildup, no slow teasing or tentative licks. Andrew sets a fast rhythm, faster than Kevin would use to get himself off, faster than what he usually finds pleasurable, and somehow it’s exactly what he needs.

His thumbs press down under Neil’s kneecaps. It must hurt, but he can’t help it. Andrew’s mouth is wet and hot around him, and the drag of his tongue is maddening.

“Neil,” he calls out. Asking for something. He isn’t exactly sure what.

Neil stops nuzzling his neck, and Kevin almost moans at the loss. There is a moment, a glance, a wordless nod between Andrew and Neil and then—

“Here." Neil takes one of Kevin's hands, guiding it towards Andrew’s golden head. “You can touch his hair.”

Kevin holds his breath. He doesn't make a move. His hand hangs mid-air, fingers twitching helplessly around nothing, but then Andrew lets out an annoyed grunt and grabs it, placing it over his head.

Soft and warm. That's what Andrew's hair feels like.

Exhaling slowly, Kevin begins to thread his fingers through it, keeping his touch tentative. Careful. He tells himself it's for Andrew's sake. But the truth of it is that despite literally having his cock in Andrew's mouth, for some reason it's this — being allowed this — that threatens to overwhelm him.

He closes his eyes. Tries to center himself.

Like this, there's nothing else to do but feel.

He sinks further into Neil's chest, and bites his lips at the feeling of the hard line of Neil's erection pressing into his back. Pleasure builds and builds, begins to roll over him in tantalizing waves. His abs hitch and tremble as he battles the urge to thrust his hips upwards, to fuck into Andrew's mouth. As if noticing, Andrew splays a hand over Kevin's lower abdomen and pins him in place, the touch both sure and soothing. He continues taking him in deeply, all the way, again and again. Every time he pulls up, he does something with his tongue that makes Kevin want to cry out.

He doesn't. Instead, he grits his teeth, a breathy Fuck! forcing its way out of his mouth.

Neil hums in his ear. "He's good at that, isn't he?"

And Kevin's feels like he is pulled underwater again.

It's not as if he didn't know. Living with them, it would have been impossible not to know. But he has always, very carefully, avoided thinking about it. And, despite what some people have to say about his tendency towards self-destructive behavior, Kevin has certainly never allowed himself to imagine what the two of them do together.

Now, he can't help himself.

It's so easy, with Neil's wet, hot breath on his skin and Andrew's throat twitching around him.

He imagines Neil, his beautiful marked body stretched out on his bed, fists clutching the headboard, mouth open in a wordless cry, and Andrew swallowing him whole, that intense, half-hooded gaze never leaving Neil's face.

He imagines Neil in the locker room, skin still warm and damp from the showers, biting his knuckles to stifle his whimpering as he tries to come by riding Andrew's thigh.

He is ruined, forever.

His breath leaves him all at once. He feels his orgasm hurtling towards him like an avalanche. There are two battling urges in him now — one to get further, deeper, seek even more of the heat of Andrew's mouth, the other to pull away from him.

"Andrew," he squirms, "Andrew, I'm close. I'm gonna—"

Wave after wave of little sparks of electricity travel down his body, making his fingertips prickle when they reach them. He's so hot, he thinks he might melt. His breaths turn shallow and quick, his body's as taut as a bowstring. He is distantly aware that Andrew has both hands on him now, his grip like a vise on Kevin's hips.

"It's okay," Neil murmurs. "You can come in his mouth." Then he kisses Kevin's cheek gently, right on top of his tattoo, and somehow this pushes him over the edge.

He curls in on himself, fists tightening in Andrew's hair. His orgasm washes over him, submerging his whole body. It has never felt like this. He lingers at the peak of it for an impossibly long time. And then, with a loud groan, he is coming, pulse after hot pulse into Andrew's throat.

*

"Wow! That was— wow…" Neil breathes out, quiet and a little shaky against Kevin's back.

A deep flush blooms high up on Andrew's cheeks. And Kevin thinks — He's beautiful. The thought passes through him like a lightning bolt. Andrew's mouth is slack. His chest is heaving. His hair is hopelessly tousled, and he's so beautiful, that it makes Kevin's heart ache with it.

Hazel eyes are boring into him, darkened and glassy, and Kevin knows he's being analyzed. Cracked open. Then Andrew drags his gaze to Neil, and whatever he sees there makes him lunge.

Neil moves at the same time. With a wild glint in his eyes, he shifts from where he is sitting behind Kevin and grabs Andrew by his shirt, pulling him into a desperate kiss. Their teeth click against each other. It looks painful, but Neil moans like he's been craving it.

"Fuck!" he hisses after a moment. "I can taste him on you."

Bewildered, Kevin watches him tilt Andrew's head, trying to lick deeper into his mouth. Trying to taste more of Kevin's come. Andrew growls and nips at him, manages to mutter something about patience, and somehow, this calms Neil. He quiets down, softens, allows himself to be pushed back, to be kissed against the couch backrest.

Andrew straddles him. He doesn't even break the kiss as he pulls at the waistband of Neil's shorts. He releases Neil's cock and then his own and takes both of them in one hand. The groan that Neil lets out makes electricity shoot down Kevin's spine.

It feels like watching a frantic summer storm. Andrew jerks them off, fist tight, movements rapid, and Neil keeps making breathy sounds around his tongue. Kevin can't keep his eyes away from them.

They look gorgeous like this, hot and flushed, lost in their own pleasure. He wants them with every fiber of his being.

Dragging his lips along Andrew's jaw and neck, Neil notices a lone drop of sweat rolling down his pale throat. He reaches it and licks a long line upwards, tracing its path. He gently bites the spot under Andrew's ear, and Andrew makes a low sound deep within his chest.

Something stirs within Neil. He looks shivery. Twitchy. Like he wants too many things at once but doesn't even know where to begin expressing them. He begins to moan on every exhale.

Kevin's hand moves on its own, before he can think better of it. He reaches towards the sliver of skin below the hem of Neil's t-shirt, feels the warmth of it beckoning him, irresistible. He doesn't have to hike his shirt up, doesn't have to be able to see in order to recognize what's under his palm, as he splays it over Neil's rib cage. A thin long scar. A shallow cut. Minimum bleeding for maximum pain. He'd seen enough of them on Jean's torso to know who put it there.

"Stupid reckless asshole,” he whispers between gritted teeth. He blinks away the stinging in his eyes and scoots closer, wrapping his fingers possessively around Neil’s waist.

Neil's reaction surprises him. His moans turn to whimpers. He breaks the rhythm Andrew had set for them, begins to thrust his hips, like he's trying to bring their cocks impossibly closer. Kevin watches, transfixed, the way they both glisten in Andrew's fist.

Neil sounds wrecked. "Andrew. I need— I want—"

Andrew hums.

Then he takes Kevin's hand and wraps it around their cocks, guiding it with his own.

Kevin's mouth goes dry. His heart jackrabbits in his chest.

He will think about this moment later, but it will be a blur. He'll only remember certain sensations. Still images.

The blink of the microwave clock as the minutes shift. The drying chocolate stain on the tiles. The way they feel in his palm, hot and slick. Heavy.

How beautiful Neil looks as he begins to shake apart, hiding his face in Andrew's chest. And through it all, the intensity of Andrew gaze, unrelenting and never leaving Kevin's, until the moment he squeezes his eyes shut and his breath stutters in his throat.

*

Rivulets of hot water run down Kevin's back. Eyes squeezed shut, he stands under the shower spray and waits for the rush of water to drawn out the racing of his mind. Time passes, marked only by the deep breaths he is forcing himself to take.

When he opens the bathroom door, two pairs of eyes snap to his.

Something hot and anxious begins to coil underneath his breastbone. His skin prickles uncomfortably in the cool air. Mere minutes ago, in the balmy air of the shower stall, he had convinced himself he would be fine. He thought he could have this, once — however many times they wanted him — and he could still be… normal around them afterwards.

He grits his teeth and lowers his gaze, pushing the panic down before it fully takes hold of him, shoving it somewhere in a hidden recess of his mind.

Neil steps closer and that seems to help. "Hey." His movements are slow and drowsy, and his eyes crinkle with a smile. He looks so happy and radiant, that it makes the feverish parts of Kevin momentarily settle down.

Kevin drinks in the sight of him. Neil is flushed and disheveled, a sheen of sweat making his skin glow in the dim light. There's an ease and languidness to him that's been missing for weeks.

This is what he looks like when he's just been fucked, Kevin thinks, and then curses himself, because it isn't something he's ever going to be able to forget.

Neil touches him, a steady, comforting press on Kevin's chest. "I can't believe I still haven't properly kissed you."

Rising on his toes, he steps into Kevin's space. Heat radiates off of him and all Kevin wants to do is immerse himself in it.

Neil's kiss is everything and nothing like Andrew's. There's more tenderness to it, though only a little, but there is also the same urgency and need. Maybe the feeling is contagious, or maybe they've always been like this, all three of them. Kevin knows that hunger. It howls under his own skin.

He feels the first stirrings of an addiction forming. Like the dopamine hit of scoring the first goal in a game, or the way his mind slows down halfway into a third drink, he knows he's going to want more of this, again and again. He wonders what it's like to live with an addiction to something he can't have, when it's always dangling right in front of him.

"Enough." Andrew's voice is soft and low. "Unless you want to drag your own asses to the gym in the morning, we should go to bed right now. There's no way I'm waking up early enough to drive you."

Neil grumbles in complaint, but he still pushes himself away from Kevin, though not before he plants one final soft kiss on his neck, and not before mumbling something with a shit-eating grin that makes Andrew threaten to kill him.

The bathroom door clicks softly behind him. The shower starts.

And then, there's just two of them.

Somehow, it is so much worse.

Andrew doesn't kiss him. He doesn't even say anything, at first. He pins Kevin with a look that's a little hazy, a little bored. Kevin knows it's anything but.

"You're spiraling."

The words cut like a knife.

Kevin wishes he could be angry. He wishes he could be like them, clawing and snarling when cornered, never going down without taking blood. Instead he slumps against the wall with a bone-deep weariness.

"What do you want, Andrew?"

"You still don't get it, do you?"

"Andrew," Kevin sighs, voice barely above whisper. "It's fucking late and I'm exhausted and apparently too stupid to understand whatever—"

The sudden weight of Andrew's thumb on his windpipe feels like an anchor.

"Do you really think tonight was just about sex?" Low and ominous, it's almost a growl. "I know there's nothing in your brain but Exy stats, but you know Neil. You know he doesn't do hookups. You know this means something to him."

Andrew's gaze flits to where Kevin's hands are pressed carefully to the wall, and then to his lips. "I'll repeat myself, just this once. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Kevin. You can have this."

The room holds its breath. A single thread pulls at Kevin's mind. An echo of a conversation that hadn't really meant anything without context.

Neil. Do you want this?

If I do, what happens with us?

In the periphery of his vision, Kevin sees the fingers of Andrew's other hand twitch open and closed, over and over, itching for a cigarette he doesn't allow himself to have. He feels his own heartbeat picking up, is sure Andrew can feel it pulsing against his skin.

He forces himself to say it.

"You and me… Both of us. Neil wants that?"

Andrew doesn't answer. His gaze is dark under the blond sweep of his eyelashes, its intensity almost frightening.

It feels unreal, all of it, this moment, this whole night. Kevin is half certain he's imagining it, in the delirium of his exhaustion.

He swallows despite the dryness of his throat, then pushes forward.

"What about you?" he asks.

A small shudder, and the tension leaves Andrew's body. It's so slight that Kevin only feels it because of the hand on his throat.

"Idiot." It's breathy, said through an exhale.

Andrew surges to kiss him, and Kevin meets him halfway.

And, oh. He's definitely already addicted.

Something inside him swells, spills over. Every unvoiced, trampled down desire. Every forbidden hope that they could belong to him, the same way he has always belonged to them.

He begins to shake with the force of it.

Andrew grabs a fistful of hair at the back of his neck and grounds him.

*

The shower stops running in the bathroom. There's the soft sound of rustling towels and clothes.

"I thought you wanted to go to bed," Kevin allows himself to tease, giddy with lack of sleep and the notion that he gets to have this.

Andrew rewards him with a sharp bite on his lower lip. He puts some distance between them. He replaces his own lips with his thumb, presses on Kevin's mouth like he wants to test the bruises he put there.

It's not a gentle touch, but it's enough. It makes the last coils of the tightness in Kevin's chest begin to unwind.

Finally, "Can I trust you not to fall apart while I take a shower?"

Kevin smiles and almost sways with exhaustion. "Right now, I just need to sleep."

That's how Neil finds them, so close they're breathing the same air. When he notices them, he stops in his tracks, a lazy, satisfied grin spreading over his lips.

"I thought I was the junkie," he drawls.

Andrew snarls and barrels past him into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

Neil yawns. "Practice tomorrow's gonna suck." He's still smiling. Like something about that makes him happy.

Kevin resists the urge to rustle his wet auburn curls.

He finds himself climbing into bed. Doesn't remember how he got here.

He's asleep before his head hits the pillow.