Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types, Heated Rivalry (TV), Time to Shine - Rachel Reid, Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid

Relationships:

Kyle Swift/OC, Kyle Swift & Kip Grady, Kyle Swift & Maria Villanueva, Eric Bennett/Kyle Swift, Casey Hicks/Kyle Swift, Kip Grady/Scott Hunter

Characters:

Kyle Swift, Kyle Swift’s family, Ian | Kyle Swift's Ex-Boyfriend, Kip Grady, George Grady, Aram (Game Changers), Gus (Game Changers), OC - Zach, Maria Villanueva, Casey Hicks, Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Eric Bennett, Carter Vaughn, Elena Rygg, Shawn (Game Changers)

Additional Tags:

Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Kyle Swift Needs A Hug, Trauma, Panic Attacks, Underage Substance Use, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Sex Toys, Sexting, Prequel, Origin Story, author is a licensed psychotherapist, Kyle desperately needs therapy but won’t get it til the next fic

Language:

English

Series:

Part 1 of “Thank You, Kyle”

Stats:

Published: 2026-09-03 Completed: 2026-10-03 Words: 38,866 Chapters: 9/9

Kyle Swift’s Wallet Chain

Summary

Eighteen year-old Kyle Swift has been banished from Vermont and sent to navigate a life in New York City on his own, with a wallet chain, a thin thread of financial support, and occasional phone calls where an entire family had once been. Haunted by the shadows of every mistake he’s ever made leading up to the one that blew apart his entire life, Kyle is desperate for the fresh start his mother keeps claiming this is, and he’s desperately hoping to stop making the same stupid mistakes.

Chapter 1: The Gift and The Drive

Chapter Summary

Kyle did something unforgivable, and now his family can barely stand the sight of him. He’s turned to self-isolation and emo music to cope all summer, until the day finally comes for his “fresh start.” That’s what they choose to call his banishment from the town he grew up in, where he is now known as the gay slut who seduced an older man away from his wife. So he probably is better off in New York City after all. If only he could convince himself of that.

Chapter Notes

August 31st, 2012

This room’s become a mausoleum
Filled with relics of regret

Paying dues to every moment
Wasted on words left unsaid 

All Time Low blasted in the basement bedroom Kyle had spent most of the summer in because he could listen to his music down here and everyone would leave him alone. Lying on the bed in the dark, Kyle knew he’d basically become an emo trope. He just didn’t give a shit anymore. Then there was a soft knock on the door.

Jesus Christ.

He figured it was Mom. Dad always pounded on the door once then opened it whether he got an answer or not, the fucking asshole. But Mom knocked, and waited, and Kyle felt like the asshole if he ignored her. So he paused the music and opened the door, and was surprised to see his brother Evan standing in the hallway. He was two years older than Kyle, and Dylan was four years older than him and never let either of them forget it. Evan flinched visibly when the door opened, and his eyes shifted behind his round tortoiseshell glasses. He was holding a black plastic bag in one hand, the fingers of the other tapping together, and didn’t say anything. Finally Kyle said, “Uh…what’s up?”

“I got you this. From…Hot Topic.” Evan thrust the bag toward Kyle, chancing a glance up at his face.

“You went into a fucking Hot Topic?” He felt his mouth curl up in a small smile despite himself. Evan returned it nervously.

“Yeah. I mean, I saw this and thought it would actually be practical.”

Curious, Kyle opened the bag and withdrew a black leather wallet with a metal grommet, attached to a solid chain with a clasp on each end. His smile broadened a little more, just because his brother was so weird. “A wallet chain? Okay….”

“I don’t know, I just thought…like…New York is huge, you could get pickpocketed on the subway or something. And maybe it’ll look kind of badass and make it less likely that someone would try to fuck with you.”

Kyle smirked and yanked the tag off, attaching the chain to his belt loop immediately. He slid the wallet into his back pocket. “I dunno about badass. But at least I’m less likely to lose it.”

“Hey, you get that look in your eye sometimes. Like you’re about to kill someone and get away with it. Kind of like Dad. Just look at any shady motherfuckers like that, and they’ll leave you alone.”

Evan finally met Kyle’s eye then, and bit his lip as if he wasn’t sure what to say next, or was holding back what he really wanted to say. Finally he blurted out, “You’ll be fine. You can take care of yourself.”

Kyle’s stomach dropped a little. Because he had been stewing all summer over the clear expectation that he do exactly that, and still hadn’t quite come to terms with how he was supposed to take care of himself alone somewhere like New York City. Without thinking on it any further, he quickly threw his arms around Evan. “Thanks, bro. I’ll miss you.”

“Yeah, man. Of course. I’ll…see you around.”

Would he? The boundary had been made very clear to Kyle. No family events, no holidays, and stay out of Shaw, Vermont permanently. Evan was going back to Cal-Tech where he studied robotics, so would they see each other around? Around where? When?

“You could visit me, maybe. Do all the tourist shit.” Kyle pulled away, knowing he was probably asking too much.

“Yeah…sure, bro.”

Well that was noncommittal. Evan gave him an awkward nod and walked back down the hall. Kyle had very mixed feelings as he closed his door again. That was a little more like a proper goodbye than he’d expected, at least. He would be up at the crack of dawn in the morning to get on the road with his father, which he was dreading, and he doubted either of his brothers would get up early to see him off. But Evan had tried…something. Some attempt to connect, through this totally random gift. Kyle appreciated the effort. He knew he didn’t really deserve it. He found his busted old wallet and switched out his cards and IDs into the new one.

He’d set an alarm so he was up and dressed in the morning, before his father stomped down the stairs to make sure of it. He’d even opened the door just so no one would bang on it. His father appeared in the doorway, and for a moment they just looked at each other. Finally he said, “Everything upstairs?”

It was pretty obvious, as evidenced by the fact that the room was bare aside from empty shelves and a bed, and Kyle’s backpack which he was holding. But he resisted any snark and just said, “Yeah, in the den. I can help you load the truck.”

“No, I’ll handle the fucking truck Tetris, you have a ton of shit. Just…get ready. Eat something. We’ll stop for lunch but I want to make it to Connecticut first.”

“Okay.”

Kyle really didn’t have that much stuff, but it was pointless to argue. It was honestly hard to imagine how he would fill an entire two bedroom apartment, which he had only seen a few pictures of and had been told was in a neighborhood called Chelsea. At least it was already furnished. He stuffed his charger, phone, and sweatshirt into his backpack, and the wallet into his pocket, fastened with the chain.

Kyle went up to the kitchen where he found his mom making a full pancake breakfast, and he wanted to hug her and cry and break something and fucking scream all at the same time. But that would be pointless, so instead, he sat and choked it down along with all of her platitudes. “This is a fresh start for you,” and “You’ll do so well at Columbia,” and “You were always meant for more than a small town.” All lies. Lies and excuses to make her feel better. But Kyle didn’t really want to make her feel worse, so he just stayed quiet. She hugged him for a long time on the porch, and he finally had to pull away because his eyes were burning and he couldn’t get in that truck and sit next to his father crying. It just wasn’t an option. He choked out, “Love you, Mom,” and turned away without looking at her.

“I love you too, baby.” Her voice was very, very soft. He climbed into the truck.

When all is gone and can’t be regained
We can’t seem to shelter the pain, inside
We’ve all been victims of a crime
Victims of a crime, Living with this crime

I’m missing you
I’m missing you
I’m miss-

“Would you stop that?”

Kyle flinched and jerked his head up from where he’d been leaning against the window, and paused his music.

“Stop…what?” He tried to keep his voice flat and neutral so he couldn’t be accused of disrespect or attitude or anything that would make the yelling start.

“You’re bouncing your leg, it’s making that fucking chain rattle. Where’d you get that thing anyway? Part of your whole emo look?”

Kyle gritted his teeth and yanked the wallet out of his pocket, unclasping the chain and shoving the whole thing into his backpack. He couldn’t really say anything though, considering he was currently wearing an Avenged Sevenfold tshirt and checkered Vans. So he just answered the question. “Evan gave it to me. Apparently he thought it would be practical. Stop me from getting mugged.” He scoffed, still staring out the window, but in his peripheral Kyle saw his father turn and give him a long look.

“You’ll be fine,” he finally said firmly, eyes back on the road. “Just…be smart. Don’t wear your headphones walking around, or on the subway, or whatever.”

“Yeah, Dad. I won’t.” Kyle wondered if this was the first time his father had considered that sending his teenage son to live alone in New York City could result in him being physically harmed. Kyle had certainly considered it. Ruminated on it, during long terrified nights in the basement when he was unable to sleep. After a few minutes of silence Kyle finally said, “Can I use them now?”

“Sure. I’ll leave you alone.”

Of course he would. Kyle crossed his arms and escaped back into Avenged Sevenfold.

They stopped in Connecticut for gas and burgers, speaking no more than necessary. By the time they got to New York Kyle felt like there was something stuck in his throat. In the city he couldn’t stop staring wide-eyed out the window, studying everything, trying to observe people and collect any information that would help him understand how he was going to live here. His father was pissed about the traffic, pissed about the parking, and then pissed about the task of unloading all of Kyle’s worldly possessions and walking a block to the apartment building. At least it had an elevator.

Kyle couldn’t help thinking that his father’s problems right now were all of his own making, but he obviously didn’t say that. He didn’t say much at all. Just tried his best to do as he was told, be helpful, and avoid arguing. It didn’t take too long to unload the truck. He didn’t have much in the way of furniture, and the apartment was already full of generic couches, tables, chairs, and two beds, and staged with very bland lamps and throw pillows. The kitchen was outfitted with way more appliances and gadgets than Kyle would need to make the few simple meals he knew how to cook.

“The super’s name is Phil, I texted you his number. He’s about a hundred years old but I’ve talked to him. He’ll check the smoke alarms every month, and if you accidentally lock yourself out or something he’ll help you.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Kyle hesitated, uncertain what he was expected to do now. “Do you…want to order food? Or go somewhere nearby?” he asked.

His father stood in the middle of the living room for a moment, with a faraway expression directed at the floor. Then he said, “No, I’m not hungry. I should get on the road. It’s a long drive back…home.”

Kyle froze, staring. He tried to say something that would make him stay, but the only thoughts in his brain were Fuck this. Fuck me. Fuck you. What the fuck. Light blue eyes the exact same shade as his own met his for a brief moment, and he had no idea what his father saw on his face before he looked away, pulled Kyle into a one-arm hug and said, “You’re a smart kid, Kyle. Just…act like it. Take care of yourself.”

Then his father did something Kyle would never be able to forgive him for. He kissed him, just once, on the top of the head. He hadn’t done that in years. Certainly not since Kyle had reached his full height. But he did it now, and as a disorienting tornado of love and agony swirled up in Kyle ready to tear him apart, his father turned and walked out the door. He closed it firmly behind him and left Kyle completely alone in the sterile, empty apartment.

He started trembling immediately, from head to toe. His mouth was open and he was gasping but he couldn’t breathe. His face was hot and wet and he was dizzy, and everything was just aching pain and white-hot terror. Kyle managed to make it to the ugly gray couch, collapsing into the fetal position. He took one of the horrible throw pillows, pressed his tear-streaked face into it, and screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

Chapter End Notes

Episode 3 of the tv series introduced me to Kyle before I realized he became so much more in the books. And the way he is characterized in the show in just a few brief shots was intriguing and hinted at a lot more than just Kip’s bartender friend. I repeatedly rewound the ‘extra shrimp’ interaction, and after reading the book I was also interested in how the show character was styled, particularly the more edgy look with the wallet chain. I am so excited for how he develops on screen! 🤞

I decided to run with the idea that during this difficult summer Kyle fell into an emo phase (that I hoped would be relatable to fellow millennials), and the wallet chain will be a symbol of how he grows and changes throughout the story.

Chapter 2: The First Year

Chapter Summary

A message from the past reaches Kyle, unsolicited, but maybe not as unwanted as it should be. It disrupts his carefully established routine and shatters his thin veneer of control, and once again without realizing it, he is left desperate for connection. A senior named Zach notices, and while he may be a pretty terrible influence, he takes Kyle under his wing and teaches him some useful lessons about substances, hangovers, and hooking up.

Chapter Notes

Columbia kept Kyle busy. The classes were challenging and there were a lot of student events, especially for incoming freshmen. He slowly started to make some friends and spent as much time as possible away from the apartment, either on campus or walking around the city.

Kyle decided now that he was in college he wouldn’t try to hide the fact that he was gay. He wouldn’t have been good at hiding it anyway, even though there had only been one person in Vermont who ever bothered to notice. He didn’t really know why he kept his sexuality secret for all of high school, aside from vague suspicions that it wasn’t what was expected of him and therefore would be disappointing. He’d never been able to confirm what his parents really thought about it, because the absolute disaster he had made of their social lives overshadowed the whole ‘coming out’ part. Then, in late October, that absolute disaster reared his ugly head in the form of an email, completely ruining the careful routine Kyle had settled into.

From:  ian.foster80@qmail.com

Subject: I’m sorry

Kyle’s blood turned to ice. He stared at the subject line for who knows how long until he realized he was going to be late for class. No, he obviously wouldn’t be going to class. The part of his brain that was still functioning somehow managed to send an excuse to his professor claiming illness, before he returned to his inbox, took a breath, and opened it.

Kyle -

First, I’m not asking you for anything. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I will never forgive myself for what I did to you. The only reason I’m reaching out is because I can’t stop worrying about what all the rest of this has done to you. I can only imagine what you’ve been hearing, and I needed to tell you directly that none of this was your fault. I knew what I was doing. Rebecca knew what she was doing when she chose not to handle the situation privately. It all fell down on you, and that was completely wrong.

I never intended to hurt you, and I would never hurt a kid no matter what anybody says about me. That’s the other thing I needed to tell you - I know messaging you like this is crossing a line but I didn’t want you to be living in fear thinking I was going to do the same awful thing to someone else. I never, ever will. I was battling demons and I made it your problem. But I’m working on myself, and I hope that you’re also not hiding anymore. That you can be seen for who you are. I really hope that you’re happy in New York.

- Ian

Kyle felt oddly detached at first, just flat and numb reading the words on the screen. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel. Ian wanted him to be happy. That was something. The numbness in him was creeping deeper, getting darker, shifting into a vast, empty void.

Kyle hit Reply

He stared at the blinking cursor for several long seconds that could have just as easily been hours. Then he deleted the email, slammed the laptop shut and knocked over the chair in an effort to scramble away from it.

No! That door was closed. Locked. Left behind in Vermont or wherever the fuck Ian had fled to. But wherever he was, he’d found Kyle’s Columbia email address just to apologize. Just to provide reassurance that it wasn’t Kyle’s fault. Just because he knew exactly what Kyle would be most afraid of, understood his anxieties and his darkest thoughts, and Kyle had never before and would never again be seen by another person that way.

He knew at least two people who would never really see him. Who would never apologize. The man who had caused the problem, who had initiated the relationship and kept it secret and let it get exposed in the worst possible way and then disappeared, he had apologized. It was more than Kyle had ever hoped for. It meant everything, and still wouldn’t change anything at all. The damage was done. His parents would never apologize and they would never forgive him. And if he had any further communication with Ian and they found out, they would cut him off completely and never speak to him again. All of those thoughts followed him down into the void as Kyle had a panic attack alone in his apartment for the second time.

He sat up groggily from the couch a few hours later. He wasn’t sure if he had slept, really. Crashed felt like a more appropriate word. And now that he was out of it Kyle had to get the fuck outside. He couldn’t be here alone for another second. He pulled on his sneakers and a hoodie and couldn’t wait for the elevator so he practically ran down the stairs.

Kyle’s feet mindlessly followed the familiar path from his apartment to the main campus dining hall. It took almost an hour, which might seem like a long walk to some people. Maybe to people who enjoyed being in their homes. Kyle walked around the city for hours on a regular basis, learning different routes and exploring different neighborhoods. It was probably kind of stupid at night but he stayed in populated areas and didn’t wear his headphones. Kyle got a coffee and thought he should probably have a sandwich but couldn’t stomach the thought of it. He went back outside and walked the long way around the courtyard. It took him past the smoking section, and he heard a voice.

“Hey, Swift. You missed class. You sick?”

He turned and saw a guy from his Latin class, the one he’d blown off this morning to have a mental breakdown instead. His name was Zach and he was a senior. A cute senior, with dark hair and dark eyes. And he was looking at Kyle a little curiously, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. Kyle couldn’t think of a good reason to hide the truth. At least part of it, anyway.

“Not sick. Just a really shitty day. I…heard from someone I hadn’t expected to. Totally threw me off.”

Zach cocked his head and took a drag. “An ex?” he guessed as he exhaled.

“No,” Kyle said quickly, then, “Sort of. A guy who was kind of an asshole. He, like, apologized? Fuck it…it doesn’t matter. I…I know this is kind of a dick move, but could I maybe have one of those?” He gestured to the cigarette.

Zach furrowed his eyebrow at him. “Are you eighteen?”

“Oh…well, yeah.” Kyle had asked sort of impulsively because he felt like such shit and the coffee was not helping. He completely forgot that if he really wanted to he could just go to any corner store and buy his own pack of cigarettes. The thought had never occurred to him before.

Zach chewed his lip, then said, “I’d rather not. The chemical dependence is a real bitch, especially in the winter. I should be trying harder to quit so it wouldn’t be right to share with a freshman.”

Kyle looked at the ground and nodded. That was decent of Zach, really. “I get it.”

“But…I guess if you really had a shit day…do you like weed? My connection lives in the dorms and I just picked up. Just…don’t make a habit of it.”

Kyle peered up at Zach. He’d never smoked weed before. You’d think with two older brothers he’d have more experience with substances, but Dylan was six years older and had taken no interest in Kyle at all unless he was shoving him out of his way, and Evan was a total straightedge nerd.

“Yeah, I like it. That’d be awesome. Thanks, man.”

“I was planning to go home, but I’m all the way in Greenwich Village. Plus…I don’t want you trying to get back to your place alone and high. Are you close to here?”

“Greenwich Village? That’s cool. I like walking around down there. I’m in Chelsea.”

“Alright, I guess we’re taking the bus to Chelsea. If you cover my cab home after, I’ll leave you a couple of joints. Deal?”

“Deal. Thanks again, I really appreciate it,”

Kyle was relieved by the idea of changing his state of mind entirely, and also by the fact that he wasn’t going home alone. He couldn’t help thinking of ways he could show his appreciation, that might result in not waking up alone. As they headed for the bus stop, he did not mention to Zach that he routinely walked the long route back and forth to campus just to extend the amount of time spent away from his apartment.

Zach ended up spending the night. He smoked Kyle up, sucked his cock, and then ordered a pizza, which turned out to be exactly what Kyle needed. And waking up in the morning with a sexy older guy in his bed pushed all of the dark scary thoughts from yesterday right out of his brain. Kyle had been way too far gone to reciprocate the blow job last night, so he made up for it by riding Zach hard in the morning. Another thing he’d never done before - have sex on a bed. He hadn’t had use for the box of condoms in his nightstand yet, so he was glad he had bought them.

He hung out with Zach a few times after that. The senior made it clear he wanted to keep their hookups on the down-low and casual, because he and all of his friends were three years older, plus he was leaving after graduation. That was fine with Kyle, because the first time he had a chance he had fallen so far and so fast and with such devastating consequences, that it was far more comfortable to keep any romantic feelings firmly locked away around Zach.

Kyle did like him though. He was cool and nice, originally from Canada and majoring in International Relations. And he bought Kyle a handle of vodka for Christmas. He wanted to try making cocktails and had gotten a bunch of different kinds of juice, and Zach teased him mercilessly when he tried to make a vodka sunrise but it just came out orange.

Kyle was glad he had the vodka after being woken up by a call from his mother before ten on Christmas morning. They both navigated very awkwardly around the unacknowledged fact that Kyle would not be doing anything particularly special or festive today. For the actual holiday Zach had flown home to Calgary, which Kyle found out was in Alberta, Canada (“Kyle, you already know French, now you have to learn all the provinces and territories. There are only thirteen!”). Kyle hadn’t asked any of his other friends about their holiday plans, because he didn’t want to share his own. He spent the day getting drunk and high and watching the Home Alone movies. Catherine O’Hara as Kevin’s mom made him ugly cry.

Zach made a little extra effort for Kyle’s nineteenth birthday in May. He would be leaving soon and, despite the fact that it was casual, they were both still a little sad. Kyle was also a little confused, because Zach had told him to ‘dress sexy’ for a night out in Greenwich, then took Kyle for burgers at a pub called The Kingfisher. It had an old-school look that was backed up with a long history as a queer bar, but it wasn’t the occasion Kyle had dressed for. He had chosen black waxed jeans and an olive green button-up with short sleeves that hugged his biceps, thinking Zach had a more romantic night in mind. Still, it was nice considering he’d never been taken on any kind of date before.

“I thought you’d like the vibe there,” Zach said casually as they left the pub and started down the sidewalk, “But next…I was thinking maybe we’d check out a club.”

“I still can’t get into most clubs.”

In response, Zach smirked and handed him an envelope from his coat pocket. Kyle opened it with a furrowed brow and pulled out a birthday card, and a driver’s license for a twenty-two year old named Michael Turner. Kyle could pass for the guy in the picture, who had the same hair and eye color, basic face shape, and thick black glasses that obscured his features.

“I sent out a picture of you and got a lucky match with my buddy’s cousin. I had the expiration date changed. It should work. Just don’t use it anywhere you definitely want to go back to in two years, in case you get caught.”

“Holy shit. This is awesome!” Kyle gave Zach a sideways glance and added with a smirk, “You’re kind of a bad influence.”

“Hey, the night is still young, Mike. I can get worse.” Zach winked and put an arm around Kyle, leading him down the street to his first gay nightclub. Kyle slid the ID into his wallet and double checked the chain was securely fastened to his belt, just in case.

It was the best night of Kyle’s life. He’d never felt as euphoric as he did after finishing his first cocktail - a gin and tonic - and disappearing into the dense crowd with Zach. He felt the music in his bones, and the alcohol in his blood, and this sexy man getting under his skin. He loved the crowd too - watching people, scanning to see who may be watching him. Even as Zach pressed their bodies together, Kyle noticed other eyes on him and shared some wicked smiles across the dance floor. He felt like kind of an asshole doing it, but Zach was the one leaving, and Kyle would have to fill the void somehow. Might as well practice.

Now and then I think of when we were together

Like when you said you felt so happy you could die

Told myself that you were right for me

But felt so lonely in your company

But that was love, and it's an ache I still remember

Somebody

Somebody

Somebody

Now you're just somebody that I used to know

Shaking his sweaty hair to the Gotye remix, Kyle never wanted to leave. But it had been a couple more hours and a couple more drinks, and Zach was nibbling his ear as Kyle could feel his erection pressing into his lower back. Under the music Zach’s low voice drawled, “Yours or mine?”

They were able to walk to Zach’s studio, and Kyle wondered vaguely if the club had been strategically chosen. They stopped several times to make out, against a wall, against a window, and in the doorway of the apartment building. In the elevator, Kyle fisted the fabric of Zach’s shirt and pressed the entire length of their bodies together, making sure Zach could feel how hard he was as they kissed. The elevator stopped and Zach pulled away with a chuckle. “You’re insatiable.”

“Definitely not satiated yet,” Kyle growled, unable to keep his hands to himself until they reached Zach’s door. He unlocked it and led them into a small, sparse apartment. There was a messy desk by the door and Kyle planted both hands on it as Zach rolled his hips so his rock-hard cock pressed against Kyle’s ass through tight jeans. Zach reached around to release the button of Kyle’s fly, then his fingers trailed over the chain hanging from his pocket.

“Do you want to…try something?”

“Yeah. Anything.” Kyle thought maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing to say in a situation like this, but he trusted Zach. They’d known each other for over six months. But when it felt like he was taking his wallet off the chain Kyle couldn’t help but add, “Not trying to rob me, are you?”

“No…just…tell me if you don’t like it.” Zach sounded a little nervous, as he slipped Kyle’s wallet back into his pocket. Then he put his hands on Kyle’s forearms, and slowly drew them behind his back. Kyle felt the heavy metal chain snake around both wrists. Oh. Oh.

“Oh,” he breathed. Zach froze.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Just…keep talking to me.”

Zach’s long fingers traced the chain, clasping it into a secure figure eight.

“I just…can’t help it. Your fucking arms are so sexy. And seeing you like this…God, Kyle. Makes me want to chain you up and keep you with me, just so I can make you cum whenever I want to.”

“Holy fuck Zach…you’re about to make me cum in my fucking jeans if you don’t do something about this,” Kyle growled.

He could practically feel Zach smirking behind him as he heard the rustle of clothing, then felt the tug of his own jeans and underwear down his thighs. Zach ran one hand up his back and then down his hip and ass and thighs, and Kyle heard a drawer and then the pop of a bottle of lube.

Zach used both hands to spread Kyle’s ass cheeks apart to reach his hole. Kyle leaned further over the desk as a finger slowly pressed against him. Something made his heart skip a beat, and he breathed. He focused on the gentle way Zach was circling two fingers around his entrance. Kyle sank into his drunken haze as those fingers pressed in and then started stroking his prostate.

Kyle lost sense of time for a bit, but then he felt more pressure against him, and pushed back when he realized it was the head of Zach’s cock. Then he jerked his hips away because he hadn’t heard… “Condom? Right?”

“Fuck…fuck…sorry.” Drawer, wrapper, muttered curses, and then a reassuring hand eased up the inside of his shirt and rested on Kyle’s back. “It’s on now. Sorry. Still okay?”

“Yes, it’s fine…just…come on.” This was sloppy and his heart was racing and Kyle was getting a little dizzy. He kind of just wanted to get it over with. Zach pressed into him and Kyle let out a shuddering moan, but also felt his stomach flip. He pressed back, seeking more sensation, and Zach thankfully gave it to him by tightening around Kyle’s cock with slick fingers.

He worked Kyle up and down and Kyle pressed his forehead into the wood of the desk and moaned again. It did feel good, but it was a little performative. His head wasn’t in it. He was breathing and trying to stave off something else. Another desk…another time…the first time…exciting, but it had hurt, and he was so, so scared….

“Zach. Zach….” Kyle repeated his name with a whine and rolled his hips backward and focused on his body in the present. Zach didn’t hurt. He knew exactly what he was doing and it felt fucking good and nothing else mattered. But there must have been something in his voice.

“You still okay?” Zach’s fingers trailed his arms and the chain again, and Kyle leaned back up slowly.

“Get closer. Put…put your arm around me. I don’t wanna be bent over.”

“Okay. Got you.” Their voices were slurred from alcohol and exhaustion as much as arousal, but they were both close. Zach wrapped a long arm around Kyle, holding them closer together. Kyle felt his fingers against Zach’s stomach, pinned between them behind him, as he pumped Kyle’s cock fast and rocked into him hard until his release spattered across the desk. As Zach gripped his arms and finished inside him, Kyle hoped, not for the first time in his life, that none of the papers on the desk had been important.

Kyle was a little clingy after Zach unclasped the chain, keeping his hands on him and kissing while he tried to regulate his breathing. Eventually, Zach pulled away and told Kyle he could clean up first in the bathroom. When he came out the desk was cleared and Zach handed him a pair of dark blue Columbia sweatpants. They both passed out immediately.

He woke up some time in the afternoon and groaned against the throb in his head.

“Water, advil and coffee on the nightstand,” came Zach’s voice next to him a few moments later. “Start with the water.”

Kyle took three deep breaths to be sure he wouldn’t hurl before he leaned up and peered blearily at the nightstand. He drank half the glass of water and set it back down, then leaned back against the headboard with his eyes closed.

“I’m sorry,” Zach said quietly. There wasn’t his usual teasing humor in it, which made Kyle open one eye. Zach was looking at him, then flicked his eyes away. Then back. Then away.

“What?”

Zach sighed and repeated, “I’m sorry, Kyle. That was…fucked up. Last night. I…I really am a fucking terrible influence.” His voice shook and his eyes were wet. Kyle sat up all the way, hesitated, then put a hand on Zach’s forearm.

“Dude, it’s just a hangover. It was great, all of it. I…I had a fucking awesome birthday. Because of you.”

Zach swiped a hand roughly across his eyes, shaking his head. “No. No, I got you drunk and…I was drunk, and I almost forgot the condom and I totally took advantage of you with that fucking chain. It obviously freaked you out. I’m sorry, Kyle.”

Kyle moved his arm to wrap around Zach’s shoulders and lean on him, trying to ignore the burning behind his own eyes.

“Zach, I wasn’t that drunk. I remember everything and I would do it again stone sober. It wasn’t even…I liked the bondage! It was the fucking desk! Okay?”

Zach stopped bumbling through his apology, and stared blankly at Kyle, who met his gaze and took a deep breath. “The first time I had sex, I was fucked over a desk and it wasn’t great. And I don’t want to talk about it. Last night was great. It was, like, actually the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

“Oh…that sucks. I mean, the first part. But I’m really glad you enjoyed…everything. I wanted it to be special. I’m going to miss you.”

“It was. And…me too.” Kyle’s heart clenched, and he needed to act before he did something embarrassing like cry. He rolled on top of Zach and kissed him, then added, “And Mike Turner is going to have one hell of a summer with your birthday present.”

Zach smirked and wrapped a long arm around Kyle’s neck, pulling him in close. “Oh, God, kid. You’re going to get into so much trouble.”

Chapter End Notes

Most fics I’ve seen that feature Ian characterize him as a ‘monster’ as Eric imagines him in the book. But I’ve read/listened to Common Goal several times, and I find it especially interesting that when Kyle is reflecting on his own the past, the source of the issue he grapples with is clearly the ongoing alienation from his family, and how their perception of him impacts his self-concept. He obviously doesn’t see himself as a victim, and I wanted to explore the internal conflict Kyle would feel if he did get a form of closure from Ian, but has to continue to live with the fact that his parents may never move on from it. I think that really aligns with his canon arc.

He’s also tempted to reply because he’s so desperate for any empathic connection, which was the perfect time to send Nice Guy Zach his way! Zach is tagged as an OC because I added a lot to his characterization - but he technically is a Rachel Reid invention! Curious if anyone catches it 😉

Chapter 3: The Job

Chapter Summary

Kyle is making his way through college, keeping his sexual exploits removed from his ‘real life’ in his quiet desperation to stave off loneliness. Until a chance encounter with a cute guy inspires a career change, which turns out to be the first step towards finding the family he had always deserved.

Chapter Notes

Mike Turner partied in clubs all over the city for the next two years. Kyle Swift’s friends at Columbia and coworkers at his part-time restaurant gigs didn’t know about Mike. The people who knew Mike met him for one night and rarely heard from him again, and Kyle had found a way to avoid spending nights alone if he didn’t want to. There were a few assholes, but no one he couldn’t get away from or shove out of his apartment if he had to. Mike learned from his mistakes and established rules. Over time, he honed his ability to lure in men who wanted him to take control anyway, and that was generally safer.

And it’s not like Kyle didn’t try to have real relationships. Fellow students were generally smart and he had good conversations, and sometimes good sex, but nothing that ever lasted more than a few months. Sometimes he felt like he got too intense too fast, becoming emotionally needy when the other guy wasn’t ready. Other times it felt like he wasn’t able to make enough time or give enough…something to a relationship. It was frustrating. Mike Turner was a reliable plan B.

One place Mike never went was The Kingfisher pub. Kyle was allowed to be there, he just couldn’t drink which wasn’t really his priority anyway. He didn’t go too often, but made his way down to Greenwich for dinner sometimes when he was feeling especially lonely or pessimistic about life (or depressed, if he had been honest with himself, which he obviously had not). He told himself he liked the vibes, and it had nothing to do with the fact that it was the location of his first real date with the only guy who had managed to break his heart without being a dick about it.

There's a piece of you that's here with me

It's everywhere I go, it's everything I see

When I sleep, I dream, and it gets me by

I can make-believe that you're here tonight

That you're here tonight

If I could find you now, things would get better

We could leave this town and run forever

I know somewhere, somehow we'll be together

Let your waves crash down on me and take me away

Yellowcard blasted in his ears as Kyle sat in a booth consumed by a term paper, but it didn’t block out the clatter or the loud “Fuck!” he heard next to him. Kyle turned his head, and was met with the sight of possibly the most perfect ass he had ever seen. The young man attached to it backed out from under the next table, bringing that dump truck clad in tight light-wash denim even closer to Kyle, before he stood up and turned. They locked eyes and both blushed, and the other guy spoke first.

“I’m so sorry! Holy shit, I totally got in your personal space bubble. I just dropped my phone, but I don’t know how I missed you sitting there.”

The guy‘s face was just as attractive his body, cute with bright eyes and dark hair, and a dimple in his chin and both cheeks. And was that last comment…flirty?

“It’s fine,” Kyle said, taking his earbuds out. “I was, like, barely here anyway. Lost in a term paper.”

“Oh, now I feel really bad, sorry if I interrupted your flow. I can sit somewhere else.”

“No worries, and that would be ridiculous, this isn’t a library. I needed to snap out of it anyway. I’ve been here like two hours and barely made a dent.”

The guy slid into a chair at the table next to Kyle’s. He hesitated a beat, then seemed to realize Kyle wasn’t going back to his music or his paper, and kept the conversation going.

“I’m Kip. I’m a local, I come here all the time. Do you often do homework in loud bars? I can’t imagine how you focus.”

“My name’s Kyle. And…I don’t know. I just prefer to be around people when I need to focus, I guess. The library makes me want to crawl out of my skin. Too quiet.”

“Where do you go?”

“Uh…Columbia.”

The guy’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Holy shit! Wow, you must be a real brainiac. What’s your major? I finished a BA in History last year, kind of utterly useless.”

“Uhm…it’s History. Ancient history, specifically.”

“Wow. I literally can’t stop embarrassing myself. I’m sorry, that’s definitely not a useless degree, especially from an Ivy League school. I bet you’ll be, like, a legendary museum curator or something.”

Kyle cringed, because that honestly sounded like the most boring and pointless career he could possibly imagine, and yet it was the exact trajectory this degree was taking him in. “I might focus on art history for grad school, if I ended up going. And I’m double-majoring in Latin, so I know a few Romance languages. I might spend some time living in France or Italy first. Try to find something useful to do there.”

“Wow. That’s the dream, holy shit. I’ve never been to another country, have you ever-“

“Kipper!” An older man interrupted them. He was probably in his late fifties, balding and sporting workboots and a bulky Carhartt jacket. Kip stood and wrapped his arms around him, and Kyle wondered…but no, the man ruffled his hair, and between that and the nickname, this had to be his father. Kip had said he was a local, after all.

“Aram! Playoffs! Please?” The older man called over to the bartender, a huge, tan beefcake Kyle found intimidating but had still ogled every time he saw him.

“Fine. Only for you, George.” The bartender rolled his eyes and picked up the remote, flicking to an ice hockey game featuring the New York Admirals.

Kip turned to Kyle and explained, “It’s the Stanley Cup playoffs. My dad is obsessed. He’d be the Admirals’ number one fan if we could afford season tickets.”

“Kip, who are you even mocking me in front of? Is this a friend of yours I’ve somehow never met?”

Kyle had already closed the laptop, giving up on the paper in favor of his new entertainment. He reached his hand over for a respectful handshake, which the man returned with a bemused little smile. “I just happened to be here, we’ve never met before. Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Kyle. Kyle Swift.”

“Swift?” Kip said, the corner of his mouth turning up, “Like…?”

Kyle’s smile dropped and his eyes darkened. He’d taken enough shit about this in his life to have no patience for it, not even from a cute guy who was possibly gay. “No. Not related, and while I can respect her talent, I am definitely not a fan.”

“Message received,” Kip said with both hands in the air defensively, and a little smirk that made just one of his distracting dimples appear. “Well, are you a hockey fan then?”

“Not in the slightest. The puck goes in the net, what else do I need to know to be considered a fan?”

George jumped in then, with enthusiasm. “Well, first of all, the Admirals have the most legendary goalie. Bennett won’t be letting any pucks in our net….”

And that’s how, totally unexpectedly, Kyle abandoned his term paper to watch his first NHL game with two strangers named Kip and George Grady. The Admirals won, and that handsome goalie only let in one goal from the other team. Not bad. When he went home that night, Kyle thought idly that if Kip Grady really was a regular at The Kingfisher, maybe it was time for him to consider a new career trajectory. He started by looking up the requirements to be hired as a bartender in New York City.

Three months later…

Aram: Dude, Jack showed up over an hour late for his shift last night. Gus told him not to bother and sent him home. You are so in! Get the fuck over here!

Kyle: Just got out of class. Is he still there? I’ll be there ASAP

Aram winked at Kyle, whose heart was still pounding from his bus ride and sprint to The Kingfisher. The bartender turned to the older, bespectacled man who had just emerged from somewhere in the back. “The kid wants a job, Gus. Might be the answer to your prayers.”

“I don’t pray, asshole. What’s your name kid?”

“Kyle Swift.” He made eye contact and stuck out his hand.

Gus shook it, but one eyebrow raised skeptically. “Is that your real name?”

Kyle barely refrained from rolling his eyes. He opened a folder and showed Gus the first page, a printed color scan of the front and back of his driver’s license. He also had printed his bartending license and his resume. “Yes, unfortunately it’s the one I was born with. Is your name really Augustus King?”

Gus looked up at him sharply, with his wild gray eyebrows now tightly furrowed. He snatched the folder out of Kyle’s hands. “How the fuck do you know my name? Everyone around here just calls me Gus.”

“Found an article from last year. It was about the twenty-year anniversary of the place, and it said the name of the owner.”

“Were you even alive when-? Oh, wow. May ninety-four. You were born the month we opened. You’re a fucking infant.” Kyle’s breath hitched, hope fading, but Gus didn’t immediately turn him away. He gave him a long scrutinizing look, then exchanged a look with Aram, who just raised his eyebrows. The owner finally said, “Well, based on this fucking folder you’re more organized than the idiot I just had to fire. Come back into my office. Let’s talk.”

Kyle flexed his fingers, trying to stop his hands from shaking as he followed Gus through a set of double doors in the back. Aram flashed him a quick thumbs up, which Kyle appreciated. Even after months of plotting to become friendly with Aram and learn more about Gus, he hadn’t expected to necessarily get an interview right away. And although he barely acknowledged it, all of his preparation ahead of time had been to hide the anxiety that bubbled up when he imagined not getting the job. If Kyle tried and failed, he wasn’t sure if he could go back to just being a regular who sat here and studied. They entered the office and Kyle felt like he’d stepped back in time at least twenty years. Old wooden desk, ancient boxy computer, a filing cabinet overflowing with papers. He sat in a hard chair while Gus sat behind the desk.

“So, you have food service experience and not only got your ATAP license but, assuming all of this is true, you also took a mixology course. Ambitious.”

He checked the bartending license, then moved on to the resume. He barked out a laugh. “Columbia? Ancient History? What, are you doing research on New York’s most ancient fags?”

Kyle barked out a laugh at that one. He resisted making a sex joke, like asking if Gus had ever fucked a Roman sculptor who could help him with a paper, and decided to go with honesty instead. “I just like studying here. I have since before my twenty-first birthday, it’s a cool vibe.”

“So that’s why you want to work here of all places? The vibes?”

Kyle smirked, thinking that if he was lucky enough to get this job, he probably wouldn’t have to worry about his smart mouth getting him in trouble. But for now he avoided snark and tried his best to be honest. “Kind of, yeah. I like that it’s been around for a while. That it’s part of the neighborhood. It’s…sort of why I went for my bartending license. A bunch of the guys in the course wanted to go work at clubs and party all the time, but I want to be more like an old school bartender. Like, shoot the shit with regulars and listen to people when they want someone to talk to. And I’m good at it. I have references.”

Gus gave him another long scrutinizing look that made Kyle want to squirm in his chair, but he resisted. “Alright kid, I can check your references. I can give you a chance to show me what you can do with a cocktail shaker. But….” He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, then sighed and looked back up at Kyle.

“You’re very young. And not bad looking. We get all stripes in here, and you will get your fair share of attention, whether you want it or not. Now, the boys are a team and we keep each other safe so you’ll never be left alone to handle a situation. But I need to know you can handle a situation. If you don’t like something that’s going on, you need to be able to say so. You‘ll have to be able to cut off drunk assholes, and tell them to get the fuck out of you need to. Do you think you can handle that?”

Kyle swallowed, but he met Gus’s eyes and tried to channel ice and steel and his father when he said, “Definitely. I can take care of myself.”

“Okay, killer. I need to double check your actual ID, we can fill out the formal job application, and then we’ll see what you can do behind my bar.”

Kyle retrieved his driver’s license out of his wallet and Gus chuckled, eyeing the chain. “That’s very nineties.”

Kyle smirked back. “Did you have Hot Topic in the nineties? That’s where my brother bought it for me.”

Gus rolled his eyes dramatically. “No, we had real punk rock. Not that poser bullshit. I saw The Strokes in a literal garage when you were a toddler, now kids buy their mass-produced tshirts at the mall. It’s fucked.”

Kyle’s smile broadened. “I would love to talk more about your music selections here, because sometimes Aram gets…eclectic.”

Gus barked his laugh again. “Maybe. But don’t get ahead of yourself, kid. Get out there and show me what you’ve got first.”

Gus asked Kyle for four cocktails, and he knew them all by name and made them correctly. He also poured a perfect pint. Then, Gus had Aram pretend to be a drunk customer and made Kyle cut him off.

“C’mon man, just…one…” Aram said, swaying and slurring ridiculously.

“I’m the bartender, and you are done for tonight,” Kyle said sharply. It was clear Gus had concerns that he couldn’t be assertive, so he kept that in mind as he continued, “We have nothing more to say to each other, so you can either sit there with your mouth shut or get the fuck out of my bar.”

Aram’s jaw dropped open, and there were scattered claps from a couple of the older patrons that Kyle saw here pretty much all the time.

Gus said, “‘My bar’? Fuck you, kid,” and headed toward the double doors. Kyle froze for a moment, until Gus’s head appeared again in the doorway. “Well? Get back here and sign some shit. Can you work on Saturday?”

Aram grinned at Kyle, who grinned back before he followed his new boss to go sign some shit.

It was Kyle’s third shift when Kip showed up at the bar, entering behind a drop-dead gorgeous woman with long, dark hair. There was definitely intimate body language but it could still just be friendly. Kyle was pretty sure the other man had given off gay vibes, and he wasn’t often wrong. Kip finally noticed Kyle behind the bar and startled. He looked over his shoulder and pointed at the table where Kyle had been sitting with his laptop the first time they met, then pointed back at Kyle, then back at the table, then back at Kyle with an openly flabbergasted expression. “You work here?”

Kyle grinned. “I do now. I started last weekend.”

Kip’s friend dug her elbow into his ribs and said, “Who is this hottie, and is he enough to drag you up here from Brooklyn more often?”

“I’m here all the time. Kyle, this is my childhood friend Elena, another regular. I apologize in advance for the headaches she is bound to cause you. Elena, this is Kyle, a perfectly innocent bartender slash grad student who I barely know, so please be nice!”

“Nice to meet you, Kyle.” She reached across the bar to shake his hand, then added, “Is that how you would describe yourself? ‘Perfectly innocent?’”

Kyle shook her hand and smirked, “No. I suppose not.”

Kip glared between the two of them. “Elena. Please. Let the man do his job.”

“I’m not stopping him. As a matter of fact, here I am sitting at the bar, and he hasn’t even asked me if I’d like to order anything yet.”

She had been standing, but now Elena slid into a barstool and Kip sat next to her, shaking his head. Kyle continued to smirk playfully, thinking once again that he’d made the right decision to work here. He leaned on the bar and made direct eye contact when he said, “Welcome to The Kingfisher, Elena. What can I get for you?”

Elena leaned closer as well and met his stare as she replied, “How do you feel about Thai food?”

Kyle snorted, because what?

“Elena, stop with the Thai food already!” Kip threw his hands in the air. “Gus made it very clear you have to order from the menu if you’re hungry. There’s a sign! You’re going to get them in trouble.”

“It’s not my fault his basic bitch menu is competing with the best Thai food in the city on the same block. I’m ordering some.”

Kip glared at her with wide, horrified eyes as she pulled out her phone. “Elena! He just started! I’m sorry Kyle. We’re definitely buying drinks. Let’s start with two pilsners. And, fuck it, I need a shot of Jameson to deal with her tonight.”

Kyle started pouring the drinks, and Elena didn’t let up as she tapped into her phone.

“Kyle, how strictly do you intend to enforce Gus’s stupid ‘no outside food or drink’ rule? You will be judged on your answer.”

“Gus isn’t here tonight. As long as he’s not here to give me shit, then I can be bribed.” He put the two beers in front of them and slid Kip his shot, then added, “I like shrimp pad Thai. Extra shrimp.”

Elena and Kyle grinned wickedly at each other, and Kip sighed and tossed back his whiskey.

Chapter End Notes

Since reading the books I’ve been so interested in the idea of Gus - who is he? Why is he like this? What would Kyle’s relationship with a stubborn elder queer feel like?

Also had to include Elena and the bit with the takeout, I absolutely love it. We’ll spend a lot of time at The Kingfisher during this fic getting to know Gus and building up the friend group, as the bar becomes the newest transitional object that Kyle shapes his world around. I’m curious to hear in comments what you think about this evolution!

Chapter 4: The Roommate

Chapter Summary

Kyle gets a roommate, and it feels oddly like what has been missing from his life all along. Then he has to bring Maria into the reality of his actual life, his family life, and she sees everything that Kyle has been struggling to keep hidden in the shadows.

Chapter Notes

“Gus was on fire about the schedule the whole time you were gone,” Aram complained during Kyle’s first shift back after spending two weeks in Paris over the holidays.

Kyle just rolled his eyes. “Gus can suck my dick. If he doesn’t want to stress about being understaffed then he should hire someone else part-time! How hard is that to figure out? I’m allowed to go on vacation.”

Aram pulled a beer and added it to a tray for one of Kyle’s tables, then moved on to a cocktail. “Why do you even pick up so many shifts when you have rich parents who will pay for you to fly to France?”

Kyle tensed. It was a fair question, but the answer felt so ridiculously unfair that Kyle had a hard time explaining it. Once he had a steady job, Kyle didn’t need to ask his parents for money regularly anymore as long as they continued to cover school and rent. But that hadn’t stopped him from asking. He’d been telling his mother about his new Medieval French History class, and casually threw out how nice it would be to visit Paris around the holidays. Kyle wasn’t exactly trying to guilt trip her, because he also implied she would be welcome to join him, which was bait that she did not take. But she agreed that it would deepen his educational experience to immerse himself in the culture for a week or two, and sent him more than enough money to do so. He had been working full time for six months and was heading into his final semester, which was enough to convince himself he deserved it.

“It’s not that simple, Aram,” Kip jumped in with some irritation in his voice, which warmed Kyle’s stupid heart. “Kyle’s parents have money but they don’t just, like, give it to him.”

Kyle shot Kip a grateful smile. He didn’t notice because he was busy glaring at Aram, but Kip’s friend Maria did. She worked with him at some smoothie shop down in Brooklyn, and they’d come here together to meet up with Elena and another friend, Shawn, just to visit Kyle because he had been gone for two weeks. He had to keep reminding himself he was in the middle of a shift, because these were all his friends now and it kind of just felt like a party. Kyle sighed and decided to put a stop to Kip’s white knight efforts before he got too worked up and killed the vibe.

“I’m definitely privileged, don’t get me wrong. I’m well aware how absurd it is that I don’t have to pay for school or rent. But everything is a negotiation with them. They paid for the trip because I convinced my mother it would be educational…and it’s not like it wasn’t. It just so happened to also be, like, super hot.”

Kyle winked and escaped further explanation with his tray of drinks to be delivered. The trip honestly had been a little bit of both. Kyle spoke French the entire time, visiting sites like the catacombs and touring museums to see artifacts from Neolithic settlements dating back six thousand years. He couldn’t pass for a native Parisian, but at night in the clubs he decided to be Adrién from Montreal. He took a blond twink named Jean-Paul back to his hotel room the second night, and went out with him three more times in two weeks. He made it clear he liked to be dominated and Kyle was happy to accommodate, making efficient use of his wallet chain. They said their goodbyes, and then on his final night in Paris Kyle decided last minute to go out again and got a blowjob right in the club from a guy with a tongue ring. All in all, it was a pretty awesome trip.

When he got back to the bar, the conversation had moved on.

“I’m sorry, Kip, I’m moving on to greener pastures. Very, very green pastures. Green visor. Green apron. Green cups,” Maria was saying.

Kip sighed and put his chin in his hand. “Leaving the fruit with the fruit, and moving on to the promised land of Frappuccino’s and cake pops. I don’t know if I can do the early mornings without you.”

Kyle scoffed, “I don’t know how you two do that at all. To be a fully functioning employee at four thirty? That’s usually when I’m going home.”

“The nocturnal lifestyle does seem more fun sometimes. I hate it when I have to leave early and you all start gossiping about me as soon as I’m gone,” Kip complained.

“Well,” Maria said with her eyebrows raised, “Maybe if you behaved less shady and weird, then your friends wouldn’t have to speculate. But whatever.”

“Kip, you act like you don’t have options other than waking up before the sun,” Shawn added, “You can always do more catering. Hell, you know you could just work here.”

Kyle was trying to focus on his orders, but his eyebrows raised at that and he couldn’t hold back his smile as Kip caught his eye, “That would be pretty epic.”

“I know…but…the commute from Brooklyn? Or back, after a night shift? Brutal. At least when I trek up here it’s for fun, not work.”

“Oh, if only you had a friend with a huge apartment and an extra bedroom because he’s so disgustingly privileged?” Kyle said sarcastically. He’d mentioned this before, but Kip had never so much as slept over after a party, much less moved into the extra room. Kyle thought it was probably because they both knew what would happen if he did, and for some reason it seemed like Kip didn’t want that to happen.

“Kyle, stop saying that! I have plenty of privilege too, my Dad and I have a whole house in Brooklyn. And I like living in Brooklyn!” Kip took a swig of his beer, then barely contained a spit take because apparently he’d had a sudden thought that couldn’t contain itself. “Maria!” he coughed out, and Kyle handed him a bar towel to dry his shirt.

“Uh, yeah?” she said, raising her eyebrow because she was sitting right next to him and Kip had practically shouted her name.

“Your bitchy roommates! Don’t they, like, totally suck and you’ve been hiding out at your parents? You could move in with Kyle!”

She stared at Kip for a silent beat, then said, “Maybe we should ask Kyle first, you fucking weirdo?”

“Hold on a sec,” Kyle said, off to deliver a tray piled high with fried food, and returning several minutes later after he was flagged down for more drink orders. He got to work on a few cocktails and resumed the conversation, “I mean, the answer is yes, I have a free room and if you wanted a new roommate I would do my best not to be bitchy. Not towards you, anyway. What’s up with the ones you have?”

Maria sighed, “Just classic mean girl stuff. The other two were friends first, rookie mistake on my part. So if I ask them not to wear my clothes or smoke weed in the living room, it’s two against me and I’m the crazy controlling one. It just sucks. But at my mom’s house my niece Johanna steals my clothes anyway, and she’s only ten!”

“Well, I definitely won’t steal your clothes. And I can contain any weed smoking to the balcony. Want another cosmo? I’m already making one.”

“Yes, thank you, Kyle. I know you’ve lived by yourself for a while…I just need, like, boundaries. Y’know? Like, no judgment at all on your lifestyle choices, but I wouldn’t want to see any strange naked men in common living areas.”

Kyle had to grin, because that was a very valid concern. “I am theoretically capable of containing naked activities to my bedroom. And honestly, I might be less tempted by strange men if I had a roomie to watch RuPaul with instead of a dark, empty apartment.”

Kyle realized too late how fucking pathetic that sounded, and by then Maria and Kip were both looking at him with their eyebrows furrowed in matching concerned expressions.

“Kyle…baby…why didn’t you ever say anything before? We would’ve come over more.”

Kyle handed Maria her cocktail and placed the other four carefully on his tray, stalling. Finally he said, “That sounded worse than…it’s not, like, all the time. Whatever. Being roommates sounds fun. But no pressure. Be right back.”

He returned after dropping off the drinks and doing rounds to check his tables, and Kyle knew they’d all been talking about him even though Kip and Maria both had totally neutral expressions and were very focused on their drinks. Naturally, Elena was the one to break the awkward silence, loudly across all four of them, “So this is happening? Maria gets to live with an actual friend instead of those two harpies, and Kyle won’t be all angsty about going home anymore?”

“When was I ever angsty?”

Four sets of eyes turned and stared at Kyle, as if the answer to that question was somehow obvious. Finally he said, “What?”

“Oh, never, Mr. Hot Topic wallet chain,” Shawn snarked, “Maria, please let us know if his alarm in the morning plays All-American Rejects.”

“Fuck you. Also, I don’t participate in what you plebeians call morning. The offer is revoked if you expect me to get up before noon for any reason other than a fire alarm.”

“I don’t see that being a problem. My lease ends in three months, so we can do a trial run, and no hard feelings if we end up hating it.”

They didn’t end up hating it. Kyle and Maria made great roommates. They both tried to be respectful of one another’s space and boundaries, and they had basically opposite schedules so that wasn’t hard. But when their time off aligned they hung out together constantly, whether it was lazy afternoons watching Drag Race, or going for runs in Central Park, or nights out clubbing together. When Kyle was out with Maria, usually accompanied by Kip or some other combination of their friend group, he rarely tried to find someone to hook up with. He just let loose with his friends knowing that junk food with his roommate awaited him when they finally went home together. It was different, and it was nice.

So of course four months later Kyle had to ruin it by asking her to leave. It was the afternoon of his twenty-second birthday and he had just gotten off the phone with his mother. Now, he was scanning the apartment frantically, removing artwork and books that referenced weed or other illicit substances, and anything remotely sexual, and hiding it in his closet.

“I’m so, so sorry. It’s only for one weekend. Apparently they’re both coming for my graduation. I had no idea…she just…. We just have to make it look like an empty guest room for a few days.”

Maria sat watching him from her large wingback chair in the living room, where she’d been painting her nails ahead of their night out. “Kyle…I can make myself scarce for a few days so they can stay here, but…what are you doing? Your graduation isn’t for three weeks.”

“I know…I know…it’s just…it’s been four years, and there’s so much shit around here…. But I don’t think they’ll stay the night. They’ll get a nice hotel room. God, that would be-“ His whole body shuddered and he couldn’t even finish the sentence as he imagined trying to host his parents to their standards in this apartment.

“If they aren’t even staying here, then why-? Wait, they haven’t visited you in four years?!”

“No.”

She waited to see if he would expound, and when he didn’t, Maria continued with the questions. “Are they, like, afraid of the city or something? You have to go to Vermont to see them?”

Kyle stiffened and finally stopped moving. Her question felt like a vice closing around him, and the silence went on for so long that he couldn’t escape from answering.

“No. I don’t visit them.”

“Okay…so…this will be the first time you’ve seen them in person in…how long?”

“Since I was eighteen.“

Another long silence.

“Kyle…what? Vermont isn’t even that far, and they have tons of money, what’s stopping them-?”

“It’s complicated. Okay? There’s…drama. I don’t want to talk about it.” His shoulders slumped, and Kyle sat on the floor, leaning against the side of her chair. “I’m sorry, Maria. I’m such a fucking asshole for making this your problem.”

“Well it doesn’t sound like you have much choice. Like, what the fuck? Kip and I were planning to ask about going to your graduation. Did they even ask you?”

Kyle sighed. “You guys were? Holy shit…yeah, I mean technically my mom asked. But it’s not like I can say ‘No,’ they apparently expect to attend since they consider it a major achievement. I guess I should have known….”

“Well, it is a major achievement. You deserve to be celebrated, if that’s what this is, but…you’ve asked them to come before? And they didn’t? And now they finally do, but just told you to expect them? That’s toxic as fuck, Kyle! And to drop the bomb on your fucking birthday!”

“Birthdays and holidays,” he said flatly, feeling his eyes start to burn. “That’s when we FaceTime.”

“Oh, Kyle.”

He felt a hand on his head, very gently stroking his hair, and although it felt nice Kyle said, “Don’t ruin your nails.”

“My nails are set and perfect. They’ll look fierce holding my cocktail at the club tonight, because we are going out to celebrate you! Fuck the graduation weekend - we’ll make a plan after tomorrow, okay? Once the hangovers pass. For now, can I do yours?”

Kyle danced in the club with sparkly blue nails, and his friends all made sure he had fun on his birthday. He drank too much and he and Maria indeed spent the next day hungover, but he managed to forget about his parents for one night and didn’t even need a stranger in his bed to do it.

The plan was established. Between her closet, her car, and her parents’ house, Maria hid most of her belongings and they arranged the rest to blend in. Luckily his parents had no idea what furniture, clothing or decor Kyle already owned, so as long as it wasn’t clearly belonging to a smaller and more female person, there was no indication of any secret roommate. On the actual day of the graduation, his parents met him at the apartment and stayed for less than an hour before departing for the venue. Just long enough for him to make them all Old Fashions, and for them to inspect it to confirm that their investment property hadn’t become some type of bacchanal drug den while Kyle was living there. At least that’s what it felt like they were doing, just as it had during room inspections when he was a teenager, before he even had anything to hide.

Maria stayed away from the apartment but insisted she didn’t want to be a secret friend, and that she and Kip would still be attending the graduation. Kyle was allowed four tickets and reluctantly agreed, although he insisted they were better off with minimal contact. So, he now stood at the edge of the stage in his blue cap and gown with the knowledge that his parents and his two best friends were in the audience, seated separately but all there to see him get this diploma.

Kyle’s hands shook and his heart raced, and he felt a storm spinning inside him. He was proud of himself, he was, and tried to focus on that. He was graduating from an Ivy League university for fucks sake. But as the history major in front of him began her walk across the stage, Kyle just felt completely lost. What was he doing here? What was this degree for? He couldn’t envision a future for himself where any of this would matter at all. Not a future he actually wanted, anyway.

“Kyle Swift!”

He planted a broad smile on his face and crossed the stage with long, confident strides. He shook hands firmly with the head of the History Department, the dean, and the university president. He looked out at the audience, found his mother, and held up his diploma so she could get a picture. He exchanged a curt nod with his father. He saw Kip and Maria cheering for him and waved at them. When Kyle returned to his seat, he was gritting his teeth so hard he thought they would crack.

After the ceremony was over, he moved with his fellow graduates to the lawn outside the venue. Then they all seemed to find him at once, and his worlds collided and Kyle suddenly felt like his skin was too tight. His mother hugged him and he breathed.

“I’m so proud of you, baby. You’re going places.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

He pulled away from her, and met two stern chips of ice. A firm handshake.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Dad.”

“I texted you about the photographer, right Kyle? We can meet her at the park, then head to dinner before-“

“Kyle!”

He turned and Kyle was so happy to see them, but not now and not here. Kip wrapped hm in a bear hug, while Maria managed to contain herself and extended her hand to Kyle’s mother, who shook it warmly, then his father, who did the same but without smiling.

“Hi, my name is Maria Villanueva, and this is Christopher Grady. We’re really good friends with Kyle and both so happy for him.”

“Yeah, sorry,” said Kip, and he was blushing a little as he pulled away from Kyle. “Congratulations, buddy.”

“Thanks guys. Uhm…yeah, these are my parents, Thomas and Elizabeth Swift. Mom, Dad, these two really are the best friends ever. Really supportive, especially this last semester.”

Kip shook hands with them both, as Maria smiled and said, “I’m a barista so I kept Kyle supplied with caffeine for every paper.”

His father’s brow furrowed slightly. “How did you all meet? Are you also students?”

“Oh, no. We met at The Kingfisher,” Kip said with a broad, dimpled smile. It was met with a blank look.

“That’s where I work, Dad. Bartending, remember? Kip and Maria are patrons and we became good friends pretty quickly. But Maria is in school too, for social work.”

“Ah,” his father said flatly.

“And Kip, what do you do?” his mother asked, always with more warmth in her voice to make up for his father’s coldness. It infuriated Kyle.

“Uhm…I have a BA in History, but I’m still looking for something to do in the field. For now I just have odd jobs. Food service.”

His father’s frown was deepening and Kip was starting to look uncomfortable, and Kyle needed these people to get the fuck away from each other right now. So of course, sweet and thoughtful and fucking clueless Kip asks, “Speaking of, are you guys planning to check out The Kingfisher this evening? Everyone there is really excited for Kyle, it would probably be quite a celebration.”

Kyle felt a wave of irritation. No…fury. And he didn’t want to direct it at Kip, because none of this was his fault. But he had already explained the plan. That his parents were particular. That they would eat at a Michelin star restaurant, then his mother wanted to see a Broadway show, and they would return to their hotel and then head straight back to Vermont in the morning. No mixing of worlds was ever supposed to happen. And wonderful Maria, she understood.

“Kip, they have plans as a family, remember? Broadway?”

“Oh, right! Elizabeth, Kyle said you wanted to see Waitress! It’s absolutely fantastic. Funny, heartwarming, excellent songs. I mean, Sara Bareilles, what’s not to love?”

“Oh…yes, thank you. We’re looking forward to it.”

Kyle found himself wishing Kip could just be a little more discrete, and then he felt fucking sick even thinking it. Because he would never want to change a single thing about Kip. So they needed to leave.

“Mom, you said something about a photographer? Do we need to go?”

“Oh, yes! Thank you, Kyle. We’ll need to get a car to Central Park, we shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

“See you guys,” Kyle said, hugging both of his best friends quickly, “Thank you for coming. Really, it…means a lot.”

Kyle didn’t give them a chance to respond as he followed quickly behind his parents. It was obvious he was trying to get away from them, and he just had to hope they wouldn’t take it personally. But by the looks on both of their faces, he thought they probably had.

The graduation photo shoot was completed with minimal drama, because Kyle kept his mouth shut and let his mother direct him. Still, all he could think was what an utter waste of time it was. His mother wanted an entire photo shoot and in the end would still choose exactly one picture to hang on the wall in the living room next to the pictures of his older brothers at their college graduations. They wasted the rest of the afternoon in Central Park, then made their way to the modern French restaurant his father had made a reservation at. The conversation stayed surface level, updates on other family members and Kyle’s final research projects, until the entrees were served. Then his mother asked a perfectly innocent question, and of course his father had to make it cruel.

“So, I feel like we still don’t know anything about your life here. Do you have any other friends?”

“Yeah Kyle, while we paid for you to attend an Ivy League university, did you manage to make any social connections with people outside of the food service industry?”

Kyle stiffened and his nostrils flared. “Maria is studying social work and Kip has the same degree as I do, and he wants to be, like, a teacher or something. Both are very respectable careers that are, like, completely undervalued by society.”

“Hmm,” his father responded. He took a sip of his drink, then added, “Next time you go to make that argument, don’t say ‘like’ so many times. It makes you sound uneducated.”

Kyle’s jaw clenched again, holding back all of the thoughts that raged to the forefront of his mind. After a tense, silent beat, his mother tried again. “So…did you connect with anyone in your program? Any idea what other people might be doing next?”

“I…have a few friends with the same specialization. Most of them are staying for the graduate program.”

“Of course! The graduate school conversation again. Let me just get my wallet out.” His father took a long swig of his old fashioned, and his mother gave him a sharp look.

“Tom, a master’s degree is perfectly reasonable if he eventually wants to get into academia. Which you certainly should with your writing!” She smiled at Kyle, trying to smooth it over as always.

Kyle took a breath, then a risk. “A break from full-time school might help me narrow down what I want to do next. Maria’s social work program had me thinking, maybe I could take some time to do something that actually helps people. There are study abroad programs teaching English and French in West Africa, and it would be valuable to be immersed in another culture for a while. It would help with my French fluency, too.”

“That’s a very clever way to frame going on vacation for a whole semester.”

Kyle couldn’t help but glare at his father. As if study abroad wasn’t an entire dedicated office at every university. As if he hadn’t specifically said he was looking for an opportunity to help people. Kyle knew four languages, and he would never understand this man in any of them. He noticed, with a bit of gratitude, that his mother also gave his father another very icy look.

“Tom, there are a lot of valuable life experiences that can only be had by spending time somewhere other than North America or Europe. If he’s going to curate exhibits someday, it would be beneficial to have seen some diverse culture in person.”

His father narrowed his eyes sharply at Kyle. “Museum exhibits? So is that still what you want to do?”

“Yeah, maybe…” Kyle stammered a little bit, because he knew that was a lie. “It also might be interesting to go somewhere else and teach English. I’m not sure, that’s why I would appreciate the opportunity to try different things.”

His father raised his eyebrows slightly, as if in disbelief that Kyle would have the audacity to be uncertain about his future at age twenty-two. He finally said, “Apply to graduate programs first, see if you get in and how much it will end up costing me. Then maybe we’ll discuss study abroad.”

“Okay,” Kyle said stiffly, taking a sip of red wine. He was sharing a bottle with his mother, while his father had finished several whiskey cocktails. He was also picking at a plate of salmon that he was sure must be incredibly delicious, but Kyle could barely stomach it.

“Maybe we can take a trip together after all,” his mother finally said, to fill the silence. “I know how much you enjoyed Paris, it just wasn’t feasible to join you over the holidays. Busy time.”

“Right….” Kyle didn’t know why he asked the next question. He shouldn’t have, but wishful thinking overtook the logical, calculated manner he always tried to approach these interactions. “So, this year…are things…different now? Could I…come?”

They both stared at him, his mother’s eyes wide and his father’s narrow slits. Kyle’s stomach knotted and he immediately wanted to claw back the words, because it was so obvious that he was an idiot for asking.

“The holidays traditions are the same, Kyle,” his mother said carefully, “The Christmas Eve party. The family dinner party. Everyone expects it. We can’t just…change the plan, it would be too disruptive.”

“I understand. I’m not asking to change any of your plans, I was just wondering if everything was…staying the same. Now that I’ve graduated.”

His father cleared his throat, and Kyle met his stare but his heart raced in his throat and he thought he might be sick. His father’s voice was tight when he spoke, “The decision for you to stay away from Shaw wasn’t an arbitrary punishment, Kyle. It’s not a disciplinary measure that gets lifted with good behavior. It was a natural consequence of your choices. Obviously what happened was unfortunate, but we can’t deny that it made people uncomfortable. People who don’t want to be reminded of it.”

Kyle crossed his arms and tried to breathe as he made his last, pitiful argument, “It was four years ago. Haven’t people moved on?”

His mother reached her hand across the table, but he pretended not to notice and kept his arms crossed. She said softly, “Yes, Kyle. It’s mostly forgotten about. But if you came, if they all saw you…it would just bring it all back up again. A visit home wouldn’t be pleasant for you, baby.”

“I understand where you’re coming from.”

Kyle couldn’t actually hear his own flat response over the rushing sound of his blood pumping that filled his ears. His vision tunneled and he focused on his mother’s pearl earring and breathed. He managed a sip from his wine glass. He stared at his plate, trying to will himself to take another bite of salmon, to just keep up the act and be fucking normal. But he couldn’t even pick up the fork. After about a minute, Kyle excused himself from the table, hoping it wasn’t obvious that he was fleeing from the effect of their words.

Thank fuck it was a single-person restroom. Kyle closed and locked the door and then slid right to the floor, head between his knees. He felt dizzy. He felt nauseous. Fuck, why was he like this? He knew all of this information. He knew these people, the twisted logic of their choices. They had given him no reason to expect anything to change. So why did it feel like such a shock to his system? He didn’t even want to go to their formal, stuffy, boring Christmas party. Why did he always freak out over nothing?

He’s so needy

He’s just sensitive

He’s a spoiled brat

He’s too thin-skinned

He’s a whiny little bitch

He was emotionally manipulated

He’s an emo faggot

Kyle knew it wasn’t nothing. That it was twenty years of all their voices. Of trying to keep all of his emotions to himself until he just couldn’t anymore. The constant worry that he was both too much, and not enough. And now he knew concretely that it was true. Because Kyle hadn’t been able to keep his emotions under control, because he’d been so needy, it was true. He was too much. He was not enough. That would never change.

It was a truth that cut through the storm. Along with a sharp pain, because he was pinching the web between his thumb and pointer finger. It was a trick he’d learned a while ago. It hurt, and the pain kept Kyle from completely spinning out, which was not an option right now. He was already keenly aware that he had been in here too long and he would be inviting questions if it took much longer for him to get back to the table. So he forced himself to accept that there was nothing he could say or do to change their minds. He would preform his role. Finish the dinner. Watch the musical. Say goodbye. Early in the morning, his parents would drive back to their big country estate in Shaw, Vermont, which Kyle would never see again.

Kyle came out of the bathroom and kept his expression carefully controlled. There were no questions, because it’s not as if they wanted to know if he’d been upset by what they said. He choked down a few bites of salmon and managed to convince them he liked it. His mother ordered a fancy dessert to share, he ate it and praised it and thanked them for the celebratory dinner.

Watching the musical was one of the most bizarre experiences of Kyle’s life. Theater was designed to evoke emotion, and he responded appropriately based on how he was expected to feel. Laughing at the humor, sharing looks with his mother during the sad parts when her eyes welled up. He also became painfully aware of some ironic parallels between her life and the main character in Waitress. And he experienced all of that on a thin, flat, precarious surface, while a roiling ocean churned just underneath with nowhere to go.

“How was the show?”

“Great,” Kyle said flatly, peeling off his suit jacket and dropping it on the floor next to his shoes. He moved into the kitchen of the apartment without turning on the light and picked a bottle of gin from the selection on the counter.

“Kyle…are you okay?” Maria was in her pajamas and bathrobe, and looking up at him with big brown eyes full of such warm concern that it made him dizzy all over again. Kyle intended to make a gin and tonic, but he took two fingers straight first. Then he poured another and added the ice and tonic.

“I haven’t seen them in four years. It was just weird. I don’t want to-“

“Talk about it. I know, Kyle. You never go back to Vermont and you don’t talk about why. But you’re obviously not okay! And you’re not alone, you can talk to me about anything!”

“I am alone!” he yelled at her from the kitchen. So sensitive. So dramatic. “Maria, I’m so fucking lonely. And they know. They just don’t care enough to make it safe for me there!”

She stared at him with dark, watery eyes, and slowly approached. He hunched his shoulders. “Kyle…babe…why? What is it? Are they just that homophobic? Or…were they abusive? Or…?”

Fucking Maria. She was born to be a social worker, to get to the bottom of problems and find a way through them. She wouldn’t let up. Kyle swigged the rest of his drink and made another, then sank to the floor, leaning against the cabinets.

“Maria, I did something bad. So bad that it’s been four years and they can still barely stand the sight of me.”

She sat next to him on the floor as Kyle fumbled through the whole story. Maria was so sweet and understanding and indignant on his behalf, and she was already the best friend he had ever had. But her sympathy made him sick, and he couldn’t look at her as he was talking. Kyle ended up lying with his head in her lap as Maria gently stroked his hair.

“I saw his daughter once. I was heading to the office, and I think she was at her bus stop. It was raining. I wanted to offer her a ride, but it would’ve been weird. She didn’t know me. I just…felt bad. When I got in I tried to talk to Ian, to end it because I didn’t want to hurt his kids…then he confused the shit out of me saying he wanted to leave town together and ended up giving me a blow job. He had me convinced for another three weeks, then my dad was in my room screaming about leaked photos. Later we found out his wife sent them out, but I didn’t know if it had been Ian recording us or what. The last time I saw him was on our front lawn, he came to try to…I don’t know…smooth things over. My dad got a few punches in. I don’t remember much after that. A lot of yelling. I stayed in my room most of the time. I was already planning to come here for school, so by the end of the summer my parents had decided it was a permanent move. That I was not welcome to come back. And apparently…that is never going to change.”

He stopped talking. He could hear her sniffling and it piled onto his guilt. Maria hadn’t asked for any of this. She had moved in with Kyle hoping for space, for boundaries, and here he was sucking the life out of her too because he was so pathetically needy. But she raked her fingers through his hair and held him, and he had to admit that it felt like something he really, really needed. Eventually, she spoke softly,

“That’s so fucked. So fucked. All of it. All those grown-ass people and they just…just…fucked you over? You were the victim of a predator!”

“No, no…I wasn’t…he didn’t force me. I chose, I kept the secret and kept going back even though I knew how wrong it was!” Kyle curled into himself, his voice finally shredding as the guilt broke through the numb flatness. Maria kept one arm around his shoulders, and with the other she took his hand and squeezed it.

“Kyle…you were still a kid, that guy obviously manipulated you! And the wife making pictures fucking public? That’s exploitation! That should be illegal! I can’t believe you even still talk to your parents when they sent you away after a trauma like that!”

“It wasn’t trauma. Come on, Maria, people go through actual real abusive shit. It was a fucking choice.” His voice was cracking and his whole body was trembling under her hands, and Kyle thought he might be scaring her. He scared himself when he got like this, and no one had ever witnessed him unraveling before. He tried to breathe as hot tears started rolling, and a choked sob escaped his clenched teeth.

“Oh, Kyle…baby…you deserved better from them. You deserve better now. You deserve better.”

She repeated those words as Kyle’s body finally gave in to full sobbing. Maria really believed that, and she probably thought it would help, but it didn’t. Kyle just couldn’t believe her. He could hardly breathe, and when he caught a breath his voice came out like a wail of grief. He lost all sense of time and felt like he was falling, but he also felt Maria’s hand tight around his own and for the first time ever, Kyle wasn’t falling alone.

Chapter End Notes

The more I write, the more I realize how much happens off-page between Game Changers and Common Goal that I want to examine more closely! CG mentions that Maria knows about Kyle’s past while Kip doesn’t, and that Kyle has never gone back to Vermont, but his parents have visited him. So I wanted to examine how all of that would play out, and show how exactly much Maria and Kyle mean to one another.

Chapter 5: The Asshole

Chapter Summary

Kyle has to stand up for himself and deal with a few assholes…including the old, grouchy one at work who won’t keep his hairy eyebrows out of Kyle’s damn business.

Chapter Notes

Kyle spent the next several months after his graduation feeling a little…adrift. He still worked full-time at the bar, and applied and was accepted into Columbia’s graduate school. Specifically for Ancient Art History, a specialization he would one day, with the help of a therapist, realize he chose mostly to spite his father. But for now he convinced himself that someday he would actually want whatever the fuck came next after grad school. He also managed to convince his mother that he needed a slower pace at this advanced level, and got away with only two classes for the first semester.

Kyle didn’t bother bringing up study abroad again. He preferred not to even think back to that awful dinner where he begged them for scraps and was completely dismissed. Grad school and the apartment were enough. Secretly, he also worried about what would happen if he left the country for a few months. Kyle had just started forming a real community, making real friends, and he was afraid of returning from a semester abroad to find everyone had moved on from him. That terrifying thought was enough to drop the subject. His mother obviously felt guilty and suggested maybe he take another trip over the summer, at her expense of course. Spain this time, or somewhere in Central or South America where he could practice Spanish. And although it was tempting, Kyle ultimately turned her down because of Brian.

For most of the summer Brian had Kyle fully convinced that he was just a late bloomer, newly exploring his sexuality although he was in his late forties. He came into the bar with another guy one night, looking a bit like Ryan Gosling if he went fully gray. Kyle assumed it was a date, but then the other guy left and Brian introduced himself, claiming his friend had brought him to a gay bar for the first time. His whole shy awkward act drew Kyle right in and tempted him into teaching the man a thing or two.

The sex was great because Kyle pretty much dictated everything that happened in the bedroom of his fancy minimalist apartment. Brian worked in finance so he had plenty of money to spend on Kyle, which was always fun. His career was also the perfectly reasonable explanation that he gave for being partially closeted and limiting their public outings.

The first weird thing happened in late August, about two months into whatever they were doing. Brian had offered to take Kyle to his beach house in the Hamptons when he had a few consecutive days off. Kyle had to fight back his giddiness at being taken on a beachside getaway by a sexy older man. They met at Brian’s apartment for a quick fuck before they hit the road, then when they were ready to leave Brian’s phone connected to his car and started playing a Ms. Rachel song about big feelings.

“The fuck, dude?” Kyle said, cocking his eyebrow as Brian scrambled to stop the music.

“That’s so weird, I have no idea…you know what it was, I saw her supporting a charity thing on Instagram and wanted to know what her whole deal was before I sent money.”

Then Brian insisted Kyle plug his phone in and play DJ instead, and he forgot all about the children’s songs as he spent the whole drive introducing Brian to essential music of his formative years. This included the full albums of American Idiot, The Black Parade, and A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out.

The beach was gorgeous and ‘mansion’ was a more accurate word for the ‘beach house.’ Brian hired a private chef for the weekend, although Kyle insisted on being in charge of cocktails. Brian liked barefoot running so Kyle reluctantly woke up early the first morning to go for a run on the beach with him. He eventually ended up shoving him into the water and they made out in the surf. Back in the house Kyle was looking for bath towels instead of beach towels, when the next weird thing happened. He found a large closet filled with toys. Shelves with those cube-shaped baskets all stuffed full, a bookshelf filled with picture books, and a net tacked to the ceiling overflowing with stuffed animals.

“Hey, what’re you looking for?” Brian said, coming up behind Kyle to wrap strong arms around his waist.

“Uh…just towels. Who does this stuff belong to?”

“My sister,” Brian said. He kissed Kyle’s neck. “We both use the place, but don’t worry. I made sure she wouldn’t be bringing her kids here this week.”

“That would be ideal…especially if you want to do this here.” Kyle closed the closet door and planted his hands flat against it, smirking at Brian to indicate he would be perfectly happy to do this here. So the older man fucked him against the closet door, then afterwards told Kyle about the jet skis in the boathouse that technically belonged to his teenage nephews, but they could take out for a spin. They spent the rest of the trip fucking, riding the jet skis, or laying on the beach. He didn’t think about that closet again.

Back in Manhattan two weeks later, Kyle woke up and overheard Brian hissing into his phone from the en suite bathroom in his apartment.

“I told you, I’m stuck in San Diego. I’m sorry I can’t make it to every game.”

Okay, so…he was outright lying to someone. That was definitely weird. But maybe it was work-related, and the excuse was to get his dickhead boss off his ass or something. But…what kind of ‘game’ would be related to finance?

When Brian returned to the bed, Kyle rolled over like he’d just woken up. “Hey.”

“Hey, pretty boy,” Brian kissed him, and Kyle kissed him back and did not reveal how that nickname suddenly made his stomach twist.

“Hey gorgeous. What’s your schedule like the next few weeks?”

Brian opened his calendar on his phone, while Kyle pulled out his own and squinted at his screen. Then he squinted at Brian’s and pulled it closer to see the small calendar. Finally, he said, “Would you mind looking for my glasses in the living room? I was reading out there. I can’t see shit.”

“Sure, babe.”

Brian rose from the bed, and the naive idiot left his phone unlocked right in Kyle’s hand. He quickly swiped to the photos, a growing sense of dread in his stomach. And there they were. Almost all of the recent pictures were of kids. Three of them, at least - a toddler girl, a dark-haired boy, maybe seven or eight years old, and a surly looking teenage boy. And lots of pictures of the same dark-haired woman, including posed smiling pictures of all five of them as recently as two weeks ago. Kyle ripped the blanket off and had pulled his jeans on before Brian came back into the room, obviously unable to find Kyle’s glasses because they were still in his backpack. Kyle held up the phone with one of the family pictures.

“You have fucking kids?!”

After a brief but explosive argument, Kyle rode the subway home red-faced, tearful, raging, and heartbroken, but at least mostly sure that he had done the right thing. Maria was there to affirm that point when he got home, and although she had an I told you so face, she let Kyle wallow and made sure he was more angry at the cheating asshole than he was at himself. He never saw Brian again.

In the aftermath of a summer of being lied to and treated like shit, Kyle wasn’t in the mood for Gus when he came out of the back one afternoon in early fall. He took one look at Kyle, who had recently taken to wearing tight white tshirts to work (he claimed they were just easy to clean, but he’d learned by now the effect his body had on the right kind of man) and said, “What are you, a T-bird? What’s up with this new Danny Zuko look?”

“What would that make you, a fucking Model T?” Kyle snapped back as he started stacking glasses. “I’m not wearing a costume, it’s just easier to bleach out the stale beer and grease smell so my apartment doesn’t reek of this place.”

“Oh, okay. So it has nothing to do with trying to pick up men the same age as John Travolta?”

Kyle stopped with a pint glass in his hand and glared at Gus. Usually he didn’t mind the banter, but he was in a fucking mood.

“What are you even talking about? Fuck off. We all leave here smelling disgusting just because you only want nasty greasy food on your menu.”

Gus rolled his eyes, “If you bring up fucking cauliflower again, I swear to-“

“It’s a thing, Gus! Pizza crust! Buffalo wings! Mac n cheese! Lucy is a good chef, she could make all kinds of shit and accommodate people who are gluten-free or vegan or whatever.”

“Well, what if I don’t want those kind of people in here?”

Kyle’s nostrils flared, because it seemed like Gus was instigating an argument for no reason, and that felt infuriatingly familiar. He stopped prepping and put one hand on his hip, counting on his fingers exaggeratedly with the other as he said, “Then, one, you’re an asshole because people have all kinds of dietary issues for all kinds of reasons. Two, you don’t respect Lucy’s talent enough to let her actually have any fun back there. And three, you’re an idiot who doesn’t care about making any money!”

“I’ve been making money from this place as long as you’ve been alive!”

Aram came in just as Kyle hollered across the bar, “You always fucking say that when you know I’m right! You are such a motherfucking asshole!”

“Woah, dude. What are you guys fighting about?”

Kyle seethed for a silent beat, then stormed past Gus and Aram and toward the door, snarling, “Cauliflower.” Then he took a walk.

He returned an hour later with a matcha latte for Aram. There were still twenty minutes to opening, but the other bartender had finished all the prep. Gus wasn’t in the bar anymore and Kyle hoped he would just keep to his cave of an office like he usually did.

“Thanks man, but…you don’t owe me an apology,” Aram said over his latte.

“Fuck you. And fuck Gus. I’m not apologizing for shit, that’s just a thank you for letting me walk it off.”

“Did it help?”

“Eh. It would help more if Gus gave a single fuck about anything I said. He better just stay off my back, I’m not in the mood for anyone’s bullshit tonight.”

Kyle was off at midnight, and at 11:40 his shitty night got worse. He was working on a round of six different cocktails when he heard a vaguely familiar Québécois accent, and looked up in dawning horror just to lock eyes with Claude.

Fucking Claude. He’d been the next asshole after Brian, but luckily it had just been for one night. He’d caught Kyle’s attention with that accent, and Kyle had decided to be clever and greet him in French. Claude had been intrigued, and although he mostly talked about himself, his work as an installation artist seemed pretty cool and he knew a lot about certain fringes of the New York art scene as well. The sex at Kyle’s apartment after his shift was similar to the conversation - fine, but Claude was mostly interested in Claude. They both got off though and Kyle didn’t mind passing out with their long, wiry limbs all tangled together.

At least, not until the next morning when Kyle was very rudely jerked awake before ten, with loud cursing in both English and French as Claude yanked on his clothes. Apparently he was working some bullshit studio event that he was running late for. Then he started yelling and swearing at Kyle, which Maria absolutely would not stand for because,

“Your poor time management is so incredibly NOT Kyle’s problem! And nobody curses us out in our own home, so get the hell out of here, tu con!”

She had held the door open and glared at Claude as he stormed out, pulling on his layers of shirts and billowy scarf. Maria locked the door behind him, and didn’t even give Kyle shit for hooking up with yet another selfish asshole. She gave him a look, sure, but then a hug and started making them both coffee. At the kitchen counter over the coffee and a bowl of Cocoa Rice Krispies, Kyle swore to himself and Maria that he would be more discerning next time.

And there would not be any ‘next time’ with Claude, who despite how they parted ways was now smirking at Kyle alongside the friend he’d brought in with him. The other guy had shaggy, sandy hair and a hipster vibe that he seemed a little old for. He was definitely older than Claude, at least late thirties. Instead of approaching the bar where he was working, they sat at an empty table, still eyeing Kyle. They obviously wanted him to come to them. Assholes.

He debated asking Will, another bartender working the 7p-3a shift, to take the table instead since he was leaving soon. But Kyle had already bailed for an hour after his shouting match with Gus, so he’d feel like an asshole if he also passed off obnoxious customers. He sighed and walked over to their table. Keeping his expression and his voice completely flat, Kyle asked, “Can I get you anything?”

Claude’s friend very obviously looked him up and down and said, “How about a tall glass of water?” Then he caught Kyle’s eye and his expression and added, “Oooh…with ice.”

He had what Kyle thought of as a more typical Canadian accent, not French-accented like Claude. And he wasn’t hideous. But there was something about him that set Kyle on edge...or maybe he just felt like being bitchy tonight.

“One ice water. Anything you’ll actually pay for?”

“The service was not this rude last time I came in here, mon pote,” Claude said with a sideways glance at his friend.

Kyle sneered and seethed but didn’t respond to the bait. Claude finally ordered them two shots and two beers, and Kyle turned away without another word. He took his time checking in on other tables, taking more orders with a much friendlier demeanor. He eventually made his way back with their drinks, and set them on the table without a word.

Claude leaned forward and said, “What happened to that friendly bartender who was so proud of his French? Où est-il?”

“He doesn’t like getting screamed at first thing in the morning after a mediocre fuck.”

Claude’s friend barked out a laugh, and tossed back his double shot of whiskey. Then he locked dark, narrow eyes on Kyle again and said, “What about a better, more experienced fuck? I’d be nicer to you than this asshole. That is…as long as you’re nice to me.”

“And trade in one arrogant Canadian prick for another? No thanks.”

“We wouldn’t make you choose, handsome,” Claude said, “Us two pricks work well together. Forget Canada, we could take you to Paris. La Tour Eiffel.”

The other guy added, “Claude tells me you’re a total freak. I’d like to see you back up his claim,” and he grabbed Kyle’s ass. Kyle slapped his hand away hard.

“Don’t touch me. I’m not interested in spending any more time with either of you, much less both.”

The shaggy-haired asshole narrowed his eyes again and looked over at his friend. “What do you think, Claude? If we worked together, both of us could probably get him out of here whether he was interested or not, eh?”

“What the fuck?! Alright, you’re done. Get out. Now.” Kyle instinctively pulled his shoulders back, trying to make himself appear larger and pointing to the door while stepping backwards, away from them.

“Hey, I was just jerking your chain, kid,” and with a smirk, the asshole fucking did. He yanked hard on Kyle’s wallet chain, which caused Kyle to stumble, the belt loop on his most worn out jeans to tear, and the chain to dangle ineffectually from his pocket. Kyle saw red.

“I said don’t fucking TOUCH ME!” Before he consciously chose to do it, his fist was connecting with the asshole’s face. The guy lurched back with a loud curse but remained in his chair, so Kyle decided to add one more punch for good measure, knocking him to the floor.

“Woah, killer!” A hand grabbed his arm and he reflexively jerked his elbow back, but the arm was strong and Kyle recognized the voice just in time, because if he’d accidentally hurt Kip he probably never would have forgiven himself.

Then Aram was in front of him, where Claude was posturing and the other asshole was getting up from the floor. “You don’t fuck with Kyle, and you definitely don’t fuck with me. Go ahead! Try it, bitch!”

Kip pulled Kyle back behind the bar where he was definitely not supposed to be as a customer, and started scooping ice into a plastic glove. Kyle said, “What are you doing?”

“Dude, look at your hand!” Kyle did. Three knuckles were torn open and streaked with red, and he suddenly felt the sharp pain of it. He started trembling a little bit and slid down to the floor next to the freezer. Then the double doors to the back burst open, and Gus charged past them.

“What the FUCK is going on?!”

Kip sat down next to Kyle on the floor and pressed the cloth-wrapped ice over his hand. He’d have to throw that towel away, Kyle thought vaguely, unless maybe he could bleach it out. If Gus let him. He could hear Gus’s raised voice, and Aram’s, and the two assholes arguing and claiming assault and threatening to call the police. He felt tears leak from the corners of his eyes even though he still felt pretty numb. “I’m so fucked….”

“No. No Kyle, no fucking way. They were harassing you.”

“I’m gonna get fired. I’m gonna get arrested. I’m so fucking fucked.”

Kip wrapped his arm tightly around Kyle’s shoulders, and put their faces way too close together and met his eye with way too much intensity. “This is not your fault. They harassed you. They wouldn’t leave. I saw it, everyone saw it.”

Gus was already making his stance very clear, very loudly. “So as I understand it you came in here looking to harass my staff. You were asked to leave, and chose not to. Then you physically assaulted him and he defended himself. So call the fucking cops. You think a room full of faggots this old don’t know how to talk down a few cops?”

There were echos from the regulars, Gus’s people, like “Call ‘em, bitch,” and “We saw it all,” and “Kyle should’ve decked both of you.”

There was a stream of curses in both English and French and the sound of the door. Kyle suddenly felt like he was hiding, and wasn’t sure why he was so afraid to stand up when it seemed like everyone was on his side.

“Where’d he go?” they heard Gus say quietly. Kip stood up and tugged on Kyle’s arm to make him get up too. He felt the eyes of everyone in the whole bar on him, but he could only look at his boss, trying not to appear as panicked as he felt. It didn’t work, but he was safe here anyway.

“You’re not in trouble kid! Shit, come here. For fuck’s sake….” Gus wrapped one arm around Kyle in what was unmistakably a hug, careful to avoid his bloodied hand, which was the last thing Kyle had expected. Gus said quietly into his ear, “You handled that shit. You did good.”

He let go quickly and nodded his head to the doors. “C’mon back here. And Grady, unless you’re looking for a third job, get the fuck out from behind my bar.”

Kip switched places with Aram behind the bar, but instead of going back to his barstool and his beer, he slung his bag over his shoulder and followed them through the double doors to the back. This elicited a scoff and an eyeroll from Gus, but he didn’t comment. Kyle sat in the chair in his office while Kip leaned against the wall, and Gus brought out a first aid kit and a roll of white bandage tape. He started wrapping Kyle’s hand and asked, “Did you know those guys?”

“One of them,” Kyle said tightly.

Gus bandaged his knuckles in silence, then replaced the wrapped bag of ice. He leaned back on his desk and finally said with a slightly furrowed brow, “You okay, kid? Is there something going on with you?”

“I’m fine. It was just that fucking guy.”

“Kyle…” Kip said from behind him, his voice so heartbreakingly gentle that Kyle wanted to shout at him for doing this in front of Gus. “It’s not just that one guy.”

Kyle crossed his arms and set his jaw and didn’t speak. It suddenly felt like he was being interrogated, but these two so obviously cared about him. It was…disturbing. Somehow Gus tuned into at least part of Kyle’s inner world when he said, “A few weeks ago I overheard this one talking with your two girlfriends about how much of a dick your old man is.”

Kyle narrowed his eyes and finally turned to look at Kip, who glared right back, unbothered. “Oh, like it’s some big fucking secret?”

“So what? He doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Kyle said, uncrossing his arms and flexing the fingers of his injured hand instead.

“Oh. Like he doesn’t have anything to with that crypt keeper who kept slinking in here all summer looking for you? I have eyes everywhere, T-bird.”

Kyle’s whole body felt tense and tight and his hand fucking hurt so bad and it was his own stupid fault, and now this? “Are you trying to say I have daddy issues, Gus? Get fucked!”

“Goddamnit Kyle. It doesn’t take a fucking rocket scientist to make the connection between an abusive dick, and narcissistic assholes who keep you on the hook and treat you like shit.”

“Don’t you mean, like, a psychologist?” Both Kyle and Gus looked over at Kip, whose eyebrows were furrowed. “Well, what the fuck would a rocket scientist know about family trauma and toxic relationships?”

All three of them were silent for several long moments, until finally Gus said, “Fuck you, Grady!”

Then Kyle was doubled over in the old wooden chair, laughing his ass off. “Oh my God, Kip! What the fuck?”

“I’m serious though! Not a psychologist, but like, a therapist or whatever. Maybe that would help?”

“Grady, after how long you’ve been friends you really think this one is going to talk to a damn shrink about his sex life?”

“Fuck no I won’t! I don’t even want you to say those words! Please stop talking!”

“Calm down, T-bird, Jesus. You know that’s not what it’s about anyway. Look…the day you came in here looking for a job, you asked me a question that I never answered. Do you remember?”

Kyle furrowed his brow and wracked his brain, but he couldn’t. He also couldn’t imagine how whatever it was could be relevant now. He shook his head.

“You asked me if Augustus King was my real name. It is, but it’s not the one I was born with. I was born someone completely different. To people who…didn’t understand shit.” 

Gus took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes again. He heaved a huge sigh, and Kyle and Kip remained silent. Finally, he continued,

“I’m really not trying to tell you what to do, kid. Or how you should feel. I’m just saying…sometimes you need to leave shit behind. Not push it all down like you’ve been doing, but make the conscious choice to leave it in the past and move on. Does that…do you…get what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, Gus. Yeah. I get it.” Kyle rubbed a rough hand across his own eyes. He felt a hand in his shoulder, and Kip was right there. And Gus was right there. And he felt safer with them than he had in a long, long time. But Kyle was still himself, so once he pulled his shit together he added, “But fuck you for telling me to ‘move on’ when most of the shit in this office predates Y2K.”

“God, you little asshole. Get the fuck out of here. Grady, you got him? You’ll make sure he gets home?”

“I don’t need anyone to-“

“Yes, absolutely. I’ll get him home.”

And Kip did get Kyle home. And Kyle actually talked to him a little bit about his family. He didn’t tell Kip about Ian - not after Brian, and Claude and all the other assholes. He already knew Kip thought he was a total mess without the whole sordid story. But he did talk about his dad, and feeling inadequate and rejected, and how that probably led him to turn to older men. And Kip listened, and empathized, and insisted it wasn’t Kyle’s fault that these guys lied to him. When they got back to the apartment, Kip stayed for ice cream and shit-talking exes with Maria, and finally gave in to sleeping over on the couch. Kyle barely thought about sex with Kip at all, and in the morning (well, around noon) he made them all pancakes. He was just so grateful to have all of these friends who had his back at the end of the day. Plus one old, grouchy asshole who, as it turns out, could also be a decent friend when he wanted to be.

Chapter End Notes

In Common Goal, Kyle has a clear pattern of seeking out older men and describes having been lied to and manipulated multiple times. While it implies this started with Ian, my theory is that it all started with his father. Ian was just the first adult male to provide enough emotional safety for him to come out to. And Kyle continues to look for that missing emotional safety in anyone he can, but hasn’t found it for real (yet 😉). So unfortunately, Kyle has to go through a lot of angst and brooding before finally starting to notice these patterns. And he also needs the help of a completely different type of adult male figure to give him permission to start letting go of his family’s expectations.

Chapter 6: The First Hockey Player

Chapter Summary

It’s the 2017 playoff season. The New York Admirals are on fire while the Calgary Outlaws are out, which Kyle couldn’t care less about except it means that Casey Hicks is free to visit for his birthday weekend. The timing couldn’t be better, because Kip has been increasingly weird and Kyle has been increasingly unsure of how to handle it. Casey provides the perfect distraction.

Chapter Notes

I’ve now looped back on my own timeline, because I wrote Kyle and Casey’s first encounter as a prequel chapter in the last fic of this series. Unfortunately I can’t rearrange it now without messing up the story themes and such, but this standalone chapter covers the night they meet, after Valentine’s Day 2017: Ch. 6 Casey

All you really need to know for this chapter to make sense is that they met at the Kingfisher and Kyle took Casey home for the night, and had no idea he was a famous NHL player until Maria recognized him the following morning. They exchanged numbers and Casey borrowed a book as an excuse to come back.

Kyle: Did you?

Casey: No. But fuck, this is hard.

Kyle: I bet ur fucking hard. I am.

Casey: Yeah I’m hard. I’m leaking. I wanna cum all over this fucking phone. These pictures are incredible, ur so hot

Kyle: Not yet. One more time, bring yourself to the edge and stop. Don’t cum

Casey: Fuck you Kyle

Kyle: You can do it ur Casey fucking Hicks. And I’ll give you a reward

Casey: I could lie

Kyle: You would cheat to win? I thought you were a professional.

Kyle couldn’t believe he was sexting with an actual real-life professional athlete. An NHL all-star, which was apparently some kind of big deal. Ice hockey maybe wasn’t the sexiest of all sports, but it had given Casey Hicks the most gorgeously toned body, several pictures of which Kyle scrolled through while he slowly stroked his own rock-hard cock and worked himself up to the edge for the second time. He let go, back arched as he lay on his bed trying to be quiet because Maria was watching TV in the other room. Kyle had bailed on her and Bravo because Casey said he was bored in a hotel room.

Casey: I stopped

Casey: but fuck you. What’s my reward?

Kyle: just wait. Might want headphones

Kyle bit his lip and felt a little guilty, but he’d try not to be too loud. He laid his phone on the pillow next to his head and hit ‘record’ on a voice note, then start stroking his cock fast and hard and squeezing his balls, panting and moaning. He was certainly playing it up for the phone, but it grew increasingly less performative as his climax built. The white spurts of Kyle’s finish shot up onto his stomach and he groaned out, “Casey…fuck…fuck me, Casey….”

After catching his breath for a second, he stopped the recording and sent it. Kyle wiped himself off with his discarded tshirt and threw it in the laundry pile, then waited for his phone to buzz.

Casey: holy fuck Kyle how are you so hot

Casey: I actually got cum on my phone

Casey: can I? On your birthday?

Kyle: What?

Casey: You know what. I want to fuck you. Can I?

Kyle: I don’t know, can you?

Casey: ?

Casey: Wait is that a grammar thing? You ivy league bitch

Kyle: Well insulting me isn’t the way to get what you want

Casey: Fine. Kyle, may I please fuck you on your birthday?

Kyle: Why yes, you may. Can’t wait 😉 See you in six days

It was not a big deal at all that Casey Hicks was flying from Calgary to New York specifically to visit Kyle on his twenty-third birthday. After three months of DMs and sexting since their Valentine’s hookup, of course he would want the real thing again. Kyle had a particular set of skills that set him apart and he wasn’t ashamed of it. Plus Casey’s team had lost in the playoffs early, so he was bummed out and bored and needed cheering up. That’s all it was.

Kyle was in a pretty good place. He had slowed down his rate of spontaneous hookups, and tried to be more discerning. He had a couple of friends with benefits that he actually trusted - his weed dealer, a guy at his gym, and now Casey. He had also asked Maria to be honest if she thought he was being sexually impulsive for any angst-related reasons. He would have also filled Kip in on his new, healthier lifestyle choices, but…things between him and Kip had gotten weird.

Just as Kyle began to get over his crush and focus on building a real friendship with Kip, the other man had started sending mixed signals. At first he seemed to be pulling away. He’d already been acting shady for ages, randomly ditching them last minute or begging Elena to pretend he was staying with her if his Dad asked. He claimed he just needed space, but there was always something. On his twenty-sixth birthday in March they’d all thrown him a party, and Kyle noticed a few times when no one was talking directly to him, Kip had appeared close to tears. And since he never talked about anything other than grad school and his fanboy crush on some big shot hockey player who bought smoothies and was obviously straight, Kyle had no idea what might be going on with him. So when Kip sat at the bar alone and got shitfaced one night a couple of weeks after the birthday party, Kyle had tried really, really hard to do the right thing.

“Last call, sexy. You all set?”

Kyle had been so slammed with his tables that he hadn’t really noticed until just now that Kip was drunk. He immediately regretted the flirty nickname, which he hadn’t even thought about before it left his mouth, because suddenly Kip was giving him a look. A sort of…hazy look. Kyle hesitated, then said as innocuously as possible, “You going home?”

“Yep. Home. Brooklyn.”

Kip’s voice was slurring. He didn’t usually get this wasted, and his house wasn’t exactly around the corner.

“I could…walk with you to the subway?”

Kyle’s heart lurched as Kip gave him a slow, sexy smile and said, “Sure.”

“I’ll be done here in about twenty minutes. Then I’ll make sure you get home safe, okay? Drink this.”

Kyle slid a glass of water across the bar, thinking fast. He did want to make sure Kip got home safe. Kip had done the same for him when he was vulnerable and it was Kyle’s turn to be a good friend. But…Kip was looking at him in that way that Kyle had been imagining for two years. Maybe this was all because Kip had finally come to terms with his real feelings for Kyle, and he just needed some liquid courage and a little privacy to say so. That was maybe wishful thinking…but not impossible.

Kip was staring vacantly at the bar, eyes almost crossed when Kyle approached wearing his patched-up denim jacket. He helped Kip into his own, and absolutely forbade himself from any sexual thoughts. Besides, he was taking Kip home, where George was. His dad would take over and Kyle would leave firmly in the ‘good friend’ category.

“Come on, tipsy.”

Kip slid off the barstool and tilted sideways, forcing Kyle to catch him. He pulled Kip’s right arm over his shoulders, and curled his left around Kip’s waist to steady him.

“You have…good arms. Can’t help watching you carry those heavy trays. Hello, beautiful muscles.”

Kip squeezed Kyle’s bicep, and his head lolled against his shoulder, and Kyle cursed the universe and questioned all of his life choices because goddamnit alcohol ruined everything. If this was sober Kip, Kyle would be on him in a heartbeat. But it wasn’t. So for the next several minutes Kyle focused intently on getting them to the right subway station. Then Kip looked over at Kyle with a big, sleepy smile that showed off both dimples.

“Thank you, Kyle. You’re such a sweet guy.”

Their eyes met, and Kip didn’t look away, smile still plastered on his face. He was also walking independently and seemed a little more clearheaded now that they were in the brisk air outside. Kyle stopped on a corner, heart hammering, keeping his pale blue eyes locked on Kip’s dark ones.

“You are, too. You’re like…probably the nicest guy I’ve ever met. Except maybe your dad.”

Kip’s smile somehow broadened even more, and he had seemed so down lately, and now he was happy and grinning at Kyle and it really felt like they both liked each other so much.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Uhm…yeah.”

Kip’s voice was soft and a little uncertain, but Kyle just couldn’t resist anymore. He put one hand on the back of Kip’s head and gripped the front of his jacket with the other and brought their mouths together. He flicked his tongue curiously against Kip’s, and he responded, curling back with his own. Kyle bit Kip’s lower lip and pressed their bodies closer with a little moan. Then Kip backpedaled the same time he pushed Kyle away so hard he almost fell on his ass, totally taken off guard.

“Hey, what the fuck-?”

Then he saw Kip’s face. It had crumpled completely, tears leaking out both corners of his eyes. He half-turned away from Kyle, raking both hands through his dark curls. “Fuck!…I just can’t do this anymore….”

Anymore? That was…confusing. They’d never done this before, and as far as he knew Kip had never been quite as impulsive as Kyle, so what exactly was he regretting? It seemed like it had taken Kip somewhere completely different, because suddenly he snapped back to the present and looked at Kyle with wide, dark eyes.

“I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry Kyle…I wasn’t looking for…It’s not you at all, I swear, I just can’t….”

Kyle shook his head jerkily, fists clenched by his sides, his whole body tight. “No, I’m sorry. That was such a dick move. I’m sober and you’re not and you just wanted to get home and I completely took advantage of-“

Kip wrapped him in a bear hug, pinning Kyle’s arms, strong and tight and not in any way sexual. “Stop it, Kyle. You didn’t do anything wrong. I gave you signals that I definitely shouldn’t have and I forbid you from feeling guilty about it.”

He pulled away and looked up at Kyle with a tiny smile. Kyle smirked back, because there was his Kip. Nervous, goofy, with a huge heart and without that heat that had obviously originated somewhere else. His dark eyes were still wet, and Kyle really did just want him to feel better.

“Okay. No guilt. Forgotten, like it never happened.”

“Yeah…yeah. Thanks, Kyle.”

Kyle knew he would never, ever forget that kiss. But he kept that to himself. Kip insisted he was capable of navigating the subway home, so Kyle agreed to part at the station. But he made Kip promise to text when he got there safely and threatened to call George if he didn’t.

And thank fuck Maria was off this weekend and still awake when he got home. After swearing her to absolute secrecy, Kyle told her everything because he had no idea what the fuck just happened. And after spending the entire encounter stone sober, Kyle wanted to remedy that posthaste, so he made them both cosmos.

“Oh my God! Kyle it so wasn’t about you, he is in love with Scott Hunter!”

“I thought that was, like, a joke? Doesn’t he just buy smoothies all the time because he’s a superstitious weirdo?”

“That’s Kip’s bullshit excuse! But who the hell buys the same smoothie at the same place for two years?! And I’ve seen them, remember? He says his name, they were always looking at each other with those fuck-me eyes. I’ve been trying to tell you guys, it’s not a crush, it’s really happening!”

“I should’ve put that together, those smoothies are absolutely disgusting. But why does Kip have to keep lying to all of us? Especially when he’s so bad at it!”

“Kyle, hockey culture is kind of, like, toxic. And Hunter has tons of brand deals, plus he’s the team captain. If he came out as gay that would be a very big deal. So…maybe that explains tonight. Maybe the lying was too much, maybe it’s…over?”

Kyle’s heart sank thinking about Kip’s face after he’d kissed him. He was totally conflicted, full of regret…this theory honestly explained everything.

“I hope not,” he said quietly. “I mean…if they are together, or whatever, I really hope he just tells us. And that’s not the reason they break up. Why should they have to stay in the closet?”

Maria just stared at him for a long moment, then said, “Kyle, you won’t let me tell anyone about Casey Hicks and it’s eating me alive!”

“He’s not out yet! And there’s always, like, paparazzi around and- Okay. Fuck. It’s literally the exact same thing.”

“Except you and Casey are long distance fuck buddies, whereas if my theory is correct, Kip and his Admiral have been doing this for years. It’s fucking tragic.”

“Yeah. Man, fuck hockey.”

“Yeah, sure, the year New York is actually in the playoffs. But fine, fuck hockey.”

Kip made himself scarce the next few weeks. Whether he was avoiding Kyle specifically or just caught up with his alleged hockey player, it wasn’t any of Kyle’s business. And he had a hockey player of his very own headed here right now to spend his whole birthday weekend together. Because she was a saint, Maria was staying with her family and would return on Sunday with the good bagels so she could see Casey before he left.

Casey landed on Friday and confirmed via text that he had both his phone and suitcase when he left the airport in a cab. He was taking longer than expected and Kyle was a little nervous that he had gotten lost somehow making his way over, but Casey was still in contact - updating him with a series of random pictures. A tiny and angry-looking dog, a van with a topless woman riding a dragon painted on the side, and a classic pigeon eating a french fry. Kyle couldn’t help but grin. He was so used to living in the city by now that he probably wouldn’t have noticed any of those things, but the blond Canadian-by-way-of-Florida simply found everything interesting, and Kyle found him adorable.

Remembering how much Casey had liked the fancy lemonade mocktail Kyle made for him at the bar on Valentine’s Day (the photo of which receiving more likes from Casey’s fans than everything Kyle had ever posted combined), he had made fresh lemonade. He had also concocted a bunch of condensed syrups and flavored tonics and other ‘fancy shit’ so he could show Casey how to mix his own. After the kitchen was ready, Kyle had turned on all of the low lamps in the living room and his own room even though it was still early afternoon. He would just call it sexy mood lighting, and if Casey was still a little embarrassed about wanting a light on later, he wouldn’t even have to ask.

Any nerves Kyle had were gone by the time he met Casey down in the lobby of his apartment building, and then he was just bemused. Casey was wearing a tshirt featuring cub Simba from The Lion King wearing his mane of red leaves. His long hair had flopped over to one side as he dragged a small rolling suitcase behind him, while struggling with a bulky rectangular package.

“Hi. Let me help you,” Kyle said with a broad smile, taking the box. He couldn’t quite call it ‘wrapped,’ but technically balloon-printed wrapping paper and excessive amounts of tape obscured the contents. It was heavier than he’d expected and he had absolutely no idea what it could be.

“Fine, I’ll accept help but only if I get to say thank you.”

Casey leaned up and kissed Kyle for several seconds, then pulled away, his gorgeous teal eyes darting toward the door. The lobby was totally empty, and so was the sidewalk outside, but he was still nervous. Kyle adjusted his grip on the box and nodded toward the elevator. Casey followed with his suitcase.

“Did you bring this on the plane? Whatever it is?”

“Nope! Pre-ordered and picked it up when I got here. I kind of totally forgot about the whole wrapping part, but luckily the store had wrapping paper too. And tape. I did it…in the cab.”

Casey looked a little sheepish, and Kyle just grinned at him again. He had been fantasizing for weeks about what he would do when he got Casey into this elevator, and now he was just laughing over wrapping paper. Kyle had been with a lot of guys, but none who managed to be both adorable and sexy at the same time quite like Casey. Well…maybe Kip. But sexy thoughts about Kip were not allowed, and Casey was right here with those gorgeous ocean eyes and no reservations. Kyle didn’t get as handsy as he had imagined, but he kissed Casey again, slow and inviting, as they rode up to his floor.

“This is me,” he said softly when the doors opened, backing out of the elevator with Casey’s eyes locked on him.

“Yeah it fucking is,” Casey smirked.

Kyle let them into the apartment and Casey leaned his suitcase against the door. “So…do you want to open your present first? Or…?”

“Yeah, I do,” Kyle said. Then he dropped the package on the couch and hooked two fingers into the waistband of Casey’s joggers. He pulled their crotches together as he stuck his tongue in Casey’s mouth again, then tugged the pants down and squeezed Casey’s perfect round ass over his briefs, which were dark blue covered with little yellow stars.

Casey let out a growl that sounded just like the cartoon lion on his shirt, and Kyle couldn’t help but smile against his mouth. After groping his ass for a minute, Kyle’s hands roved up the back of Casey’s tshirt, then pulled it up over his head to get a good look at, and feel of, his absolutely perfect torso. Before they started kissing again, Kyle raked his fingers through Casey’s long hair, watching his face to make sure he liked it. Casey didn’t just like it - he melted. His eyes fluttered and his lips parted slightly, and he leaned back into Kyle’s touch, exposing his throat. Kyle dove in with his fingers still tangled in soft curls. As he sucked his neck, Casey whimpered, absolute putty in Kyle’s hands.

At about six feet, Kyle was still quite a bit taller than Casey, so he crouched down to lick and suck at his nipple. Casey squirmed and Kyle kept his hands on him, all over, ass and hips and back and arms. Kyle lowered to his knees and started to kiss down Casey’s abdomen and the line of fine blond hair that trailed under his briefs. Casey came somewhat back to his senses and started talking again.

“Holy shit…wait…What about Maria? And…you still have all your clothes on…you’re…it’s your birthday…you wanted…are you sure…?”

Kyle tugged Casey’s waistband down under his cock and balls, taking a closer look as he answered, “She’s away for the whole weekend, so we have plenty of time. I don’t feel like taking my clothes off yet. And…yes. This is exactly what I want. Happy birthday to me.”

Kyle took Casey into his mouth and hummed around him, and Casey just panted, once again unable to speak. Kyle could feel the other man’s cock growing and stiffening in his mouth, and that was exactly what he wanted now that Casey was finally here. To take him into his body, keep him, and give him nothing but pleasure for three days. Kyle had sucked enough cock to consider himself an expert, and he didn’t hold back.

“Wow…oh my…fucking fuck, Kyle…” Casey tried saying something but it just ended in a groan, and he whimpered and repeated Kyle’s name and his stomach muscles tensed. Kyle finally pulled off with a wet pop.

“Fuck!” Casey gasped. He glared down at Kyle, who met it with darkened eyes and a smirk.

“I could finish you in my mouth. Hell, you can cum all over my face if you want to. Or…?” He just raised his eyebrows.

Casey growled again, then started tugging at Kyle’s shirt until he cooperated and put his arms up so Casey could pull it off and throw it. “Or. Obviously ‘or.’ Get all this shit off!”

Kyle pulled off his jeans, briefs and socks, then pulled Casey into his bedroom. They started curling their tongues together. Eventually Casey moved to nibble down Kyle’s neck, over his shoulder, then he playfully bit Kyle’s bicep.

“I could’ve easily carried that box, y’know. I just wanted to see you put your sexy fucking arms to good use.”

Kyle clawed his fingernails down Casey’s back when he moved over to run his tongue around both of Kyle’s nipples, lingering to swirl little circles as they hardened. Casey ran his finger against Kyle’s crack a few times, then murmured between kisses, “Bed? And…condom?”

“Yeah,” they broke apart, already breathing hard, and Kyle grabbed the condom and lube bottle off the nightstand. “How do you want me?”

“Uhm, do you want to kneel and…wait…we could hold off on the lube, and I could…eat you out first? If you want? Do you like that?”

Casey said that all very rapidly, and Kyle noticed his cheeks were flushed, although that could just be from everything they’d been doing so far. He moved in and kissed Casey slowly, with both hands on either side of his face. “I have no objections,” Kyle said, then lay down on his stomach, resting his head on crossed arms.

Casey crawled up the bed behind him, then over him. He kissed down Kyle’s spine, and he shivered without meaning to. Casey didn’t stop, but he added warm hands, first on Kyle’s hip and then his other thigh, pushing gently so he would bend his knees and give Casey better access to his entrance. First, Casey continued trailing kisses down his spine, then his crack, then across his left ass cheek, adding gentle teeth. He did the same, kisses and nibbles across the right cheek, adding an extra bite that made Kyle snort a laugh into the pillow. Then Casey held his hips firmly with both hands, and licked down from the base of Kyle’s spine to his hole, and started to gently circle his tongue. Kyle sank into the sensation and gave Casey low, rolling moans that almost matched up with the swirling circles against the tight ring of muscle. Casey’s tongue had tricks, working Kyle up with teasing flicks and longer, lingering licks. He dug his fingernails into the pillows.

“Fucking hell…holy fuck, Casey. God. I don’t want you to stop…uhmm…but you should…probably stop if…I want you in me. Give me your cock.”

Casey didn’t waste any time, quickly rolling on the condom and adding lube before he eased the head of his cock into Kyle. Casey pulled back, then pressed forward, pulled back again just to the head, then thrust further in again. Kyle answered with his own hips and more rolling moans, louder this time.

“You feel so fucking good…God, your body is just…perfect...” between words, Casey trailed kisses down Kyle’s back. Then he leaned back up and held his hips with both hands, increasing his pace. Kyle almost never bottomed anymore with casual hookups - he presented himself as more dominant, more controlling. That didn’t mean he exclusively liked to top, but it usually felt safer. With Casey though, switching things up felt completely natural. Fun, even, like they both wanted to try everything they could think of with each other. Kyle didn’t have the urge to dominate Casey the way he tended to with older men - although he wasn’t ruling out any options. They had all weekend, after all.

Casey was still talking nonsensically while he hammered into Kyle, losing the thread of his words and just gasping out streams of curses and Kyle’s name over and over. Kyle bit into the pillow and finally decided to give his aching, dripping, patient cock some attention. He started stroking his head, spreading precum.

Casey noticed and then his hand was there too. “No…me…wanna make you cum so fucking hard….”

Kyle acquiesced and let go while Casey bent over his back and took his cock, continuing to snap his hips against Kyle in time with his strokes. That sped things up quite effectively, and Kyle came all over Casey’s hand with a groan of, “Fuuuuck Casey….”

In return, Casey gave Kyle three more hard thrusts, then moaned through his own orgasm. Casey panted for a moment, then eased himself out and flopped dramatically onto his back. “Holy fucking hell….”

Kyle rolled over too and looked down the bed at Casey with half-lidded eyes. He was momentarily drained and unable to crawl down to kiss him, but Kyle curled their fingertips together and said, “Thanks for coming, Casey.”

Casey looked at Kyle with soft eyes for a moment, then a wide, wicked, dimpled grin spread across his face, “Right back at ya, stud.”

Kyle snorted a laugh and Casey rolled off the bed to take care of the condom in the bathroom, while Kyle cleaned himself off with wipes from the nightstand. Casey returned wearing blue sweats and hiding something behind his back.

“So…this isn’t your birthday present and it’s like, totally cringe, but…I brought you merch.”

Casey tentatively revealed a pair of blue Calgary Outlaws sweatpants that matched his own, and a hockey jersey with HICKS on the back. Kyle smiled and walked over, kissing him before he took the sweatpants and pulled them right on.

“Cozy,” he said. Then he took the jersey and inspected it, smirking knowingly at Casey. “But this? You just want to fuck me in this, don’t you?”

Casey’s face reddened and he bit his lip. “Well…maybe…at some point. I did already admit it was cringe.”

“Alright. We’ll save that for later then,” Kyle tossed the jersey on his bed and went out into the living room shirtless. Casey followed, and Kyle asked, “Are you hungry? I can technically cook, but we can also order literally anything and it would taste a lot better than what I could make.”

“Pick whatever place you like the best. And I’m paying! You’re not allowed to be weird about money this weekend, I’m a millionaire and it’s your birthday so deal with it.”

They’d had a conversation over the phone about why Kyle was ‘weird about money,’ when he tried to pay for half of Casey’s plane tickets. He had given a very brief explanation of rich, distant parents with high expectations, and not wanting to feel indebted to people. Casey genuinely empathized with Kyle, and then described his impulse shopping habits and the luxury vacations his parents routinely plan not just for family, but a vast social network of friends and colleagues. Casey insisted that sharing his money as much as he could helped him to not feel weird about it.

“Fine. Then it has to be Còrdoba Bakery, they have the best empanadas in all five boroughs and my favorite très leches cake. Oh, and there’s a new place that has excellent sushi and ramen…fair warning, this is all going to be, like, very unhealthy.”

“I’m out of the playoffs! I can eat all the simple carbs I want, at least until August. Take my credit card and hurry up with the ordering, you need to open your present!”

Casey was literally bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement. He’d also yanked a bunch of stuff out of his suitcase looking for his wallet and threw it all over Kyle’s coffee table, including a hoodie, a charger, and the manga he had borrowed from Kyle after their first hookup three months ago. When Kyle had finished the delivery order on his phone, Casey held up the book.

“I didn’t lose it! Aren’t you proud of me?”

“Yes, very proud. And I’m very glad you brought it back,” Kyle said, taking the book and kissing Casey deeply again. Eventually, Casey broke the kiss and scrambled to the couch, holding up the hastily wrapped present.

“And it actually relates back to this!”

Kyle sat next to him and began to fight with the layers of tape and paper, and Casey kept explaining.

“So, I know you like anime and manga and that one book with the big robots was super cool, and it got me actually reading a bunch more of them! But I remembered you said your brother gave it to you, and I haven’t read these ones but it’s about brothers and one is a robot and one is like half-robot and I didn’t know if you’d read these yet but I hope you like them either way. But I could always return it if-“

Kyle kissed him to stop the rambling. He had revealed the full twenty-seven book manga set of The Fullmetal Alchemist, the anime series of which he had absolutely watched with his brother, Evan, back in middle school. He remembered that with a sharp pang and considered mentioning that he hadn’t received so much as a text from either of his older brothers in almost five years. But there was no reason for Kyle to ruin the vibe, so he pushed it down and said,

“Thank you, Casey.” He kissed him, slowly, then continued, “I do like this series. But you’re way off, they’re not robots at all - the big one is actually the younger brother, whose soul is bonded to a suit of armor through magic science…they’re trying to get his body back…it’s a little confusing, and kind of horrific, but also hilarious.”

Casey grinned. “That sounds dope as shit. We should watch it when the food gets here! Okay, so that one is the main present….”

“Casey,” Kyle said, a little exasperated already with the new clothes and probably hundreds of dollars worth of books.

“You said you wouldn’t be weird! There’s just one more, and it also…kind of…could be for me….”

Kyle abandoned any further argument, because that was intriguing. Casey went to his suitcase and pulled out another box, white with sleek silver accents. Kyle pulled the lid off and revealed what was unmistakably a sex toy.

”Wow. Uh…thanks. Not something I was expecting though.”

“It’s a prostate massager! A nice one. Have you ever used one before?”

“No, I’ve never even seen one before. I…have a couple plugs, that’s it.”

“Great! Well, now you have this! And maybe later, or tomorrow, I can show you how to use it?”

They waited on the vibrator until the following afternoon. For the rest of Friday night, they ate a ton of takeout with vodka lemonade cocktails, and watched anime for several hours. Casey was very expressive while watching TV and Kyle loved watching him. During a break between episodes Kyle decided to put on Casey’s jersey, and before the end of the next one they were giving each other hand jobs on the couch. They fell asleep tangled in bed in the early morning with the lamp on.

Casey gave Kyle a blow job practically as soon as they woke up, and Kyle returned the favor and then made waffles. They smoked a joint on the balcony and spent the day either relaxing or all over each others’ bodies. They had plenty of takeout left for lunch, and decided to order from a steakhouse Casey knew about for dinner. At some point in between, they unboxed the vibrator.

“I think in order to really learn how to use it, I need to be able to see what I’m doing.”

Kyle was kneeling between Casey’s legs, his HICKS jersey the only article of clothing remaining on either of them. He pushed Casey’s thigh up, and pressed the lube-covered wand against his entrance, which had already been well worked over by Kyle’s tongue. Casey got the hint and held his thighs, so Kyle could use his other hand to slowly stroke Casey’s cock. While he worked him over, Kyle asked, “Remember when we were texting? Did you really do what I said? Stop when I said to?”

Casey let out a sharp gasp, then, “Yeah. I did.”

“Will you do that now? Will you tell me when to stop?”

“Goddamnit Kyle….” Casey caught his breath and seemed to be trying to refocus. But it wasn’t long before… “Fuck, fuck, stop….”

Kyle let go and pulled away the toy with a triumphant smirk. Casey groaned and smacked the mattress. Kyle bit his lip, and then said, “I have a few toys and things, too…do you want to see?”

“Fucking duh!”

Kyle dug under his bed and pulled out a shoe box, which contained two anal plugs of different sizes, as well as a blindfold, a pair of handcuffs, and black velcro-strapped wristbands that clipped together with metal clasps. “I…kind of like bondage. If you’re into it. I also use that sometimes,” and he pointed to the chain, wallet still attached, sitting on his nightstand.

Casey eyed the chain. “Kinky. I’m into it. But…I think these?” He pulled out the black wristbands, then lay back down and rested his hands on the mattress above his head. Kyle strapped them around his wrists and fixed them together on either side of one of the metal bars on his headboard. Once he was fixed in place, Casey started rolling his hips and said, “Okay, come on, now you have to do something.”

Kyle smirked and added more lube to his hand, and didn’t build it up at all - he pumped Casey’s cock fast and vigorously. Then he turned the vibrator back on and eased the end gently into Casey’s hole. He pulsed the toy deeper, then almost out, until Casey arched his back and shouted,

“Fucking fuck, Kyle! Stop!”

Kyle let go, and as Casey shuddered and caught his breath, he crawled up to kiss him, pressing the length of their bodies together and shoving his tongue into Casey’s mouth. Eventually pulling away, he said, “Playing with you like this gets me so fucking horny. Can you manage one more? A hat trick?”

Casey was glassy-eyed, mouth slightly open, and he said, “Yeah. One…I can do one more.”

Kyle gave it to him, working his hand and the toy until Casey’s face was tight and his fists clenched the bars of the headboard and he moaned, “Stop…fuuuck.”

While Casey twitched and breathed, coming down off the edge, they locked eyes and Kyle said, “You did it. 3-0. You win.”

Then he plunged down, taking Casey all the way into his throat and bobbing his head and swirling his tongue until Casey came explosively. Kyle swallowed his hot release before slowly sliding off. He unclasped the cuffs and Casey clung to him, kissing, both hands fisting the fabric of the jersey over his own name.

They washed themselves and the vibrator off in the shower, then stayed under the water while Casey used it on Kyle until he came against the tile wall. Then they washed everything off again. After they had gotten dressed and smoked another joint, Casey was ordering from the steakhouse while Kyle checked his texts. Maria had sent a picture of her and Elena out at one of the clubs in their usual rotation.

Maria: Doesn’t feel right to be here w/o u! Miss u birthday boy!

Kyle showed Casey the picture, and his face fell a little.

“I’m sorry I didn’t want to go out with your friends. I know it’s shitty.”

“No, it’s okay! I’ve gone clubbing on my birthday every year since I moved here, and yes the first two were with a fake ID. Honestly it’s getting old, and I would much rather be doing what we just did. Anyway, I get it. Gay clubs. Paparazzi. Closeted athlete. It’s not worth the drama for your career.”

Kyle threw himself down on the couch, but Casey stayed standing, crossing his arms.

“Kyle, don’t say you’re not worth it, that’s not true! And I’m not closeted! My family and my friends and my team know I’m bi. The guys I hook up with know, obviously. Just the, like, media doesn’t or whatever. But if I were in a relationship I wouldn’t hide it, and if we didn’t live over two thousand miles apart-“

Oh, no. Kyle had to stop this or it was going to start to fucking hurt. “Casey….” He leaned forward and reached for Casey’s hand, and he uncrossed his arms and took it, letting Kyle pull him to sit on the couch.

“We don’t need a ‘define the relationship’ conversation. We do live over two thousand miles apart, the media circus is a thing I don’t want to deal with, and besides I’m not ‘boyfriend’ material anyway.”

“Well what the fuck do you mean by that? Because it sounds suspiciously like you putting yourself down, and I don’t like it.”

Kyle curled his arm around Casey and pulled him in close. “I’m not. It’s just objectively true. Let’s say I were actually in an international long distance relationship, I probably wouldn’t want that relationship to be monogamous.”

Casey nodded thoughtfully. “I guess that makes sense. Monogamy can be overrated.”

“Trust me, in my experience, it really is. People could save each other a lot of grief if they just got over themselves and let their partners be…curious. But what we’re doing is perfect for me. I trust you, and I like both having sex and hanging out. So we do those things when we can get together. I don’t need any more of a commitment than that.”

Casey looped his arms around Kyle’s waist and curled into him. “I’m still sorry that we can basically only be in your apartment. But I kind of like it, too. It’s like a perfect escape from everything.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Kyle kissed the top of his head, and they relaxed into another evening of anime, takeout, and more sex.

Kyle had done a quick load of laundry so he could be wearing his Calgary Outlaws merch when Maria came home around noon the following day. She smirked at him and shook her head, setting down the bags of bagels she’d brought to trail her fingers along the HICKS across his back.

“You bitch. You better not be seen on the streets of New York wearing that, at least not with me!”

Casey came out of Kyle’s room and hugged Maria hello. “Hey, we already lost so we’re no threat to your precious Admirals. Now, if you somehow had a Rozanov jersey, you’d get your ass kicked. The Ads are in the middle of the series with Boston. Also, Maria can I make you a coffee this time?”

“Sure, thank you Casey. I come bearing the best bagels in Chelsea, and yes Kyle they bagged your sugar bombs separately.”

“Cinnamon raisin is a normal type of bagel!”

The three of them ate together, Maria and Casey discussing the Admirals’ chances of winning the cup while Kyle was more interested in ranking the attractiveness of the various players. At some point Maria went off into her room and hopefully either put on headphones or just went temporarily deaf while Kyle and Casey had one last epic round in Kyle’s room. After showering together and then re-packing Casey’s bag, Kyle had to summon all of his willpower to break himself out of their last long, slow, lingering kiss by the door, when what he really wanted to do was yank Casey back in and tie him to the bed again.

Once Casey was gone, Maria wrapped her arms around Kyle from behind. “Do we need Carrie and the girls?”

Kyle sighed deeply and spent the rest of the day moping, but at least he still had Maria, plus Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda.

“Yay, they won. Can we turn it off now?”

“Fuck off, Kyle!”

He rolled his eyes, but considering Maria, Shawn, Aram, Gus, and a dozen regulars had all yelled at him at the same time, Kyle let it go. He knew he was just being petty as Scott Hunter’s grinning, tear-streaked face was framed for the hundredth time holding up the Stanley Cup. The captain passed the cup to a very handsome light-skinned Black guy with VAUGHAN on the back of his jersey, and he skated a few circles with it as Kyle worked his way around clearing empties. Then Shawn said,

“Wait, they keep showing Kip. What is he doing?”

Kyle returned quickly to the big screen next to the bar. Kip was standing up in the stands, his eyes wide. Elena, who was at the game with him and his dad, pulled at Kip’s arm, grinning and trying to get him to move. They all stared as the camera cut to Scott Hunter’s huge, wet, puppy dog eyes, and his mouth formed the words, ‘Yes, you! Come down. Please!’

“Oh my God!” Maria and Kyle said at the same time. Then Maria scrambled out of her chair and through the doors to the kitchen, screaming, “Lucy! LUCY! It’s happening! SKIP IS HAPPENING!”

Gus didn’t even admonish her for going through the ‘Employees Only’ doors. He was staring intently at the screen, scraggly eyebrows drawn into a single line. Maria came back followed by Lucy, her silver cornrows still up in a hairnet and muscular brown arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Skip?” Shawn said, wrinkling his nose in a sneer.

“Yes, Scott and Kip! Now shut up!” Maria snapped. She snatched the remote off the bar and turned up the volume.

The announcers were expressing confusion about his identity as Kip made his way down through the crowded seats. Scott was talking rapidly to him, and helped him climb over the boards and onto the ice. Then he took Kip’s face in both hands and kissed him, long and deep, right in the middle of the rink. It seemed like the entire stadium roared. The Kingfisher was filled with cheers and whoops and ‘Holy fuck!’ and ‘Goddamn Grady!’ Kyle felt a little pang deep down, but he was still grinning ear to ear just like Maria when they caught each others’ eyes.

They all watched as Scott kissed Kip, and then they parted and were almost run down by a handful of other players skating over. The long-haired goalie was tearful and grinning as he clapped Scott on the shoulder. The guy named Vaughan was smiling broadly at Kip, and another man who was even bigger than Scott pulled them all into a group hug, before they led Kip over to the other friends and family members.

“That is fucking queer history right there,” Lucy said, shaking her head slowly.

“Goddamn right,” Gus added.

They were right, Kyle realized. This was a historic moment in queer sports. And this was a queer sports bar. Kyle turned quickly to the shelves, eyes scanning. The Admirals colors were red and blue, and there wasn’t anything good that was bright red but - he pulled down a bottle of Blue Curaçao, then another. He pushed them into Aram’s hands.

“Pour a bunch of these, like all the shot glasses we have.”

Kyle came around the bar as Gus watched him narrowly. He climbed up to stand on a barstool and shouted over the cacophony,

“SHUT UP! Free shot for everyone who wants one! For the New York Admirals, for our very own Kip Grady, and for Scott motherfucking Hunter, the first openly gay player in the NHL!”

The bar roared and Kyle took the first shot himself, then hopped down and started helping Aram pour and pass out the electric blue drinks, smacking hands if anyone tried to take a second one. Eventually he caught Gus’s eye, trained very skeptically on him.

“What?”

“Giving out my liquor for free is a bit of an over-correction, don’t you think, Mr. ‘I hate hockey’?”

“I still hate hockey, but I like gay men. Besides, you’ve been around for plenty of queer history, you dinosaur. It’s our turn.”

“Sure, T-bird. Enjoy that toxic blue shit and remind me never to order it again.”

Kyle just rolled his eyes. Eventually, the shots were handed out and things settled enough for Kyle to check his phone, which had been buzzing in his pocket this whole time.

Casey: You guys won! Go NYC! Go Ads!

Casey: I’m happy for Hunter, he deserves it

Casey: Aww he looks kinda sad

Casey: Wait who is that guy?

Casey: HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!! Kyle did you see that?!?!

Casey: Damn the pride games next season are gonna be LIT!!!

Casey: God fucking damnit they’re calling him the first queer player in the NHL! Fucking bullshit! My whole team knows I’m bi!

Kyle grinned. If Casey had texted him seven times in a row with no response, he imagined his thumbs had to be flying across several group chats while he and his teammates completely freaked out at the party Casey was throwing at his house. Kyle finally answered him.

Kyle: You specifically didn’t want the media to know

Casey: That’s exactly what Lee said :/

Kyle: It’s what you said!

Casey: I know now I’m bummed I could’ve been making out with hotties on the ice this whole time

Kyle: We know that guy! That’s my friend Kip, the one who worked with Maria!

Casey: WHAT THE FUCK! You KNOW him? He’s really hot. So did you know about this?!?

Kyle: Not exactly. Maybe suspected.

Casey: Well then congrats to you too! Ur about to make a shit ton of money

Kyle: ?

Casey: Ur friend is a regular at the KF right? And now he’s the famous boyfriend of a queer athlete? Your queer sports bar is about to be overrun by jocks!

Kyle: Oh fuck, I hope not

Casey: Sorry, man. That entire team is going to end up in your bar sooner or later. Those two just changed the whole fucking game for everyone.

Chapter End Notes

I found some unexpected magic writing about Kyle and Casey and while they ultimately are not meant to be, I wanted to spend a little more quality time with them. This situationship at this point in time makes a big difference to prevent Kyle from spiraling over Kip, and to develop a little bit of empathy for Scott.

I have also had the scene of everyone at The Kingfisher watching The Stanley Cup in the back of my mind for months, so I’m glad to finally get it out there!

Chapter 7: The Captain

Chapter Summary

Kyle tries very hard to deal with his big feelings about Scott and Kip without being too much of a prickly asshole.

Chapter Notes

“…I met that person. The person who changes everything. And he gave me the confidence, and the strength, and the need, to be honest about who I am. Fear is a powerful thing, but this year I found the thing that is more powerful. So I share this honor with my teammates and my coaches, but I also share it with you, Kip. You have made me better, in every way. I love you.”

If there was anything worse than being forced to watch Scott Hunter kick ass on the ice with his God-like body, it was being forced to watch him gush, with tears in his eyes, about how in love he was with Kip. Kyle felt the plastered smile slide right off his face as he stared down into his beer bottle, trying to will himself to stop being such a fucking dick and just be happy that his best friend had found someone who loved him so much. Because as much as Kyle thought Kip was perfect for him, he was nowhere near pouring his heart out to a room full of people and cameras. Kyle watched a tear roll down Scott’s face right there on the screen, and seriously questioned whether he was even capable of loving someone that much. He couldn’t imagine letting himself be so vulnerable that if another person wanted to, they could just destroy him. Scott was obviously the best person for Kip, and Kyle had to stop hating him for it. Eventually.

But Kyle still had a bit of a chip on his shoulder about the whole ‘keeping Kip in his closet for two years’ thing, and had openly expressed to anyone who would listen that he wasn’t willing to just let it go. So he had a sinking feeling when, after the MLH awards were over and he could mercifully change the TV over to music videos, Kip nodded to an empty booth and said, “Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Kyle sat down stiffly across the table from him, ignoring Maria and Elena still at the bar and very obviously whispering to each other. Kip took a deep breath and said, “I told Scott that we kissed.”

“Okay...so, what, does he want to knock my teeth out like that Kent guy last season?”

“No! Kyle, come on, he would never do that. That was hockey…plus Dallas Kent is apparently a total douche, he definitely deserved it. But I told him right after it happened, and I think…I think that’s why he finally took the leap. Because when I told him, he realized it could have all been over.”

“Cool. Glad I could help clarify things for him.”

Kip sighed, and Kyle stared at the table with his arms crossed. He didn’t even know what his bitchy tone was supposed to mean. He was fucking trying to be cool, but why the hell was Kip telling him all this?

“Kyle, I’m sorry. I just…I wanted you to know that it wasn’t a secret. No more fucking secrets, it’s so toxic and I just want everything out in the open. I want to bring him here. To meet you. All of you. I’ve wanted to for so long, but…” Kip sniffed, and Kyle finally looked up at his face. “I want him to feel welcome here. It’s really important to me.”

Now Kyle’s stupid face was wet. He wiped his eyes roughly and took a few shaky breaths, then said, “I don’t like what he did. And he better fucking treat you right from now on or I’ll find a way to make his life a living hell. But as long as he does, I promise to be nice.”

“Thank you, Kyle.”

The sigh of relief Kip let out really twisted Kyle’s gut, because he’d obviously been terrified that his friends, or at least Kyle, would totally reject his boyfriend. But Kip still looked a little hesitant, and he continued, “There’s…one more thing. I’m basically living with Scott in Manhattan now, and I don’t really need to, like, hustle the same way. To afford things. I mean, it would be nice to just have one job. And…it would be nice if that job were, like, fun? And didn’t start at five in the morning?”

Kyle smirked across the table at him. “If you’re asking for a job here, I’m afraid you’ll have to go into the lion’s den and talk to Gus.”

“I know I have to ask Gus. I’m just asking you first. Would that…be okay?”

Kyle threw up his hands. “Of course it’s okay! It would be awesome! We’ve only been talking about it forever!”

“What would be awesome?” Maria called across the bar, unable to resist now that she could overhear.

They slid out of the booth, and Kyle slung his arm around Kip’s shoulders as they walked back over. “Ladies, you’re looking at The Kingfisher’s newest server and barback. Finally.”

“I haven’t even asked Gus.”

“But he’ll say yes,” Elena said matter-of-factly, “It’s great marketing, you’ll bring in all the gays who saw your viral kiss, while Scott brings in the hockey fans.”

“You’re finally bringing Scott here?!” Maria squealed in excitement.

Kip smiled shyly. “Yeah. As soon as he’s home from Vegas, I want him to meet all of you guys. Shawn, Aram. Even Gus. Everyone.”

“But when you bring him out, we’re not just going to hang at the bar,” Kyle said sternly. “Your boyfriend has lived in this city as a gay man for how many years, and he’s been too afraid to experience any of our queer nightlife? I can’t imagine a more pathetic existence! We’re all fixing that as soon as he gets back. Las Vegas has nothing on New York City.”

Kyle came out of his room, and Maria immediately glared at him. “Going for deliberately unfriendly, I see.”

He had just laced up Doc Martens over his tightest black skinny jeans, complete with wallet and chain, along with a black tshirt that Kyle had made himself by taking scissors to the sleeves and the back to craft the face of a skull, showing off all his back muscles through the holes. He glared back at her, black eyeliner intensifying his expression. “You’re the one who painted my nails black last weekend. Now they’re all chipped, ergo punk is the vibe.”

“And it has nothing to do with trying to intimidate a certain NHL Captain?”

“As if I could ever intimidate that guy, he’s like double Kip’s height. They looked completely ridiculous kissing while he was wearing skates,” Kyle muttered as they left the apartment, perfectly aware that he was the ridiculous one.

They were meeting at The Kingfisher first, all the usual suspects plus Kyle’s friend Niko whom he’d shared some art history classes with, and a few more of their very queer artist friends. The perfect group to bring out for drunk karaoke in Chinatown. Karaoke had been Elena’s idea, after Kip told them about a dinner date where a group of teenagers asking Scott for an autograph had escalated to most of the restaurant taking selfies, many without asking, and several intrusive questions about their relationship. So some of Scott’s worries had been legitimate, and showing up with a huge posse to a gay club was likely to draw attention neither of them was ready for. But this group regularly patronized several karaoke bars with rooms where they could party without a public audience. Elena’s only condition was that Scott had to sing at least one song.

When the captain finally entered The Kingfisher, he looked neither intimidating nor ridiculous. He looked terrified. Kyle almost forgot that Scott was six and a half feet tall, because he seemed to be shrinking himself behind Kip, who was holding his hand firmly and whispering reassurance. Then Kip turned, and shot his friends a ‘what the fuck you assholes’ kind of look, and they all hastily pretended they hadn’t been staring as the couple wove their way through the tables toward the bar.

“Hey guys. So…this is Scott. You already met Elena, and Maria…she’s roommates with Kyle, who works here along with Aram. And this is Shawn, he manages the catering thing I do sometimes. Or, did, I guess.”

“Hi…everyone. It’s really nice to meet you guys. And…to see you again, ladies.”

Scott stiffly shook hands, but Kyle was behind the bar so he just gave sort of an awkward wave. Elena wrapped Scott in a huge hug and said, “God, finally.”

“And…back there is Will, who should actually be working with Gus tonight, so Kyle why are you behind the bar?” Kip asked.

“Because I want to be,” Kyle said, as if it were obvious. “Would you boys like anything to drink?”

Kip gave Scott an encouraging smile, and he said, “Uh…a lager, please?”

Kyle couldn’t help but sigh as he turned to pour the beer, and Aram chuckled and smirked at Scott. “That was a test, Hunter, and you failed. You’re supposed to ask him to make something fun. Kyle works magic with his cocktail shaker.”

“Oh…uh, I mean, sure. Do you have a cocktail menu?”

Scott looked completely lost as this evoked an uproar of complaints from everyone. “If only!” and “You would think!” and “Fucking Gus.”

Once they quieted down, Aram explained, “We’ve only been asking Gus, the owner, to advertise Kyle’s cocktails basically since he started working here.”

Kyle added, in his best gravelly impression of their cantankerous boss, “‘You can make all the fancy shit you want, kid. Doesn’t mean I’m paying for new menus.’ Anyway, he does let me make my own secret ingredients.”

Kyle pulled one of his specially labeled bottled concoctions from the minifridge under the bar. “It’s safe, I promise. This is a syrup made from blueberry jam that I condensed with thyme and peppercorns for, like, seven hours. It sounds weird, but I promise it works.” He winked at Scott and added, “Also…I trust my own palate over yours, if you actually liked those nasty smoothies.”

“Hey! I made those! Are you doing some kind of cocktail version?”

“Not exactly, because you will never catch me using banana as a flavor in a cocktail. Gross. Do you like gin? The blueberry is really sweet, so you kind of need the herbal notes.”

“I trust the bartender. And I like the smoothies, but they are very banana forward,” Scott said, smirking back at Kip who snorted a laugh. Maria cackled. Then, as Kyle pulled down the Blue Curaçao to add to the cocktail, she asked,

“Kyle, did you ever tell Kip about the Stanley Cup shots?”

“What? Oh, no. Kind of forgot about it.”

“Oh, you guys will love this! Kyle was obviously way more excited about your big gay kiss than the actual cup win, and he gave out free shots of that stuff to celebrate because it’s blue! For the Admirals!”

Kip looked at him with those big, warm eyes and a soft smile and said, “Really? You did?”

“Yeah. You guys, like, kind of made queer history. It was a huge fucking party here that night. And once people find out you’re coming in here, they’ll probably be lining up down the sidewalk to drink blue shit.”

Kyle slid the cocktails for Scott and Kip across the bar. It was vibrant blue on top and purple on the bottom, and he knew it was a perfect balance of sweet and tart, with layered botanical notes.

“You have to do something to take advantage of the celebrity connection,” Elena said thoughtfully. “A themed cocktail would be a great idea. I think you need a better name than ‘blue shit’ though.”

“My specialty cocktails are all great ideas, but guess who doesn’t give a fuck? Gus would never let us market around a celebrity.”

“You can make whatever fucking cocktails you want, T-bird,” growled the familiar low voice from right behind Kyle that indicated Gus had emerged from his office. “When you’re actually working. But you’re not right now, so get the fuck out of there. Pretty sure wearing half a shirt is a health code violation.”

“Pretty sure having those eyebrows without a hairnet is a health code violation,” Kyle quipped back as he came out from behind the bar. Scott snorted a laugh, and Gus’s eyes naturally snapped to the newcomer.

“Oh. It’s you. So you get the fancy cocktails, huh? Well, don’t think you’re entitled to special treatment just because you won the Stanley Cup and your boyfriend works here.”

“No, I definitely don’t - wait, you got the job?”

Kip narrowed his eyes at Gus. “I emailed my resume and asked for an interview last week. Never got a response.”

Gus rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Oh, sorry I didn’t circle back on your fucking email Grady. You’re on the schedule for Tuesday with Kyle, he’ll start training you.”

“Okay, so if I’m training new hires now, do I get to make any other decisions? This cocktail thing is a good idea, Gus! Whether you like it or not, Captain Scott Hunter being here is going to draw people in, it’s an opportunity to market-“

“I’m not ordering new menus. I’m not ordering new signage. I’m not ordering new fucking tables. Stop asking me to spend money.”

“Well, can I at least use the stupid fucking chalkboard then? The specials have been the same for years.”

“Fine. Whatever. God, celebrities in my bar. I already fucking hate this shit….” Gus grumbled as he replaced Kyle behind the bar with Will. Kyle came around to take down the old chalkboard hanging on the wall and wipe it clean.

“You have every right to hate me,” Scott blurted out suddenly. Everyone stopped and stared at him. He hesitated, and he was talking to all of them but his eyes found Kyle when he said, “You’re all being so nice. But you should be mad. You’re his best friends, I understand how shitty this all must’ve seemed from your perspective. It was shitty.”

“Hey…” Kip took Scott’s hand, but didn’t seem to know what to say. But because Kip had told him exactly what he wanted from them, and how important it was, Kyle did.

“It’s already forgiven, Hunter. Kip made us all watch your sappy speech, we know how sorry you are. You screwed up once and got very lucky. So just don’t fumble it again.”

Scott nodded and said, “I don’t intend to.”

He and Kip smiled at each other and Kip squeezed his hand, then turned to Kyle and said, “Kyle, they don’t ‘fumble’ in hockey. There’s no ball.”

“Wow, Christopher. I never have, nor will I ever, give a single actual fuck about hockey. And speaking of - Now that he’s going to be here regularly, can we please stop putting him on the TV all the time?”

“Oh, come on, Kyle! We have to at least be able to watch the playoffs!”

“Ugh, fine, if they make it to the playoffs again. But you’d have to bring your dad. You know I can’t say ‘no’ to George. Wait - Scott, did you meet George? At the game?”

“Uh…actually, a little before that. I kind of showed up unexpectedly at their house….”

Then he launched into a very endearing story about crashing family dinner to introduce himself to George and declare his love and commitment to Kip, before making out in his childhood bedroom. And, apparently, this was all after Scott had come out as gay to his manager and best friends on the team, and then was so relieved and happy that he scored a goddamn hat trick in a game the same day. Learning that he had actually made an entire thoughtful plan to come out publicly before the kiss cemented the fact that Scott Hunter seemed to be a totally decent guy who was completely in love with Kip. (Unfortunately).

During the story Niko and their friends arrived, just in time for Kyle to harass them into drawing a fancy sign with chalk that read ‘The Scott Hunter’ in blue script, with a little illustration of blueberries and the cocktail ingredients listed underneath. Kyle hung the chalkboard back up on the wall with a smirk at Gus and a sense of satisfaction. After finishing off a full round of the new cocktails with appetizers, the group headed out to the karaoke bar.

“Despacito
Quiero respirar tu cuello despacito.
Deja que te diga cosas al oído,
para que te acuerdes si no estás conmigo.
Despacito
Quiero desnudarte a besos despacito.
Firmar en las paredes de tu laberinto
y hacer de tu cuerpo todo un manuscrito”

Maria and Kyle started the night off with their well-practiced duet of Luis Fonsi’s Despacito, dancing and grinding together as dirty as any couple despite the complete lack of sexual attraction between them. Scott was clapping and hollering along with the group, and when they were done and had retrieved more drinks, they joined him and Kip on one of the couches. Niko and the other art students took over with a series of Broadway showtunes (nothing from Waitress, thankfully).

Eventually Scott turned to Kyle and asked, “Are you fluent in Spanish? Or do you just know that song really well?”

“I am, actually. I speak Spanish, French, and Italian. A little Greek and Portuguese, but not fluent.”

“Wow! That’s impressive. Is that from your family? Did you grow up multi-lingual?” Scott seemed genuinely impressed, and genuinely curious about Kyle. For someone who had upheld a public persona removed from his authentic self for so long, Scott seemed (annoyingly) very down-to-earth.

“That’s just the way Kyle’s big, giant brain works. He has a history degree from Columbia,” Kip jumped in, and Kyle had to wonder if he was intentionally heading off the question about his family.

“And it’s worth just as much in the job market as your BA from NYU. Very little. But yeah, I learned French in high school because I went skiing in Quebec a lot. Then at Columbia I minored in Latin and learned Spanish and Italian. So far, it’s been very useful for vacations and not much else.”

“Oh! Kyle is an incredible skier, he competed internationally!” Kip said, with what Kyle felt was excessive enthusiasm.

“Yeah, Kip, when I was seventeen. He has a fucking Olympic Gold and a Stanley Cup. Will you go take your turn please?”

“Fine. But only because I’ve been practicing this shit.”

“Wait, what have you been practicing?” Scott looked bewildered.

“Oh, Hunter. Didn’t you know he was a former theater kid? Your boyfriend loves a stage.”

A few minutes later, Kip launched into his rendition of Rihanna’s Umbrella, complete with most of Tom Holland’s dance moves from his viral Lip Sync Battle. Halfway through the song, Scott’s eyes were wide and he was grinning ear to ear.

“See? Born for the spotlight,” Kyle said.

“God, look at him. I can’t believe…I wasted so much fucking time.”

Kyle looked over quickly at Scott, whose tone had changed completely. His grin had fallen and his eyes were wet. For the moment, Kip was focused on his performance, so Kyle tried to help.

“Stop it, he’s going to think his dancing made you cry. And you brought him into the biggest spotlight of his life! Do you know how excited he was to be on a talk show last month?!”

Scott smiled at Kyle gratefully, and then at Kip during his dramatic finish of the song. They all hollered and cheered, except Scott was cut off when Kip straddled him right there on the couch to kiss him. Then everyone else booed until they stopped.

“Okay Hunter!” Shawn shouted over the jeers, “Here’s where you prove yourself to the friend group! You’re up, Captain!”

Kip went up to the microphones with Scott, but made Scott pick the song even though he claimed to be hopeless with popular music.

“Just pick something from your running playlist! You’ve listened to all of those songs a million and a half times, you should know the words!”

“Oh…actually….”

Scott selected a song and took the microphone. For the first several lines of Shawn Mendes’s There’s Nothing Holding Me Back, the entire (now very drunk) group cheered again at his choice. Scott was clearly nervous, but Kip’s voice cut through encouragingly.

“Oh, I've been shakin', I love it when you go crazy

You take all my inhibitions

Baby, there's nothing holdin' me back

You take me places that tear up my reputation

Manipulate my decisions

Baby, there's nothing holdin' me back

There's nothing holdin' me back

There's nothing holdin' me back”

The two of them couldn’t have looked happier or more free than they did jumping up and down and singing together. While Kip had done theater in high school and college, Kyle had to imagine that Scott had never sang so much as a single note in front of anyone in his life. But there were a ton of things Scott had never been brave enough to do, and god fucking damnit now he could do it all because of Kip. It was just so perfect. Kyle felt something tight and hard release inside him as he watched Scott take over by himself,

“'Cause if we lost our minds and we took it way too far

I know we'd be alright, I know we would be alright

If you were by my side and we stumbled in the dark

I know we'd be alright, we, we would be alright”

The whole room erupted into the final chorus with Scott in the center, and for a while after that no one really had their own songs anymore. Everyone sang everything and they all started to dance in the available floor space instead. Eventually, people started to trickle out. Shawn had to work the next day, and Aram had a date (“You have a date that starts at two in the morning?” “Don’t judge me bitch!”). When Kip and Scott left at the same time as Elena, Kyle gave Scott a hug kind of by accident while they were all saying goodbye to each other. But Scott returned it tightly and said,

“Thanks, man. I know this is, like, a regular thing for you guys, but it was kind of a big night for me.”

“Yeah. I get that. First of many, though, right?”

“Hell yeah,” Scott grinned at Kyle before following his boyfriend.

When the couple was gone, Kyle felt Maria’s sympathetic eyes on him, and he both loved and hated her for it. He finally glared over.

“I was nice. Wasn’t I?”

“Yes, you were,” she said. “How painful was it?”

“Eh. I’m so used to emotional repression I barely notice it anymore.”

She squeezed his hand. “Anything I can do to help?”

Kyle wrinkled his nose and thought about it. Finally he said, “Avril, Gwen, then Hayley. I’m feeling bitchy.”

She smiled at him. “You got it, bestie. I’ll find ‘Girlfriend’.”

“Okay, but you all have to swear you’ll never tell Kip I’m this petty.”

“Kyle, the depths of your pettiness is no secret,” Niko teased. “But of course we won’t.”

Kyle took the microphone and, along with the friends he trusted most not to give him shit, expressed his feelings about Kip and Scott in what he felt was a very healthy way, like the motherfucking pop punk princess that he was.

“So…Scott is planning to come by after the afternoon game, and maybe bring some friends from the team?” Kip said nervously a few weeks later, looking over at Kyle as they prepped together behind the bar, and at Gus who sat in a stool with one furry eyebrow raised back at him.

“Was that a question, Grady? Are you asking permission to host a bunch of jocks in our very gay bar?” Gus growled.

Kyle snorted. If Gus was going to be a dick, then he would come to Kip’s rescue. “Well, at least one of them is a very gay jock. I know those didn’t exist in the 50s, but do you recall when he was kissing the shit out of this guy on live TV a few months ago?”

“It was the 70s, thank you. And they existed, you just had to sniff them out. Anyway, do whatever you want, I won’t even be here. I’m heading out early.”

“Ooh, leaving us completely unsupervised?” said Kyle, smirking at Kip.

“You’re the supervision now. Take care of my bird.”

“I won’t let him get into any trouble,” Kip said as Gus went out the door.

Kyle looked over at Kip with his brow furrowed. “The bar is his ‘bird,’ Kip. Not me.”

Kip matched his expression with a confused one of his own, “But…he always calls you T-bird.”

“Kip, that’s a car. Like in Grease? He calls me that because of my work shirts. But when he says ‘my bird,’ he’s talking about this place.”

“But why would he call the bar a ‘bird’?”

Kyle stared at Kip in growing horror. “Kip, please tell me you’re aware by now that a kingfisher is a type of bird.”

“Oh. Yeah, duh…” Kip said, turning away because he was blushing furiously.

“Wow. Okay. So before all of these handsome jocks you’re trying to impress arrive, are we keeping up the narrative that because you’re a graduate student, you’re actually smart?”

“Fuck you!”

“I guess it won’t be hard, I’m sure they’re all part Neanderthal anyway.”

“Please don’t be this rude when they get here! And one of Scott’s friends on the team went to Harvard, I just can’t remember which one.”

“I literally don’t believe that. But I’ll be nice. Is there any chance any of them are gay?”

“I mean there’s always a chance, but it’s doubtful.”

“Ugh. So I’ll finally be surrounded by millionaire celebrities, and all boring as fuck straight men. Fate is cruel.”

When the horde of hockey players eventually arrived, Kyle stayed at the bar while Kip greeted them. After kissing Scott hello, he hugged the young black guy and the handsome older one that Kyle was pretty sure was the goalie (he remembered George was a huge fan but couldn’t have recalled the guy’s name to save his life). Behind them came another dark-haired white guy, who noticed The Scott Hunter written on the chalkboard and dug his elbow into Scott’s ribs with a laugh, and then a very striking blond who was even bigger than Scott. It was like a pantheon of gods had just walked into his workplace, and they were all just as inaccessible to Kyle as if they actually lived on Mt. Olympus.

Eventually Kip came back to the bar, but once he repeated their drink orders, Kyle shooed him away. “Take your fifteen, I’ll bring them over.”

“Thanks Kyle!”

Kip beamed and returned to the table to sit next to Scott and chat with all the hockey bros, since apparently that made him happy. Kyle made three Scott Hunters, an old fashioned, and a soda with lime. He carried the tray over to their table in time to overhear Scott say,

“Oh my god Carter, why are you even talking about marriage right now? Please stop!”

“I’m just saying, if you ever need any advice, Benny obviously knows what he’s doing! He helps talk me down when Gloria’s driving me crazy.”

“I really don’t. I just know you need to slow down and not react when you’re emotional, and Holly is the one who taught me that.”

“The biggest difference between your situation and Eric’s is that I’m pretty sure Gloria drives you crazy on purpose, Vaughny,” added Scott.

“Yeah, I’m starting to think you’re right about that. And it works.”

Kyle handed out the drinks and Kip tried to introduce him, but he’d already overheard Benny, Carter, Huff, Eric, Vaughny, Matti, and Greg, and that was more names than men at the table so he gave up on keeping track. He departed and let them carry on their conversation about what he assumed were their wives and girlfriends. WAGs, he recalled the term with an involuntary eyeroll. He figured Kip was one of those now, although the acronym didn’t really work.

About an hour later, one of the hockey players approached the bar alone. It was the goalie. He had long, wavy dark hair that Kyle noticed was (oh god) streaked with silver, and a meticulous salt and pepper beard. He drummed his fingers on the bar a little awkwardly, and as Kyle approached he said,

“Hi. I’m Eric Bennett, the starting goalie for the Admirals. On behalf of all of us I just wanted to come over and say thank you. For making Scott feel so welcome here.”

The goalie’s warm smile made Kyle’s stomach flip uncomfortably. Because there was still a dark, twisted part of him that didn’t want Scott Hunter to feel so comfortable here. It wasn’t his fault that he’d snatched up Kip before Kyle even had a chance, and he was obviously sorry about the whole secrecy thing, but now he was filling the bar with all these counterfeit ten hockey players. More men that Kyle couldn’t have. It made him feel bitter and petulant, while this nice married straight man was thanking him as if he was such a good person.

“It’s nothing, really. He’s a gay man in a gay bar, of course he’s welcome here.”

Eric smirked and held his eye for a beat, then said, “So…if some of his teammates aren’t gay, are they less welcome?”

Kyle blushed and waved his hand in the air, “No, no, that’s not what I meant,” then he smirked back and added, “I mean…my boss, Gus, has been griping about the ‘jocks to queers’ ratio. But those labels aren’t mutually exclusive, so if there are any more still in the closet you can let them know this is a safe space.”

Eric smiled at him warmly again, creases forming next to his dark eyes that Kyle couldn’t help but find adorable, and nodded. “It really is. This place is a big deal…I hope you and Kip know what you have here, working somewhere you’re encouraged to be yourselves. There are so many people that just…can’t. Obviously pro athletes in a high-conflict testosterone-fueled sport have a long way to go, but it’s not just us who have to stay closeted for a job.”

Us. Kyle caught that ‘us,’ but the wedding ring and Carter’s earlier mention of the wife put a stop to any further thoughts in that direction. He shrugged and said, “It’s why I came to work here, you know. Looking for that…connection. Community. And it’s why Gus opened the place, like a hundred years ago. You would’ve been…what…a rookie?”

Eric scoffed and shook his head, then said, “It was the early nineties, right? I would have been in high school.”

Kyle stiffened, recalling that he had been a newborn the year The Kingfisher actually opened. Which didn’t matter at all, because this was just a casual conversation with a patron. A straight, married patron. And it was over now because Kyle was busy.

“Yeah. It was a tough time to be queer, and Gus is tough as nails. So…did you need anything else? Otherwise I should get back to my tables, he left early but he has eyes everywhere.” Kyle pointed at a few of the older patrons who sat around in silent pairs or solo, watching sports as they drank.

Eric smiled and said, “No. I’m fine. Just…wanted to say thanks. Scotty’s my best friend so if those two make it for the long haul, I’ll probably be around a lot.”

“Cool. Well, see you around then, Eric Bennett.”

“See you around…?”

“Oh, sorry! Kyle. My name’s Kyle Swift.”

“Nice to meet you. Thanks again, Kyle.”

Chapter End Notes

The recipe I found for The Scott Hunter is actually a very decent cocktail with a deeply stupid name.

Anyway, did any other millennials sing Avril Lavigne’s “Girlfriend” at the top of their lungs anytime their crush was dating someone else? I’m baking a lot of my former emo kid identity into Kyle at this point…I definitely also made one of those cutout skull tshirts 💀

Getting close to Common Goal territory and the end of this fic, but I felt it was odd that Scott and his friends had been going to the KF for at least two years, and Kyle and Eric both knew of each other, but hadn’t actually introduced themselves until the beginning of the book when Eric attempts to flirt. I decided an earlier and less heated introduction made more sense but still aligned with the story! The final chapter and epilogue will be posted together soon.

Chapter 8: The Birthday Party

Chapter Summary

Kyle is trying his best to make good choices, especially when he gets invited to Eric Bennett’s 41st birthday party.

Chapter Notes

The hockey season started again and The Kingfisher fell into a new rhythm. Kyle lost his battle against putting the Admirals on the TV whenever they were playing, since hockey fans and hockey players passed through in a near constant stream, along with the occasional fans of Kip. About once a month Scott and his friends would push two tables together and officially sign merch for a few hours, although Kyle had to eventually ban hockey sticks from the bar after cleaning up broken glass one too many times. They started advertising the events on the official TheKingfisherNYC Instagram page, which existed completely unbeknownst to Gus. He’d been showing up in person less and less, so Kyle doubted he’d even noticed the merch tables. Kyle was tolerating all of these changes the best he could, considering by January he had to accept that his own hockey player had ghosted him.

Casey had come to New York again for a few days in July, and it had been a great time. They had talked about going to The Kingfisher, and Casey was conflicted, part of him longing to connect with other queer hockey players. But he’d also seen the media frenzy around Scott and Kip, and there was still a ton of attention on them. So far their gay bar had only been host to New York Admirals players, whose presence was explained by supporting their captain. Casey was afraid that just showing up would be enough to out him, and then he’d have to find some way to explain publicly that he was actually bisexual, not gay, and it all seemed so overwhelming. He didn’t want to be afraid, he told Kyle, but he couldn’t help it. So he and Maria both swore not to say anything, they stayed in the apartment having great sex, and Kyle didn’t mention the many times he had imagined the look on Kip’s face if he could have told him he’d been hooking up with Casey Hicks since before the playoffs.

Then the season started and obviously Casey got busy. He still sent Kyle a near constant stream of random memes, at least until around Thanksgiving. The messages started to come less and less frequently, and when Kyle asked if Casey would have any time off coming up, Casey said he’d be spending the holidays with his family in the mountains and left it at that. Of course Kyle hadn’t told him much about his own family, but staring at that text still felt like a punch in the gut. Eventually, Kyle responded with the last message between them:

Kyle: Ok, see you in 2018 then? Just lmk, I’d love to ring in the new year with you even if it’s a little late.

That went with no response, so Kyle gave up, determined not to look desperate.

When his mother FaceTimed on Christmas, for the first time in a long time Kyle couldn’t quite hide the fact that he was struggling. Earlier he had made Maria Christmas tree pancakes and they exchanged a few presents, then she had headed out for her family party. Kyle was always welcome at the Villanuevas’ house, but he’d already spent Thanksgiving with them, and he could only stand so much of the sympathetic Tias and attractive but unavailable cousins. His plan was to once again spend his Christmas home alone along with Kevin McAllister, getting drunk and high. He probably shouldn’t have started with an eggnog espresso martini at breakfast, because when his mother did call, he was a little less in control of his emotions than he usually liked to be.

“Maybe a little…overwhelmed,” Kyle finally admitted, wiping his eyes with a sniff after they’d navigated pleasantries and updates on his brothers, and then she’d asked how he was doing for the third time, her eyebrows furrowed in concern on the phone screen. “It’s been a…busy year at work. Y’know, the hockey thing? Scott Hunter?”

“Right, of course. And your friend Kip. It’s bringing more attention to The Kingfisher?”

“Yeah. We’re a lot busier. It’s kind of stressful.”

Because I’m in love with someone who is in love with someone else.

“Well, you know it’s just a job, baby. Don’t let it run your life. Focus on school and the next step forward.”

“I know. You’re right.”

I hate school. It’s pointless. There is no step forward and nothing I want at the end of that road.

“Are the classes too much? You know you can take all the time you need as long as you’re making some progress.”

“Yeah. I mean, they’re hard. I’m only taking one next semester, so…thanks. For understanding.”

Your husband thinks I’m a lazy spoiled brat wasting his money.

“Of course. Is there…anything else? Or anyone? Causing you stress?”

No, mother, I don’t have another toxic abusive boyfriend.

“No. It’s…not even stress, exactly, it’s more….” depression “I guess things are just kind of monotonous. I haven’t left the city in a long time, and it’s always so loud here. Overstimulating. I kind of miss….” Vermont. Home. You. “Being in nature. Out where it’s quiet.”

“Well…when’s the last time you went on a ski trip? Do you think that would help?”

“Uhm…I went upstate once last season, that was kind of nice.”

“It sounds like you might need a longer break than a weekend upstate. I can send you money, sweetie. I’d like to pay for a trip. Remember your competition in Switzerland? When we all went together? That was magical.”

“It was nice,” he sighed, sharing a small smile with her through the phone. He thought it probably had been nice for her, with the picturesque houses and the mountains, the resort town with luxury shopping and fancy restaurants. Kyle mostly remembered the thrill of the race, and then his father’s stony disappointment when he’d ranked fourth in his age group. “It probably would be kind of magical to ski the Alps just for fun. Like, no competition or anything.”

“Yes! Then I would like to pay for you to go. I’ll cover everything, no strings attached. Does that sound good?”

Assuming ‘no strings attached’ means you won’t tell Dad.

“That sounds really good. Thanks, Mom.”

“Of course. You deserve it, you’re working so hard. I’m proud of you.”

Are you fucking kidding me?

His watery eyes finally threatened to spill over, so Kyle said hastily, “I love you mom. Merry Christmas. Say hi to…everyone.”

“Of course. I love you so much, baby. The money will be in your account tomorrow. Merry Christmas, Kyle.”

Kyle really had tried to take Gus’s advice about letting go of the past. Moving on. For Gus, that had meant cutting off his birth family entirely to keep himself safe. Kyle only knew basic details that occasionally trickled out, usually in sarcastic remarks accompanied by eyerolls. He knew Gus was born in the city to a household that was abusive even before they found out he was gay. He’d been homeless at some point, the victim of homophobic violence including by police, and he’d lost people to AIDs, drugs, and mental health issues. Kyle knew their experiences had been very different, and it was because of people like Gus that being a gay man in New York was a very different experience now. Gus had also never accused Kyle of being privileged, although he’d thought that of himself plenty of times, and he thought it again in Switzerland at the end of January, in the back of a car driving him from the hotel to the slopes.

Part of Kyle felt ashamed of himself for even being there. For letting her reject him, and then spoil him. Tell him she was proud while looking at him with such pity in her eyes. It was fucking pathetic. He shouldn’t need anything from her to feel good about himself. He should be more like Gus, able to stand on his own two feet. And he certainly shouldn’t need luxury vacations to make his life feel like it was worth living.

But didn’t they fucking owe him? Wasn’t that really what this was about? She felt guilty. She was ashamed. She wanted to make herself feel better by pretending to care, and their way of caring was to throw money at him. Why shouldn’t he take it?

For a full week, Kyle spent every day on the slopes. He woke up in the morning to get there and pushed his body until every muscle ached and there were no thoughts left. And unlike his trip to Paris a few years ago, he didn’t hook up with anyone. He didn’t even try to. Kyle just wanted to be in his body, out of his head, racing through glaciers at over a hundred miles an hour, faster than anything that tried to catch up with him. And it felt like absolute freedom. He tried to capture that feeling and hang on to it.

Kyle spent the following Christmas in Italy, exploring places he’d read about since he was a kid with his first mythology book. He obsessed over the art, the food, the culture, the language, and left still craving more. Someday he’d have to come back, since he’d missed Sicily entirely. The summer after that, two weeks in South America, to see Machu Picchu in person by way of Lima to Cusco. It was really nice to have adventures to look forward to and breaks from his routine, and he managed to convince himself that he wasn’t spoiled, he was just taking advantage of once-in-a-lifetime opportunities it would be stupid to pass up. He didn’t think his father knew about any of the trips.

Shortly after he got back from Peru and it was hockey season again, Kyle noticed the vibe at The Kingfisher felt…off. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it at first. The usual Admirals came in, boisterous and loud and attracting attention. Kyle was friendly and flirty and made their usuals. But suddenly, he found himself noticing Eric Bennett. And Eric Bennett noticing him. And he frequently caught Eric Bennett noticing Kyle noticing him and then looking away pretending he hadn’t noticed. It was slowly driving him insane.

But he knew Eric was married. And Kyle had self-respect and dignity and was making better choices because he deserved better. So when the goalie started to very obviously flirt with Kyle at Kip and Scott’s engagement party (because an engagement and subsequent party just had to be a thing that happened), Kyle shut that shit down immediately. Even though Eric’s awkward and completely unsubtle attempt at flirting made Kyle’s heart race and his dick half-hard, he was determined to follow what he knew in his head. This man and his wedding ring raised every red flag, and Kyle wouldn’t let himself be fooled again.

“He’s divorced?!” Kyle practically yelled into the phone, then wondered why this little piece of information had triggered that response when it was totally irrelevant to his life.

“Uh…yeah. He split with his wife like a year ago. Scott said they’re still friendly, there wasn’t even any drama.”

“That’s kind of an essential piece of information to leave out, Christopher! Are you completely sure? Why does he still wear a wedding ring?”

“Huh. Weird. Didn’t even notice that. I’m definitely sure though, that’s why he moved and everything. His new house is gorgeous! But what difference does it make? I’m confused.”

“Your default setting! Goddamnit Kip, he was flirting with me at your engagement party! He still had a wedding ring on, so I assumed he was another closeted fucking asshole trying to cheat on his wife!”

At that moment Maria came through the door to the apartment glaring at Kyle. “Can you find some chill, please? I could hear you yelling down the hallway. Who is trying to cheat - wait, not that snake Eric Bennett?!”

“No!” Kip wailed through the phone, “I’m sorry! I promise he’s not an asshole, I didn’t even know he was gay!”

Maria gasped. “Wait, so he is gay? What about the wife?”

Kyle put his phone on the counter on speaker, and waved his hands in front of his face as if literally trying to clear the air. “No, no, no…back up. Kip was holding onto the crucial intel that the man is divorced.”

“Oh, yay!” Maria squealed as she put her coat and bag away in the closet. Then she cringed. “I mean…that sucks for him, I guess. But happy for you! He’s not a cheating asshole!”

“Why are you happy for Kyle? Wait…Kyle, do you like Eric?”

Holy fuck, Grady could be dense sometimes. Not that Kyle really wanted Kip to develop insight into his private feelings, but honestly. He just ignored the question.

“Fine, he’s not trying to cheat. But that’s not conclusive proof that he isn’t an asshole.”

“He isn’t!” Kip insisted, “He’s a total sweetheart, come to the party and find out for yourself!

“But you said he isn’t gay! He was married to a woman for who knows how long! So if he was flirting with me, he’s so deep in the closet that he hasn’t even told Scott, his very gay and very out best friend!”

Maria cocked her head and looked at him thoughtfully. “They’re still pro athletes, Kyle. Scott was terrified to come out to his best friends…until he found a good reason to.”

Kyle stared at her, growing annoyed but not sure exactly why. Then after a beat of silence, Kip’s voice called from the phone, “You mean me, right? I was the good reason?”

“Yes, Kip. You inspired Scott to be brave and it’s made a huge impact. Kyle, just come to the party. We’re all going! You can check out his art collection and maybe provide a little inspiration to Dream Daddy Eric.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “God, fine. I’ll go to the party. But only to determine for myself whether this guy is a ‘total sweetheart,’ or a fucking asshole. And both of you better keep your jokes and innuendo to yourselves! A closeted divorcée is still a level of drama I don’t need to fuck with. I’m not going to do any type of flirting whatsoever with Eric Bennett.”

Kyle continued up the stairs just ahead of Eric and was proud of his decision not to wear skinny jeans. The ones he had chosen were relaxed and faded, and his blue long sleeve t-shirt was loose and didn’t hug any muscles. He’d even left his wallet chain at home. He pretty much just wore it clubbing and at work now, and it didn’t seem like the kind of thing he would need at Eric’s house. And he had added a houndstooth patterned scarf, which he thought was classy but felt puritanical and ridiculous now that he was inside. Kyle’s goal was to avoid exuding any sexual energy so as not to confuse Eric Bennett or himself about the reason he had come to the party. Which was to be a good friend. Maybe to make a new friend. Some strictly friendly reason, anyway. Which is why he was a little annoyed that the question “Where’s the kitchen?” had betrayed him.

Kyle was in his twenties. At every party he had ever gone to, most of the action revolved around the kitchen, where food and drinks were generally kept. And yet, here he was heading away from the rest of the party guests, up to a level that appeared to be empty except for himself and Eric. After his attention was completely captured for a few minutes by the spectacular paintings on the wall heading up the stairs, Kyle flicked his gaze toward Eric behind his glasses, and it seemed like they both realized at the same time exactly how far away everyone else was.

But Eric led him further up the stairs, while Kyle wondered whether he should explain that he really just needed some ice and a glass to put Eric’s birthday mocktail in. Apparently there was a whole bar plus a catered dinner in the basement, which Eric explained when it was too late and Kyle was already pulling all the drink ingredients out of his backpack and onto the island in a massive, completely spotless kitchen. He’d ordered a barbecue spread from a place his friends liked, with a kale salad for himself. That made Kyle proud of his idea, because something at this party should actually be for the birthday boy.

“I figured you might like fermented juice. You seem…y’know…” Kyle hesitated, trying not to sound too familiar.

“Like a health nut?” Eric said with a smile.

“Like someone who takes care of himself.”

Shit. Had he just winked? How many times had he done that? Kyle spent way too much time behind the bar, he didn’t even realize when he was being flirtatious anymore. Stop it, Swift. He proceeded with mixing the drink and avoided flirtation, the conversation moving into more comfortable territory now that he was focused on his favorite hobby, and able to share it with someone else which was his real favorite thing. Kyle had pulled out all the stops - freshly grated ginger, locally sourced juice and the pineapple simple syrup he had made himself. Kyle also felt oddly comfortable in Eric’s kitchen, choosing to open several cabinets while looking for a tall glass, instead of just asking. He could see Eric watching him with a bemused little smile, as if he knew Kyle was being nosy and didn’t mind at all.

Kyle finally presented the cloudy yellow drink to Eric, and he knew he was good but even he found it hard to believe the birthday boy liked it that much. He complimented Kyle, he asked questions about the ingredients, and then he closed his eyes and savored it. And when Eric said a quiet “Thank you,” his look of open and authentic gratitude over what amounted to a glass of juice filled Kyle with a warm light that he had no word to describe. He just beamed.

Kyle promised to keep Eric plied with the mocktail all night long, and hoped that didn’t come across as sexual. If he were really honest with himself, he did want to stay right by Eric’s side all night, handing him drinks that made him smile which in turn made Kyle glow. But he wasn’t usually very honest with himself about his feelings. So when Eric asked, Kyle pretended that he also wanted to go downstairs and mingle with whatever less captivating people were at this party.

“The non-hockey friends are a small and very separate group. Tonight it’s just hockey and hockey-adjacent, I’m afraid.”

“Is that me? Hockey-adjacent?”

“Well, technically I met you through hockey. But, uh….”

“But….”

Kyle didn’t intend it to be such a loaded question, yet it suddenly seemed like both of them were waiting for the answer. For the universe to somehow clearly define whatever was happening between them.

“Nothing. Let’s get you a drink. You like barbecue?”

Well, okay then. Kyle was now more determined than ever to fit whatever feelings he had towards Eric Bennett into a distinctly friend-shaped box. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t tease him a little bit, Kyle teased all of his friends.

“Only if there’s kale salad,” he said with a little smirk.

Eric was drawn away by host duties once they got downstairs. Kyle tried not to mind. Kip and Scott were on the couch, with Carter and a few other people he vaguely recognized. He really liked Carter Vaughn, he was hilarious and friendly, plus anyone who brought a celebrity into The Kingfisher generally stayed on Kyle’s good side. And his girlfriend, tv and movie star Gloria Grey, was equally as funny and genuinely nice to Kyle every time she came in. He also enjoyed chatting with the back-up goalie on The Admirals, Tommy Andersson. He told Kyle that Eric had been his hero growing up - was basically still his hero, and had been a great teacher. That gave Kyle an unexpected thrill of excitement, because all of the evidence so far supported the conclusion that Eric Bennett was not, in fact, an asshole. Those few minutes of undivided attention from the legendary goalie had felt like a drug, and Kyle was already craving another hit.

Maria checked in and Kyle tried to boost her confidence up, because there was absolutely no reason she shouldn’t have walked right up to Matti Jalo by now and asked him for his number. She looked like a bombshell, and these were all dumb jocks. She just needed to make her intentions clear. Kind of like the two couples on either side of them who were disgustingly infatuated with each other. Tommy’s beautiful wife had curled into his lap, and Kyle turned to see Kip literally boop Scott on the nose, and felt his stomach turn. Kip thought Kyle was joking every time he said their PDA made him nauseous. He wasn’t.

Kyle suddenly felt a desperate need to be alone and made some lame excuse about looking at the art again. The art wasn’t lame, though. Once he was in the quiet upstairs, it was the perfect distraction from any uncomfortable thoughts or (god forbid) feelings that might have been happening in the basement. So of course as soon as he was disarmed and distracted by a massive canvas full of kinetic swaths of color, he got his next hit of Eric, in the form of a total jumpscare. Kyle barely contained a curse when he spun on his heel.

“Powerful, isn’t it? Oh- sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay. This is…really beautiful.”

“It’s called Guardian. I fell in love with it the moment I saw it, but the name really sold me.”

Because you’re naturally protective? Because you guard against your own feelings? Because this big empty house is full of expensive things but nothing that’s actually worth protecting? Kyle had a thousand guesses as to why the painting resonated with Eric, none of which he could say out loud. He finally found a safe one.

“Because that’s your job. Guarding the net.”

Kyle pointedly ignored the electric current that coursed through his entire body at this proximity to Eric, and they went back and forth about the painting and some of the themes they observed. As they debated words like obstacle versus protector, Kyle felt a little like he was arguing with Eric about his own self-concept. Either way, they both had different perspectives, but were undoubtedly intrigued by the other. Eric was looking at him so intently it felt like he was trying to see into Kyle’s soul, which really wasn’t far off from interpreting art together. Suddenly, Kyle felt like he was teetering on a sharp precipice where he was either going to have to kiss Eric, or run for the hills, because this man was trying to know him.

So thank fuck Kip and Scott bounded up the stairs at that moment to interrupt, although Kyle wouldn’t exactly describe the emotion he felt at the time as gratitude. They were leaving, which would have been a great opportunity for Kyle to make a discrete exit. He should have. But he didn’t want to. Besides, he’d only made Eric one drink so far, and he needed to fulfill his commitment. So he stayed.

Kyle knew it was a little weird that he was standing here with his sleeves rolled up rinsing out beer bottles. Earlier he’d had the passing thought that if he could be helpful then maybe Eric would want him to stay. He had that thought and decided it was one he didn’t need to examine too closely. He just started collecting bottles and glasses, which redirected his attention because Eric’s friends were animals who seemed to forget their dishes existed once they hit any flat surface. He didn’t really know why he had stayed so late, although Maria seemed to have a guess, since she had texted him a little while after she’d left:

Maria: Zero red flags detected. Make good choices 😜

Kyle ignored it. He had made the lamest excuse possible when she was ready to leave, saying he was usually behind the bar and never got to just chill with Carter and Breezy and the rest of the team. As if Kyle actually wanted to ‘chill’ with a bunch of hockey bros. A few of them were cool and he did spend a little time with Carter mostly arguing over the music. But he moved through the party as a solitary figure, trying to ignore the fact that he craved Eric’s attention in a way that felt a little desperate.

And now, since he’d insisted on rinsing out all the bottles at the sink, Kyle had Eric’s full attention and had no idea what to do next. They appeared to be the last two people in the house, and Kyle was the only guest who had bothered to help clean up. It was a little irritating and also made him think of his mother with a confusing swirl of pride and longing, so he repressed that shit posthaste to refocus on the present.

Then Eric put his hand on Kyle’s bare forearm, and the present narrowed itself to the electric current forking throughout his entire body. He was only very vaguely aware of what they were talking about, just that he was arguing with Eric to let Kyle help. To let Kyle stay. Because Kyle wanted to be nice and he wanted to be helpful and he wanted to be Eric’s friend, but more than anything at all in that moment when Eric touched him, Kyle wanted to stay. Maybe never leave.

And that was completely insane and a very good reason for Kyle to leave right now, except then Eric said, “It was nice spending time with you tonight. I’m glad you came.”

Kyle froze, eyes locked on the drain in the sink. Once again, a seemingly neutral and innocuous comment unleashed a storm of confusion inside him. “I almost didn’t,” he blurted out.

“Why?”

“I think you know why.”

And then Kyle mentally kicked himself, because now he would have to explain. And there were so many reasons. He wanted Eric, he didn’t want to want Eric, he had no idea what Eric wanted, and then there was the Kip factor. Which, thankfully, Eric was already aware of.

“Because of Kip. And Scott,” he said kindly.

“I’m pretty fucking obvious. I know. And pathetic. Anyway, I need to get over it. I am getting over it.”

Kyle had finished rinsing the bottles and turned to face Eric, talking more animatedly. He was so warm and empathic, and he was Scott’s friend and already knew about Kyle’s crush, which was relatively safe territory. Or at least he thought so. But Eric’s intense curiosity about him was so distracting that Kyle lost perspective on any kind of boundaries and found himself admitting that he thought Kip would be different because he was usually attracted to older men. He had to get the fuck out of this conversation.

But Eric touched his arm again and said, “No, I…I want to listen. If you want to talk.”

Eric offered him a glass of water and it was the flimsiest excuse ever to continue a conversation at two in the morning, but Eric made the excuse, which led Kyle to believe that maybe he wanted him to stay. Somehow Eric was making Kyle’s ‘dangerous territory,’ the issues he almost never talked about and tried very hard not to think about, feel a lot safer. And Kyle hoped that by admitting his flirting was basically a defense mechanism, it would neutralize any awkwardness for Eric and leave their dynamic distinctly friend-shaped.

“I’ve dated, or tried to date, tons of different guys, but it seems like I fall into the same shitty patterns. I just thought I’d be better at this by now. But maybe…you have to choose to be. At least I’m trying to be, anyway.”

“Trying to be, uhm…pardon?”

Kyle grinned sheepishly, realizing he’d been rambling and probably confused Eric. “Good. Or…smart. Trying not to date creeps.”

Eric seemed to grow a little upset on his behalf when Kyle described his dating history, which he appreciated. This was the most he had talked about his shitty past relationships to anyone except Maria. He used to talk to Kip about it sometimes, but not so much anymore. It was too hard. But Eric was so easy to talk to.

“You really do seem like a great guy, and I’d like to be friends,” Kyle said, feeling very mature.

Then Eric invited him to sleep over. But it was only because Kyle had yawned inadvertently, and he specifically did not invite Kyle to have sex, and even mentioned a guest room and spare pajamas. But this was drifting into more familiar territory for Kyle, especially after Eric pulled him up to standing and stared at his mouth as if he were starving. Eric held his hand for a long moment, but a kiss didn’t happen, and Kyle was led up to a guest room with an incredibly luxurious bed and a fantastic black and white photograph of a rocky beach displayed on the wall. That distracted him for a moment, but then reignited all the lustful thoughts when Eric told him he had taken the photograph. The man didn’t just appreciate art, but he was an artist. God fucking damnit.

“You took that?!”

“I dabble. I’m not a professional by any stretch.”

“You could be. Holy shit! What other talents are you hiding?” Kyle winked, and then apologized again for being flirty, blaming his tiredness. But…he wasn’t really sorry. He was curious.

While Eric was out of the room, Kyle mentally sorted through the evidence he had collected so far. During the party it seemed like Eric kept intentionally finding Kyle whenever he was alone just to talk to him. And then he had asked him to stay. Except that Kyle had already kind of stayed without asking until it was so late that maybe it was rude not to invite him. But…no, Eric definitely kept touching Kyle and looking at him with those gorgeous, deep brown eyes. He was interested. There was no other logical explanation. And Kyle just couldn’t help himself, he had to know for sure. In the minute or so it took for Eric to disappear and return, Kyle decided the best way to get a clear answer would be to just lay it all out on a silver platter. He pulled off his shirt and reclined on the bed. He heard Eric’s footsteps returning and flicked open the fly of his jeans as a final touch, then stretched out languidly just as the door opened.

Oh, that man was horny. It was immediately obvious on Eric’s face as soon as he caught sight of Kyle splayed out like this. And Kyle played it up, moaning as he complimented the sheets and writhing as he talked about how hard he was going to sleep all night. He was on the brink of throwing out a direct invitation, when he took in Eric’s body language. He was averting his eyes and turned away, almost with his back to Kyle. And…oh. Shit. Eric was desperately trying to hide his erection, as if he was ashamed of it. He had no idea that it was welcome, and not because he didn’t necessary think of Kyle that way. But probably because he just didn’t think of people that way. Eric was sweet, and gracious, and obviously not designed for spontaneous hook-ups.

“Hey. It was a good party. Everyone had fun.”

Kyle sat up and pivoted clumsily, gushing about the party in a desperate last-minute attempt to just be nice. Just be friendly. Just be fucking normal for once.

“Happy birthday,” Kyle said lamely as Eric said goodnight and closed the door.

Shame set in before it even clicked shut. That little experiment had been completely fucked up. He’d obviously made Eric uncomfortable. Well, obviously horny, which in turn then made Eric uncomfortable. In his own house, on his birthday, after he’d been nothing but kind. Why was Kyle always like this? He didn’t even want a one night stand with Eric. He just did what he always did and got his slutty, provocative, gross…Kyle-ness all over every potentially good thing in his life. Just like he’d tainted his friendship with Kip with stupid fantasies, he’d tainted this friendship before it had even started. Kyle didn’t sleep great, even in the fucking incredible bed.

Chapter End Notes

If you’ve read Common Goal, you know Eric is also spending the night in a shame spiral after desperately jerking off to thoughts of Kyle. I didn’t want to change a thing about the events of the party, but it was a fun challenge to stay deep inside Kyle’s head with him through all of the decisions he makes, both impulsive and calculated. Let me know in the comments whether my insights align with what you imagined was going on with Kyle!

The next few months would proceed as written in the book, and the next fic in this series ‘Your Guardian’ picks up in February and is my fix of the ending so these two actually communicate about both of their issues and make a healthy choice for the future of their relationship.

But this fic isn’t a romance - This is Kyle’s coming of age story, so in the epilogue we will fast forward in time so he can confront Gus about a pretty major business decision that directly impacts his future.

Chapter 9: Epilogue: The Sale

Chapter Summary

Kyle confronts Gus about a major business decision.

Chapter Notes

“What the fuck, Gus? You told Scott Hunter he could buy this place before you even talked to me?”

Kyle had burst into Gus’s office without knocking the morning of his next shift, after Eric told him everything about Scott’s plan to buy the bar. He’d already forgiven Eric and Scott for taking the meeting without telling him, especially because, as Eric had explained, they had no idea what Gus would even say. But he thought Gus knew exactly what he was doing, and it pissed Kyle off.

Gus just looked up at him dubiously over his wire rimmed glasses, white scraggly eyebrows raised. “For years I’ve been listening to you do nothing but fucking bitch about how you want to change everything in my bar. Now I actually do something about it and you’re still bitching? Sit the fuck down, T-bird.”

Kyle threw himself into the single old wooden chair on the other side of Gus’s messy desk. “Why didn’t you tell me? It’s kind of a big fucking deal.”

“Because I hadn’t decided to do it yet! Then I figured your boyfriend would want to be the one to tell you. Did you know he came in here with a four-page business plan and multiple spreadsheets? Kid, I know you have ideas to make this place better. Good ideas. And I get that us old fucking fags haven’t been keeping it afloat, those hockey players have saved our asses. But for fucks sake Kyle, you or Kip throw something out there like getting all new tables and chairs, then your fucking eyes glaze over every time I try to show you a real budget. If I said ‘yes’ to everything you boys want my own job would get a whole lot more fucking complicated. At this stage of my life, I don’t need complicated.”

“So Eric convinced you through his power of organization? That is kind of our Achilles heel around here,” Kyle smirked, gesturing to the chasms of paperwork that covered every surface and spilled from the filing cabinet.

“Almost. Now Hunter, he tried to be intimidating, which was fucking hilarious to me because that man is a cuck if I ever saw one.”

Kyle snorted at this crass old geezer’s characterization of the superhero captain of the New York Admirals. “You’re so full of shit.”

“No, I know my shit kid, I’ve been around New York gays for a long time. And that fake-intimidation shit doesn’t work on me, you know I’ve had to throw much scarier guys out of here. But your goalie, Bennett? He came prepared. And he made a good argument. So feel free to stay pissed off because I know that’s your default setting, but he’s the one who convinced me that selling would be the best move. For you.”

Kyle stared at him for a minute, growing increasingly uncomfortable as he felt a burning behind his eyes. “For me? Right. Like you’re not taking all that money and running off to Florida to live in the Villages with some bear.”

Gus scoffed and he looked at Kyle with fondness. “Their offer was quite generous, and I wouldn’t normally trust guys coming in hot like that. I didn’t expect to. And with all the shit you and Kip have both been through, well…to be honest I went into that meeting thinking that letting your jock boyfriends take over my bar was just about the stupidest fucking idea I’d ever heard. Until Bennett started talking. And holy fuck, kid, that guy really fucking loves you. And he’s not shy about it.”

Kyle’s arms were crossed and his knee was bouncing, as a tear rolled down his cheek and he stared at the floor trying desperately to hold himself together. Finally, he choked out, “So…you trust them?” And he really wanted to know the answer. He wanted this prickly, cantankerous elder queer to say this was a good idea. He needed Gus to tell him that he wasn’t about to completely ruin his life (again) by risking everything on the wrong man who said all the right things.

“Kyle….” Gus’s voice was quiet, a tone that he didn’t use often, but that wasn’t completely unfamiliar to Kyle after all these years. He made himself look up at the weathered face smiling warmly at him. “Those two idiots don’t know shit about running a bar. Not the real shit. They need you, and they know that. Everything they said they wanted to do sounded exactly like you, just with a little more polish. They see your vision and they want to make it happen. I really don’t think they have any other agenda than that. This place has been my heart and soul for almost thirty years, Kyle. I wouldn’t trust my bird with just anybody.”

Gus’s eyes were a little watery too behind his wire glasses, and they locked onto Kyle intently. Kyle took a deep shaky breath, and thought that as excited as he was by the idea of spending more of his days with Eric and Kip and Scott, a small part of him would miss grouchy old Gus. But he would never tell him that, so instead he said with a vague wave around the room, “First thing I’m doing is clearing this fire hazard out. I’m making this my office.”

Gus cackled and clapped his hands. “Maybe then you’ll do some actual fucking paperwork for a change. But for now it’s still my office so I can still kick you out. Get your ass behind the bar and sling drinks, it’s what I pay you for.”

Kyle smirked and stood up. On his way out the door he added a “Fuck you, Gus.”

“Not even if you were thirty years older. Bears only.”

Kyle laughed all the way down the hall, feeling a lot lighter, his imagination sparkling with bright, vivid images of his future.

Chapter End Notes

Fun fact, this epilogue was actually the first part of this story I wrote. I intended to put it in “Your Guardian,” (the next fic in this series but the first I wrote) and it takes place chronologically after ch. 7 (The Idea). But I felt like there was a lot more to explore in the relationship between Kyle and Gus, and how the old man may have helped shape his young adulthood. So that sent me all the way back to the beginning of his coming of age story. I hope you’ve enjoyed it ❤️ 🪶 ✨