[For Newt and Kavinsky; Valentine's Day plot]

[sorriest]

Besides the obvious, nothing's changed since Kavinsky's birthday. They still hang out together more often than not, Kavinsky has his job and Newt has his classes, and they haven't stopped looking for a bigger place to move into. Today, with Kavinsky out to take care of the groceries by himself, the apartment is quiet while Newt's homework keeps him busy and Al settles into sneaking glances his way between working through some job hunting guide he's picked up.

It's not long before he's doing more Newt-watching than turning pages. He knows by now that Newt frowning doesn't necessarily mean that Newt has something on his mind bothering him; frowning is just what Newt does unconsciously, sometimes. Today, though, Al has to wonder if they aren't both thinking of Kavinsky.

They haven't been treating him any different, just because he looks different -- he's sure they haven't. Kavinsky's still himself on the inside, in the way he acts. To them, it doesn't matter if he stays a girl or wakes up a guy again one day.

Maybe it matters to Kavinsky.

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[thebloodyglue]

"I don't suppose," says Newt, without looking up, two different coloured highlighters wedged between the fingers of one hand. "That you want to be the best boyfriend ever and make me another cup of tea?"

Sometimes, he just likes looking at Al while he's doing something else. He looks young when he softens like that, when there's no hint of anxiety or worry on his face. There's a way he touches his lip with his thumb when he's thinking. There's a way that his hair tumbles across his forehead.

Sometimes, Newt's chest feels too narrow to contain everything that he feels for both of the boys he loves.

[mitsubishievo]

Kavinsky, as always, let himself in. The cold had sunk into his bones while he'd been out, but he felt warm all over, from his lower belly all the way to his toes and his fingertips. As soon as he was in the door, he started to shuck the layers he'd put on, still holding his grocery bags.

"You would not believe the fucking day of it," he said. His voice came out all husked and breathy, and there was nothing for that. He shivered a little bit, just listening to his own voice. Looking up from the door to Al and Newt sat neatly in the front room, neat and beautiful boys that they were.

Kavinsky leaned against the door, suddenly overwhelmed at the sight of them both, his brain filled with a lot of filth. A flush rushed over his cheeks. "...'m gonna go put the groceries away."

[sorriest]

About to get up and comply, eager to fulfill Newt's request, Al stops with his book shut in his lap when the door opens with its usual click of the key turning in the lock, followed by the sound of Kavinsky's steps and rustling fabric and plastic. Kavinsky seems out of breath, flushed pink -- from the cold?

"What happened...? You okay?" On his feet, Al starts for him, throwing a glance back at Newt over his shoulder. "I can help. With the groceries, I mean. Newt wanted tea, anyway."

He holds his hands out for the bags.

[thebloodyglue]

Newt looks up and sees it, instantly - the look on Kavinsky's face, the flush in his cheeks and his stomach dips, just a little, guilty. He knows that look on Kavinsky's face, knows what it means and what it usually links to.

He trusts him. He does. He does.

"You alright there, love?" he asks.

[mitsubishievo]

"Yeah," Kavinsky murmured, and gave Newt a soft look, a reassurance, as he headed toward the kitchen. His eyes skated over Newt, a hungry sort of momentary look, but then he was looking at Al, slow and just as easy.

He grabbed Al's hand, leading him into the kitchen. Tea. Tea and groceries. Tea and groceries and then everything would settle and he could tell them what a fiasco everything had been.

But Al's hand felt big and warm and just a little calloused against his own palm, and they'd only just stepped into the kitchen when Kavinsky set the groceries on the counter and shoved himself up against Al. It was harder, now, to lean in and kiss him. Now, he had to wrap his arms around him and practically climb him like a tree.