"I'm home!" Tom called as he strode over the threshold of their house and shut the elaborately-beveled front door behind him.
There was no response to his greeting, and Tom frowned as he hung his coat and hat on the rack by the door. Kevin's truck was out front, and it was late enough in the evening that track practice should have been over for the day.
"Hello? Kevin?" Tom called, walking further into the house.
As he approached the kitchen, he could smell the comforting scent of food cooking on the stovetop; as usual, Kevin had dinner waiting and ready to go for him as soon as he got home. But if he was here, then why wasn't he answering?
Tom found his answer when he rounded the corner and came across Kevin slumped at the kitchen table, holding an ice pack against one side of his face, covering one eye, and a folded paper towel on the other cheek, just beneath his other eye. The extensive contents of their family first aid kit was scattered around the table.
Instantly, worry surged through Tom when he took in his son's disheveled appearance, and he rushed over to him.
"Are you all right?" he asked frantically, swiftly but gently taking Kevin's face into his hands. "What happened? Who did this to you?"
"Dad, it's okay. Don't worry, I'm fine." Kevin gave him a valiant attempt at a smile. "This was all an accident. Reggie was being a dumbass and trying to fight some guys at school, and I was trying to hold him back. When he tried to shake me off, he, well—" Kevin gestured to his face as best he could with both hands occupied. "He ended up elbowing me in the eye and sending me to the ground," he said sheepishly. "And then I was angry, so I got up and tackled him . . ."
Tom quirked an eyebrow as he reached for a small penlight from the first aid kit. "You got into a fight when you were trying to prevent a fight?"
Kevin gave rueful nod. "Though I suppose it's good reminder to Reggie that I can kick his ass if I need to."
"To be honest, I'd rather have you not getting into fights at all, but I suppose if you're going to be fighting for any reason, a failed attempt to keep the peace is better than anything else." Tom drew out the chair beside Kevin and sat down. "Can you take off the ice for a minute? I want to check out your eyes."
Obediently lowering the ice pack, Kevin revealed that the skin around his eye was red and seemed to be already swelling and inflamed. Tom had to bite back a hiss; he could recognize the beginnings of a bad shiner when he saw one. But he didn't want to scare Kevin, so he refused to let his dismay show.
Keeping his movements as steady and gentle as possible, Tom carefully cupped the less injured side of Kevin's face in one hand, holding it there so he could shine the penlight into his eye to make sure the pupil contracted. He nodded in satisfaction when it did, and then moved to the other side, guilt racing through him when he reached out to touch Kevin's face and Kevin immediately jolted back from the contact.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Tom said, hurrying to reassure him. "I didn't mean to hurt you. We're almost done, I promise."
Nodding, Kevin gave him a self-conscious smile as he leaned forward again. "I know. It was just instinct, that's all. I know it wasn't your fault."
Tom gave his shoulder a soft squeeze before finishing his examination of Kevin's eyes, and he nodded in satisfaction at finding everything in order.
"Well, you're going to have quite the black eye tomorrow, but you're not concussed." Tom placed the penlight back in the first aid kit, and then brushed his fingers along Kevin's cheek where he was holding the damp paper towel that was gradually taking on a pink tinge. "Here, let me clean that out for you."
"We're out of any swabs or disinfectant," Kevin said. He hesitated before he spoke again. "Actually, I—"
Before he could complete his sentence, the front door opened and closed. Tom cast a surprised look at Kevin, wondering if he was expecting someone. Kevin just looked back at him, watching Tom closely with more than a hint of anxiousness.
Just as Tom went to speak again, a male voice called out from the hall as footsteps neared. "Hey, Kev, I'm back!" It was deep and unfamiliar. "I couldn't find any Neosporin, but I got something that looked kind of like it. I hope—"
The newcomer entered the room, stopping in his tracks and abruptly going quiet when he saw Tom. The individual was teenager with long dark hair who looked about Kevin's age, maybe a year or two older, of moderate height and muscular build. Instantly, Tom noticed that his white t-shirt had both grass and dirt stains, raising the possibility that he had been involved in the fight with Reggie as well.
But the only aspect of the stranger's appearance Tom was truly concerned with was the jacket he wore: a black leather one that bore the emblem of the Southside Serpents. Tom's eyes narrowed at the insignia, and he was unable to stop himself from tensing as he eyed the teen skeptically.
A silence fell between the three of them, and Kevin used the opportunity to make the introductions. "Dad, this is Joaquin DeSantos. After the fight with Reggie, he helped me get home. And then he went out to the store to buy disinfectant for my cuts." There was a faint thread of nervousness in Kevin's voice, but otherwise, his words were steady.
Both Tom and the newcomer—Joaquin, Tom supposed—glanced at Kevin in surprise, but then Joaquin seemed heartened by his control over the situation and spoke up himself.
"That's right," he said boldly with a nod, stepping forward and extending his free hand to Tom. "He wanted to just grab some liquor from your cabinet to pour all over his cuts. But I wouldn't stand for that, and I told him not to hurt himself that way, so I went to the store instead. Because Kevin and I, we . . ." he seemed to falter for a moment, the confidence draining out of him, and Tom couldn't help but notice that beside him, Kevin had tensed.
"We, um, know each other from school," Joaquin finished somewhat lamely, shooting an apologetic look at Kevin even as he and Tom shook hands.
Kevin relaxed slightly then, but not all the way, and Tom felt his son's gaze come to rest upon him and remain there, as if studying him.
"I'm well aware of Southside High's merge with Riverdale High, yes," Tom replied neutrally, shooting a quizzical look at Kevin and then going back to scrutinizing Joaquin.
Joaquin shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his stare, his own eyes searching out Kevin, who held the gaze determinedly, though his fingers drummed nervously on the table as he did.
Initially, Tom couldn't figure out the source of tension in the room; after all, Joaquin had already completed his errand. There was nothing stopping him from dropping off the pharmacy bag and leaving.
But in an instant, realization struck Tom at what was happening before him. The way Joaquin sought out Kevin's eyes, the way Kevin looked back at Joaquin while keeping part of his attention on Tom . . . it suddenly hit Tom that the two of them were interested in each other. Maybe dating, maybe just starting their relationship, but either way, his son was involved with a Serpent.
Well, a Serpent wasn't the kind of boy Tom would have chosen for his son, but ultimately, he knew deep in his heart it was his son's choice to make. And he knew Kevin had been lonely and worried about ever finding someone to date—Tom would be selfish to take this small piece of happiness from his son.
His eyes focusing back on the bag Joaquin was holding, Tom decided that Serpent or not, he would give the boy the chance to prove himself.
"You know," he said, rising from his chair and stroking Kevin's hair back from his face, "I was just about to clean out the scrapes on Kevin's face, but since you're here, why don't you do that?" He gestured to his seat. "Here, take my chair. I'll going to check on dinner."
Joaquin looked momentarily surprised but recovered quickly.
"All right," he said with a nod, walking over to take the seat Tom had vacated. He gave Kevin a smile. "Looks like I'm playing nurse for the day, preppy."
"I'm fine with that," Kevin replied, a fond smile upturning his lips as he looked back at Joaquin.
Tom walked around the island counter to the oven to check on dinner. He found a frittata sprinkled with ham, broccoli, and thyme simmering in a pan on the stovetop and a dish of spiced breakfast potatoes roasting on the top oven rack, with a tray of cinnamon apples warming on the level below.
But he wasn't distracted from listening to what was happening between Joaquin and Kevin. The paper bag crinkled as Joaquin withdrew the medical supplies, and then there was the rustle of cardboard as Joaquin ripped open the the packages, followed by the rasp of foil as he tore open an alcohol swab.
"Hold still," Joaquin cautioned Kevin. "This might sting."
"Don't worry," Kevin returned warmly. "I trust you."
And as Tom turned back to watch them, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against the counter, he could see that Kevin's words were not only true, but warranted. His son's eyes were soft as he looked at Joaquin, and Joaquin was dabbing at the abrasions on Kevin's face with the utmost care. Joaquin's movements were practiced, Tom noted as the teen finished with the disinfectant and switched to applying the antibiotic cream along the scratches. The purpose and lack of hesitation to his actions made it clear that this process was routine to him—probably experience gained from his time with the Serpents, if Tom had to guess. Still, at least if Kevin was going to be dating anyone, it was someone who knew how to take care of him.
And if Kevin was going to be dating someone, Tom reasoned, watching as Joaquin tore open the paper packets of bandaids, then that someone ought to know that even as dubious as Tom was of his son's dating choices, nothing was going to shatter the bond between himself and Kevin. Even if he had his doubts about Joaquin, if Kevin was willing to give him a chance, so was Tom.
Peeling the tabs off of one of the bandaids, Joaquin smoothed it over the worst of the scratches with an unmistakable tenderness, rushing to soothe Kevin when the latter flinched.
"I'm sorry, baby," he said softly to Kevin. "I only want to take care of you."
Kevin grasped Joaquin's hands in his own. "Don't worry. You're doing a great job. I'm just jumpy, that's all."
With a kiss to Kevin's upper jaw—one of the only undamaged areas of his face, Tom noted with a surge of guilt and dismay, Joaquin finished with the first aid.
"All done," he said, settling back in his chair to examine his work. With a grimace, he briefly lifted a hand to brush it against Kevin's ice pack. "But that's going to be a helluva bruise."
"Hey, you love me for more than my face, don't you?" Kevin teased.
"Of course," Joaquin responded immediately, with such swiftness and sincerity that even if Tom hadn't been impressed with him already, it would have completely won him over.
Serpent or not, Joaquin cared for Kevin, and as far as Tom could see, his son had made a good choice. Who was he to begrudge either of them happiness?
And if Joaquin was going to be dating Kevin, it was just as well that Tom got know to know him.
Clearing his throat, he walked back over to the table. Both boys started when he did, as if they'd forgotten he was in the room with them.
"Dinner is almost ready. Joaquin, why don't you stay to eat with us?" Tom suggested "You boys go and get cleaned up. Kevin, I'm sure you have a fresh shirt in your room you could let him borrow."
"Really?" A happy but surprised expression crossed Joaquin's features, and he glanced between Kevin and Tom as if he couldn't quite believe it.
Kevin grinned at him. "Go ahead to my room and pick out what shirt you want. I'll be up in just a minute."
Joaquin complied eagerly, and Tom tried not to be too suspicious that he didn't need to ask about the location of Kevin's room and instead just immediately walked toward the stairs, as if he were already familiar with the layout of the second story of the Keller house.
Kevin stood as well, lowering the ice pack momentarily so he could hug Tom with both arms. "Thank you so much, Dad," he said, burying the less damaged half of his face against Tom's chest. "Thank you for understanding."
Without hesitation, Tom returned the hug, holding his son tightly even as he minded his injuries and giving him a light kiss on the top of his head. "You don't have to thank me for that, Kevin. I would never do anything less."