Would You Kiss Me on V-J Day in Times Square, Darling?

by jonasnightingale

Kevin Introspective. He wants to chart his own path, wants it riddled with twists and adventures and at the end a loud unruly home stuffed full of laughter and muddy shoes and messy kisses. But theres military in his bones, discipline and self-control etched into his DNA and sometimes compromises must be made. ** Updated to fix weirdass formatting fail.

He had grown up with military bearing, with his back straight and chin squared and laces double knotted tight. His house was filled with love yes, with joyful reunions and family cook-ups; but also with long stretches of silence, with restraint, with gentle goodbyes. Or sometimes not, just a vague whisper of "Semper Fi" somewhere in his dream and an empty chair at breakfast the next day. It was a good life, a respectable life, a solid life.

But it wasn't the kind of life Kevin wanted for himself.

He wanted a life that lit up every corner his mind had wandered to, he wanted it filled with the snark of Sophia Petrillo and the passion of Kelsey Peters, he wanted it to be as entertaining as Lorelei Gilmore and as dramatic as Jack McFarland. He wanted to make someone laugh like Fran Drescher or Janice Hosenstein; to speak as candidly, as honestly, as Pacey Witter; to live as unabashedly as Tony Padilila.

He would never belittle what he had learned. The pride of it filled him each day. It kept him steadfast when junior-high tried to crush him, it reminded him of his place in the world each time his feet halted and instinctively turned to the nearest flag at the first chords of The Star Spangled Banner.

But sometimes Kevin just want to forget all about BAMCIS and go his own route without hearing that little voice in his head muttering "Good initiative, bad judgement.". He had struggled to find a way to coexist with these parts of him; for the disciplined son who learnt to swim fully dressed aged four and knew the phonetic alphabet before he could even write all the dang letters to make room for the adventurous soul desperate for his own place to belong, trying so keenly to carve out his own little home that could be a little less controlled, a little… louder.

So standing before his mirror in the sharply pressed blue shirt, vest neatly lint-rolled, tie tight and hat straight, he can't help but feel that he's lost something. That after all the distance he tried to put between that path and his future, he would somehow still end up on a road that led back to his house, to MRE's stockpiled in the rear of the pantry, to the echo of an empty home.

But Kevin Keller was raised to protect the things he loves, to improvise and adapt and overcome, so he squares his shoulders and turns towards RROTC.

Later he'll try to convince himself the disappointment settled in Moose's eyes is at this compromise, and for a while he'll almost succeed.