Here's chapter three of the Kevin/David installment. It's kinda long, but I hope you all like it. Review either way, I appreciate the feedback! Contains lots of Mature rating violence, language, and a touch of yaoi-tendencies to boot.
Disclaimer - I do not own Resident Evil. Neh.
"God…do you have any aspirin?" Kevin said quietly as if not to disturb even the smallest creatures in the world.
"Yeah, in the top shelf of the cabinet…here." realizing that Kevin was in no hurry to get up, casually reached over and pulled down the bottle.
"Thanks" Kevin whispered before swallowing the pills down dry. He pulled himself to his feet to grab a handful of water from the tap, and then sink slowly back to toilet-level.
"How did I…what did I do?" he asked meekly, pulling the handle down with a courtesy flush.
"Pass out." was all David could manage. "I'll put on some coffee."
"Strong, please."
"Yeah." David replied and went into the kitchen.
Slowly, Kevin emerged from the bathroom still clutching his stomach. "I feel like an ass. It's the first time I meet you in…" - he stopped to think - "two years? You must have a high opinion about me right now." He managed a half chuckle, but it came as more of a quick exhale for concern of disrupting his gut and sending him racing back to the bathroom.
Hangovers had a habit of making people think very seriously. Since when did he care what anybody thought? he wondered. Instead, David just shrugged. "You seemed to be down on your luck. "Can't say I haven't been in the same boat."
"Thanks for watching out for me. Hell, I don't know how I got this far in life. I must have one helluva guardian angel on my shoulder." He smiled apologetically. "So, if you don't mind me asking…what exactly did I say yesterday? I wasn't too bad…?" he could see Kevin's eyes swimming, trying to find some piece of recognition from last night.
"No, but you did kick a jukebox." David smirked, more at Kevin's reaction than his own words. A second smile in two days, he thought. That's rare for me.
"Linda's gonna flail me." He accentuated with his head – thunk – on the table. David winced at the sound, because he knew his head hit too hard. A muffled "argh" escaped from his mouth.
A question sprung to mind. "Do you live around here?" David inquired. Up until last night, he had never seen him around before.
"Yeah, sort of." His voice trailed off. "I was transferred here, about three months ago." He offered a pitiful laugh. "Misconduct towards a fellow officer, is what they called it. Even though I probably rearranged his face so bad he had to breathe through his ass."
The visual offered something of interest. An eyebrow raise from David had indicated that Kevin should elaborate.
"They just don't understand what I…' he paused "what we went through." There was a strained laugh as he recalled the event. "The guy was a rookie, still green around the edges. I went through a couple of departments already, and rumors travel fast. He caught wind of the fact I was stationed at RPD, during the virus incident. That's what started it." Kevin gritted his teeth. "First he started with the stupid stuff. That was easy to ignore; jumping out of the dark trying to frighten me, stumbling down the hallway with his arms out, squishing ketchup onto his face…real tough prankster shit." He noted sarcastically. "So much so I really didn't get what he was trying to do at first. After about a month of moaning, I finally tried to call him off and tell him it wasn't funny. That's when –"
"The shit hit the fan," David mused. "I guess the fan finally busted."
"That's only half of it" he rolled his eyes. "The part that really got me going was when he asked me what it felt like to off my ex-coworkers. To anybody else that would be amusing I guess." He stared long and hard into his coffee. "Problem was I had…I really did have to kill my friends…they were like - family." He looked up at David with a sad smile in his eyes. It flickered back into anger as he recalled. "That's when I KO'd the little bastard." He held up his fist, and David noticed the scar that ran across his knuckles. "Learned a valuable lesson that day."
"What's that?"
"Don't punch a bastard in the mouth. It'll get infected."
David chuckled. A laugh? It seemed that Kevin had that effect on him.
Checking the clock on the wall, David realized that he had to go to work. "You're welcome to stay," he heard himself say. "I'll be back this afternoon, since I work the early shift." Why was he telling him this?
"That'd be great. I don't feel like moving too much right now." he still clutched his abdomen, a weak smile on his face. Suddenly he seemed to recall something. "Where's my bike?"
"I asked Linda to keep it at the bar overnight as a favor, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you take it off her hands." David gave Kevin the directions for things around the area, and left for work.
Out of all the typical day in day out scenarios, today felt…unusual. Parts of the conversation that he and Kevin shared lingered in his mind while he did his tasks; tape up some electrical wires, repair a burst pipe… Why did it feel like things had changed? It somewhat left him in an uncomfortable state: He was not used to thinking about anything – or anybody else – in his menial life. He wasn't much for chatting, but with Kevin it felt…different. For the rest of the day he thought about what they had said and future exchanges they may have.
When he arrived at home, the house was oddly quiet. In the kitchen was a hastily scribbled note on a napkin, disclosing information that Kevin went to retrieve his motorcycle. David entertained the idea of going to the bar as well…such would be a part of his regular routine anyway.
A little part was hoping that Kevin would still be around.
After cleaning off the grime and dirt he finally settled on going to his local haunt, for reasons he still could not quite understand. Just a gut instinct, he surmised, and left it at that. After a brisk walk he arrived at the front step, determined to maintain his usual practice.
It was loud, he noticed – more so than usual. It seemed to be from a singular cause.
Kevin's motorcycle sat in the same spot as yesterday. There were several choppers next to it as well; it seemed that there was a group of riders passing through town.
All of a sudden, David had a sinking feeling. Today, he thought, wasn't promising to be any less eventful.
As he stepped in, he immediately noticed the large crowd across the bar stools. Ordering the usual, he slid into his customary booth and tuned into the topic of interest.
He realized that Kevin was at the center of all the commotion (he already had a suspicion) and was acting much like the night before.
"…and then" he continued, stumbling a bit on the bar stool "that's when I put a grenade launcher to that sonnavabitch! Mutant, Mr. X, piece of shit – whatever." Kevin made the motion of putting a 'grenade launcher' to his side and firing. "PEW…BOOM! HA!"
He was crocked, mused David.
"That's how we managed to get out of town." He finalized and plopped back down on the stool.
A random listener commented, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Yeah, I'm sure the fate of the city was all up to you."
"Damn right," catching onto the remark. "You tryin' to say somthin'?"
This was going to get rough, David thought. He'd seen quite a number of brawls in his life – not too many in this tavern particularly – but he knew when things would get ugly. This was it.
"Yeah, I do. It sounds like you're fulla shit." He said matter-of-factly.
"Fuck off. If I want your opinion I'll ask," he chuckled. "and I don't think I'll be asking anytime soon." Kevin stumbled into the bar counter and reached for his drink.
"I'll be thinking you shouldn't take that tone with me, if you like your face the way it is." the hulking man stood - towering above Kevin – and looked down at him.
Apparently Kevin did not take heed of the stranger's height nor girth. He casually waived his hand in the man's direction. "Fuck off already, I don't need anymore girlfriends."
The punch came fast enough to knock Kevin off his feet. He fell backwards from the blast but recovered quickly jumping up to return the blow.
Kevin could have probably held his own against the large opponent, for the first punch he landed stunned the adversary and the quick jab that followed toppled the brute. However the fellows that man came in with didn't think they should just watch the fight – and they had weapons.
There were eight men in all, and each of them were quite larger than Kevin. Two of them grabbed pool sticks and a few of them had knives. Luckily for Kevin, he had learned grappling in the force; he deftly disarmed, confiscated and retaliated with said weapons from two of the opponents. Unfortunately while he was busy with them, a third came up from behind and cracked a pool stick over his head.
While watching the bar scene unfold, David had a mental dispute.
Should I help?
No, I should probably let him handle this, he's the one who started it.
He looks like he's taking a pretty good beating though, and who else would help him if not me?
Nah, he'd probably get in my face about saving him – he's the hotshot.
Goddammit. David thought as the entered the fray.
David watched as Kevin took a hook to the cheek, making him stumble to the floor. An adversary reached for a stool, prepared to break it over the unsuspecting Kevin. As the stool came on the downswing it amazingly stopped in midair, hovering only inches above his head. The attacker gawked in surprise at the hand that stayed a leg of the chair, and at the man who stood before a still kneeling Kevin. This person, he thought could be a force to reckon with. The attacker smirked and launched an attack at the new opponent.
David took him down easily. Still having the stool, he jerked his hand towards himself, and then launched the chair into the brawler.
"You!" Kevin protested. "I didn't ask for your help, why don't you –"
"go -" Kevin wrapped his hand around a lunging attackers wrist, avoiding the blade.
"the fuck -" he continued, while pulling the man into a head lock.
"home!" he finalized, breaking the man's leg and bending his arm backward, effectively snapping both limbs while in the hold.
The brute cried out in pain as Kevin tossed him headlong outside, falling in a heap on the hard dirt. Apparently a head gash wasn't slowing Kevin down much as he faced off against another opponent. He blinked from the blood running into his eye and gave it a quick wipe to subdue the flow.
Linda the barmaid was ineffectively cursing at all the men, trying to quell the ensuing brawl. She wasn't sure what to do – should she call the cops?
Two brawlers pitted themselves against the bigger adversary, David. They both brandished knives similar in size and very deadly looking. They smirked at their unarmed opponent knowing that they had an advantage. In a flash, David flipped a piece of metal over in his hand and brandished his trusty butterfly knife, one that had seen many a battle in its time. It was the same dagger he used at Raccoon city to stave off those zombie hordes, so how were a couple of punks going to compare? David had a dark expression on his face. There was no anger, no pity. A stone wall of emotion as the two men lunged – and fell as David deftly rolled between them and cut low, severing the connective tissue at the inside of each man's leg. They crumpled pitifully. It took all of David's might not to finish the job, only because instinct had taken over. It was two years ago all over again, cutting back the damned beasts that kept coming…
He shook off the blood lust rage and looked around for Kevin. Apparently the fight had continued to just outside the bar, he could still hear men scuffling. As he pushed outward, he noted that the remaining thugs had overtaken Kevin – while two men held the semi limp body, another went to work kicking and punching the vulnerable man in the midsection.
David wasted no time getting to work on the men. These fuckers picked the wrong day to mess around, he thought. I'm not in the mood. They let Kevin crumple to the ground figuring that their multiple man attack would work again on this new opponent. They easily circled David, each with their own plan to take him down. He was hit a couple of times from behind, but only enough to daze him. He was waiting for the big attack, these little jabs were just a distraction, he knew from past experience. Then it came, a man with a leg of a barstool as a billy club ran at him with an overhead swing. This happened simultaneously with several jabs from the other two guys. Hoping to smash him while he was turned away, the assailant brought his club down – only to be blocked with David's wrists locked together above his head. David twisted and grabbed the club effectively, bashing the man with his own weapon and slashing at the man's leg in the same manner as the two who came before him.
He let the club go and turned to face the other two men, whom he was sure wasted no time to make their moves. Knives blazing, they both cut and sliced in David's direction. Unable to avoid some of the attacks, he dodged the more fatal jabs and countered with is own slices. None of the wounds David exacted were fatal, but after he was done the men wished they were.
The battle boiled down to groaning and cursing from the various men. The gang was already regrouping to check on their fellow members. Looks like they're done. David surmised. His thoughts turned to Kevin, and he quickly turned to the last place he seen him. Still in the crumpled pile he was left in, David noticed he hadn't moved. Rolling him onto his back, he examined his body for any major injuries and checked his breathing.
It's slow, but he'll be okay. Now, what to do with him. He had half a mind to leave him there, but the gash to his head called for some attention. So, he propped Kevin up into a shouldering position and carried him to his house.
During the walk home, David had time to think. Why did he have a desire to help Kevin at all? It's not like they had seen each other after Raccoon City. They hadn't seen each other at all as a matter of fact; they went in opposite directions and never looked back. When he looked at the man sagging in his arm beside him, he felt quite different. Putting all aside, he thought it best to deal with the situation at hand rather than mulling the past.
There was quite a bit of blood to tend to, now that the wounds had time to fester. David sat Kevin down onto the couch and retrieved some antiseptic and a cloth towel from the bathroom. After the liquid touched the bloodied mass, Kevin shot straight up in shock.
"What the hell is that?! Get it off!" he flailed in bewilderment.
"Hold still and shut up."
"I didn't ask for your help you know." Kevin retorted, seemingly trying to save his dignity. Alcohol still lingered around him, but not as strong as it was.
"Whining like a bitch isn't going to help you." David chided as Kevin sucked in through his teeth. "Let's just get this over with."
"Great. Fine. You're not going to be hearing anything out of me."
A couple of minutes passed between them in complete silence.
"Hey you got any food around here? I'm starved." Kevin mumbled. He looked around a bit before focusing on David. The intense stare at his head indicated that the wound looked pretty bad. "Look," Kevin started. "Thanks for helping me out. I'm...not good at showing gratitude."
At that moment, it seemed as though Kevin looked at him for the first time. Straight, thick hair parted in the middle came down into his eyes that he frequently swept aside. It was the length of his jawbone in the front, but long between his shoulder blades in the back that he kept tied in a ponytail. His eyes were a bit bloodshot, the rims sporting a tinge of red around the lids. When he looked at his eyes, the most striking thing was the piercing blue grey staring back at him. He had a bit of stubble on his chin that indicated he hadn't shaved in a few days. All and all, he was David from two years ago, and he was still rather good-looking.
He sucked in air again as David touched a sore spot. "Could you knock it off, already?"
"Fine I'm done." David admitted. As he turned to rinse the towel off in the bowl of sterilized water. It was then that Kevin noticed the long gash along David's back, still oozing blood.
"Holy Christ! Lemme look at that!" With that he whipped David around and pulled at the blue shirt tucked neatly in beige slacks.
"What the -?" Was all David mustered before he was shirtless, receiving the same treatment he exacted on Kevin.
"Fuck, that shit stings." David grimaced.
"And you were telling me not to whine. Stuff it." Kevin dabbed at the still bleeding gash. "You know I hate to tell you this, but you might need stitches."
"There's a needle and thread in that box. You learned field dressing right?"
"What?"
"It's that or go to a hospital, and I'd rather do it myself. You remember –"
"DON'T remind me. Raccoon city. Got it." The remark was enough to have the memories of a certain hospital come flooding back. He picked up the needle and threaded it. His hand trembled slightly, but he secured the needle and made the first pass. Six to close the gash and he was done.
"Here." David handed him his lighter and knife.
Kevin ignited the lighter and heated the blade as David directed, then pressed it against the wound. There was a slight hissing from David, but that was all. After a quick check, the other cuts David exhibited were superficial and would only need a few bandages.
"Thanks." He replied. He turned and pointed to Kevin's head wound. "You're bleeding again."
"Ah, shit. The bad part about drinking too much, your blood gets thinner than water." He felt the effects of his boozing wearing off, but that didn't seem to stop him from bleeding out. David snatched up the cloth and dabbed at it. He felt a twinge of something he couldn't place, but dismissed it just as quickly.
"So what's the 411 chief?" Kevin asked.
"Seems that you'll be fine. I might need to put a stitch or two in just to be safe." he commented, looking closely at the bruised area.
Kevin groaned. "Go head."
David leaned Kevin's head against the arm of the couch to keep the pressure off of his neck, and bracing the area as well. He carefully stitched the area all the while Kevin mumbled and cursed under his breath. Three stitches, and the wound was closed.
"Finished." David ended with a snip of the scissors. It was then that they realized the compromising position they were both in. David shirtless, leaning over Kevin's reclined body, a hair's breadth away from each other's face…
David suddenly flushed, his entire body turning a darker shade. Was this the feeling he couldn't place?
Update: Fixed some minor sentence flaws.