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ninyard · 2 months ago

Note

Yes that one !! I love it and in general I always love your wips

okay awesome so. this is from an ask i have had stored in my drafts and it’s a little ficlet snippet thing about how Kevin and Jeremy hooked up when he was trying to figure himself out (ft the two of them getting a little high and making bad decisions). it’s not finished so like if you want more pls ask but i’m glad to clear it out of my drafts!! enjoy <3

I don't know when or where in the timeline this falls, how it'd work with Riko but as an idea, let's imagine there's a point where Kevin was in California. Maybe Riko was there but left Kevin alone, or there was a reason why he was able to be there alone, but somehow it happened. Him and Jeremy weren't as close as they should be, because even though they texted often enough, they rarely got a chance to hang out in person. So when Jeremy invited Kevin out for dinner and a drink after a photoshoot or an interview or something, Kevin agreed.

At this point in his life Kevin was struggling through a bit of an identity crisis in a general sense; he was starting to wonder if Riko was holding him back, starting to wonder if he was missing out on normal teenage experiences because of the Nest and his "fame". He had hardly had a chance to explore his relationship with sex, either, mostly choosing to keep to himself rather than hooking up with his teammates. It's not that he didn't have an interest, it was that he didn't know what he wanted, or who he wanted, or what it meant in the first place. Riko had never treated it as a big deal, unimportant and mediocre, something to get a release or revenge - but some part of Kevin felt like it was more important than Riko lead him to believe. Some part of Kevin felt like he was missing something, like there was just this part of himself that he didn't understand, that he hadn't had a chance to understand. Who was he when he wasn’t with Riko? He wasn't too sure.

But anyway - Kevin finally found this opportunity to hang out with Jeremy. Maybe at that point in their friendship Jeremy hadn't explicitly told Kevin that he was gay yet, and while they were sitting at a table having dinner with a glass of wine each that Kevin hadn't touched, the two of them just caught up with each other. The topic of dating came up in the natural flow of conversation. Jeremy was using a lot of they's and generic non-gendered terms, but Kevin didn't really notice. Jeremy told Kevin that he was gay, surprised that he couldn't tell - Kevin smiled awkwardly through it, but a part of his brain couldn't stop wandering. Couldn't stop wondering.

They enjoyed their dinner, laughing a lot, getting on like a house on fire. They were more like each other than they realised - when they weren't talking about Exy, their conversations just rolled on, one topic into the next, no awkward pauses (save for the long silence that Kevin had accidentally allowed when Jeremy told him about his sexuality).

Jeremy asked him if he wanted company walking back to his hotel, but they found themselves paused in conversation outside of a club. Kevin had never been clubbing before. He pretended that he had been, if the conversation came up, but he'd never been allowed.

"Can we go in?" Kevin asked before he could stop himself.

"In-" Jeremy turned to look at the club. It was quiet - only lights on inside convincing them that it was open. He looked back at Kevin with a mischievous smile. "You want to go to the club?" Kevin shrugged. "Okay, well, it's like 7pm, party animal."

"So?" Jeremy laughed at his question as if it were a joke.

"Why don't we go back to mine? Have a drink or two, and then we'll find somewhere actually good to go to. This place sucks." He winked at Kevin, but Kevin didn't understand the joke. "Maybe I can convince a few of the others to come. It's not every night you get to go clubbing with Kevin Day."

"The others?"

Don't worry, he'd told Kevin. You'll like them.

Kevin tried not to be overwhelmed by the sudden noise and presence of other people around them - Jeremy didn't live with them, and it wasn't actually his place, it was just where he slept for most of the academic year. No, it wasn't the amount of people around him that felt suffocating. That took him a while to admit. Sure, the anxiety that came from new people hanging out around him was huge, but that wasn't it. Laila Dermott and Catalina Alvarez had been dating for a few months. He was... outnumbered. Or was he? If he thought about it too much, he'd-

"Vodka," Laila held two bottles out in front of him as Cat chose an album for them to listen to. "Or tequila?"

"Oh," Kevin said. "I don't drink. I'll just have some water."

"Did I hear that right?" Cat gasped, and the music started. She danced towards the bottles of alcohol as she spoke. "You want to go clubbing, and you don't drink?"

"Who doesn't drink?" Jeremy arrived at the door of the living room, changed into something more casual.

"Kevin." Laila answered, taking a shot from the cap of the bottle of tequila.

"You don't drink?" Jeremy crossed his arms, and looked down at Kevin, who sat on the couch, wondering if he'd made a smart decision.

"No," He shook his head, a lift and a fall in his shoulders, an excuse on his tongue. "Not my thing."

"And you want to go clubbing?"

I've never been, he wanted to say, but instead he said, "Do you think I can't have fun without alcohol?"

Jeremy's mouth opened slightly, and he nodded slowly with a frown as if he was surprised by that answer. As if he’d said something he shouldn’t have, maybe. He wasn’t sure.

"Well, alright then."

It was an hour or two of hanging out before the time was more appropriate. Jeremy had given him a t-shirt that was more comfortable to wear out, and he'd shut his phone off. It wasn't the right thing to do, he knew he'd pay for it afterwards, but something in him needed to be free. Even just for a few hours. Even if he'd regret it in the morning.

They didn't have to queue for long to get into the club itself - the queue for the bar inside was not so kind. It was a club that Jeremy had chosen. Kevin was terrified that someone would recognise him, but if anyone did, they didn't say anything. Jeremy arrived back at the table they'd found with two glasses in both hands, he slid them in front of the girls, and pushed one towards Kevin.

"It's just sprite," Jeremy clarified before he could ask. "Nothing else."

Their glasses were replaced twice over the course of an hour, while Kevin sipped on the drink that he really hadn't wanted in the first place. He couldn't tell them that he also didn't drink soda of any kind, so he pushed through and emptied it slowly. The music was loud, and as more people filled into the club, onto the dancefloor, his anxiety got harder and harder to ignore. Cat and Laila left at one point to dance, and Jeremy slid in closer to him.

"Can I ask you something?" Jeremy finished the end of his drink before slamming it back on the table.

"Only if I can ask one back." Kevin smiled, shrugging his shoulders.

Jeremy thought about it for a moment. He shifted in his seat to sit facing him, and leaned his elbow on the table.

"Fair deal. Kevin Day," He clasped his hands together. "Be honest with me, is this your first time in a club?"

Kevin's smile faltered, but he couldn't help but laugh. "I didn't think it was that obvious."

"Wait," Jeremy’s mouth dropped open. "Wait, wait, wait. You're not kidding." He held out a pinky finger and Kevin laughed again. "Is that the truth?"

Kevin moved in his seat, and hooked his finger around Jeremy's. "100%"

"That's insane," Jeremy shook his head. "I thought..." He tightened his grip around Kevin's finger. Kevin felt the breath hitch in his throat. "You have never once been in a club." He phrased it like a question.

"I swear," Kevin let go of his finger. "Not even once."

Jeremy laughed and clapped his hands together like this was the most amusing thing he'd ever heard. "Well, I'm honoured, Kev. Tell Riko that he needs to have more fun."

Kevin looked at the ground. He couldn’t tell him, of course he couldn’t. He trusted Jeremy, with more than he would ever know, but his offhand joke left an unsavoury taste in Kevin’s mouth, like he was only reminding him what a bad decision he was making.

"So," Jeremy pulled his consciousness back to the table. "What was yours?"

"My what?"

Jeremy smiled wide, his teeth bright and shining. "Your question."

Kevin sighed. "How did you know that you were gay?"

Kevin didn't think it was intentional how quickly Jeremy's smile fell off his face. Jeremy straightened up, took a deep breath, lips pouting as he thought.

"Okay," He considered. His mouth opened once, twice, as he searched for the right words to say. "You... Okay. Why do you ask?" Before he could answer, he waved his hands in front of him. "I'll answer, there's nothing wrong with that question, Kev, but just... Why do you want to know?"

Kevin looked away. He paused before mumbling, "I don't know."

He looked towards the bar and then back to Kevin.

"Can I get a drink first?" Kevin nodded. "And you're sure you don't want one?"

"I'm sure. Thank you." Jeremy slapped the seat between them and pushed himself up, making a beeline towards the bar.

Kevin had too much time to think in the few minutes he was gone. There was no sign of the girls coming back any time soon, either, and he felt like he was going to be sick just picturing how he would figure this out. Some part of it felt like this was his only shot - like he didn't have the space to feel safe enough with anyone else, like a stranger was too dangerous to trust with such a secret. But Jeremy was Kevin's friend, someone who knew who he was. Jean was different; he was still stuck in those four walls, stuck in that inescapable prison. He couldn't explain it - the only other person in the world who knew the side of Kevin that he'd been forced to hide, and he didn't feel like this was... okay. He didn't feel like this was safe in Jean’s hands, no matter how wrong that feeling was. But Jeremy?

He wasn’t sure that there was a point to having this conversation now, having it with Jeremy. But knowing that he was certain, certain in himself, comfortable enough to answer this question in the first place, that was the point.

"Okay," Jeremy said while he sat his glass down and took a sip. "I don't think that I can answer your question."

The disappointment that filled Kevin’s chest was uncomfortable. "That's fine. I didn't mean to-"

"No, wait, let me finish," He interrupted. "I can't answer your question because I didn't... I always knew. I didn't have a lightbulb moment or a gay awakening. But not everybody figures it out like that. Cat dated guys until she was 17, Laila knew when she was 12. There's not just one answer, Kev. Do you..." He let out a short frustrated sigh and lowered his voice. "Do you think-"

"No." Kevin answered before he could ask. He was too quick, he knew that, he knew that Jeremy could see right through him. But he waited for him to continue, and there was nothing he could say.

Jeremy put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Talk to me."

The sigh that left his lips was automatic. "I'm not sure what I want to know."

Jeremy tapped his fingers on the side of his glass. He used his other hand to wave at the girls, who'd caught his attention from the dance floor. He gestured at the table. The girls bounced over, hand-in-hand, and Jeremy said something to Laila that Kevin couldn't quite hear. She frowned slightly but nodded, pulling Cat onto the seats with her, Jeremy squeezing past to stand up.

He gestured for Kevin to follow.

It was hard to navigate through the crowds of people without losing Jeremy, or feeling like he was going to have a heart attack, but he used his shoulders to push his way through. Jeremy took a sharp turn to the left just as the crowd broke, and Kevin had walked through the door to the toilets before he realised where he was. Jeremy looked around just once, and when the single man who stood at the urinals left without washing his hands, he shoved Kevin into one of the stalls and locked the door behind them.

The walls around them felt like they were getting closer and closer together. His heart was pounding so hard he felt like there was no room left in his chest for him to breathe. Kevin looked at Jeremy's lips as he rooted for something in his jeans.

"This isn't-" He started to protest.

Jeremy shushed him with a finger over his lips. "What are you afraid of?"

"I don't know."

"What are you open to?"

"I dont know what that-"

"When do the Ravens test?"

Kevin's mouth fell open. "What?"

Jeremy's shoulders fell as he tilted his head. "You live on campus through the summer, no?" Kevin nodded. "And you still have practice?" He nodded again, but when he tried to ask what was happening, Jeremy continued. "When do you pee in a cup, buddy, when do you guys get tested?"

"August."

"Okay," Jeremy paused to listen, to be sure that nobody had come in. "Is this a conversation you want to have sober?"

"I'm really fucking confused, Jer." Kevin strained.

"I can tell," He put a hand on Kevin's shoulder. "But is this a conversation that you, my brilliant, talented friend, want to have sober?"

"No," He said, but he wasn't sure why he said it. "But I don't drink."

Jeremy looked at him and smiled. Kevin knew that smile was coming, small and kind, reassuring while pitiful.

What Kevin wasn't expecting, was for his fellow striker, deputy captain of the USC Trojans, to take a small plastic bag from his pocket, and hold it out in front of him. Kevin didn't need to know what exactly it was to know that it was illegal, that it was mind altering, and that he should nod politely and say no.

"What is it?" He whispered instead, afraid to get caught.

"Molly," He answered. "You don't have to.”

He looked at Kevin for a moment too long, tilting his head and looking towards the ceiling as if listening to who was walking in and out of the washroom around them. He reached into his pocket again, and tucked the keys to his house in his palm in such a way that they wouldn’t rattle, dipping one of them into the open baggie.

“What is it?” Kevin asked again.

Jeremy finally looked at him like he was crazy. “Don’t they have D.A.R.E in West Virginia?”

“I was homeschooled.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jeremy laughed, but not in such a way that felt comforting, or like anything funny had been said. It felt more like pity, like disbelief, like he’d finally realised how sheltered Kevin had been his whole life. “Okay. This is more educational that I’d planned for it to be.”

Before Kevin had noticed it, Jeremy had sniffed in an inhale of powder right in front of him. With the hand that held his keys, he held his septum and sniffed again, wiping any excess away.

“It’s an upper,” When Kevin just looked back at him, he continued, “It’s like… Makes you happy, like you’re on top of the world, Oh, and it’s like you’ve never known what true love is until you try it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, you’ll try it, or okay, you understand?” Jeremy was cautious to be sure he understood.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” He said, out loud, though all he could imagine were the million and one ways this decision could blow up in his face.

#i’m tagging this as #tgr spoilers #even though i wrote it a while ago #just in case i continue and DO include spoilers #and the jeremy thing is a spoiler now too so #no longer a HEADCANON [YEAHHHHHH]#jeremy knox #mine

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dear-ao3 · 4 months ago

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so. as you may know it’s christmas eve. as you probably don’t know i am eastern european. and probably the only real tradition anyone holds onto is christmas eve. normally my great aunt does all the food and very begrudgingly sometimes lets everyone help make like. one thing.

well.

this year. the year of our lord two thousand and twenty four. she decided she was done cooking and it was up to everyone else.

so i got a phone call from my mom a few weeks ago being like hey so. you’re making the cake. got it? good.

the cake in question is a walnut cake. i was entrusted with my great aunts recipe about seven years ago. i’ve made it twice. the first time i fucked up the frosting quantity. the second time i fucked up the eggs. both times were passable at best and notably! my great aunt did not taste either of them.

and i have to make this cake. on christmas eve. it is dessert. for everyone. my extended family will all be eating the cake. the walnut cake. on christmas eve. even my great aunt.

so yesterday, december 23 if you are counting, i went on the annual Last Minute Christmas Food Shopping Trip with my father, watched him climb into the case to get his half and half like he does every year, and stressed about my cake as i made sure i had all of the ingredients.

then. we went to my great aunts house. where i was met with Trial Number 1: The Cognac

this cake has cognac in the frosting. not a big deal really. except for the fact that my mom hates that there is cognac in the frosting. (my mom is hell bent on making christmas eve dinner vaguely healthier. no one else agrees.) and i was to be making the cake in my moms house.

also important to note: we (as in my parents) do not own cognac. mostly because none of us drink.

so my great aunt is like oh i have to give you the cognac. cause she knows. i am baking the cake. the walnut cake. (my dad told her. he is a traitor). and i say okay. sure. this won’t be a problem at all.

so she gives me. a shot of cognac. and when i say a shot. i mean an Entirely Full Shot Glass of Three Hundred Dollar Cognac. in a jar. for the cake. the walnut cake. that i have to make.

upon bringing the cognac home my mom says no we’re not putting that in. the cognac sits on the counter in its jar. no one touches it.

then i was met with Trial Number 2: The Frosting.

this recipe requires a pound of chopped walnuts. first. i couldn’t even find the walnuts. my sister and i searched high and low and in every cabinet we could find but no nuts. i called my mom. and said mom where are the walnuts? and she said. “they’re in the nut bag behind the basement door.”

oh of course. how could i have missed the nut bag? a holiday bag full of bags of nuts that was half hidden by wrapping paper and also behind a door?

in any case. could i have used a food processor? absolutely. did i? no. half because i forgot and half because i didn’t want to accidentally grind the walnuts into a paste. so i enlisted the help of my younger sister to chop the walnuts By Hand while i embarked on the real devil: the frosting.

which remember. is supposed to have cognac.

so i cream my butter. i add my sugar. i’m careful not to over sugar. i taste it a million times. i add my coffee and my vanilla extract (instead of cognac. which is still sitting on the counter) and it was all going so well until. the butter rebelled.

now remember. one time when i made this. seven years ago. i made too little frosting. so i made more this time. and i thought i had all my conversions right but evidently i did not because suddenly there was too much liquid in my frosting and it split.

the frosting for the walnut cake that everyone was going to eat. on christmas eve. the very next day.

i felt like a contestant on great british bake-off getting smited by the tent.

so i did the logical thing and shoved the whole mess into the fridge hoping that it would sort itself out overnight.

then it was time to face Trial Number Three: The Cake Itself.

as i have said this cake is a walnut cake. the christmas eve walnut cake that has been at christmas eve longer than i have been alive. and it requires no less than ten egg whites. which i whipped and i added to my walnuts and shoved the whole thing into the oven in my two baking dishes.

only to discover no less than 40 minutes later that the batter in the pans was Not Even (despite my best efforts). so i cooked one longer than the other and hoped that i hadn’t monumentally fucked up the walnut cake. like i had the frosting. which was in the fridge. and i was ignoring.

which leads to Trial Number Four: The Egg Yolk Cake

see i had ten egg yolks. i didn’t know what to do with them. my mom said flush them. my dad said make a custard. i proposed making egg nog. my mom said she didn’t want it in the house cause it was too fattening (a blatantly incorrect statement. please, if you are reading this, go drink a glass of eggnog. or some other fun festive drink. food is for the soul.) so i produced a recipe for an egg yolk pound cake. i made it. i still don’t know if it came out good cause i haven’t tasted it. i hope it did. but that was not the point. the point is the walnut cake. the christmas eve walnut cake.

and the following morning i was met with Trial Number Five: The Frosting Part 2

first i threw my failed frosting back in the mixer and it immediately secreted a brackish combination of vanilla extract and coffee so i did the only thing i could. facetimed my dad and said “father there are problems abound.” and he gave me the fatherly advice of “make it again.”

and so i did.

with more correct measurements. still scared it would split at any second.

though it didn’t.

and i didn’t add the cognac.

maybe no one will be able to tell???

my mom said that if anyone asks the first batch of frosting failed and i had to toss it. this is technically true.

but i had frosting. i had two uneven cakes. and it was time for Trial Number Six: Decorating

decorating cakes is easily in my top ten least favorite activities. decorating the christmas eve walnut cake is easily in my top three least favorite activities. because i am terrible at decorating cakes. and also because it has a filling.

the filling is jam. and i once again made the wrong choice because i put the jam on first before the frosting. which to be fair is what the directions say. but as everyone knows, the directions in recipes you get from your eastern european great aunt are not the real directions. so now i had to smear butter cream. on top of jam. for the filling of the walnut cake. for christmas eve. that we would be eating in a few hours.

and we didn’t have a cake plate. we had a large dish.

i had to use my fingers. i had to use three spatulas. i got jam everywhere. but i did it. and as soon as i set the top cake on top of the filling i realized my monumental mistake: i was supposed to trim down the cakes.

so now they were uneven. and lopsided. and there was nothing i, a mere mortal tasked with the impossible task of making christmas eve walnut cake, could do about it.

so i continued to spread my frosting. which i had enough of. and tried and failed to not get jam everywhere.

in the end it was almost presentable. not great. slightly lopsided. and definitely not as nice as any of my great aunts cakes.

which left me with Trial Number 7: Chilling It

our fridge was being taken up by other important christmas eve things (though not as important as my cake. the walnut cake) so i had to put it in the car. which was fine because there is snow on the ground.

i covered my cake. the walnut cake. in tin foil and hoped i wouldn’t accidentally squish it. and then i went outside. i tried to steal my moms shoes to walk outside. she was not impressed.

“you know, saph,” she said. “some of the time you’re pretty great. the other half of the time you’re really weird.”

i could not agree more.

i put my cake on the trunk. prayed to the cake gods and went inside.

on the one hand if the cake is good, i will be stuck making walnut cake for christmas eve for the rest of my life. on the other hand, if it sucks i will never have to make another one.

Trial Number Eight: The Tasting still waits.

#not a tag #from saph #no i’m not stressed at all why do you ask #the walnut cake

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