Chapter Text
Kelvin steps into the small side room, flipping open a crate before shutting it again with a huff. They've been at stalemate for weeks, both patrons trying to get a leg up on the other before the impending Maelstrom. Which means supplies, along with skirmishes were growing more and more common in the Cursed Apple.
Sometimes there was fighting. Sometimes there was nothing at all. But when one Patron gets fussy, everything falls apart from there.
Something moves at the corner of his vision, and Kelvin creeps closer. It could be anything in this city, he's learned quickly. A rat, a creep, a creep, or-
“Ugh.” A familiar voice gurgles. “Of course it's you.”
“Seven?” Kelvin looks down at him, smashed between boxes. “What are you doing here?”
“Enjoying the scenery.” The man replies dryly. He shifts further back, and a low sound of pain escapes him, broken and static.
“What happened to you?” Kelvin tucks his blaster into his belt, kneeling down. Seven tilts his head away, making a low crackling sound that certainly once used to be a grumble.
He breaks, after a few moments. “That brat Graves got the jump on me.”
“Ah. I see.” Kelvin hums. “She is still nearby then?”
“I'm sure you can take care of her,” Seven inhales. “If not, I'll certainly enjoy watching you try.”
Kelvin's rolling his eyes before he's thinking about it.
“I'll be fine.” Seven musters enough strength to wave his hand around dismissively. “Go on, run off. I'll survive.”
“I think not,” Kelvin snaps, bristling, then collects himself. Ever since his… rebirth, he has found it rare for anyone to elicit such reactions from him. Make a coil of angry steam build behind his eyes and force him near to bursting.
Except Seven.
Seven's always had some vitriol towards Kelvin, but he can't place why, and doesn't hold out hope of Seven telling him. Not that he even puts much stock into what the man says anyway, or could say. He doesn't seem to like anyone.
Kelvin continues, swallowing his annoyance. “There is no reason for me to leave you here.”
Seven tilts his head in response, even if Kelvin can't see his face. “So, what then?” He rumbles, cruel mirth to his voice as he begins to chortle. “You're going to be my protector? Kill the child if she hunts me down? Kiss it better?”
Kelvin runs his tongue along the front of his teeth, leaning forward.
“What are you-” Seven snaps when Kelvin jostles him, hooking one arm under his ribs and the other under his knees. “Don’t even think of it-!”
Kelvin hefts him up, and it's easier than he thought it would be. Seven is only a little shorter than him, but he's skinnier and at the moment, he's too weak to really fuss. It feels familiar, carrying him like this, for some reason.
“Put me down!” He squirms, movements heavy and sluggish. If he weren't so drained, it would be like holding onto a feral alley cat. Kelvin tucks Seven's rifle along his back. “Kelvin!”
His voice has gone screeching and laced with static, and he continues his complaints even as Kelvin begins to leave. He doesn't stop, frankly. Even when Kelvin's hands move on their own, holding Seven closer as he slides down, safe in a building a few blocks away.
Kelvin sets him down, only for Seven to kick his leg out with impressive force. It nearly knocks Kelvin over, connecting with his shin.
“That's enough.” Kelvin snaps, catching the next foot that flies his way. “Where are you hurt?”
“Like you care.” Seven snaps, trying to pull his foot back but to no avail. Kelvin stares at him, unable to come up with a reason he can verbalize as they play a pathetic game of tug of war with Seven's ankle.
“Where?” He bites his tongue, mind running. “The team- The team needs you. At full strength and cooperation for the best chances at the ritual. So, where?”
Seven stops fighting him, then. He grumbles, that broken static sound.
He doesn't say anything, so Kelvin inhales and squeezes his ankle tighter. “Where, Seven?”
“Everywhere.” He snaps then. “You know how that damn thing works.”
“The hand that eats your soul?”
“Yes. That one.” Seven grumbles.
Kelvin takes his gloves off with a sigh before shoving up the tattered ends of a prison shirt, ignoring more angry threats, it doesn't take a fool to see they're all empty, and presses his hands against Seven's marred sides.
What skin he can see is ashen and drained.
Seven thrashes, truly now, which tells Kelvin either his little performance when being carried really was just that, a performance, or he's feeling better already.
“Would you stop? You're making this harder than it has to be.” Kelvin scolds.
“It's cold!” Seven snaps, no, whines.
Kelvin stares at him, hands hovering inches above his stomach. He can see his face from this angle, or whatever shows through the veil as it shifts, seeming shy.
Seven grumbles and Kelvin can't help himself as he begins to laugh. “Just get on with it.”
“The cold will fade if you stop squirming.” Kelvin informs with a chuckle, and Seven mocks him under his breath.
Seven's stomach flutters and twitches, attempting to shy away from Kelvin's hands and they press back to his flank.
It settles after a few moments, and Kelvin swears the man under him sighs.
“Alright.” Kelvin pulls his hands away, a shiver running through Seven's frame. “Anywhere else?”
There's no answer, which probably means yes. “Seven.”
“Kelvin. If you have any value for your life, you will let sleeping dogs lie.” The man insists, attempting to pull himself backward. His legs are splayed around Kelvin's waist.
He grabs a thigh to stop him from moving, and jumps when a broken, choked sound gurgles from Seven's throat.
It's a few moments of Kelvin being thankful he can't blush, before Seven speaks, chest heaving. “Ow.”
Even that sounds sarcastic.
“Alright.” Kelvin sighs, bracing himself. “Let me see.”
Seven chortles, then, leg twitching in Kelvin's grasp. “If you insist, doctor.”
Kelvin grumbles, undoing the tight belt at Seven's waist. He's about to pull the cloth down but hesitates for a moment, finger hooking in the waistband.
He's more than familiar with what deja-vu feels like.
“Something the matter, Kelvin?” Seven rasps out, voice heavy and breaking on the edge. “I didn’t realize it took this much effort to give aid. You insisted, don't you remember?” ”
The snarky comment is enough to pull Kelvin from his stupor. He scoffs, tugging the pants down.
He stares at two, rotting and decaying handprints on Seven's thighs. Where Kelvin's hand had touched, skin sloughs off onto the ground, a disgusting greenish-grey that has Kelvin's stomach turning.
“Well.” Seven inhales. “Would you look at that?”
Kelvin presses his hand to the worst of the two, and Seven's leg begins to shudder and shake as frost begins to revitalize whatever skin it can. He jumps, slightly, when something shifts against his fingers.
“You have a tail.” He croaks.
“Indeed, Kelvin.”
“You’re Ixian.”
“Putting all the pieces together today, are we?”
“Does this hurt?” Kelvin asks like the words just burst from his throat, but aren't related to this situation at all. Seven scoffs, headpiece deposited next to him. Looks like he went and spoke to McGinnis. “Do, do I need… to- ah…”
“My skin is rotting and falling off the bone like a well done rib.” His throat clicks. “Yes, it hurts.”
“So you can feel pain.” Kelvin observes. Seven's expression shifts.
His throat clicks again. “Constantly.”
Kelvin snaps his head up to look at Seven.
“What?” The man snorts, or his equivalent to it. “You thought using my body as a conductor to light up the field was pleasant?”
“I thought it was eldritch electricity?”
“It is eldritch. My body isn't."
“I see.” Kelvin takes his hand off the second thigh to press it back against the exposed part of Seven's belly. There are strange, occult markings carved into the flesh in places. “You don't know what life is like without pain.”
Seven glares at him, dangerous and agitated. “Watch yourself, Kelvin.”
Kelvin blinks, and his thumb is making rhythmic circles on Seven's stomach, right on the edge of his hip bone.
That's strange, but what's more strange is the fact Seven isn't stopping or shooting him in the head. Kelvin isn't sure which he would prefer.
Seven goes to sit up, probably to pull away, before he stops abruptly. His voice sounds cruel when he speaks, but doesn't land like it. “Seems like you have some blood to push around.”
Kelvin furrows his brows, before he follows Seven's eyeline.
“I, uh,” He swallows, trying to think of what to say and can only land on: “It's not, uh. I don't know where this is- why it is-”
He looks at Seven, propped low on his elbows, legs splayed open around Kelvin's waist as Kelvin presses a hand into his stomach. It makes sense why this is happening, but also none at all. He's meant to be a consummate professional.
They're both men, as well. But that doesn't bother Kelvin as much as he thought he would. Just a flick in the back of his mind, that lingers like an annoying gnat.
Seven tilts his head with a pondering noise, and Kelvin feels his stomach clench with what he thinks is a mix of want, melancholy, and comfortable familiarity. He swears he can see a smirk under that veil, a look of thought that's already made up its mind and knows what it wants and is just toying with him. Pursed lips that drive him crazy in multiple ways, endearing and infuriating.
“Hm.” Seven drops slightly, voice warping as he considers the situation.
His hand grabs Kelvin's wrist, guiding it downwards.
“If you do not want to do this-” Kelvin begins as Seven places his hand on his soft cock, though his underwear. “This is wholly-”
“Patience, Kelvin” Seven interrupts, seeming annoyed. “One of us was trying to be a professional, here.”
He rubs along the sides on Seven's cock, feeling it harden under his cold fingers. The man beneath him sighs, the noise cracking and breaking.
Kelvin rubs his thumb under the tip, Seven's head falling back as he rolls his hips slightly.
“What else should I-”
“You know what you're doing.” Seven scolds. “Don't play dumb.”
He's right, and Kelvin hates it. Not the feeling of the dick hardening under his hand as he gently rubs his knuckles along the length, but mostly on the principle of proving Seven right.
He pulls Seven's underwear down, getting a better view of what he's working with. The skin is as burned and mangled as the rest of Seven, the head a bit sharper than he was expecting. There's a line of small bumps on the bottom, right along where he'd been rubbing with the back of his hand, and a slightly larger one just under the head. Alluring.
“This doesn't hurt, does it?” Kelvin asks, even as he wraps his fingers around the base of Seven's cock. “Your skin is-”
“No.” He deadpans “But you're going to have to try harder than that. Nerves are fried.”
“I assume that is an all over condition?”
“No, Kelvin,” Seven squints, sarcasm and disdain dripping from his tongue. “What do you think?”
Kelvin sighs through his nose, squeezing as he strokes up and down while he questions his life choices.
It doesn't take too much longer after that before Seven's hips start wiggling. He sits up, reaching forward and tugs out Kelvin's cock in turn.
He stares for a moment, before grabbing the edge of his parka and tugging him closer, until they're pressing against one another.
“Ah.” Kelvin mutters, the texture of Seven's skin is strange but making him twitch. “I should warn you, I can't remember the last time I did this.”
“At the brink already?” Seven toys with the slit on Kelvin's dick. When did he take off his gloves? His nails are sharp, but shouldn't cut. It looks like he chews them. There's a small metal hole in the middle of his palm. “How desperate.”
Kelvin bites his lip as he begins to move his hips, unable to come up with a rebuttal. Seven's voice crackles, possibly a low moan as he moves his hips in turn. Either way, he sounds like a self-satisfied cat.
Kelvin drops to his elbows, bracketing Seven in under him. That pulls a little inhuman squeak from the man's throat, but Kelvin can't even laugh because the noises he's making aren't much better.
Hands grip his shoulders, steering far away from the artifact on his back. Kelvin doesn't know what it's doing, if it’s seconds from turning both of them into living ice sculptures, but frankly he doesn't care because Seven has wiggled his fingers into his jacket.
Kelvin arches into it, groaning at the simple touch. He hasn't felt anyone on his skin for so long, and the little sparks coming off of Seven's fingers light up his own dulled nerves.
There's teeth at his neck, and what definitely does feel like lips dragging between deep bite marks.
Sharp nails drag on his flesh when he uses an arm to heft Seven's hips more flush against his. He's panting, even if he can't work up a sweat.
“You are desperate,” Seven notes, but he sounds more tipsy than anything. “What, keep to yourself when you came back to New York?”
“I was looking for someone.” Kelvin admits, biting his tongue as Seven wraps his fingers around both their cocks, squeezes to the edge of pain before spreading their combined precum.
“That's a lie.” Seven bites out, resting his chin on Kelvin's shoulder, and he's cradling the back of the man's head before he realizes it. Kelvin swears Seven purrs.
“Why do you wish to hear of my other escapades?” Kelvin asks instead, hips stuttering. “Possessive?”
He wouldn't put it past Seven. A few bolts are clearly loose in the man's head.
“No.” Seven snaps. “I'm simply wondering what has you rutting against me like a mutt.”
Kelvin presses them closer together, nuzzling into the side of Seven's collar as he grinds.
“Seven,” He chokes out, biting back another name.
“Mmmh.” The man responds, hips twitching and turning. Kelvin's coming to the conclusion that the man is just a squirmy individual.
He mouths against Seven's veil, groaning low in his throat. Ettrick, Ettrick, Ettrick-
Kelvin curls in as he comes, squeezing Seven so hard the man lets out another involuntary squeak, and punches his shoulder a few times.
It's a few moments of that before Kelvin reaches back down, taking Seven's cock in his hand and beginning to stroke.
He makes a low sound, that's most likely a curse. But his hips jerk as his chest heaves and he clings to Kelvin like a lifeline. He makes sure to squeeze harder this time, too, he can feel the difference in the little breaths against his ear, the twitch and squirm of a stomach, and the widening of legs around Kelvin's waist.
Seven's voice falls apart after that, so Kelvin can't make out what he was saying if he wanted to.
However, he knows exactly when Seven comes, because the electric shock that runs through his body makes his muscles seize and spasm, teeth grinding against one another. White and red pinpoints of pain dance behind his eyes before it's over, smoke rolling off their bodies with the light smell of charred meat and hair.
Seven lies under him, making a low, consistent wheezy sound as he stares blankly at the ceiling. His chest heaves, and Kelvin watches as his cock twitches, small spurts of come still landing in his stomach.
“You could have warned me.” He grits through the shocks. Seven laughs at him.
He presses his knuckles against the underside, jerking away at the static shock before pressing fully and gently running the back of his fist along the bumps like he had earlier. Electricity jumps off of different points of Seven's body, making him twitch and groan.
He presses his thumb on the underside of Seven's cock, and pushes upward, watching with no amount of purity as the body below him obeys Kelvin, more come landing in his stomach as he massages the area under the soft head.
“Kelvin,” Seven snaps. “Stop it.”
“How long do you go on like this?” Kelvin asks instead, curiosity and a bit of sadism in there. He continues to rub tiny little circles, and Seven's cock twitches and continues to react. “I am a scientist, after all.”
Seven makes a series of clicking, pinpoint zapping sounds. Little sparks come off the area around his mouth as he tries to speak, and Kelvin can't help but be a little endeared at the sight.
He hefts Seven's hips up, taking the head into his mouth. That pulls a sharp screech from Seven's throat that sounds suspiciously like Kelvin's name.
Kelvin presses his thumb to the bottom of Seven's cock, digging into the flesh there. The skin on his tongue is rough but buttery, like a lotioned callous.
Seven lets out a sound similar to hissing steam, and Kelvin chokes slightly as he comes again, a small electric current that makes his muscles twitch hitting him before Seven's body sags like a puppet with its strings cut.
“Seven?” Kelvin asks, letting his hips down gently. “Seven? Are you alright?”
“Hrng.” Is all he gets, along with another steam adjacent sound. “Bastard.”
He doesn't seem angry, at least.
Kelvin reaches into his pack, pulling out a cloth he usually uses for cleaning condensation off his blaster and wipes the mess off of Seven's stomach.
The urge to rest his head on Seven's stomach doesn't go amiss, either. To curl up against his form in this moment of afterglow and simply be. Seven seems to be doing it, lying in place and not complaining or making snide comments for once as Kelvin mostly puts him back together.
He wonders if Seven had something like Kelvin and Ettrick must've had once.
Kelvin's stomach drops. Ettrick, he still needs to find him, and now he's gone and done… this. He can't even remember his face.
Kelvin can't even make himself regret it, and the guilt deepens.
Kelvin's head snaps up at the sound of something exploding nearby, stomach dropping and throat closing up.
He curses after a moment, even if he knows he's grateful for the distraction and a reason to get away from the man lying lax under him.
“Seven. We need to go-” He does a double take, blinking.
He's passed out. Kelvin didn't know he slept.
A warm fuzzy feeling mixes inward with the guilt and general panic of exploding objects. He hesitates at the window, glancing back before heading off. There's no reason to think about it, really.
Discouraging Graves from going any further is easy work, especially with Ivy, who comes down to land on the nearby balcony. It bends precariously under her weight, but holds steady. Kelvin wipes some zombie bits off of his coat, then wipes his blaster against his side to get rid of the condensation.
“Thanks for the backup-” Ivy gives a toothy grin at him, tilting her head. She reminds him of a bird, in the best ways sometimes. “You want a lift out of here?”
“It would not be unappreciated.” Kelvin admits, and her smile grows. She grabs under his arms, and takes off, flying along the skyline of the Cursed Apple. The sun is setting, painting the sky a curious shade of orange and yellow.
“So, hey,” She says as they land. “You seen Seven? I didn’t see him today, but I could taste it in the air that he was ‘round.”
Kelvin stares at her. “Why do you ask?”
She giggles, rummaging in her back pocket before pulling out a small mirror with a tiny chip in it.
Kelvin stares as he smooths out the static from his beard, and the hairs that are sticking straight up on his head. And the red marks on his neck that he rubs idly. “Ah. Yes. Graves injured him earlier.”
“Oh, oh, I see.” She nods, pocketing the trinket. “And he shocked you because he's an asshole?”
“He- well yes.” Kelvin concedes, mostly wondering if he should scold her for language. “He is an asshole. But no, he didn't mean to. This time.”
“Oh, real bad then?” She hisses as he nods. “He's all fixed up now, though?”
“For now. Until he does something else stupid.” Kelvin licks his lips, curiosity winning out politeness. "Why do you carry around a mirror- don't you worry it will break? Being made of stone?”
Ivy gives him a flat, winning smile. “I just like looking at myself sometimes.”
He stares at her, watching as she bids him farewell and takes off into the sky. The skirmish for today is dying off, the Candle Head creeps burning low and the Archmother's soldiers glowing dimly, their patrons power dwindling for now.
Kelvin briefly entertains the thought of returning to check on Seven, but doubts the man is there anymore. He turns, and begins making his way to the Baroness.