etcelsior | the ic mistletoe meme

Kavinsky is a bit drunk because of course he is. While he does still use drugs now and again, alcohol and cigarettes are his only two real vices anymore. (We are leaving out the serial killing because it's the holidays.) He stops to look at Josh, then he tips his head back to identify the plant suspended from the ceiling.

"What is this?" he gestures with his drink to the space between them, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the edge. "Skepticism about my fuckin' prowess? I'm good at it, and you had a shitty week." There's some kind of idiotic masculine challenge to it, the way he tosses his arms out then. More sloshing. This time a little bit of liquor slips out, spills amber dots on the floor.

It's not like Josh can judge. He drinks more than most people could survive because he's got a healing factor and that likes to fuck with your ability to drink, but that shit is expensive and he cut himself off a little earlier in the night. The challenge only gets him to grin, eyes bright.

"Kissing me's a lot, man, you gotta brace yourself before you get on my level."

"That is grammatically fucked," says Kavinsky, judgy, like a gifted and under-performing magical child who grew up into a Hannibalesque supervillain should. "Maybe I should brace myself for getting beat or getting kissed. Or get on your level before I can compete. But bracing myself before I get on the level? No fuckin' sense." He wanders many steps closer. His breath is a deluge of expensive liquor.

"You're still technically a free man, right?" Cue the fake paranoid glance around, one dark eyebrow arched sharply on his narrow face. "Don't nobody need to be in a chemical coma."

"I dropped outta highschool, whaddya want from me?" Another laugh. The world's most uneducated chucklefuck is a doctor, wrap your noggin around that one. His head cocks, smile playful. What's a little kiss between friends? And besides, mistletoe's a thing.

And it doesn't count under the mistletoe, if there's no feelings involved. Right? Right. Just don't tell Laurie.

"I've got until New Years to get it all outta my system, it's now or never."

Oh right. The impending heteromantic road trip. Kavinsky remembers, kind of. The memory is in there, sloshing through his brain, sparkling in the remote distance of things that he only cares about when they're right in front of him. But it is his turn to slosh now, and he does, swinging several steps forward until the gap between himself and Josh is closed, then

closer than closed. His chest collides gently with Josh's chest. He scoots Josh backward, long steps, almost trampling the healer's toes, until the plaster of the wall meets the mutant's back.

"So you didn't get to go to prom?" asks Kavinsky, who never went to prom. He puts his drink down on the nearest little table there, and sets a hand on the wall, up above Josh's blonde head. He leans in, and does that thing. You know, that smile, chin down, eyes up, the flattering shadows cast by warm ambient light over his gaunt-boned face. He spent most of his life being too afraid to show a boy what he wanted, to ask for it. The upside of that is, he knows how to give the sideways look, the smile, to hold the tension in his brief choices of silence.

Kavinsky is dangerous.

Maybe not in the way he should be to Josh, the carnivorous predator hiding in plain sight wearing the cover of someone who needs help. Josh can't see that, or if he can he chooses to ignore it. He's dangerous for what he represents. The temptation he brings. How easy it is to shut off his brain and just let go, come what may. He's a terrible mentor and this is a bad idea.

It's worse when Kavinsky takes charge. By nature Josh is a follower, thought goes to the backburner when someone steps up. Josh's blank eyes ( not nearly so blank up close, the faintest hint of blue iris is still there. clouded over like a dead thing.) crinkle with amusement, a hand coming up to rest the pad of a finger against Kavinsky's chin. He thinks about saying something stupid, like, this pose right here only happens in those cheesy romance movies. But maybe those movies are onto something, because god damn, that's a nice look.

"Nah," he grins. "You gotta graduate to go to prom, man."

"I don't think that's actually true, dummy," Kavinsky says. Then he leans forward and kisses the healer boy.

It is one of those prom kisses. No rush. Kavinsky has these huge lips, the picture of vulgarity, most days, but today it's like a marshmallow brushing over Josh's forefinger before Josh is kissing him, Kavinsky's mouth soft and warm and a little bit eggnoggy even though that definitely wasn't what was in the glass that he set down. His breath coasts down Josh's cheek, languid and easy, like taking a slow toke or the kinds of dreams that wander aimless through foreign territory, muggy and sweeter than Kavinsky ever is in real life.

He breaks the kiss after a second. But then there's another one, coming up, and this one: does have tongue, prying cheekily into Josh's mouth. The other half of the prom legends are all about accidental pregnancies and babies left in bathrooms, so. You know.

Kissing has always been grounding. Centering him when his mind is wild and raging, giving his powers something to focus on. The chemical rush in his brain, in the other person's - it's addictive, perhaps the only thing he's truly capable of being addicted to.

Can you be addicted to other people living?

The first kiss is soft. Soft lips, soft touches, downright tender. It should stop there, with a laugh and a joke. Mentors shouldn't date mentees. There's probably some rule at AA about that, but Josh has never gone and going to therapy is a long ways off.

But temptation is a dangerous game. One he's lost at every time he's played.

Kavinsky comes back at him with hunger and instead of stopping the game he's leaning into it. His lips part and there's an eagerness to it. He's going on a road trip with Laurie in a few short weeks, he's supposed to be stopping this and not living in the shadow of a technicality, but his hands find the fine fabric of Kavinsky's jacket to pull him just a little closer. His power activates with touch, flares up with desire and there isn't long before his tongue is swiping against the other boy's.

Kavinsky likes kissing too. He likes the attention. The rush. The physical sensation. The idea that he can steal away some form of affection without seeming too obviously like he needs or wants it, as opposed to shit like: hugs, cuddles. Fuck hugging and cuddling.

He sucks on Josh's tongue. And it is then o' clock that he also reaches around the gold-skinned mutant, his knuckles scraping the wall, so that he can grab a handful of Josh's right butt cheek. Hello. It gets a squeeze once Kavinsky has his palm squarely in place over it, and the mutant can feel it when Kavinsky's kiss turns into a stupid, shit-eating grin.

"Merry Christmas, Foley."

the ic mistletoe meme

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mild powerpose lmk if not ok

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