#jackkevin

[leadcasketkinktober]

proposing kevinjack. s8-9 greasy kevin could easily be the older boyfriend who smokes for jack (homeschooled and isolated from society). kevin hates dean and is partially dating his stepson to piss him off

🥴 oh my god.... they should shotgun weed while kevin sits in jack's lap and tells him how much dean sucks...

[benevolentsam]

For @waywardkline who is a cutie patootie <3

Jack's phone buzzed on the table. The screen flashed the name Dad and a message from him saying how much he loved Jack. A second later, it lit up again with a message telling Jack to look after himself. It made Jack's heart hurt; he missed his dads a lot and he was certain they missed him too. He didn't want to make them sad, but he felt like he was.

College was an experience though, and Jack was determined to experience it.

Jack wasn't exactly sure if he was looking after himself. Okay, he probably wasn't. When he lived at home, his dad made sure he ate vegetables and slept at the proper times. His father helped him with school work and told him how proud he was. Since getting to college, Jack hadn't had a proper nights sleep. The bed was lumpy and the sheets didn't feel as soft as they did at home.

And well, it was 9pm and Jack was sat in his little kitchenette eating sugary cereal. If his dad could see him now, Jack knew he'd throw a fit. He quickly sent a text saying he was doing well.

There was a knock on his door, and for a second Jack wondered if his dad figured out he was eating cereal for dinner. Probably not. He got up to answer the door.

"Hey, Jack!" It was Kevin Tran, his neighbour from a few doors down. When they'd all been introduced at the building's social, Kevin had been really kind to Jack. The sort of kind that made him blush when he thought about it. Kevin pushed past Jack and took a seat on his bed. "Alex is throwing a party later, I was wondering if you- if you wanna come with me." 

Jack frowned. The thought of a party, of crowds, of noisy people, it made Jack feel sick. He wanted to, because Kevin looked so excited that even he could tell he wanted to go, but he shuddered.

"I can't. I don't- I don't do well in crowds," Jack said. He kept his head down. He didn't like the thought of disappointing Kevin. Maybe he could make himself go, bite back the bile in his throat. Maybe he could pretend to be normal for once.

"Okay, we don't have to," Kevin said. His voice was so soft Jack could have cried. Kevin was the nicest person Jack had ever met.

Jack sat back down at the table. His cookie crisps had gone soggy and the milk was a shade of dishwater grey. The bowl was pulled away from him, Kevin pulling a face at it.

"Cereal for dinner?" He shook his head. "My mom would go mental if she found me eating like this, she meal prepped like a months worth of frozen dinners for me. You can't eat this, Jack. Since we're not going to Alex's, how about we go out for something to eat. A real meal."

There was something heavy in Kevin's voice, Jack couldn't quite put his finger on it. It didn't matter though, because Kevin was already grabbing Jack's coat for him. Jack dumped the bowl in the sink, slipped on his shoes, and went to grab his wallet.

"Uh-uh, my treat," Kevin smiled. So sweet of him. Jack could feel his face blushing again, something about Kevin's smile always did it to him.

Then it dawned on him.

"This is a date, right?"

"I guess so, yeah," Kevin replied, like it was easiest thing in the world. Jack had never felt his heart beat so fast. He was excited and happy and he felt like he was going to vomit. But he focused on the excitement, rushing to grab Kevin's hand. Their fingers entwined. Kevin pulled Jack along, telling him about this diner a little way away from the campus. Jack tried to listen, he did, but he couldn't think about anything other than how nice Kevin's hand felt in his. 

He would have to tell his dads about it. Maybe tell his uncle Dean first to get some advice on dating. 

[wayward-idiots]

Sometimes I yell into the void about things. This is the story I told in the tags of a post, about Jack Kline and Kevin Tran and two boys who didn’t much care for their birthrights, or becoming weapons, and how Kevin didn’t notice they were dating.

-

"Is that the Prophet?" Greg asks.

Greg's a pretty new demon and Val's already getting sick of looking at his dumb face. The demon mortality rate is finally settling back down now, after some concerning heights, but the downside is demons like Greg managed to live through the slaughter.

But Val looks and, holy shit, it's actually the Prophet.

It's Kevin Tran.

"And there are no Winchesters around," Greg adds.

Val's almost tempted to nab the kid. Sure, Crowley hasn't put out the word that he's interested in a pet prophet again, but someone's bound to be willing to give something in exchange for someone with that kind of power.

But.

"Don't say the name, moron."

"It's not like it summons them."

"It might." No one's quite sure about them.

"Who's that he's with?"

Val isn't sure. He's wearing a cardigan and talking expressively and he's definitely young, a trendy hairstyle and the curve of a boyish face is just visible as he gesticulates. But his back is to the demons, through the café windows. He's not one of them. His hair is neither long enough nor short enough, and he's much too small and young.

Whoever he is, he's got the Prophet's attention. They haven't been spotted yet.

Greg strolls – fucking strolls, he's not even good at lurking menacingly yet and he has the overconfidence of someone who needs to either have the power to back it up or the life squeezed out of him for playing at it – over to check out the Prophet's little friend.

Val follows.

Catches sight of the handsome, boyish face. He can't understand how he didn't see it before. The way his good mood rolls off him disguised the all-too-familiar power he exudes.

"Oh, no, nononono," says Val. "We're going. Let's go. Now, before he sees us—"

The Antichrist's eyes flicked over to them. The joy drains out of his face. The sunshine smile becomes a frown, and the Prophet looks up too, rapturous interest sliding away into confusion, briefly, and then hardening in recognition. They both stand up.

Val is still trying to remember how to make this useless meatsack move while so terrified that, if the meatsack had been alive, it might've actually regained control, when Greg, the absolute idiot, says, "Who?"

Greg is too new a demon to recognize that tugging, that innate loyalty, as reminiscent of the boy's father.

Lucifer himself had been even more magnetic, calling out to every demon in existence, but their Creator had been unmade before Greg's time – unmade by the very boy who is now leading the way out of the café with a jaunty little jingle of the bell on the door as he pushes it open and steps out to face them.

"Jack Kline," Val says, and considers that suicide would be a nice option right about now. That or lying prostrate at his feet. Maybe he could be persuaded not to tell his guardians to tell the King. Instead Val hunches low. "We, uh. Didn't mean to disturb you."

"What were you doing?" He asks. He mostly sounds curious, tinged with healthy suspicion, and more confusion than Val expected. His eyes are narrowed, but in confusion.

Val might actually live long enough to blame the whole thing on Greg when the King investigates.

The Prophet hovers just behind the Antichrist, wary.

"Making sure you weren't a Winchester."

"Oh," says the Antichrist. "I mean. My license does say Winchester. Jack Winchester Kline."

"They were trying to see if they could nab me," the Prophet says.

Accurately.

The narrow eyes become flinty.

Alarm bells are ringing in Val's head.

Hadn't the King put out some new order –

some warning –

"Don't interrupt date night! Oh god!"

"What?" Both the boys say.

"The King said not to interrupt your dates and we did, completely accidentally, our bad, we'll be leaving now, won't happen again, uh, Mr. Kline, Winchester, sir."

And Val slinks away, thinking Greg will either be sensible for once and do the cowardly thing, or become another demon-Winchester statistic.

Greg picks option A.

Val's a little proud. And will continue to be a little proud until it dawns that that means Greg will live to be annoying another day.

Go—Lu—Winchesters dammit.

-

Kevin shadows his eyes with his hand as he turns to Jack. "Did he just say Crowley ordered them not to bother us?"

"Will you feel better if I kill them anyway?"

Kevin gives this due consideration. He knows they were thinking about abducting him. But seeing Jack scared them off, and if word spreads that he's off limits because of Jack, it can only be a good thing. "Just scare 'em a little?"

"Okay," Jack shrugs. He turns back to the retreating demons, frowning, and in a moment his eyes flash gold. There's a distinct fizzle of answering power, and they vanish – Kevin's pretty sure both have been sent back to Hell, and the bodies returned wherever they came from, probably both dead, but at least they'll go back to their families for funerals and closure and all that completely fake bullshit.

"Your control is getting better," says Kevin, because thinking about all that will just make him want to open the can of worms that is trying to destroy all of Hell.

"It's easy when I'm angry," Jack admits.

Kevin glances at him. He's got a distinct little jaw-clench going. "Our coffee's getting cold," he says.

Jack brightens. "I can reheat it!" He likes the little non-violent, non-hellish things he can do with his powers, which is precisely why Kevin mentioned it. Gotta put that genius IQ to work, right?

It's not until they're sitting back down, rewarmed coffees in hand, that Kevin realizes, "Does that mean Crowley thinks we're dating?"

There's a pause. Jack swallows his mouthful of coffee. Stares at him. A little wide-eyed.

"Does that mean we're… not dating?" Jack asks.

Kevin stares at him.

And stares some more.

And drains his entire cup in one go and considers ordering an espresso shot because he might be on half-caf these days to avoid inflicting permanent damage with his caffeine intake after the near lethal amounts he ingested back in his fulltime tablet days.

And.

He hasn't dated since high school, which feels like lifetimes ago and can be measured in traumatic experiences in increments of ten. But also: how has he gotten to the point where he could wind up dating someone and not realize it?

Oh, god.

They've been to the movies, and not just in the home theater in the bunker. To the actual damn movies, without any of the others, even Charlie, who had winked at Kevin when they went to go see one separate from her and Dean nerding out. That had been two movies ago.

They have standing orders and usual booths and servers who recognize them and they went to the park to feed ducks special duck feeding food because bread was bad for them. Dean had denied this when Kevin opened the Amazon box, and then Sam had backed him up, and then Jack had been horrified humans ever gave ducks something so ill-suited to their digestive systems, and then Castiel backed him up, and Dean had spent an hour readjusting his worldview to accept that cartoons weren't always real. And then Sam had mentioned mice and cheese, rabbits and carrots, and then Kevin had brought up carrots and eyesight, and Dean had called them all nerds, and Jack had listened with absolute, angel-intense undivided attention as Kevin explained the history of British codebreaking and propaganda actually aimed at misleading the Germans. And then they'd gone to the park, like Kevin had planned a week in advance and ordered special duck food for.

Holy mother of –

Kevin's brain goes off into some seriously archaic, long-lost-to-human-memory languages to express the expletives he needed here.

And then he blinks, because Jack is starting to look crestfallen, and says, "I should really work on being a better boyfriend," he says, "'cause I didn't even notice."

"The ducks were nice," Jack defends his boyfriend abilities immediately.

Jack has powers. Jack knows what he means when he rubs his eyes and says "fuck Heaven" or "fuck destiny", Jack knows how it feels to worry about falling into the wrong hands, to be a weapon, to be terrified of what you are. Jack knows what it is to move past that and just become a person again. Albeit a weird one.

Kevin's dating his best friend.

And he hasn't even held his hand yet.

Kevin remedies that. Quickly.

Jack looks at him wonderingly as they hold hands a little awkwardly across the table, and the barista keeps smiling at them. Like seeing Kevin fumble for Jack's hand so suddenly and hastily made her entire freakin' week.

"I'm gonna take you to the zoo," Kevin says, thinking about the paper he wrote on the history of ethical zookeeping, and how excited Jack will be to hear about the progress humanity's made so quickly, and to look at the animals.

Jack smiles. "Can we go to one with penguins?"