Summary: After a long night at the office, Deana suggests they play truth without the dare.
or,
In which Kirill and I both struggle through how he accepts everyone else for who they are, but his first reaction to himself or anyone else thinking he’s attracted to a man is no because he, himself, is a man.
WARNING for internalized homophobia. One-sided Kirill / Doug.
I do promise this is not just sad, though. Kirill needs a hug and he does get it.
Word Count: 1294
Title is from Troye Sivan’s “youth."
I don't own "Double Decker.”
It happened early one morning in the Seven-O office, when all six detectives had worked through the night on a large case. Travis had left to see the police commissioner when it became apparent the action wouldn’t happen till that night, and Sophie and Apple had yet to arrive for the day. Doug had disappeared the instant Travis had—not that any of them were surprised. But that left just Kirill and the girls draped over pretty much any comfortable and/or flat surface in the office, too tired to bring themselves to move. Or at least—most of the girls.
Kirill grumbled in envy as he watched Yuri walk about the room, cleaning up the mess of food packages, coffee cups, and paperwork they had made during their all-nighter. Her body, unable to feel fatigue or pain, moved smoothly and effortlessly. Kirill himself couldn’t even lift a finger from where it rested on the arm of his chair, his long limbs splayed everywhere.
“Yuri,” Max groaned, tilting her head towards her girlfriend. “Can you bring me my coffee? It’s on that table over there.”
A second later, Yuri handed it off with a kiss to Max’s forehead.
“I love you,” Max sighed. She took a long sip of her drink, smiled at Yuri, and somehow managed to relax even more full-bodily into her desk chair.
“I know,” her girlfriend smiled back.
“I’m gonna puke,” Deana gagged. “How do you have the energy to be all lovey dovey now?”
“Deana,” Kay said. Kirill imagined it was supposed to be a rebuke of her partner, but it lacked her usual energy and tone. The fact she was currently sitting on the floor, back to her desk, while Deana had claimed the entire middle of the floor as her bed probably had something to do with that.
“What?” Deana asked. “I’m genuinely wondering. I think I’d make myself puke if I moved an inch, let alone gathered up enough sweetness to tell someone I loved them.”
“It’s ok, Kay,” Yuri said. “We know she didn’t mean it in a bad way.”
“What way?” Deana asked.
“See?”
Kirill laughed, then groaned as it pulled on his stomach muscles. Why were his stomach muscles sore?! He’d been sitting in a chair all night!
“You know what we should do?” Deana remarked. Kirill rolled his head around to stare at her. She had switched from staring at Kay and Yuri to staring at the ceiling; Kirill envied her ability to just change topics like that. “We should play truth.”
“Just truth?” Kay asked. “What happened to dare?”
“Do you have the energy to do a dare?”
“Well, no—”
“Neither do I. Or anyone else here besides Yuri. So it’s just truth.”
“Makes sense,” Max conceded. “Who goes first?”
“ME!” Deana yelled. Kay, Kirill, and Max all groaned as the noise pierced their ears. Deana quieted for a moment, before saying—thankfully at a much lower volume— “Kirill, who do you have a crush on?”
Panic overriding his memory of pain, Kirill yelped, first from the panic, and then from the pain it caused himself. Something soft hit his arm, startling him into silence, and he realized that Deana had somehow worked up the energy to throw one of her stitched charms at him.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “But really? That’s your question?”
“If you wanted me to think of a new one you shouldn’t have shrieked like a cat getting its tail stepped on,” Deana replied, a wicked smile on her face. “Come on, Buzz-cut. Spill. Who is it?”
Kirill stared at the other detectives. Max had cocked an eyebrow at him, while Yuri gazed steadily at him from over Max’s shoulder. Kay’s foot tapped at the air a bit, and he knew if she had her normal energy, she would be bouncing where she sat. And of course Deana still had that wicked smile.
“There’s no one,” Kirill denied, and stubbornly shoved images of teal eyes and soft-looking brown hair out of his head. He didn’t have a crush on Doug, so why was he thinking of him? Doug was his partner, he had ten years on him, he—Doug was a man. And so was he. There was no way he had a crush on Doug. “There’s no one,” he insisted again. His fingers found the strength to clench around the arm of his chair.
Max cocked the other eyebrow.
“Kirill, are you sure?” Yuri asked softly. “You seem…” She hesitated, but eventually continued, “You’re usually very sure of yourself and your feelings, and you don’t seem like that now.”
“You know you can tell us anything, right?” Kay added on. “We’re your friends, we won’t judge.”
Doug’s eyes seemed to stare into Kirill’s soul, despite the other man being nowhere near the office. He was probably sleeping, like they all should be, or taking advantage of the day off to do laundry like the silly man he was—the silly man who had told him time and time again, in actions and words, that he would always be there, standing by Kirill’s side. Whenever he needed him. Even when Kirill thought he didn’t. But—
“It’s wrong,” he whispered, and looked away from the other detectives.
Yuri’s hand, light and gentle on his arm, brought him back. They were still staring at him, gazes as gentle as Yuri’s hand. Or at least, most of them were.
“How can it be wrong if you love him?” Deana demanded. She had shoved herself up on her elbows to be able to glare at him. “We’re detectives, Kirill, and Yuri was right—you’re usually sure of yourself, and when you’re sure, you’re obvious. We all know you’re crushing on Doug.”
“We do?” Kay asked, jaw dropping. Even her words couldn’t cover the thunderous noise of Kirill’s own heartbeat.
Deana snorted. “Most of us do. Now you just need to admit it to yourself.”
“But—” Kirill started.
“Is what Yuri and I have wrong?” Max asked.
“Of course not!” he cried, eyes darting between them. “You’re both wonderful and happy together and I’m happy for you!”
“So what’s wrong with you crushing on Doug?”
“I...” Kirill didn’t know how to say it. That it was wrong because it was himself, because he was a man, and they were them. It was ok for them. It—somehow, it was different for himself. He was a man, and there were certain expectations and standards that he had to fill. Especially if he wanted to be a hero and save people, even if Max and Yuri and all the other queer people he knew did it fine. It was different for himself. But how could he say that? “It just is,” he whispered.
“It isn’t,” Kay insisted. “There are no special rules for you, Kirill. If it’s ok for them—for anyone—then it’s ok for you.”
“But—”
Yuri’s arms encircled him and pulled him close, tucking her own head next to his as she echoed, “It’s ok for you.”
Kirill didn’t know if it was the hug, or the words, or even his coworkers’ overall acceptance—but whatever it was, it pushed him over the edge of the morning’s exhaustion and the tiredness of hiding part of himself, and he cried. The tears welled up fast, hot and burning, but as each one trailed down, he relaxed deeper and deeper into the hug, though he lacked the strength to lift his arms up to reciprocate.
In the back of his head, Kirill knew this wasn’t all it would take. He had spent too long wrestling with himself, too long in denial. But maybe… maybe now that he wasn’t wrestling alone, he could find some semblance of happiness. Maybe.
