Chapter 27 #2
"Injuries are a bitch," Bishop agrees. "I've had my share. Separated shoulder, fractured ribs, concussion that had me seeing double for a week."
"Jesus," Kenneth mutters.
"That concussion was terrifying," Atlas adds, his hand moving to Bishop's shoulder. "He couldn't remember where he lived for two days."
"But I remembered you," Bishop says, turning to kiss Atlas's knuckles. "That's all that mattered."
"Brutal Bishop is such a sap," Finn says, but he's smiling.
“For my boy, I always will be.”
Kenneth clears his throat, and I can tell he's gathering courage for whatever he wants to say. "So, uh, speaking of injuries and questionable decisions…" He pauses, glancing at me for support. I nod encouragingly. "Has anyone ever told you that watching Royce work is kind of intimidating?"
Everyone at the table goes quiet, then Bell bursts out laughing.
"Oh, you noticed that too?" my brother says. "I've been telling them for years that they have an intensity that makes people nervous."
"I do not—" I start to protest.
"You absolutely do," Kenneth interrupts gently. "It's not a bad thing. It's just… when you're focused, you get this look. Like you're planning seventeen steps ahead and already know how everything is going to play out."
"That's because they probably are and they probably do," Finn adds.
At least my brother has the kindness to throw himself under the bus too. "It's a Bellport thing. We're all like that. Well, most of us. Jake just kind of speeds through life and somehow everything works out for him anyway. I think he channels his chaos into a superpower."
"Jake has his own kind of intelligence," I say, defending our younger brother. "It's just less obvious."
"True. But you, Roycey Poo," Bellamy grins at the old nickname Jake still occasionally calls me, "you've always been the planner. The one who thinks everything through. Even more than Carmen, which says a lot."
"Someone has to," I mutter.
"See?" Kenny says to the table. "Intimidating. But also impressive. And kind of hot, if I'm being honest."
The table goes silent again. My little menace seems to realize what he just said out loud, and his eyes go wide.
"I mean… that's not… I didn't mean to…"
"Smooth," Bishop says, clearly entertained.
"Very smooth," Atlas agrees.
I can feel my face heating up, but I'm also fighting the urge to laugh. Kenny looks absolutely mortified, which somehow makes it even more endearing.
"For what it's worth," I say, loud enough for just our immediate group to hear, "I think you're pretty hot too. Even when you're putting your foot in your mouth."
Kenneth's mortified expression shifts, turning softer, and under the table, his hand squeezes mine again.
"Okay, you two are adorable," Finn declares. "I'm calling it now. This is going to last."
"Don't jinx it," Kenny says quickly.
Bellamy raises his glass in a toast. "Can't jinx what’s meant to be. To my sibling, who finally let someone past those walls. And to Kenneth, who apparently has the patience of a saint."
"I'll drink to that," Bishop says, raising his as well.
We all clink glasses, and I catch Kenneth's eye across the rim of my wine. He mouths "Your Majesty" at me, and I have to bite back a smile.
The dinner progresses with multiple courses, wine flowing freely, and the noise level steadily increasing as people relax and enjoy themselves.
I catch snippets of conversation from down the table—Gillies is now debating the merits of different pizza toppings with Walters, arguing that pineapple is not only acceptable but superior.
"I'm going to have to disagree with you there," Walters is saying. "Pineapple on pizza is a crime against nature."
"It's sweet and savory perfection!"
"It's an abomination!"
At one point, Naymon's baby starts fussing, and at least five different people immediately jump up to help. The baby gets passed around like a very precious football, each person taking a turn making ridiculous faces until the little one is giggling.
"The team really is a family," Kenny observes quietly.
"Our team since it’s very much still yours too," I correct. "And yeah. That's what I was hoping for."
Bishop leans across the table, lowering his voice so only our immediate group can hear. "So are you two together, or are we all just pretending not to notice the way you keep looking at each other?"
I nearly choke on my wine. Kenny goes very still beside me.
Bellamy sighs. "Bishop, we talked about this. Subtlety."
"What? I'm being subtle!" Bishop looks genuinely confused.
"You're really not," Atlas says, patting his boyfriend's arm fondly.
"I thought I was being very subtle. I didn't ask right away. I waited through appetizers and the main course."
"That's not what subtle means," Finn says, shaking his head.
"We're together," Kenneth says, his hand finding mine under the table and making no effort to hide the gesture this time. "We're just trying to be somewhat professional about it. For the team."
"Professional went out the window about an hour ago when Royce kept staring at you like you hung the moon, and you made that cute comment that we all pretended not to overthink," Finn observes.
I start to protest, then catch the knowing looks around the table. "Okay, maybe I did."
"You definitely did. It was very sweet. Also very obvious," my brother confirms.
"It's cute," Atlas assures me. "Also, congratulations. You both seem happy."
Kenny squeezes my hand. "We are. Very happy."
Bell’s expression softens. "You deserve that, Royce. You've spent so long taking care of everyone else. It's about time someone took care of you."
"Kenneth does," I say quietly. "He takes very good care of me."
"Okay, now you're both being adorable, and I don't know if I can handle it," Bishop says. "Can we go back to arguing about pizza toppings?"
"Please, no," Atlas groans. "If you start another food debate, I'm leaving."
"You love my food debates."
"I tolerate them because I love you."
The conversation shifts after that, moving to safer topics: Finn's latest finger-painting project, Atlas's newest stuffie purchase, Bishop's playoff predictions that involve increasingly elaborate scenarios.
Kenneth keeps holding my hand under the table, his thumb tracing patterns on my palm that are definitely not helping me focus on anything else. It’s distracting in a way the simple gesture shouldn’t be.
By the time dessert arrives, people are starting to drift into smaller conversation groups. Some of the players have moved to the bar area, while others are clustered around the baby, taking turns holding him and contemplating the benefits of fatherhood while being a pro-athlete.
Gillies appears at our end of the table, holding what must be his third helping of dessert. "Royce, I just want to say, this was awesome. Like, seriously. Best team dinner I've ever been to."
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," I tell him. "You certainly ate enough."
"Hey, when the food is this good, you don't hold back." He grins, then glances at Kenneth. "Also, I'm really happy for you two. You make a good team."
Before either of us can respond, he bounds off to join another conversation, leaving Kenneth and me staring after him.
"Did that just happen?" Kenneth asks.
"I think it did."
Kenneth leans in close, his breath warm against my ear. "Can we sneak out for a minute?"
My pulse kicks up. "It's our party. We can't just leave."
"Five minutes," he murmurs. "Please, Your Majesty. I've been good all night. Kept my hands to myself in public. Didn't kiss you even though you look incredible. Didn't let your brother's embarrassing stories affect how I see you—which is still perfect, by the way. I think I've earned a reward."
The want in his voice does things to me. I glance around. Everyone is occupied, not one person paying attention to us.
"Five minutes," I agree. "The courtyard out back. Go first, I'll follow in a minute."
He blows me a quick kiss and then stands, making some excuse about needing air. I watch him weave through the crowd and slip out the back door.
I wait exactly sixty seconds, then catch Bell's eye. He takes one look at my face and shakes his head, but he's smiling.
"Go," he mouths. "We've got this."
I stand casually, making my own way toward the back exit. The courtyard is small and private, surrounded by brick walls covered in ivy, with a fountain in the center and soft lighting from lanterns hung around the perimeter.
Kenneth is waiting by the fountain, and the moment I step outside, he pulls me close.
"Five minutes," I remind him, even as I back him against the wall.
"Then we better make them count." His mouth finds mine, hungry and demanding. He opens for me immediately, hands sliding under my shirt, fingers splaying against my skin. I have to bite back a moan.
"Kenny," I groan when I break away.
He kisses down the side of my neck, like he can’t stop his lips from touching me in some way.
"We can't—people might—" My arguments sound weak even to my own ears.
"Let them." He bites down gently on a spot that makes me weak, and this time I don't hold back the sound. "God, Royce, you've been torturing me all night. Looking like that, being so perfect and in charge, making everyone feel welcome and included. Do you have any idea what that does to me?"
"Tell me," I command, slipping into that dominant voice that I know affects him.
He shudders against me. "Makes me want to worship you. Want to get on my knees and show you exactly how much I need you. Want to make you feel as good as you make everyone else feel."
"Later," I promise, fisting my hand in his hair and pulling his mouth back to mine. "When we get home, you can show me whatever you want. But right now, we have about three more minutes before someone comes looking for us."
"Worth it," he mutters against my lips.
We kiss like we're trying to memorize each other, like these five minutes are all we have instead of an entire night ahead of us. His hands are everywhere—my waist, my back, tangling in my hair, slipping under the skirt I wore.
And I give as good as I get, pressing in closer, deeper, needing more even though I know we can't have it here.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard, my lips swollen and his hair a mess from my hands.
"You look thoroughly kissed," I observe, trying to smooth down his hair.
"So do you." He catches my wrist, pressing a kiss to my palm. "Think anyone will notice?"
I straighten his collar, then my own shirt. "Definitely. But I'm finding it hard to care."
He grins, that boyish smile that makes my heart flip. "Good. Because I plan on doing that again the moment we're alone. And again after that. And probably several more times before the night is over."
"Is that a promise, Little Menace?"
"Your Majesty," he says, his voice dropping low, "that's a guarantee."
We head back inside together, not bothering to stagger our entrance. If people notice, which, based on Bell's knowing smirk, Bishop's outright laugh, and Finn's amused head shake, they definitely do, no one says anything directly.
I settle back into my seat, Kenneth beside me, his hand immediately finding mine again under the table. The party continues around us, warm and loud and full of life.
Bellamy leans over, voice low. "You two are not as subtle as you think you are."
"Don't care," I tell him.
"Good. You shouldn't." He squeezes my shoulder.
"Thanks, Bell."
This is what we wanted to build. Not just a successful team, but a family. People who care about each other, support each other, celebrate together.
And Kenneth, sitting beside me with dessert on his plate and happiness in his eyes, is at the center of it all.
My little menace. My partner. My future.
Later, when we're finally alone, I'll show him exactly what that means. But for now, I'm content to sit here, surrounded by good people and great food, with Kenneth's hand in mine and the promise of more to come.