Warning: Slash (non-graphic). A teenage boy's dirty mouth and frank discussion of his body's needs. Sweaty men wrestling naked in oil, mud, and- Oh, wait, no. That's Turkish Oil Wrestling. Never mind. Carry on.

Growing Up to Fall

Slevin's life was spared by the mysterious Mr. Goodkat when he was young. Since then, Mr. Goodkat has been his mentor and his friend. He doesn't remember much about his parents anymore, but Mr. Goodkat has always been there. He's been like a father to him. Only... Slevin's been growing up. He's been having these urges, been noticing things about his mentor that he never did before.

He notices the way Goodkat's muscles move underneath his skin, and how that skin captures his own attention. He notices how when he does well, Goodkat gets this little smile in the corners of his mouth. Slevin would, and has, done anything for that smile. And if Mr. Goodkat is particularly proud of Slevin, he'll clap him on the shoulder or rest his hand on the top of his head.

Slevin's been having dreams where that hand slips down to the back of his neck. It squeezes gently, and Goodkat smiles in just that way that makes Slevin happier than anything else. Mr. Goodkat smiles at him, looks him straight in the eye, and pulls his face closer to his own. Soon their lips are touching, just barely, and Goodkat whispers, "Good dog," before pressing in and completely covering Slevin's mouth with his own. And it's wonderful, because Mr. Goodkat is smiling against his mouth and tastes of warmth and -

And then Slevin wakes up, confused, again. He doesn't know what to do with this new awareness, this knowledge that he wants more from Goodkat than simple fatherly affection. What does he do? Will Mr. Goodkat be angry with him, think he's wrong in the head, and leave him, and...

Slevin lays frozen in bed and does nothing.


Except he can't ignore it. It doesn't go away. He notices, more, and more. The way Goodkat moves. The way he talks to Slevin, which is different than the way he talks to everyone else. The way he looks at him. The way he subtly encourages him to be better, to be the best he can be.

The hardest time to try and shake this awareness is when they're training, or sparring one-on-one. Goodkat will correct his shooting stance, and Slevin will catch a whiff of his scent. It has gunpowder and metal and leather in it. It's the most soothing scent Slevin's ever come across, and he knows it's because of this man. He wonders how he's ever learned anything new when Goodkat stands this close.

They're wrestling now. Goodkat has his arms up around Slevin's midsection, pulling his arms up behind his head. Goodkat and Slevin are both shirtless, because it's summer and they've been going at each other in this hot room for a while now. Goodkat's front is pressed all along Slevin's back, and Slevin forgets what they're doing because their skin is slicked with sweat and he can't think and they're so close together and he's so fucking aroused, and -

"Slevin. Pay attention. You'd be dead by now," Goodkat says, and Slevin flushes in embarrassment, both because of his condition and his disappointment of his guardian.

"Sorry. I'm just – distracted. Shouldn't have let it get the better of me," Slevin mumbles. He prepares himself for Goodkat to continue with their sparring, but he surprises him by pulling back and turning Slevin around to face him.

"What's wrong?" he asks, and Slevin's cheeks burn so hot he's sure his face is flaming red.

"Nothing," he mumbles. God, he can feel Goodkat's breath fanning across his face, he's so close. He's so fucking embarrassed, but that doesn't seem to matter to his stupid dick. Please don't look down, please don't look down, please don't look down...

"Ah," Mr. Goodkat says after a moment of silence. If possible, Slevin feels even more embarrassed. He wishes that he could just spontaneously combust, or anything, just something so that he could leave and not have to continue this conversation, ever. He squeezes his eyes closed and tries to pretend that he doesn't have a hard-on for his concerned mentor.

"Ah. Slevin. You have nothing to be embarrassed about," Goodkat says. He's trying to be reassuring, but it's only making it worse. "This... reaction is perfectly normal. You're a teenage boy, it's to be expected."

"Yeah," Slevin whispers, refusing to open his eyes. He can't look at Goodkat right now. He's still so close to him.

"Slevin," Goodkat says, when it becomes apparent that Slevin's not going to make any other respose. He's starting to sound worried now. Shit. Slevin opens his eyes, only to see Mr. Goodkat right there, his face so close. He's searching Slevin's face for some sign of what's wrong with him, and that caring look hits Slevin right in the chest and makes him... slip. He falls against Mr. Goodkat's chest, and their lips are finally pressing together. God, it's just as good as he imagined.

Then reality comes crashing back. He stumbles away from Mr. Goodkat and touches his fingers to his mouth in shock.

"I- Sorry. So sorry. I-" he stutters out. Shit. Shit. Shit. He keeps backing away from Goodkat, horrified and god he can't believe he did that. He's so stupid. So stupid.

"Slevin. Slevin, calm down," Goodkat says. He holds his hands out toward Slevin, like he's trying to calm a wild animal. Slevin stops where he is, but he can actually feel himself trembling. Mr. Goodkat takes a step toward him, but stops when Slevin flinches. "Slevin, it's fine."

"No, it's not," Slevin whispers. His eyes are glued to the floor. "I shouldn't be thinking about you like this, all the time, and I can't stop, you're always there, and you're so – you, and I can't look away." Slevin squeezes his eyes shut again.

"Slevin," Mr. Goodkat says, and Slevin braces himself for rejection. But instead, Goodkat closes the distance between them and places his hands on either side of Slevin's face.

"Slevin, it's fine," Goodkat says, and Slevin opens his eyes in shock. Goodkat looks completely sincere.

"You... you sure?" Slevin asks.

"Slevin. I will always be here for you," Goodkat says. Slevin sighs in relief. Goodkat isn't mad at him, or disappointed. Then Goodkat blows his mind apart, saying, "Especially when your wants coincide with my own."

Did Mr. Goodkat just say what he thinks he did?

"You want me?" Slevin blurts out, sure he's wrong. Mr. Goodkat smirks.

"Yes. I do," he says. His eyes are intent on Slevin's face, trying to gauge his reaction.

"Whoa," Slevin says. He's absolutely floored.

"Yeah," Goodkat says, smiling the slight smile that makes Slevin want to feel it against his lips. And Goodkat must be a mindreader or something, because he picks that moment to lean in and lay one on him.

"Mmm," Slevin says. Goodkat chuckles. Slevin pulls back and asks cheekily, "Does that mean we can have sex?" Goodkat snorts.

"No. You're still a minor," he says, and strokes Slevin's cheek. Slevin frowns.

"Yeah, for like two more months," he retorts.

"You're still seventeen," Goodkat says. Slevin pouts at him. "Hmm. I could push it to twenty-one."

Slevin gasps in horror.

"You're a bastard, you know that?" he asks. He touches Goodkat's cheekbone, just because he can.

"I know," Goodkat says, and he full-out grins.

Whatever. Slevin will just have to convince him, that's all.