theclaravoyant:

AN ~ sorry it took so long, and sorry it’s so short, I’m still getting the hang of writing for the sitcom world and these two characters in particular. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

Read on AO3 (~900wd)

Rated G/G+.
CW: It’s fluffy, & humorous (modelled after that time Holt got defensive of Kevin’s PhD :P) but there’s a tiny bit of ableism, ft the R slur.
Holt x Kevin, ft. Autistic Holt. During canon or pre-canon, it’s ambiguous.

–

Kevin stuck his hands in his pockets as Raymond counted out the coins for their movie tickets. It had become a ritual of his over the years, and though tickets cost a lot more now than they once did, he’d kept to it: always paying in coin, always counting out perfect change. Unfortunately, that also took a little longer these days than it used to, and while Kevin didn’t mind the wait – it had, after all, become part of his night at the pictures as well – some others certainly did.

There was one such patron behind them now, quietly huffing and shuffling his feet and checking his watch; generally making a fuss. Distracted, Raymond had started over twice, which had only further irritated the gentleman, and this in turn was making Kevin’s temper flare. He could feel the man’s impatience like a cold breeze on the back of his neck. But there were only a few more coins to go; he was certainly not going to escalate the situation for the sake of a few seconds, even if a verbal objection would be successful, the prospect of which he frankly, doubted.

But then, the other fellow had to go and escalate it for him.

“Come on, old man, what are you doing? Paying in pennies?”

Kevin turned.

“We may pay however we like,” he pointed out. “What’s it to you? The film doesn’t start for another half hour and even then it’s only previews.”

“I- just- well, you know,” the man huffed. “My idea of a night out just doesn’t include standing in line waiting for your friend there to count his coins.”

He nodded at Raymond, and Kevin felt his hackles rise. As if this were not enough though, the man went on with a blasé laugh and added:

“What is he, retarded?”

That set the glowing embers of Kevin’s irritation to flame. With a steely ferocity in his eyes, the powerful anger of a man who knew all too well the pain and exhaustion of letting micro-aggressions slide, he squared up to the stranger. Keeping his hands in his pockets, and speaking in a crisp and firm voice that would have conveyed obvious dripping displeasure even to generations much younger and more liberal in their expression than Kevin, Holt, or the man in line, Kevin spelled out his reply.

“My husband and I have just as much right to enjoy our night out as you do, and I must say, our plans did not involve putting up with a belligerent ass in the process of paying for our tickets. We have conducted ourselves with perfect manners until this moment and you have barely been able to manage five minutes – I’ve counted, and that’s a generous estimate – of waiting in line without harassing your fellow patrons. Frankly, I’m surprised that a man of the vocabulary and character you’ve exhibited thus far this evening would be interested in seeing the same film as us. I’m also given to wonder what you would do were you seeing said film at any other time than the middle of a Monday morning, when you must share your facilities with three, perhaps even four other people! The humanity, sir! –“

“Kevin-“

“- AND may I say,” Kevin continued, barely hearing Raymond’s interruption, caught up as he was in a passionate tirade, “I hope you learn something from this film about the way in which people should conduct themselves. My husband is a decorated Police Chief in this fine city, and he can count his damned coins if he wants to.”

Raymond cleared his throat a little louder this time, and repeated his call with greater emphasis: “Kevin.”

Kevin, who had paused to take a breath, heard this time. Though he was still seeing red, he let a hand on his elbow brush through the rage to remember why he’d been so explosive in the first place. He took a deep breath, nodded apologetically at the bewildered cashier, and walked with Raymond away from the frustrated stranger, and toward their allocated theatre.

“Well,” he mused as they took their seats, and as he reflected momentarily on the fire that had so rapidly disappeared from his heart, replaced by an almost serene calm. “I apologise, Raymond. Apparently that’s something of a trigger for me.”

If he was not mistaken, Raymond was smiling.

“I should say so,” he agreed. “But there’s no need to apologise. That man was indeed being a ‘belligerent ass’, if I do say so myself.”

At this, Kevin smiled too, comforted by the knowledge that he had not, after all, made their night worse. He may have even improved it. Perhaps, he thought, part of the calm he was now feeling was even due to having stood up to the stranger in the first place. It was a rare moment when a literature professor had an opportunity to protect, as it were, a working Police Chief, and he had to admit he took a great deal of pride in it.

“Raymond,” he wondered, nudging his husband just as the pre-show reel began. “Did I just curse?”