Work Text:
Rhett thinks he's known all along, really. Deep down. Not that he doesn't like women—he does. Hell, he married one, and he loves her like crazy. No regrets there; Jessie is incredible and has been his rock in so many ways, through the good and the bad, and if he never had another partner, he could honestly say that he would be satisfied.
He's actually surprised that Link wasn't the first. No, that honor goes to Chris Springs, a basketball player at Campbell University with a vertical that awed Rhett, but not nearly as much as the wide, warm smile he shot towards the crowd when the twelve-year-old would yell "Go Chris!" from the stands. It was a grin that gave Rhett the good kind of tingles, all over. It didn't hurt that Chris was handsome, lithe and muscular in all the right ways. When he had been young, Rhett was sure that his feelings were just intense admiration for the man and his talents. But the more he thinks about it—especially as an adult—the more he realizes that Chris Springs was his first "guy crush."
But his relationship with Link had always been another animal entirely. They met when "I love you" was something they'd only ever said to their mamas, and finding a friend who would let you stay over at their house meant movies and popcorn and staying up too late making each other laugh with fart jokes. The inklings of something more didn't start until high school, one sun-drenched summer afternoon while watching Link strip off his sweat-soaked t-shirt before leaping into the Cape Fear River with all the grace and enthusiasm of a gangly puppy.
Those familiar little tingles began in his belly and spread until they filled him up with an almost giddy feeling. But he refused to acknowledge them—at least not out loud. By then, he knew that those tingles were supposed to be for girls only, so he threw himself into finding one. Through high school and into college he wooed a steady stream of young women, sometimes to the point of ignoring Link completely, in hopes that he would find one who gave him that same sensation.
Jessie was the only girl that ever did. That's how he’d known she was The One: tingles from his scalp to his toes, a buzzing in his body that translated in his heart and his mind—his whole self. Only one other person had ever made him feel that way so intensely, and that person was never going to be an option.
Nearly two decades later, he realizes that "never" might have been too strong a word.
They're in Rhett's backyard on a Friday evening after work, lounging in side-by-side Adirondack chairs on the patio. They've been drinking—just a little, a couple beers each. Rhett knew he'd never get up the courage otherwise, and it didn't seem right to make Link try to deal with the news stone-cold sober. At first he'd tried to keep the conversation light, about work and family and normal things, but Link caught on too quick.
"What's really goin' on, brother? I know you didn't ask me over to talk shop."
Rhett pauses, brings his bottle up to his mouth and takes a long pull. When he lowers it, he finds that he can't meet Link's eyes.
"You're not wrong," he begins.
"Then spill it!" Link says with a laugh. "You're making me nervous!"
Making myself nervous, Rhett thinks. When he glances up at Link, he finds his best friend gazing at him, blue eyes soft and reassuring, setting off a wave of tingles that race down Rhett's shoulders to parts south.
"Whatever it is, man," Link says, "You know you can tell me."
Rhett knows this to be true, and so he takes a deep breath, letting the words flow before he can consider them too long. "I'm bi, Link."
Rhett manages not to shrink down into himself at the admission, but only just. His shoulders are creeping towards his ears and he makes a concerted effort to keep them loose and low.
"Oh. Okay," Link responds with a nod and smile.
Rhett flounders. "'Oh’? That's it?"
Link shrugs. "I mean, I kinda guessed."
"You guessed? "
"A while back, yeah."
Rhett didn't know it was possible to be offended and relieved at the same time.
"How long ago?"
It's Link's turn to drop his gaze, fiddling with the half-empty bottle in his lap. "College, I guess? Sophomore year? I dunno, it's been a while."
"Sophomore year?" Rhett's nearly breathless with the revelation.
"Yeah. When you stopped the UFC thing."
It hits him then, and in his mind he’s there. Wrestling in the dorm room, in just their boxers because there’s no AC and the room is sweltering. He's got Link pinned to the carpet, and they're both panting and growling and laughing. But Link twists just right, trying to disengage himself from Rhett's grasp, and the firmness Rhett's been trying to hide presses against his thigh. Link goes still. Rhett releases him with a short, uncomfortable laugh and immediately goes to his dresser to find a pair of jeans, 100°F heat be damned.
There was no more UFC after that. No more Dead Move. Touching each other—even casually—faded away. Rhett was uncomfortable hugging Link for years after, afraid of rejection or embarrassment, and even more afraid to face a truth about himself that he was desperate to forget.
It's getting better though. Easier.
Their oddball career choice to make a daily internet comedy show eventually forced his hand, and he'd slowly warmed back up to the casual physicality of shoulder pats and friendly hugs, picking lint off clothes and tucking shirt tags in, even fixing each other's fly-away hair or taking a napkin to each other's faces. Not to mention that—with the not-so-subtle encouragement of the crew and the Mythical Beasts—their episodes had begun to lean more and more quasi-intimate.
Link lightly backhands Rhett's arm, pulling him from his musing.
"Did you hear me, brother?" Link asks, and Rhett can tell he's masking concern with a chuckle and false irritation. The memory hit like a truncheon to the skull and Rhett’s ears are still ringing from the blow. He can only imagine the lost look on his face as he drags himself back to the present.
Rhett shakes his head. "Sorry. One more time?"
"And you say I'm the one with no attention span. Just, is this a therapy thing? Wanting to talk about it now, I mean? Not that I'm not glad you're opening up, finally, but..."
"Kinda," Rhett answers, one hand gripping the back of his neck in self-comfort. "I talked about it with him a little, but the, uh, coming out is all me."
Link nods, quiet for a moment. Then he looks up at Rhett over the top of his glasses, a smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. "Well, I'm happy you told me. Jessie knows too?"
Rhett nods back. "First one I told. Even before the therapist."
"And she's fine with it?"
"Yeah, of course. More than. She's happy for me. Happy I get to be my 'true self,' at least with her. And now, you."
"And now me," Link echoes. He leans back in his chair and takes another swig of beer, gazing out past the fence to the reddened sunset.
Rhett swallows. His heart raps insistently against the wall of his chest, urging him on but also warning him away from his next statement. Finally he manages to croak out, "There's more."
Link nods, not turning to him. "Go ahead, bo."
As stupid as it is, the term of affection softly spoken in the fading light steadies Rhett's nerves enough to bear out his next words. "It's you, Link. I'm...gosh, I'm attracted to you."
He pauses there, breathing slow, trying to ride out the gut-clenching terror of rejection and humiliation he knows is coming.
Link just smiles. "Guess I kinda figured that too. You ain't so slick as you think you are, McLaughlin."
Rhett can't help the horror that glides across his face. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."
"You didn't."
“Of course. You like the attention.” The words leave Rhett’s mouth before he can stop them, and he grimaces, immediately following up with, “Sorry. Deflecting with humor… still working on that.”
“Well, you’re not wrong.” Link’s smile relaxes into something warmer and less teasing. "Does Jessie know about that part, too?"
"She does. She understands. Doesn't mind."
“That's good. So, what are we going to do about it?”
Rhett blinks, stunned. “‘Do’?”
Every alarm in his mind goes off. Klaxons blaring, bright lights flashing—the whole bit. For a long moment he can’t move or speak, just sits there with his mouth open for words that never come.
Link stands, and at first Rhett thinks he's going to leave and worries that maybe he's offended after all. But he only moves in front of Rhett's chair and offers a hand to help him up. Rhett pulls himself up to stand nearly toe to toe with him and looks down, eyes darting between his friend's bottomless-blue eyes, his perfect lips, his hand rising to clap Rhett's left shoulder.
Link's grin is gone, replaced by a furrowed brow and soft concern etched into his features. "I can hardly imagine how tough it's been for you. I'm proud of you, bo. I love you."
"Like a brother," Rhett murmured, finishing their oft-repeated phrase with a sad smile.
"Maybe a little more than that," Link responds. He looks away, inhales slowly, and turns back to meet Rhett's eyes. "I want you to kiss me."
Rhett blinks once, twice, and steps back, shaking his head. "I don't… it ain't like I'm desperate, man. I don't need your pity." The backs of his knees hit the chair behind him, and suddenly he's very aware of being trapped. His gut twists and he swallows hard, a lump rising in his throat because he wants to say yes, wants to drag Link to him and kiss him until he forgets how to speak, pity or no. But it'd just be a ruse—something to placate him. Link's not interested in men.
Link's hand drops away and he takes a step back, and Rhett feels like he can breathe again. But Link's eyes never leave Rhett's face. "It ain't pity, bo. If you're gonna be honest with me, I'm gonna be honest with you. It ain't pity. Been thinkin’ about it for a while now." His voice is soft but sure.
Rhett side-steps around him and crosses the patio, one hand tangled in his own wild curls. "What the hell, Link?" he mutters. "You're not…" Rhett finds that he can't say the word a second time, wonders if there was something he missed, some clue that his lifelong best friend was harboring the same secret he himself had locked away for almost three decades.
"’Not’ what? Not into guys?"
"Well, are you?" Rhett cries, his back turned to Link.
Link doesn't speak for a moment, and the silence is enough to make Rhett whip back around to look at him. He finds Link worrying at his lip, his eyes nearly squinted shut.
"No," Link says after a moment, and Rhett has to swallow hard to hold back the wail of frustration and despair that threatens to crawl from his throat. But then Link meets his eyes, and to his shock, they are wet with unshed tears. "It's just you, Rhett. It's always just been you."
Something snaps in Rhett—like a guitar string wound to breaking—and before he even realizes he's moving, he's crossed the patio and Link is in his arms and they're both crying. Not sobbing, but Link's face is pressed into Rhett's shoulder and he can feel the dampness seeping through his shirt, and he's sure Link can feel it in his hair.
They stand there, embracing and nearly silent, until Rhett's heart stops pounding and the steady stream of tears dripping from his face begins to dry up. The thought of Link's carefully coiffed hair gone bedraggled with his tears as if caught in a sudden rainstorm hits him, makes him giggle for no good reason. It must be catching, because Link starts to chuckle too, and the quiet laughter grows, passing between them and building louder and more breathless, and they hold each other even tighter until the tears streaming from their eyes are purely from joy and relief.
Finally their breathing calms and Rhett feels Link relax against him, turning his head to lay his cheek against Rhett's chest and gaze up at him with shiny eyes. Rhett smiles down and—carefully—raises one hand to brush the loose hair from Link's forehead.
"Does Christy know?"
"She's known for years. Took me longer to catch on, myself. Never knew she could roll her eyes so hard as when I told her."
They both chuckle at that, too worn out to let it grow into a full fit again.
"Can I kiss you now?" Rhett asks, his voice barely more than a low rumble.
"Mm-hmm," Link hums. He straightens and faces Rhett full on, tongue flicking out momentarily in a gesture Rhett recognises as both nervous and expectant. Rhett's heart is so full he can barely stand it. He grabs Link's shoulder with his left hand and cups Link's cheek with his right, and leans in.
It's not quite chaste, but still tender. Link's mouth is soft and plush, and he tastes like beer and peppermint when Rhett sucks gently on his bottom lip. They separate after only a few moments, and Rhett realizes that Link's arms have found their way around his waist. He presses their foreheads together, both breathing slow and deep into each other's space.
"Worth the wait?" Link asks.
"Absolutely."
"Hope we don't have to wait another thirty years for the next one."
"Don't think I can wait another thirty seconds," Rhett says with a chuckle as he presses in to catch Link's lips again.