See first chapter for disclaimers.
As always, I thank those of you who have given feedback. I'd always appreciate more to know that people are interested in the story.
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Kevin woke up on his living room sofa, still groggy and confused from what he'd presumed to be chlroform put over his mouth. He had a mind to go light into Tony Gordon, whom he assumed must be behind all this, but when he tried to stand, he suddenly felt weak.
"Just stay put," a calm but determined voice ordered him. Kevin was in no mood to disagree.
"Craig? Izzat you? What are you doin' back in Weatherfield?"
Craig bit his lower lip as he tried to answer a question he wasn't entirely sure of himself. He handed Kevin a glass of water.
"I was planning on staying with my granddad until the start of next year...he needs some company. Then I read about Rosie going missing and I wanted to help."
Kevin's puppy dog brown eyes looked into Craig's own soft chocolate pools for a moment as Kevin recalled just how much Craig had loved his daughter.
"Always a nice lad, you were. Our Rosie's been...and don't let her mam hear this...a right tart without you around."
Craig looked lost in thought.
"We've both gone through some changes."
Craig's soft eyelashes clouded for a brief second as he was swept back to the past. He and Rosie had been inseparable, first loves, until she'd chosen to stay with her family instead of run away with him.
Kevin looked at this boy, now young man. His hair was now much shorter, none of the brown locks falling over his shoulders that used to make Rosie sigh. He still had those soft, kissable lips, even if he had hardened somewhat in his years away from the street.
Kevin's grogginess gave him a looser filter, and he squeezed Craig's shoulder.
"Y'know, Craig...I've missed ya. I always had to be the menacing dad and all that, but I thought you were a cool lad. I used to be one of those meself."
Craig gave a strange, almost longing look to the hand still on his shoulder, then tried to throw in some sarcasm to hide his feelings.
"Before the dinosaurs died."
Kevin tried to break through his haze to laugh at Craig's deadpan dig.
"So, if...WHEN..Rosie comes home, think ya might want another chance?"
Craig put his hand on top of Kevin's.
"Sorry, Mr. Webster, but I don't think that's going to happen."
Kevin decided not to push further. He could have sworn Craig was looking at him almost longingly. Maybe that attack had messed with his mind more than he'd suspected.
"Do you want to call the police, Mr. Webster?"
Kevin shook his head.
"If that was about Rosie, then I don't wanna antagonize 'em, they'll just hurt her. Just wanna get to bed."
Craig took the glass to the kitchen, but Kevin called out to him.
"Oh, and Craig?"
Craig stuck his head out.
"Call me Kevin."
Kevin gave him a rumpled, slightly offcenter smile, and Craig wasn't sure what to say.
"Alright...Kevin."
Kevin looked inordinately pleased by the way Craig said his name. There was something shining in his eyes that Craig initially didn't understand, then suddenly, understood all too well.
Kevin, whether he knew it or not, wanted Craig. And Craig, as much as he told himself this was a bad idea, wanted Kevin too.
He stayed in the kitchen for a few more moments, willing his erection down. When he got back into the living room, Kevin was bent over, rifling through some magazines. The generous view of Kevin's plump backside in sweatpants did little to calm Craig down.
Kevin turned around, and Craig tried not to watch his cock swing in the loose pants. He gulped as he remembered he needed to look at Kevin's face, that beautifully weathered face of character and charm, not at the chubby club between his legs.
Craig vigorously shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He was rock hard, and since he wore very tight jeans, Kevin quickly noticed.
Kevin had felt something for Craig since the 19 year old had reappeared, but he thought it was just happiness at seeing a reminder of his daughter's happier times. Now he knew his feelings ran far deeper. Even now, Craig looked like an angel, with the mouth and body of a devil, tempting Kevin into indulging in the feelings he thought he'd abandoned after his long-ago flings with mates like Terry Duckworth.
"Um..." Kevin stammered, trying to pretend he wasn't wanting what he wanted, as Craig tried to do the same. "When Rosie comes home...do you think ya might...?"
Craig processed his question, trying not to notice the tantalizing patch of furry stomach peeking from Kevin's too-small white undershirt.
"I don't think that's gonna happen, Mr. Webster."
Kevin chuckled and tilted his head to the side.
"How many times? Kevin."
Craig, busy fumbling with his hands in his pockets to will his erection down, heard his wallet fall out. Kevin picked it up for him, to see a photo of Craig with his arms around a very handsome young black man with dreadlocks and very large arms. Large...everything, it seemed by the photo.
Craig turned white as he saw Kevin looking at the photo.
"I'm g-gay now, Mr. Web...Kevin. It's an open relationship though, I can have whoever I want, long as they're blokes."
Craig turned from white to crimson. He hadn't meant to say all that.
For a moment, Kevin had a look of wildness in his eyes, as if he even he didn't know what he was going to do. Then tears began to form in his eyes, a reaction of shame.
"Great dad I am. Me daughter's missing, could be dead, and I want to give her ex a shag."
Kevin began to cry, and almost without thinking, Craig raced over, taking the emotional Mr. Webster into his arms.
"Shh...Rosie's gonna be fine. I promise. I promise."
Kevin snuggled his head onto Craig's broad right shoulder. Kevin felt very safe, and at peace. Usually he was trying to take care of Sally, or his daughters, and they never gave a thought to him. To have someone who cared about him, who wanted him...
Suddenly, Kevin pulled himself away.
"I-I think I'm gonna take a bath and head to bed. You can kip on the couch if you got no place ta go. Thanks again."
Craig looked at the uncomfortable sofa as Kevin's very ample backside headed up the stairs. The old, respectful Craig Harris would have done what Kevin asked, but Kevin's mouth and Kevin's eyes had been saying two different things entirely.
After a moment, Craig quietly made his way upstairs, following the sound of running water and seeing a still partially-open bathroom door. Craig peeked inside, catching his breath as he watched Kevin peel off his undershirt, exposing his lightly furred chest, built with the muscle of hard labor and grit, with a slight paunch. Craig thought back to all the times he'd seen Kevin's face and chest spattered with motor oil and grease, and how he'd wanted to scrub him, touch him with his lips and fingers and tongue. He licked his lips as Kevin removed his shoes and began to slide down his track bottoms. His buttocks were large and surprisingly firm for his age and build. There were faint traces of hair leading to the carpeted crack. Craig wanted nothing more than to squeeze those cheeks, bite into them, taste them, spread them wide.
He couldn't take anymore. As Kevin sat in the warm tub, hissing at the heat against his naked, tired body, Craig stripped naked, his hairless, tightly toned flesh on display, his leaking 8 inches smacking against his firm stomach, his balls low and heavy.
As Craig opened the bathroom door to fully expose himself to Craig, Kevin cursed, nearly jumping out of his own skin and the bathtub.
"Shh...let's not talk..Kevin. Not yet. Not what we need."
His erection led the way, heading towards Kevin, the door closed behind him.
000
Meanwhile, Craig's old mate David Platt, now 18 and a semi-reformed bad boy, was talking to Street patriarch Ken Barlow.
"I don't want to impose, David, but my son Peter's recently returned home."
David, rubbing his highly tanned arms out of boredom, forced himself to be polite.
"And?"
Sort of polite.
Ken continued.
"As you probably know, given my mother-in-law's proclivity towards gossip, I wasn't the best father towards Peter. And since..."
David rolled his eyes, trying to contain the sore spot Ken had prodded.
"Since I have a crap dad, Peter and I got something in common? We gonna form a Crap Dad Club?"
Ken paused.
"Well...yes."
Truthfully, Ken had always been very kind to David, even when the entire Street had turned against David. Even after David had hit Ken's leg with a pipe during a meltdown David preferred to forget. Ken had forgiven him, and even as selfish as David was, he knew Ken deserved some of the same respect.
"Alright, Ken. I got the afternoon off."
Ken smiled and clasped his hands together, his hair waving as his head bobbed around.
"Splendid! The entire family, save Peter, will be at the cinema this afternoon. Peter's not exactly reliable, so in case he forgets you're dropping by, I'll hand you a key, let yourself in."
The morning and lunch trade at the kebab shop passed by quickly. David's girlfriend Tina was giving him blue balls again, frankly he was getting sick of her big gob, but he didn't want to be alone.
He was relieved to get away from her as he knocked on the Barlow front door. Unsurprisingly, no one bothered to answer. Ken knew his son well. David cursed under his breath as he pulled out the key and let himself in.
Peter was nowhere to be found. David wandered around the house, finally stopping at one of the bedrooms.
The door was wide open. Peter's heavily tattooed, leanly muscular arms were working feverishly, one hand pinching his nipples, the other underneath a white sheet as he wanked what looked to be a very large endowment.
"That's your job, ain't it?" Peter said to him in an unbelievably dirty, drunken voice. "To keep an eye on the meat? Here ya go."
He whipped off the sheet, showcasing 10 inches of Barlow beef, the veins throbbing from Peter's brutal fist, the foreskin peeled back to reveal an immaculate pink head.
"C'mon over here, Platt. You wanna talk about dads?"
David stammered out some attempt at a yes.
He winked at David, chuckling as his bleary eyes studied David's startled form up and down.
"Then call me Daddy."