Davin Kavanagh

Davin doesn't really know what's wrong with him.

Well, he has some ideas. He's been through a lot. A whole lot, but he should be better than this. He should be stronger. But apparently he isn't. He can feel himself withdrawing, getting quieter. Getting sad. This isn't a new feeling to Davin in the slightest, but he's always been able to beat it before. He's always been able to come out on top, no matter what he's faced.

Maybe not this time.

He feels this desperate urge to get away from the city, and he finds himself thinking about Brigid's shrine. He could be in Ireland in under an hour, and the temptation is strong. Really, incredibly strong. But he can't just leave. He has responsibilities. He has James.

Davin knows that he isn't really being fair to James. It's a lot of pressure to put on what's still a fairly new relationship, but he's trying. He feels best when he's in James' arms, and that means so much to him. It's why he wants to go away with him so badly. Part of it, anyway. But that isn't right either. The trip is supposed to be a happy event, not an escape. He just needs to try harder. '

He's home from work, and he's exhausted. His potions sped up his healing and his cast is already off. There are no physical reminders left from his time with Roman, saved for a faint, silvery scar where the wrench hit his temple. He's back to work full time, maybe a little bit more than full time, but he still loves what he does. Working on cars helps clear his head, and makes everything feel a little bit normal.

After his shower, he's considering just going to bed. It's still relatively early, but lately he's just been so exhausted. It's summer, but he's pale. There are dark circles under his eyes, and even though his enchanted charm keeps the actual nightmares away, he still has trouble falling to sleep. Everything is just so much.

He's standing in the door of his bedroom when there's a knock on the front door. After pulling on some sweats, he goes over to open it. James is standing on the other side, and Davin's mouth curves up into a genuine smile. He brightens a little at the unexpected visit, and he stands up a little straighter. "Hey, babe. It's good t'see ya. Come on in."

Davin doesn’t sleep.

He’s afraid of losing his grip on this tiny spark, this glowing little ember of his magic that’s peeking through. If he loses concentration, it could extinguish into nothing. So Spencer sleeps, head pillowed on Joel’s cardigan where it’s propped against the corner, and Davin paces.

The more he paces, the more the fear starts to fade away, all burned up by that glowing ember. Anger fills the empty space left behind, pulsing hot and insistent in his veins in time with the throbbing of his broken hand. The tips of his fingers are purple and he’s worried about circulation. He’s worried that by the time they get out of here, because they will, that it will be too late. He won’t be able to work on cars anymore, or play his guitar when he’s in the mood, or slide his fingers up into James’ hair like he likes.

But he pushes that to the back of his mind, and he paces. His magic is there, fluttering like baby birds’ wings under his skin and beneath his breastbone, and it’s getting stronger. Davin wills it to get stronger. He imagines his grandmother standing there and telling him that he is a descendant of the Kavanagh clan. The blood of history’s greatest witches runs through his veins and he is strong. He is powerful, and he will fight. His magic cannot be extinguished, not by any means, because Davin won’t let it be.

Isn’t that right, my buachaill draíochta? Yer the youngest an’ strongest of our line, Davin. Ya were born t’lead us all, an’ ya will fight. No silly little charm can keep yer powers at bay. You’ll fight an’ you’ll win, d’ya hear me, boy?

“Yes,” Davin whispers, and he swears his sees a flash of auburn hair out of the corner of his eye. It’s not real, he’s sure. It’s a trick brought on by his hunger and exhaustion, his desperation, perhaps even the head injuries, but he knows that’s what she would say if she were here. It’s what he needs to hear, and she’s right.

Davin closes his eyes and grits his teeth, focusing on that weak little flutter inside of him. He tugs at it, concentrating on the anger and the pain, on just how badly he wants to get out and see his loved ones again, how much he wants to get Spencer back to Joel. His magic gets brighter and brighter and Davin is breathing hard, and suddenly he feels it wash over him. It’s weak, but it’s there. It’s there, and Davin opens his eyes to see the bare, dirty lightbulb above his head glowing dimly.

Because of him.

Davin lets out a deep breath and cuts the light before it can draw any attention, and then he holds out his good hand and pulls. A single screw cuts a line through the water and flies through the air to land neatly in Davin’s palm. It’s long and sturdy, and Davin curls his fingers around with a dark, bitter smirk.

The tables have turned, and they’re going to win.

He doesn’t have any time to wake up Spencer up and tell him before he hears footsteps approaching, but maybe it’s better this way. He has to sell it, after all. Davin puts the screw in his pocket and sits back down against the wall, doing his best to look defeated.

Roman strolls through the door with his bat over one shoulder and a large, thick book under one arm. Spencer wakes up and makes a pained nose, like he’s jarred one of his many injuries, and Davin rests his broken fingers in the cool water to try and get some relief. “Morning, boys! Do you have an answer I’m going to like today, Davin? Or should I put my batting skills to good use?”

He takes a practice swing and mimes looking into the sun, and then grins as he turns to look at them. Davin swallows hard and glares up at him, not daring to look at Spencer’s face.

“Yes,” Davin says quietly, brokenly, like it’s the last thing he ever wants to do. “I’ll do the spell. I’ll take Joel’s magic.”

Grimhilde Manor is in the middle of freaking nowhere.

Luckily, in the place of the carriage that brought James and Davin to the ball is now James' BMW. Davin doesn't give it much thought, and just helps James into the passenger seat. He's hurt pretty bad but not in any way that Davin can't fix. He cups his cheek, the one that isn't scraped up and raw, and leans in to press a trembling kiss to his forehead. "I'll get us outta here, okay? It's gonna be okay."

He shuts the door and goes over to the driver's seat. Davin's entire body aches, and his head is throbbing, but he'll be fine. It's all going to be fine. At least, he hopes it will.

The keys are sitting in the ignition and Davin starts up the car, spitting gravel as he flips it around and heads away from the manor. James has his head back against the seat, eyes closed, and Davin keeps glancing at him worriedly as he drives. He doesn't really know how James is going to react to what he just saw. It was a huge burst of magic, in which Davin killed something, but Davin's hand was forced. He didn't want to do it; he had to if he wanted to save them. His hands are still shaking, and his heart is pounding away in his chest. Maybe he'd go into shock, if he wasn't so wholly focused on getting them somewhere safe.

Davin's shop is on the way to James' house, so he pulls into the parking lot and looks over at James' quizzical expression. Davin swallows hard and unbuckles his seat belt, tossing the door open. "I just need t'grab somethin'. I'll be right back."

There's a small wooden box in a locked drawer in Davin's office that holds a few vials of his healing potion, just in case, and he rushes in to grab it. He runs back out to the car and sets it on the console before pointing the car towards James' house. Once they're at the cottage he puts the car in park, grabbing the box before going around to open James' door. He hooks James' good arm over his shoulders and helps him up, leading him up to the front door and unlocking it. Davin helps him over to the sofa and sits him down, taking a few steps back and biting his lip.

"I - " Davin swallows hard, eyes shining, and he has no idea what to say. He's just so fucking scared and upset, and he wraps his arms around himself as he looks helplessly at James.

It's been almost two whole days.

Davin hasn't left his apartment since he got home from the hospital, and now he's staring down at his invitation to the Flynn/Cabot ball. He's not sure why he was even invited. He'd worked with Corrine when people went missing. Maybe that was it. He'd waffled back and forth about going, even though he has no place at some fancy ball. But still, it was a ball, fairytale type shit, and James had taught him how to waltz. He went and got something to wear, just in case, and it's a good thing that he didn't take the tags off. Now he can return it.

He can't really waltz with broken ribs.

There had been enough of his healing potion to take care of some of the damage. It had been brewed with minor cuts and bruises in mind, normal everyday nicks and dings that come with working in an auto shop, so he still looks pretty banged up. He'd dabbed some on his lip and the cut above his eye, removing the stitches when they healed. He uses some to mostly heal his black eye, taking away the swelling and some of the bruising. The rest goes to the cut on his side and spread along the bruising on his ribs. His face is still scraped up and bruised on one side, one finger still broken, ribs still discolored and sore. But at least now he doesn't quite look or feel like he was just released from the hospital. He just looks like he got the shit beat out of him.

He could have brewed more but that would have meant actively calling on his magic. He's still wary of it after how close he came to hurting people with it. His grandmother always tells him how incredibly powerful he is, how he came from a long line of strong witches, leaders of their clan. He never really realized how serious she was until now. He can feel the power coursing through his veins, and it feels dangerous. This will pass, he's sure, and he has a Skype date with his grandmother on Sunday. He can ask her about it then. For now, he's not using his magic, so the wounds will stay.

His date with Jameson is on Friday, and Davin knows that he has to cancel it. He can't show up looking like this. He just hopes Jameson will want to reschedule, but why would he? Thinking about it just makes him sad. He had been so, so excited for this date, even with all the obstacles it was coming with. It's been a really long time since he went on an actual date, and he likes the way he feels around Jameson, all shy and excited and hopeful. Good. Now he's pretty sure he's blown it.

All he has to do is just actually call him. He's been staring at his number in his phone, but keeps delaying hitting call. Jameson seems like the kind of guy who would actually go to the ball and he's probably getting ready to leave about now, so Davin needs to get this over with. It's a real shame. He would have loved to see Jameson all dressed up.

He sighs and sits down on the couch with a glass of whiskey and soda and a bag of cookies, preparing for a night of sulking in front of the television. After swallowing hard, he hits call and brings the phone to his ear.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: graphic physical violence and hate speech (including derogatory slurs) both inflicted upon a gay character.


“I’m sorry it’s gotten so bad, kid. I had no idea.”

It had taken weeks to get Tom on the phone long enough to have a proper conversation, as he’s been off deep sea fishing in Mexico, and Davin is so grateful to finally be able to talk to the owner of the shop about things. He’s been dreading coming to work lately, and he just wants to get rid of the two assholes making his life a living hell. Thankfully, Tom seems to be in agreement.

“They’ve just worked for ya forever,” Davin explains. He’s holed up in his office at the shop, and he can hear Mel and Hank’s loud, annoying laughter filtering through his door. Everyone else has gone home for the night. “I didn’t want t’do anythin’ without consultin’ ya.”

“Davin, I put you in charge for a reason, didn’t I? Hell, I’m practically retired,” Tom tells him, and Davin bites his lip against a small swell of gratitude. “It’s gonna be yours one day, isn’t it? You’re keeping that place afloat, kid. It’s thriving under your leadership, and if you want to get rid of two assholes I hired way back before I found a goddamn prodigy like you, be my guest. I trust you. And I’ll be back soon. I’m bringing you a shot glass with naked ladies on it. They didn’t have one with naked guys.”

Davin is overwhelmed from all the nice things Tom says. No one has ever really believed in him like Tom has, and he can’t help but to laugh about the thing with the shot glass. Not long after Davin started working at the shop one of the guys saw him out on a date and brought the gossip back like a seventh grade girl, effectively outing him. It’s not like Davin was in the closet, hadn’t been since high school, but he felt no need to advertise it at work. Tom had seemed put off by it just like the rest of them and that broke Davin’s heart, but it wasn’t long before Tom started to open up his mind and accept Davin for who he was and change his whole attitude about homosexuality. He’s not going to go marching with PFLAG or anything, but he no longer sees it like it’s something terrible.

“Thanks, Tom.” Davin says tiredly. It’s like a weight has been lifted, and now all he has to do is actually fire them. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem, kid. Just be careful, alright? Mel’s meaner than a junkyard dog and Hank ain’t much better,” Tom tells him, like Davin was unaware. “They’re not gonna take it well.”

“I got it. See ya soon, old man.” Davin hangs up the phone and takes a deep breath, scrubbing his hands over his face as he stands up. He’s got everything ready, like their last paychecks and termination notices, and now he just has to call them in and do it. He takes a step away from his desk and bites his lip, going back to turn on his webcam and turn it to face the rest of the room with the computer monitor still off. He’s a little nervous, but he’s not going to back down. He’s also not going to let them get away with any bullshit.

Part of him thinks that he should wait for Tom to get back, or maybe have Jason around just in case, but he’s just so tired. He wants it over with. He leans out of his office and searches around until he spots them over by a Lexus with fender damage. Davin can pop that dent out of place with his magic tomorrow no problem, and then it just needs a new paint job. “Mel, Hank, can ya come in here? I need t’speak with ya.”

“Oh, sounds like we’re in trouble with her majesty,” Mel says to Hank, who snorts unattractively. Davin rolls his eyes. “Coming, princess.”

Davin goes back into his office and leans against his desk, waiting for them to amble in. When they do, he takes a deep breath and picks up two envelopes, handing one to each of them. “I’m letting ya both go. Here’s your final paychecks.”

There, like a Band-Aid. If only it were that simple.

( cut for length and content. trigger warnings apply within. )

It had taken Davin a few days to come to terms with the note he'd found in his mailbox.

It had obviously been from Nathan, or rather Bach, because of the few guys Davin has slept with recently, he'd been the one that had been a little strange. At least, he's the one Davin can imagine admitting lying about his name in the same weird note where he promised to come back for another fuck. It was odd though, because Davin hadn't told this guy where he lived, or even his last name, so how did he know where to drop off a note?

He'd been tempted to crumple up the note and throw it away, because why should he do what some guy who lied to him about who he was says? He's never met this Alfie person, and doesn't know what good a stranger checking up on him will do. But the note had sounded sincere, and goddamnit, Davin is a good guy. He's just not going to ignore someone who might need help.

So it's with only a little trepidation that he finds Bach's building and the apartment below it. It takes him a few moments of chewing on his lip and worrying that this is all some sort of weird trap before he actually knocks on the door.

Well, this should be interesting, at least.

Lara drops off her drool-worthy Mustang earlier in the morning and Davin practically hisses at Mel when he tries to swipe the keys as soon as she leaves. Not only is the car a fucking work of art, Lara Quinn left it with him personally. No way is anyone else touching it.

Turns out the problem is a simple fix, and Davin is actually a little disappointed that he doesn't have an excuse to get deep down into the guts of such a fine machine. He works through his lunch to do some more standard maintenance that it doesn't necessarily need right this moment, but will soon, then washes it and details the already neat interior.

"Someone's bein' quite the kissass," Mel comments when Davin finally emerges from the service bay, and he just holds up his middle finger without stopping until he gets into the office to give Lara a call.

"Hey, it's Davin," he says when she answers. "Your baby's ready t'come home."