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There was something weird about Kinjou that day. Weirder than normal, at any rate. Arakita wasn't sure what it was yet, but it was there. On his face. Glaring at Arakita and daring him to notice it. Challenging him to call Kin-chan out on it.
He glanced over at Kinjou for the umpteenth time that morning, eyes darting from the road they were mosey-ing down, trees flying by on either side of them. There was something - not wrong - just something kind of off about it. Something that was starting to really, really annoy Arakita in a very ants-in-your-pants kind of way. It was making his scowl dig deeper than usual, making his skin itch with annoyance and his fingers rhythmically grip at the handles on his bike. Because it was there, staring at him right in the face.
He just couldn't find it.
It was a Saturday, and like all Saturdays, Arakita had met Kinjou at his apartment at 6am sharp (too early) so they could go for their morning ride. Because only Kin-chan could possibly think having little to no sleep clutching at their skulls, hammering away like annoying kids having a tantrum whilst you carried them around was a great thing to have bearing down on them. (Arakita was getting better though. He was in bed before midnight more regularly and was starting to fall asleep before one. Who went to bed at a decent hour on a Friday, anyway?)
Their weekend training wasn't anything too strenuous. It woke Arakita up, made his blood pump strong through his veins. The studying and cleaning and answering of all the messages their friends had left throughout the week was like shit on the bottom of his new shoes afterwards, but what could Arakita do about that? Arakita wasn't going to answer all of Toudou's 32 messages separately, but rather skim them quickly before telling him to stop with all the unnecessary texts because for fuck's sake, and his school work was something he had to get out of the way because what was the point of spending all of his parents' money when he wasn't going to even put the effort in? Arakita had his pride. Arakita had standards. Being a failure and drop out weren't options.
He'd first noticed it when the other man had opened the door. It was there when Kinjou smiled (Arakita's stomach twisting at the sight of it, doing little flips and wiggles that the dark haired man violently pushed down), more awake than any human should have been at six in the morning. Arakita shoved his hands in his pockets, spitting at Kinjou to hurry up and put his shoes on and grab his bike because he wasn't waiting another minute for him – even though it was him that hadn't knocked for the five he'd been standing there, half asleep and excited for the ride. It had been there when Kinjou had snapped on his helmet and met his eyes, leading Arakita out onto the footpath with his usual 'good morning' and comment on Arakita's sorry state (hair mussed from sleep still, helmet under his arm, eyelids drooping and his shoulders slumped more than usual). Not that it was Arakita's fault. It had been Kin-chan's idea to have their weekend training at the butt-crack of dawn. Arakita wasn't awake at 10, what made him think he'd be in an at all better state at five to six on a Saturday and Sunday morning? Arakita reminded Kinjou how crazy he was on a regular basis, loudly and with a huge yawn that showed off his tonsils. That morning had seen that statement paired with squinting.
His eyes had continued to flick up to Kinjou's face since. Even as he'd yawned, even as he'd trudged with lead lined feet to the road and had clumsily mounted his bike. He was pretty sure the entire reason why he'd been awake before their first turn was entirely because of whatever was different about Kinjou's face.
It had still been there three quarters of an hour later when they'd stopped for a break, legs feeling stretched and warm, ready to go, as they both drank deeply from their water bottles. Arakita had been watching carefully, eyes trained on the way Kinjou's lips held the top of the water bottle, at the way his Adam's apple had bobbed and his neck had flexed with each swallow. Arakita had been distracted by a stray dribble of water slipping down Kinjou's chin and flying down his tanned neck, to hide beneath his jersey for only a moment. His eyes flying back up to Kinjou's face, his lips, as he wiped them with the back of his hand. Immediately, Arakita realised it had disappeared. It just hadn't been there anymore. Probably wiped away with Kinjou's large, tanned hand and a splash of cool water.
It was almost a relief. Arakita had thought it was over.
***
“Arakita,” Kinjou said, from beside him, close enough that Arakita could feel the energy, the heat radiating off Kinjou's leg into his own.
It was back again. Another 45 minutes after their break, after sprinting and racing each other around tough turns and up little hills and Kinjou holding onto the back of his skin-tight jersey as they'd waited for traffic lights and pedestrians – it was back.
It wasn't his face in general, Arakita had come to realise. Just something in particular. A little spot somewhere that was different that day. As was usual, Kinjou's face was clear of pimples and scruff. His cheeks were flushed from their ride but he was smiling, full lips tugged up on either side. Arakita couldn't help but stare, eyes lingering on Kinjou's full bottom lip like it held the answers to everything he'd ever wondered about - at least that morning. It was like the minute hand of a clock edging towards the hour, shifting slightly as he continued to examine and think, growling to himself every so often, when the second hand stalled. He couldn't help the way his own dark brows furrowed or how he sneered, eyes dropping back to the road momentarily before rising back to Kinjou's face. All he saw was himself when he looked up to meet Kinjou's eyes, reflected back at him from off his red sun glasses. He dropped his gaze again, intending to turn back to the road.
His eyes halted in their journey, stuck.
Kinjou's lips.
They looked moist. Wet, almost. But not in that 'drenched with water' kind of way that happened when they weren't careful whilst taking a swig from their bottles whilst riding. More like dew stuck to grass blade kind of way. Unnatural, but enchanting. Arakita cringed at the thought. He flushed.
With a growl, loud and long, he ducked his head and took off. Hoping to drive those thoughts away. Now wasn't the time. He and Kin-chan had agreed already; no distractions when they were on their bikes or in the gym. Kinjou had also attempted to get Arakita to agree to the same rules for their study sessions but even he had to bend when faced with Arakita's complete inability to concentrate sometimes. They managed, though. Somehow.
Whatever Kinjou had done to his face that morning was breaking the rules. It felt like he was cheating, trying to make Arakita deliberately break their pact, almost. Because there was no way Kinjou's lips had always looked like that. Delicious. Edible. Perfect for biting down on. It was distracting.
Arakita licked his own. They felt dry, hard and cracked against his tongue. He'd slowed down, chest heaving as he listened to the steady whirr of Kinjou's wheels as he rode up beside him again, the symphony of clicks as he changed gears to stay by Arakita's side. Arakita's straining hands squeezed at the handlebars so hard his knuckles turned white, as he turned them slightly. Just enough so his knee could knock against Kinjou's. Then he looked up.
How the fuck were Kinjou's lips not chapped? Were they always like that when he rode? He couldn't remember ever kissing Kin-chan directly after a race or training, and he's pretty sure that whilst Kinjou did lick and bite at his own lips absently sometimes, it was a pretty rare thing. There was no way they could look that good for this long, whilst they were riding. Arakita had felt them against him before. Had seen them up close a couple times when he'd woken before Kinjou. He's pretty sure they've never really looked like that. Especially not for this long.
What the hell had Kinjou done?!
“Arakita,” Kinjou called again. Arakita glared up at him, sitting up from where he'd hunched over the front of his bike, dragging his eyes away from the other man's smirking lips and meeting his gaze instead, “Care for a wager?”
Anything if it meant he could stop thinking.
***
It was one of those challenges where it was so close neither could have guessed who had actually won. But Kinjou always gave in anyway. Arakita'd grown used to Kin-chan's annoyingly calm, "we will call this a draw". Said in a way that Arakita couldn't help but feel pissed off by. He doesn't enjoy being made fun of. Doesn't like being spoilt or pitied. He'd told Kinjou such, loudly and with gritted teeth, only to be met with a serious expression that spoke of how much of a joke Kinjou thought he was; none.
Despite his outburst (and subsequent embarrassment when Kin-chan delivered a long, sincere and heartfelt speech about how serious he did take Arakita, especially on the road), an hour later they were sitting in Kinjou's apartment, legs crossed as they ate from steaming bowls.
They were leftovers, Kinjou had said when Arakita had commented brashly on the availability of full meals in Kinjou's apartment. There was enough for the two of them, plus a bit extra if they felt like going for seconds. Riding built up a monster appetite, Arakita had learnt quickly and even cool and quiet Kinjou had to refuel, though he never seemed to get the flecks of rice and soup Arakita managed to speckle his own face with. It was pathetic he was so predictable though; for Kinjou to know that he'd be over for brunch and would eat just about anything the man would put in front of him. He still complained, loud and long, unappreciative even as he slurped away at his meal and grumbled about Kinjou's ability to take corners so well and lift his bike down his apartment's stairs with ease without banging a wheel against a wall. But Arakita could tell Kinjou didn't take his grouchiness seriously.
Now was the study section of their day. Again, nothing too taxing. Just comparing their notes and making sure they had covered everything they needed to. Not that Arakita understood why Kinjou ever read his over; Kinjou's were always precise, concise and perfect. They covered all the necessary material with little waste with his words and near to no gaps, neat and tidy, colour coded and with few mistakes. Arakita's on the other hand... He'd stop sleeping in class when the teachers actually made them interesting (and when Kinjou stopped basically tutoring him).
“What are we starting with today?”
“I didn't get any of what Baldie said yesterday.”
Kinjou frowned, “You looked like you were paying attention.”
“Listening to him is like trying to translate a fucking handwritten doctor's note from Russian to Japanese, Kin-chan.” He was lucky Baldie had had a few projected notes, because he'd have had nothing to work with otherwise.
Arakita sat hunched in on himself, bowl clasped in his hand as he roughly shoved his text books around the low table in front of them. Kinjou was setting his out with a bit more finesse, note books to one side, text books to the other and one of each in front of him. Arakita attempted to reign in his little muddle of books and scrap pieces of paper, stacking them to his left as he slurped up a particularly stubborn noodle. His eyes narrowed, bouncing between his multitasking hands and Kinjou's face.
It was still there.
He'd worked it out though, whilst Kinjou had been delivering his speech. It was that stupid shininess. He'd really noticed it on their way home, after he'd filled his water bottle, upturned it on his head and filled it again. Because he could have sworn it had lessened, as they'd raced. Kinjou's heaving breathes drying the moisture and leaving them less eye-catching. Then, two water bottles refilled and picking his bike up later, it was back. Kinjou hadn't done anything, Arakita found himself thinking accusingly. So what the fuck was going on?
He was pissed off. Pissed at Kinjou and his stupid, kissable lips. Lips he'd wanted to lick it off all morning, had wanted to bite off when he was all passionate and inspired.
Kinjou caught his eyes, green eyes mischievous behind his glasses. Arakita couldn't help but blush, face bursting with the heat of a thousand suns. Being caught staring always did that to him, not that he attempted to hold back too much now. They were dating (sort of). He was allowed to stare. Kinjou was his to enjoy now. His face, his back, his arms, legs and ass. Arakita was allowed to look and appreciate. Anyone who said otherwise could kiss his ass.
Then Kinjou smirked. And it clicked. Snapped right into place in Arakita's head so suddenly it echoed in his ears.
Arakita glared, cheek bloated as his chewing came to an abrupt halt.
“The hell have you done to your lips?” He demanded, specks of noodle and juice landing on the crumpled sheets of his homework.
Kinjou's smirk grew the tiniest bit, flicking up at the corners, head tilted down towards his own worksheets. His hands came to a halt, eyes flicked up, regarded Arakita with that annoying twinkle that spoke of how amusing he thought Arakita was acting in that instant. Of probably how amusing he'd found Arakita's bewildered annoyance all day.
“I knew it! What did you do?” Arakita swallowed thickly, forcing the food down in a large gulp as he pushed his empty bowl towards the centre of the table. He slammed his hands down, palms slapping against the dull surface, stinging, “It's been bothering me all morning, you asshole! I nearly got hit by a truck because of you!”
“Which is why I was careful to watch you today, Arakita.”
It took two hulking strides around the small table to place himself in front of Kinjou, knees collapsing beneath him so he could grab at the other man's shirt and tug him close, so his breath could hurl itself at Kinjou's face. It hurt on the hardwood flooring. But that didn't matter. Arakita was busy yelling, teeth bared, so close he grazed his nose against Kinjou's as he tugged and shook the other man.
“I think you're overreacting.” Kinjou said in that annoyingly calm way of his. His larger hands were curled gently around Arakita's thin, pale wrists. Swamping them in darker skin. Hot against his flesh.
“I'll give you overreacting, jackass! D'you know how hard it was to stop myself from pulling you off that goddamn bike of yours? You told me no distractions!”
Kinjou's smirk softened to a smile. Arakita gawped, anger tagging embarrassment into play, double teaming him.
“No one's stopping you from kissing me now, Yasutomo.”
He stuttered, cheeks as red as Kinjou's sunglasses, “Th-That's not the point!”
“You'll know exactly what I've been using. It's obvious, once you think about it. But,” He leant in close. Close enough for his breath to fly across Arakita's parted lips, hot, “You can have one clue, if you wish.”
Kinjou was annoying. With that unflappable countenance and his confidence. His determination and leadership skills were things to be admired. Great traits to have in a partner. And his voice, deep, masculine and powerful, was enough to make Arakita's legs turn to overcooked noodles when he pitched it right. He was reliable and overbearing when he wanted to be, challenging Arakita without being too pushy. Who scowled just as much as Arakita but still managed to be 100 times more likable. Arakita could appreciate all those traits. But his habit of annoying Arakita just for the hell of it was shit. His teasing was unbearable. Especially because of Kinjou's infuriating ability to make it overly subtle. He wove it amongst their conversation so well it took Arakita hours sometimes to realise he was being teased. Usually when he was supposed to be doing homework or was showering or taking a shit. Those times when his mind went blank and swam to topics he tried to ward off throughout the rest of the day.
Quite a few of those topics were being thrown at him in that instant. Making him burn up, brain frying itself in his skull like a well done egg in an overly hot frying pan. One of those ones with the oil that spat at you. His wrists were scorching in Kinjou's grasp, his cheeks flushed so bright he worried he might glow in the dark should the sun fall from the sky. Then there was the side of Kinjou's nose pressed to the side of his own and the full, fucking shiny lips so close to his all Arakita had to do was slip his tongue out and taste them.
There was the smell of something sweet in the air too. Artificial sweet. Too sweet.
Fuck it.
He dove in. Lips crashing down on Kinjou's as his hands twisted Kinjou's shirt around his fingers and knuckles, teeth clanking against Kinjou's with a sharp ache. They both winced, backed off slightly. He watched as Kinjou's lips started to tug up into a smile again. Hell no. Arakita growled, pressing in close quickly, sans the teeth, eyes shut tight so he wouldn't have to see Kinjou laughing at him.
Kinjou's lips were sticky, slipping over Arakita's with ease. Smearing only slightly. Before he could think about it, Arakita's tongue was pressed flat against Kinjou's bottom lip, licking a long stripe along the length of it.
Was that... What the hell was that? Watermelon? Some shitty type of pineapple?
Withdrawing proved difficult as Kinjou pressed forward, tilting his head just so, deepening the kiss and making Arakita gasp. This was still new to them. Or it was to Arakita. He'd never kissed anyone before Kin-chan. No one he'd really given a shit about. Kin-chan had been the first person to kiss him like he cared; neither rough or hurriedly, as if only here for the thrill of doing something forbidden under the stairs at school or on the roof during classes. Kin-chan kissed him slow and tenderly. Hesitant at first, though like then, he was definitely gaining confidence.
With a swift swipe of Kinjou's tongue, the smallest of nips to Arakita's thin, bottom lip and a faint huff, they parted. Red was dusted over both their cheeks, hands clasped together loosely, even as Arakita's pinkies kept clutching at Kinjou, his nail caught in the cotton. Arakita's eyes fell to their hands. His breath stuttered out of him. Kissing Kinjou shook Arakita to his already shaky foundations, made him unbalanced and dizzy. Even simpler ones like this.
His eyes squeezed shut as Kinjou pressed a tender peck to his cheek, his nose, finally resting their foreheads together as they breathed. He huffed out a chuckle, lifting a hand to touch two fingers to the underside of Arakita's pointed chin. He lifted it gently, catching Arakita's gaze as he did so, hot breath fanning over Arakita's cheek.
“Did you guess?”
Arakita scowled, his blush spreading down his neck and bloomed across the top half of his chest despite his glare and twitching eyebrow. He pushed Kinjou away, hand still clasped with Kinjou's as he turned to sit properly, legs crossed in front of him. He muttered to himself, about the floor doing a number on his knees, about Kinjou hogging all the pillows (when all he had to do was grab another from underneath the table, but that wasn't the point) and annoying boyfriends who thought they were The Shit, making his heart pound like it had.
He shifted over, so his side was pressed to Kinjou's and their hands were laid across Arakita's lap. Kinjou entwined their fingers loosely. Arakita squeezed.
Kinjou was smiling down at him again, only slightly higher than him because of the soft pillow under his ass. He leant into Arakita, turning to press a chaste kiss to his ear.
Arakita scowled, flushed as he finally replied, reaching for his workbook and muttering, “the hell are you doing with lip gloss?”