Work Text:
The first thought Touya has when Yukito shows up to his office wearing suspenders isn’t so much a thought as a string of incoherent noises and a sound like a heart monitor flatlining.
The second thought he has is: oh no, he’s cute.
Touya is busy grading papers and sipping on too-hot, too-black coffee when Yukito raps at his door and pokes his head in. “Am I interrupting, professor?” Yukito asks through a sly smile like he’s hiding a secret that he can’t wait to tell someone.
Touya pushes his papers away and motions for Yukito to enter and take a seat. “It’s a welcome interruption.” Touya pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Someone should have taught these kids how to write long before they got to me. What’s up?”
Yukito strides in but doesn’t sit, that same smile still playing at his lips. He stays standing, hips cocked to one side and thumbs looped through the suspenders that peak out from beneath his open jacket. It’s a pose that would look forced on most people, should look forced on him but doesn’t, somehow; it can’t look forced because Touya doubts Yukito even realizes how absurdly sensual it is.
Touya almost misses Yukito asking him what he thinks because his mind is a mess of muffled thoughts of grabbing Yukito by those suspenders and kissing that stupid grin off his pretty face, of seeing just how far they could get before students and other faculty start trailing by, of pulling the straps forward and snapping them back like he’s 12 years old (because even after all these years, Yukito is still too much fun to resist teasing).
Touya is silent long enough that the smile on Yukito’s face falters into uncertainty and the hands on his suspenders start fidgeting with the edges of the fabric. When Touya finally does speak, all he can manage is to ask, “why suspenders?”
The tips of Yukito’s ears turn pink in response. “I always get mistaken for a student. I thought maybe this would make me look more… professional. It’s silly, I know.” Yukito swipes a hand through his hair and gives a small laugh. “Do they look okay?”
Yukito is gazing at him with so much sincerity in his questioning eyes that Touya can’t help but nod and push back from his desk. He stands and waves Yukito in closer. “Come here,” he says. “Let me see.”
When Yukito is close enough, Touya reaches out and feels along the straps like he’s seriously considering their worth, one brow raised. He glances up to see Yukito biting his lower lip and staring at him, and he loses the battle with himself in an instant. He grabs the suspenders tightly and pulls hard enough that Yukito stumbles forward with a yelp that Touya silences with a kiss.
Touya doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to kissing Yukito. Yukito is so soft, in his expressions and his words and his actions, so Touya is always amazed when he can draw forth a reaction more solid to remind himself that Yukito is still real, still tangible despite his softness. Yukito’s response is immediate even now, even though he’s startled, like he’s reacting on some baser instinct that tells him to lean into the kiss, to close his eyes and open his mouth. Yukito lets Touya drag him up closer and arches to meet him, arms wrapping around Touya’s shoulders as Touya pulls back on the suspenders still in his grasp. Yukito gives a small, pleased sound and a shudder as Touya kisses him harder and nips at his lip, one of his hands going to twine fingers through Touya’s hair as the kiss deepens.
Some small, rational part of Touya’s brain finally breaks through to yell at him that this is a bad idea, the door isn’t even closed and a student is definitely going to walk by any minute. He fights the voice in his head for a few more moments until a familiar swell in his stomach tells him they need to stop before he can’t stop anymore.
Yukito gives a disappointed sigh as Touya releases the suspenders and pulls away, a quiet sound of want that’s almost enough to make Touya throw all commonsense out the window and bend Yukito over his desk. Instead, he just leans down to kiss Yukito’s forehead gently before sitting back at his desk, crossing his legs and leaning back. “Yeah,” he says with a grin, “they’re good. Not sure they make you look much older, though.”
“That’s okay,” Yukito replies. He starts to head out, leaving Touya to finish his grading and now lukewarm coffee, but he pauses in the doorway to add, “I think they're pretty successful anyway.”
Yukito is gone before Touya can respond. He just blinks at the space where Yukito was standing a moment before, realization dawning that oh, maybe Yukito does know what he looks like, posing like a model in Touya’s office with a smile on lips that beg to be kissed. Yukito knows what he looks like, knows what that does to Touya, and Touya finds himself smiling as he picks up his pen and papers again.
Yukito is going to be the suspender-clad death of him someday, and somehow, Touya thinks he’s fine with that.