Work Text:
“Truth or dare?”
“Truth?”
What is he asking? I want to play, too. Kohaku props himself up on his elbows, eyebrows quirking, the makings of anxious jitters causing his entire body to shake ever so slightly. Ar-a-ta, tell me, this isn’t fair! Bringing himself closer to the edge of the couch, he pokes the auburn haired man’s back, middle finger playfully running up the length of his spine, pausing just below the nape of his neck. And, ever so gently, the old Coyote allows for a breath of chilled air to escape onto that one spot, watching as the young man visibly stills, hands clenching tight against his jeans. Ar-a-ta, I. want. to. play. too, added thickness to his tone, Kohaku shimmies forward until his head comes to rest upon the young man’s shoulder, lavender tickling the side of his face.
In the distance a clock chimes half past midnight, moonlight looming low in the sky, eerie shades of white and blue drifting through darkened curtains. The three sit sprawled upon the floor of Theo’s apartment (Kohaku having taken to the couch long before any of the others even had a chance to claim it), beer cans strewn about their feet, chip bags half empty and littering the table nearest them. They’ve already watched the ball drop, ringing in the new year with as much shouting and partying as they could possibly manage for having worked twelve hours before. And it had been Theo’s idea, two seconds till midnight, to begin what he liked to call a means of “getting to know each other”.
A nudge to Arata’s shoulder draws the young man from his thoughts, from Kohaku’s prying eyes and deadly hands. “Truth it is, then.” His voice wavers, Kohaku having found a particularly sensitive spot below his ear. “Kohaku, stop.”
Theo cocks his head to the side, scrutinizing his coworker from head to toe before grinning from ear to ear. “You two,” he makes a show of pointing towards the Another sprawled on the couch before continuing, “have had sex, am I right?”
What is he saying . . . what is he saying and why is he looking at me like that? Arata?? Honeyed eyes search the young man’s every reaction, a look mixed between worry and intrigue slowly becoming apparent upon the Another’s face.
Arata deadpans, face turning every shade of crimson, to pink, and back to crimson as he stutters against the sudden urge to curse. “Theo!” The palms of his hands smack down hard onto the floor, ears ringing with his sudden outburst. “Why would you… how would you….?” Casts a wayward glance towards Kohaku, eyes nearly bulging out from his head, mouth gaping.
The Another merely shrugs, not like I know what he’s saying. Goes back to teasing Arata’s neck, free hand shifting through auburn, drawing the young man’s body closer for better access.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Reaching for a can of beer, Theo kicks his legs up onto one of many pillows strewn about the couch, sprawling out until his back hits the wooden floorboards with a faint thud. He twirls a strand of off black hair around his finger, giggling slightly as if suddenly amused. “You really are too easy to read.” He shifts until he’s facing the younger man, eyes glowing devilishly in the moonlight, shit eating grin still plastered to his face, beer can forgotten by his side. “Your turn to spin.”
Arata catches the silently mouthed “I’m so sorry” from Kyouichi (the poor man having remained wide-eyed for much of their little show), notes the way the blonde makes to swat at Theo’s leg, before tugging the pixie-haired man over and looping an arm about his waist.
“You need to play nice.” Kyouichi’s tone is soft, though the warning in his words is very clear, “whatever he does outside of work is his business, and his alone, though,” and there’s that little gleam of intrigue the blonde gets whenever he’s suddenly found something interesting—something worthwhile. “I have to admit, you got yourself a good one, Arata.”
Arata spins.
“Theo, truth or dare.” Works his way around the lump forming deep within his throat, watches the older man mule over the options before grinning.
“Dare.”
“You and Kyouichi, closet, ten minutes, starts now.” Arata pauses, glances towards Kyouichi who’s suddenly gone every shade of white. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you both sneak away during your shifts.”
“That’s not . . .” Theo’s face heats, tone dangerously close to a shriek. “Arata, that’s playing dirty.” Though, he lets the blonde take his outstretched hand, leading him towards the hallway, the sound of the closet door opening and shutting lingering.
Are they . . .? Kohaku gestures with his hands, giggling into the crook of Arata’s shoulder and neck.
“We have ten minutes,” Arata cracks a smile, turning until he’s face to face with the Another, hands coming up to rest upon tanned cheeks. “What say we make use of the couch, shall we?”
And it takes the old Coyote a minute to register exactly what his companion is suggesting before honeyed eyes narrow, smirk working its way upon his lips, the sweetest sound of laughter echoing between them. You’re friskier than I thought, Arata. Though he makes to shuffle back against the pillows until there’s just enough space for the other to climb up, leaning into his side, planting a kiss to the Another’s collarbone.
“What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” another kiss to plush lips, Arata ducking his head just right so they’re flush against the other, hands working their way down the expanse of the Another’s back. “Happy new year, Kohaku.”
Ten minutes is nothing compared to the days, months (years even), that Arata hopes to spend with the one individual that has managed to set his life into motion—the one who he has vowed to cherish, picking up where his ancestor left off though wanting nothing more than to make their own memories, together. Because, for once, he’s found himself truly understanding what it means to be in love—to have someone to hold and tease, and cry with.
Ten minutes is nothing, but—together—they manage to make it last forever.