Chapter Text
It’s been almost a week since Kudou showed up at his house and nursed him back to health. To Kaito, being fully recovered feels almost like being born anew, with better lungs and legs, a better throat and head and stomach. The normalcy of life without feeling like death warmed over suddenly has a new shine to it - this, he knows, is a feeling that will soon pass, to be forgotten until the next time he gets sick.
Somehow, he managed to get himself a boyfriend while lying in bed, sweaty and gross from his fever, red-faced and possibly a little incoherent, though from what he remembers he managed to express himself just fine. It’s not at all what he thought would happen when he first felt that annoying tickling in the back of his throat, but he can’t complain.
Since he left Kaito’s place on Monday morning, Kudou has been texting him several times a day to check up on him like he’s scared Kaito will drop dead now that he’s been left to his own devices again. It’s sweet, but also a little bit insulting to Kaito’s ability to keep himself alive, which he does in fact possess and has been using for the past several years. Still, he can’t deny it’s nice to know Kudou cares, and the texting does help remind him that regardless of how embarrassing he might’ve or might not have been, Kudou still likes him enough to want to talk to him.
They haven’t seen each other since then, though, both busy with school and other activities that don’t exactly permit a trip from one town to another. From the way Kudou’s been talking, he’s as eager as Kaito is to meet back up again and talk about all the things they didn’t get to last time. Kaito thinks this means they’ll be seeing each other on the weekend when they’re both finally free from any other responsibilities, which is why it comes as such a big surprise when he’s sitting at home on Thursday heating up a bowl of cereal in the microwave and gets a text from Kudou that simply states ‘ come open the door, im outside’ , followed by the insistent ringing of his doorbell, which immediately brings to question the need for a text message in the first place.
“What if I hadn’t been home?” Kaito asks him by way of greeting, opening the gate to let him in. Kudou is in his school uniform still, hair swept back from the wind and cheeks pink from the walk over. Kaito wants to bite him just a little, but he thinks he’d probably be shoved back into bed and get his temperature forcibly taken if he ever voiced that thought aloud, so he keeps it to himself.
“You told me you were going straight home today,” Kudou says, all confidence, following Kaito into the house, stopping only by the entrance to trade his shoes for a pair of guest slippers.
“Could’ve lied,” Kaito mumbles.
“I can’t imagine why you would, though.”
They make their way into the living room, where they both drop onto the longest couch side by side, knees touching and arms brushing together. Kaito feels the contact like the burn of a flame against bare skin, his entire body a live wire, hyper aware of Kudou’s presence at his side. He didn’t have any time to prepare, no warning at all, and Kudou’s sudden appearance at his place has left him feeling off balance, unsure of what he’s supposed to do or say.
They sit in silence for a long moment, staring ahead and almost immobile in their seats. Then, unable to do so any longer for fear of legitimately exploding from pent up anxiety, Kaito peeks sideways at Kudou and finds that Kudou is already looking at him. In unison, they both quickly turn to face the front of the room again, an air of awkwardness filling the space between them, though that might just be in Kaito’s head.
“I admit,” Kudou starts, after a pause in which Kaito genuinely considers running away from how suffocating the atmosphere is, “I might have come here on impulse.”
“Yeah?”
Kudou makes a low noise in his throat and shifts in place so he’s facing him. Kaito, helpless against it, mirrors him and meets his gaze.
“I should’ve waited for the weekend but I got impatient.”
“I don’t mind,” Kaito tells him.
The last time they sat this close, he had a throbbing headache and a temperature of 102º, which didn’t leave him much space to think about things like proximity and body heat and touch. Now, healthy and clear headed, in the light of day with Kudou sitting pressed all along his side, it feels different. Monumental, even. It’s like he’s abruptly lost the ability to speak, tongue tied and nervous with a trickle of sweat running down his spine.
Another stretch of silence passes over them, long and excruciating, then Kudou blurts out, “What you asked last time," his eyes going wide like he himself didn’t expect those words to leave his mouth. He surreptitiously glances down at Kaito’s lips, then back up somewhere above his brow, avoiding eye-contact. “Umm, that is,” he scratches his neck, mouth twisting in a grimace.
Right, Kaito had forgotten about that. Or, well, not forgotten, but he’d pushed it to the back of his mind to save himself the embarrassment of reliving that moment. Even if he did receive a positive answer, it still makes him full body flush at the memory of it, like when sometimes he sits at home staring at the floor and dying of mortification from whatever things he did or said while he was dressed as KID, filled with phantom courage and the freedom of a mask. Kuroba Kaito wasn’t made to be that shameless. Kuroba Kaito hides behind barbed insults and teasing jokes, vulnerable and unprotected when he has no excuse to affect that suave and charming persona. He’s still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Kudou has seen that and instead of turning away has decided he wants even more of it, wants to look deeper under the surface, behind the curtain where the real and the ordinary reside. Maybe Kudou is just a fool, but the word feels like an endearment when Kaito thinks it, so maybe he is one too.
“You said I could,” Kaito murmurs, eyes gaining a will of their own and trailing down to fixate on Kudou’s lips.
“You’re not sick anymore,” Kudou says, and really, they’re both just stating facts at each other now, like a pair of robots that never learned how to properly interact with human beings.
It’s silly, Kudou came all the way here for this, didn’t he? Even Kaito can tell. Pink cheeked, wind-swept, forty-five minutes since school let out. Kudou must’ve rushed over as soon as his last class was finished. Why are they hesitating now?
Perhaps Kudou is waiting for Kaito to do it, since he was the one who asked in the first place. But Kaito feels glued to the couch, hands wet with sweat and mouth dry. As much as he likes to pretend, he’s not actually experienced in this sort of thing, and the fear of messing it up and scaring Kudou away wins over the desire to lean in and fit their mouths together.
In the end, Kudou has enough courage for the both of them. He lifts a hand to Kaito’s face, fingers lining the underside of his jaw, and moves in close until their breaths are mingling, pausing only for a moment to gauge Kaito’s reaction before closing the distance between them and pressing their lips together in a soft gentle kiss. Kaito probably lets out some kind of sound, but he’s too distracted by the feel of Kudou’s wet tongue dragging along his lower lip to really register it. Regaining control over his limbs, he brings one arm up to circle around Kudou’s neck, using his other free hand to grip his shoulder, fingers tight over the fabric of his shirt. Kudou tastes like mint, fresh and spicy, and Kaito has a moment to wonder if he ate some gum on the way over with this exact purpose in mind, before his thoughts go completely foggy when Kudou presses in, tilting his head just so, forcing Kaito to slide his tongue along his or risk getting called a bad kisser, of all things.
Tingles run all the way down his back, his chest overflowing with lava, hot and burning. He pulls on a loose strand of hair at Kudou’s nape and laughs into his mouth when Kudou retaliates by nipping at his lip, fingers pinching the side of Kaito’s neck where he’s still holding him.
They part on a gasp, both breathing hard, faces crimson and lips slick and shiny. Kudou looks like a mess, pupils blown and collar pulled sideways from Kaito tugging at his shoulder sleeve. He’s so stupidly good-looking. Kaito wants to bite him again, wants to devour him from top to bottom, and now it doesn’t sound like such an insane thing to think, not with Kudou gazing back at him just as hungrily, like he’s thinking that exact same thing about him.
“I love you,” Kudou says, almost reverently, and Kaito -
Kaito stops, stares at him with his mouth hanging open. He didn’t think he was allowed to say that yet. It felt too real, too fast. But here Kudou is, once again going against every imagined rule Kaito has set in place to keep himself from going against people’s expectations.
“Me too,” he whispers back, hushed and quick, like a curse word spoken just out of a parent’s earshot. He punctuates it with a swift kiss, off-center and a little aggressive. When he was younger and his father still alive, Kaito used to own a dubbed over cassette of a western Peter Pan movie. Wendy with her secret kiss, hidden in the corner of her mouth to be given away to her true love. He’s always liked that concept - a magic kiss tucked in the curl of a person’s lips, invisible to the eye, but there, waiting. He can almost feel it now, tingling in his mouth, Kudou’s.
With a sharp intake of breath, Kudou says, “Kuroba,” and drags Kaito back in to peck him one, two, three times, then opens his mouth against Kaito’s and tangles their tongues together again, teeth scraping Kaito’s lower lip like a threat and a promise all at once. Not one to sit still and take it, Kaito pushes back, fingers running down Kudou’s neck then lower, following his spine, down and down, coming to rest on the small of his back.
They kiss, rushed and desperate, then slow and languid, getting to know the way they work together, the way their mouths fit and shift against each other.
Later, once they’ve paused long enough to have a proper thought, Kaito remembers he left his cereal half heated in the microwave.
“Do you want something to eat?” He asks Kudou, who’s been playing with Kaito's fingers and staring dazedly ahead of him like he can’t quite believe he’s here yet.
Kudou shakes his head, looks at him and asks, “What?”
“Want something to eat?” Kaito repeats.
“Oh,” Kudou runs his thumb over the back of Kaito’s hand, “sure.”
“I’ve got that lemon tart you said you liked.”
Kudou tilts his head as Kaito pulls him off the couch and drags him out the living room. “I thought you didn’t like those.”
But you do , Kaito wants to say. Instead, he shrugs and looks ahead to avoid Kudou’s gaze. “I- just in case, I got it. It’s whatever.” He bought it way too early, it would’ve made more sense to buy it on the weekend when he was sure Kudou would be coming over, but he’d been carrying a strange little ball of euphoria with him since Kudou left his house that morning and he couldn’t help but give into the little thought in his head that spoke ‘what if you meet sooner than that?’.
Kudou doesn’t reply for a moment, then Kaito feels him step up to him and knock against his side, hand squeezing his until both their fingers turn white. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, but his tone is warm and his eyes are bright, staring straight at Kaito like he’s the reason the earth still spins.
“ You’re ridiculous,” Kaito says back, and he supposes he might also be looking at Kudou like that. Earth spinning, starts shining, time ticking. Sometimes the universe spills out of a single person, and there’s nothing you can do but keep them by your side and hope they stay.
END.