Chapter Text
Kung Lao felt his hands shake as he stared at Liu Kang from Johnny’s bar. Miraculously, the god had actually shown up, and it was the last thing they were all expecting — especially Kung Lao.
They had the cake, the opening of gifts, and now they were all just hanging around. In all honesty, Kung Lao wanted to leave. His heartbeat was drumming violently and he could feel it in his skull. His whole body had a slight shake to it, and despite how much alcohol he was drinking he couldn’t get Liu Kang’s handsome face to fade from his eyes.
“Y’know.” Johnny slid up to the man, spooking some of the liquid out of Kung Lao’s cup. “I could make this party a lot more fun for you.”
“Please don’t.” There was fear building up in his stomach. Any idea of Johnny’s was an awful idea.
“It’d make you feel better.” Johnny punctuated with a light punch to the arm.
“No?”
“C’mon.”
“Stop it.”
They made eye contact, Johnny’s smile was dangerous.
“Hey guys!” The man yelled, keeping his face straight to Kung Lao.
In his peripheral he could see their friends turn to face them from Johnny’s conversation pit.
“We should play a drinking game!” The superstar continued, widening his eyes in excitement. Kung Lao felt his stomach cave in on itself, what an awful game for them to play.
Their friends cooed in interest. Johnny gave the fighter a wink before taking his hand and dragging him along. Kung Lao intentionally made his feet drag and body heavy to give Johnny some trouble for being an absolute idiot.
Liu Kang already seemed detached from the group when they made they’re way over.
“I don’t drink,” he said simply, holding his hands up in defense as he made his way to get up.
Johnny whined, pushing Kung Lao to the floor right next to the god. His face erupted in flames of embarrassment. The god was entirely too close to him for comfort.
“C’mon, Liu Kang!” Johnny shook his shoulders as he walked over to his boyfriend. “Have some fun!”
“Drinking is not fun.”
“You are such a prude .”
Somehow, Johnny calling Liu Kang a prude twisted in Kung Lao’s brain and suddenly he was seeing some very inappropriate images. He hid his red face behind his glass.
“Just one game,” Johnny pleaded, reaching over the table in the middle of the conversation pit. “Do it for Kenshi.”
Kenshi huffed out a laugh. “I’m not letting you use me for guilt tripping.”
“Do it for Raiden,” Johnny corrected himself.
Raiden quickly shook his head. “I live with this man! I don't need him hating me.”
A twisted smile pulled at the corners of Johnny’s mouth. “Do it for Kung Lao, then.”
Kung Lao’s vision went hazy with embarrassment as Raiden covered his mouth to stifle his laughter.
Lui Kang turned to look at the fighter, a skeptical look on his face. They made eye contact.
“Well…,” Kung Lao stuttered. “I — I live with him too…”
The god sighed and his body shrunk. “I suppose one game will not hurt.”
Kung Lao couldn’t help how his jaw dropped ever so slightly. He looked over to his friend to see Raiden staring at him with big, shocked eyes. Had Kung Lao been the catalyst to persuade Liu Kang? And if so, how? Why?
His mind was spinning as Johnny ran around getting shot glasses and the liquor of his choosing. This didn’t mean anything, maybe Liu Kang had been debating and just in that moment decided to give in! It meant absolutely nothing at all.
“A few drinks can’t hurt, right?” Liu Kang asked, hands crossed under his chin as he looked at the man on his left.
Kung Lao found it difficult to get the words out at first. “No, yeah,” he agreed. “I’ll try not to beat your ass at whatever game this is gonna be.” He nudged the god ever so slightly, feeling a bout of satisfaction from Liu Kang’s skin against his.
The smile the god wore could’ve blinded millions. “What? Is this going to be a fighting game? If that’s it, I’d say you should just back out now.”
There was a laugh in the background. Kung Lao shot a dirty look at the other men at the table, both of whose heads were turned in the opposite direction — he could see the smallest edge of a smirk on Kenshi’s lips.
“Why are you so worried about drinking anyway?” Kung Lao turned it back on the god. He felt an embarrassing fire in his stomach. “A god being a lightweight? C’mon.”
The god cringed. “Lightweight is being generous.”
“That’s even more sad.”
Liu Kang looked offended, but the corner of his mouth curled upwards.
Johnny sat back down at the table, sliding various shot glasses to his friends and pouring them a healthy amount.
“Okay! So this is a Korean drinking game called ATP that I played when I was filming one of my movies.”
“Impossible Force 2,” Kenshi mumbled, leaning against his boyfriend.
“Yes!” Johnny looked over to his boyfriend. “I love you,” he said, looking comically deeply into the man’s eyes.
Kung Lao pretended to vomit.
The actor shot the man a dirty look. “Anyway!” His instructions were vague and messy and his hands flying everywhere to explain what they had to do wasn’t helping. He finally looked at everyone. “We ready?”
They started playing — calling the small chant before sticking their hands in the middle, stacking their hands atop one another like a tower.
Liu Kang’s hand found its way to the very top, and his glowing eyes surveyed the people around him.
“Now just call out a random number!” the super star instructed.
The god’s eyes took a few rounds around the table before calling out his number. Hands continued to climb to the top as the group quietly counted their way to Liu Kang’s number of choice.
Kung Lao groaned loudly as Kenshi put his hand on the top, saying the second-to-last number.
“C’mon!” Liu Kang grabbed the man’s wrist at the bottom of the stack and put it at the very top.
Kung Lao felt sparks fly from the contact. “You did that on purpose!” He snipped, picking up his glass as his friends giggled at the relief of the high-tension game.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The god feigned innocence, putting a hand on his chest like an offended damsel.
“That’s what you get for calling him a lightweight,” Kenshi smirked, giving a small tilt to his head.
“You called him a lightweight?” Johnny asked, laughing, shock in his voice. “I’ve never met a dumber man.”
Kung Lao rolled his eyes, taking the shot with them squeezed shut and his muscles tense. He coughed violently and heard Johnny’s loud laughter in the background.
He keeled over as the fiery sting of the alcohol penetrated his throat. A new rule came to his mind: never drink Johnny Cage’s liquor.
A hand gently patted Kung Lao’s back, warm muscular hands that helped Kung Lao breathe again. He looked back to see the protector of Earthrealm staring at him with upturned brows.
If the sting of alcohol wasn’t a reminder that Kung Lao was very much alive, he would’ve been convinced this was all some sort of flatlining dream.
He emerged from his coughing fit, feeling Liu Kang’s hand slid off his back. He stared daggers at the superstar across from him.
“You’re on, asshole.”
Johnny pretended to act intimidated before filling Kung Lao’s cup again and sticking his hand in the middle.
The group continued to play, everyone at least getting one or two more shots in them — except Liu Kang. Somehow he had evaded every single attempt to get him drunk; it was to a point where the entire group was convinced it was some dastardly divine intervention.
Kung Lao stared at their hands, his vision had gotten blurry and the numbers in his head were drifting away. He gave the god a determined look before saying his number to the group.
Liu Kang smiled at him as he set his hand on top.
The room echoed with tension-filled giggles as each party members hand inched their way to the top.
While his vision felt fuzzy, Kung Lao was still able to center himself on the divine being next to him — keeping his eyes lidded with victory as he said the second to last number, dragging his hand all the way to the top.
The god stared back, kissing the inside of his teeth in frustration. A twinkle in his eyes and a curl on his lips betrayed the offense that he displayed towards the mortal.
The other party members exclaimed in loud cheers as Liu Kang silently brought his hand to the top of the stack.
Drunken giggles poured out of Kung Lao as Liu Kang kept his hand atop of his despite the tower being ripped away by the others. He couldn’t help the skip in his heart beat as he felt a small squeeze over the width of his palm, or the blush that formed on his cheeks as the god kept his glowing eyes on him, even when he downed his shot of alcohol.
There was a twist in his stomach that told Kung Lao that he had been given the win by the god. He could feel those glowing eyes travel all over his skin, staring deep into his soul and learning his secrets — Liu Kang had noticed the obvious game he had been trying to play and joined in. Somehow, his melting brain got worse at the realization, his world starting to tilt.
Liu Kang’s luck got worse as the night went on, sabotaging himself at some points where his own numbers would end up with him drinking. Everyone began ganging up on him, very obviously counting hands so the god’s would end up the last one on top. Liu Kang’s natural wall of emotions began to come down, his smile kept cracking through and his laughter pierced through the friend group. It was unlike anything they had ever seen before; it was almost scary to see such a giddy Liu Kang.
Regardless of the unfamiliar nature, the drinks continued to pour and the laughter grew louder.
By the time the moon hung high above them in the sky, half of the group was knocked out. Their soft snores filled the room as they splayed out across the room.
Kung Lao’s head was rolling off his neck, eyes fluttering with sleep, yet he couldn’t find it in himself to allow himself the peace.
Liu Kang had not succumbed to the peaceful creature of sleep yet either; it begged the question, did gods even need sleep? Questions like those were probably the reason Kung Lao had yet to fall asleep.
The god was messing with the fabric of his shirt, taking special interest in all the intricate details. He finally lolled his head to the side, giving a small smile to Kung Lao.
He could feel Liu Kang hovering just above his shoulder, the itch for the weight of him was too much to bear.
“This was the best night I’ve had in a very long time… Kung Lao.” His words were slow and gently slurred together.
The words he was looking for were too difficult to roll off the tongue. He gave a smile instead. The disbelief of it all was still ringing around his skull.
“All thanks to you…,” The god mumbled before adjusting his body so he could actually lay his head on the man’s shoulder.
The oxygen in Kung Lao’s lungs was ripped away. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“I want to.”
What could he say to that? He kept his mouth shut and simply reveled in all the ways he could consume Liu Kang’s presence.
“You remind me of a… close friend, Kung Lao.” He nuzzled closer to the man, hand finding Kung Lao’s wrist for his fingers to graze against it.
“You remind me of a current friend.” Kung Lao couldn’t help the giggle which came from laughing at one of his own jokes.
He could feel a small shift in Liu Kang’s body, he had laughed too.
“I want more nights like this… more nights…” He was breathy and quiet. Kung Lao could practically feel the god’s heart beat. “More nights with you , Kung Lao.”
His breath hitched, his mouth went dry. His heart was beating out of his chest, and it was all he could hear echoing in his eardrums. “I’ll — I’ll figure that out for you.” He didn’t know exactly what he was saying, only that his mouth was moving and there seemed to be words rolling out.
“That’s good,” Liu Kang mumbled before drifting off to sleep, becoming dead weight on Kung Lao's shoulder.
It was surprisingly easy for the fighter to fall asleep after that. The feel of the god’s soft breath floating onto his skin was enough to convince him to lay his head atop the other’s. His eyelids were weighed down by the idea of future nights with the god, and he finally felt the relief of sleep wash over him.