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It‘s the hottest day all summer, and as much as Ryuji would never want to miss a single one of the many days he spends with Akira, he‘s honestly considering today. Living in an attic above a cafe sure comes with its fair share of downsides, and today, that downside is brutally melting without any chance of salvation.
So, naturally, they’re both pressing cold soda cans against their foreheads, and devouring ice cream as if they lives depended on it; honestly, it’s hot enough that Ryuji thinks they might actually do.
He looks over to Akira, who looks even more defeated than he does, which makes sense. The dude never freezes, so naturally, him not being able to stand the heat is quite logical. He’s panting, lying flat on the wooden floor, and honestly, the only reason they’re not going somewhere else is that they have a meeting with the others later. Ryuji can already hear Ann complain.
“We’re going to die,” Akira mumbles quietly, dramatically, and rolls over to the side. He needs to squint, but Ryuji can see some leftover ice cream in the corner of his friend’s lips, and can’t stop himself from chuckling – weakly, though, because he’s way too exhausted for anything else.
“What?”
“You…y’got ice cream there. Looks stupid, dude.”
Akira frowns and lazily tries to reach the spot without much effort, but fails entirely. He doesn’t seem to care, let’s his arm fall on the floor and grunts in annoyance.
“Nope. Try again.”
“Don’t wanna.”
Ryuji laughs harder at the way Akira talks – it reminds him of himself a little, something he won’t deny he’s proud of. Morgana would judge them if he hadn’t fled to find a cooler place, but Ryuji truly couldn’t care less. It’s good to hear Akira be carefree and lazy for a change. Yet still, that doesn’t change anything about the ice cream stain on his lips. It’s fine, Ryuji wouldn’t normally care, but this is Akira . He has style in even the worst situations, so this is just…wrong.
He catches up on Ryuji’s conflict quickly.
“If it bothers you so much,” he starts innocently, but his lips curl up to a sardonic smile when he continues. “I suppose you’ll have to clean it up it yourself.”
It takes a second for Ryuji’s brain to start functioning again, but when it does, something inside him screams ALARM: CODE RED ; he feels a blush creep up to his cheeks, opens his mouth to say something, realizes he’s got nothing and closes it again, shakes his head, turns away and frowns at some spot on the wall that he wouldn’t be able to specify if asked.
Naturally, Akira bursts into laughter, even if it’s a little weak. It’s an approximate four-thousand degrees hot, yet he still has the audacity to be an asshole, and he’s not even ashamed of it.
“I was kidding, Ryuji,” he explains, but he sounds way too amused about it, still, and Ryuji refuses to turn around and look at him again. He should have, though, because like this, he isn’t prepared for the warm hand touching his shoulder, tracing the sweaty skin to his collarbone, and he’s especially unprepared for the fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt and pulling slightly. Before he can even react, he sees Akira’s face hovering over his own, the confident smile growing in direct proportion to the hot blush on his cheeks.
“I mean…unless you want to.”
Akira’s voice is but a soft, purring murmur by now, his eyes small but attentive, his face way too close, and Ryuji feels the desperate need to shove him away, to run, to scream and to justify the warm red on his face in some way that does not include general interest in doing it.
Instead, though, he grabs a fistful of Akira’s shirt and pulls him down, promises himself to remember the short moment of shock on his best friend’s face for the rest of his life, and puts his lips right on the stain. Sadly, though, he hasn’t planned any further than that, so now they’re lying here, engulfed in heat and soft embarrassment, waiting for something to happen. He feels Akira’s racing heartbeat somewhere close to his own, and before he can decide on anything, he’s pushed down and kissed properly.
For a moment, his brain’s functions cease completely.
Then, he allows himself to give in, closes his eyes, hums at the feeling of warm, trembling lips against his own, moves them against each other and throws an arm around Akira’s middle to pull him closer. It’s still way too hot up here, but somehow, he can’t seem to mind anymore. All that matters is the body against his, the teeth gently nibbling on his lower lip, the fingers shyly combing through his hair…
“Interesting.”
He knocks their foreheads together in shock when he hears the voice, and the both roll over to different sides at the pain. He wants to be mad, looks up and sees the raised eyebrow on his friend’s face, who’s leaning against the railing.
“Oh no, don’t let me bother you. It’s not what I thought I’d find, I have to admit, but then again, it was about time.”
“S-screw you, Ann!”
She laughs and points at Akira.
“Haven’t you found someone else for that already?”
Somehow, to Ryuji’s dismay, both of his friends find that funny enough to tease him until the rest of the team arrives. But when they’re all settled down on the floor, ready to discuss their next target, and he feels fingers brush against his wordlessly, he sighs and thinks to himself that maybe, it’s not that bad.
Maybe, he could get used to this.