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Kiba yawns, not even trying to pay attention to the teacher yammering on in the background.
Another morning, another day at school. Another chance to mourn the fact that he can’t bring Akamaru with him for company — not for lack of trying. It had taken a month-long schedule of detention and his mother making him do all the chores in the kennels for him to give that particular dream up.
He’s in… chemistry, probably? Hinata dragged him here. She looks at him, a blush high on her cheeks, and gestures for him to pay attention. He can’t, though. There’s a presence in the back of the class, and he feels it like a thorn in his side — or maybe just a smudge on his sunglasses, not particularly bad but annoying nonetheless.
The new guy that transferred this year is too cocky for Kiba’s liking, and if he turns he knows there’ll be a smug grin on whatshisface — Kankuro. Kiba wants to wipe it clean.
“You harbor a particular and unexplainable obsession for the transfer student, Kiba,” Shino says at lunch later, eating something out of a box that he just took out of his backpack, and it doesn’t look appetizing at all. “I suggest you analyze the reason for this dislike, and find the root cause in order to rid yourself of it.”
Hinata nods in agreement. “Kiba…” she glances at Kankuro, who’s sitting with his siblings. Kiba’s gaze lingers on the way Kankuro is spread in his chair, a silly smirk on his dark lips, the way his lax demeanor contrasts with the stiffness of his brother and his sister’s glare.
“Yeah, yeah. Look at them. It’s obvious why I dislike him,” Kiba says, popping the last of his sandwich in his mouth. Mid-chew, he continues, “He thinks he can waltz into this school and command everyone’s attention, huh?”
“Please don’t talk with your mouth full,” Hinata says, covering her eyes.
“You are the only one who is paying any attention to him. He is otherwise irrelevant,” Shino says as he stands up. “The break is almost over, but do you want me to bring you yogurt?”
“Of course, man! Thanks,” Kiba grins. “You’re great.” When Shino leaves, Kiba's gaze drifts towards Kankuro again, and then to Hinata. “Hey, am I really the only one paying attention to him?”
She thinks for a moment, taking a sip of her juice. “They attract attention as a whole… But Kiba, you’re focusing. Specifically on Kankuro.”
“Well, he’s the worst!”
“I really don’t see anything wrong with him… Unless you have a problem with his looks, which… well, I… We have similar stylistic choices…”
“Hinata! Of course I don’t have a problem with you dressing the way you do! I’ll always support you, you know anyone who talks shit about you being goth can shove it. And I don’t have a problem with him because of that either. But seriously, nothing wrong?”
Hinata shakes her head.
“Not even a little bit? Just the tiniest littlest bit?”
“No, Kiba. I think it’s odd that you’re fixating so much.”
“Well, I don’t!” he says, huffing and crossing his arms.
Hinata just smiles at him, and then gets up. “It’s almost time for my next class. Please make it to yours in time.”
Kiba rolls his eyes and watches her walk away, waiting for Shino. Shino arrives a moment later, handing Kiba the yogurt and holding a hand out expectantly.
“Can’t this be a treat?” Kiba asks. “Please, I ran out of money yesterday!”
Shino raises his eyebrows. “Fine. You are not allowed to ask me to write your homework for the next month. I will see you later,” he says, turning his back to Kiba without a second glance. That just leaves Kiba sitting alone in the almost empty cafeteria, scattered with students, only his yogurt to keep him company.
He’s just gotten around to opening the can when the bell rings. Kiba’s next class is history, and he really can’t afford to be late this time around because last time, he fell asleep in class — really not his fault, since he’d been up all night nursing baby pups, but still. He gets up, can in one hand and backpack in the other, and starts speeding towards the hallway.
He almost makes it, but in his rush, Kiba doesn’t see the chair that’s been left pushed out by someone. He trips on the leg and flies forward, thinking that it’s finally over for both his reputation and his beautiful nose, bracing for the inevitable impact. As suddenly as he tripped, though, he collides with a solid chest and his right hand, the one holding the yogurt, reacts on an unfortunate reflex. It ends with the yogurt spilled all over his unlucky victim’s face and shirt.
Kiba grips onto the person in front of him, his cheeks flaring in embarrassment as he tries to straighten up. He’s almost started to apologize when he looks up, and the stare that meets him is menacing — despite the smudged makeup and yogurt all over his person, Kankuro glares down at Kiba with a scowl on his face, and it’s terrifying. Kiba shrinks, still, for some reason, holding onto Kankuro’s stained shirt. He looks at the stain and the only thought that comes to mind is, Oh, fuck.
“What the hell, loser?” Kankuro spits out. “You just ruined my shirt. And my makeup.”
Finally letting go, Kiba steps back and chuckles nervously. “Sorry, man… I tripped on this chair,” he says, gesturing towards the offending piece of furniture, if only to have something to do with his hands.
“Sorry isn’t gonna cut it. Come with me,” Kankuro says, grabbing Kiba’s wrist and dragging him out of the cafeteria towards the nearest bathroom. Kiba doesn’t have time to react — he just lets himself be dragged with a stupefied expression on his face, and the two of them really must look ridiculous, because more than just one person stops to stare at their procession.
When they get to the bathroom, Kankuro makes sure there’s no one else there and then rests his back to the door, so no one can come in — and Kiba can’t go out, either. Kankuro looks at Kiba with an unreadable expression on his face, not saying anything.
“Hey, man… I need to get to my next class,” Kiba tries.
“Give me your hoodie,” Kankuro suddenly says, moving to take his shirt off in one swift movement. Kiba can’t help but let his eyes linger a little, merely for the reason that Kankuro definitely doesn’t look bad. He’s filled out and looks solid in a way Kiba realizes he finds very attractive, and when Kankuro meets his eyes again there’s a smirk on his face. “Here you go, by the way,” Kankuro says, handing Kiba the stained shirt.
Kiba, dumbfounded, takes it in his hand and continues staring at Kankuro. Kankuro just crosses his arms over his chest and taps his foot in impatience, until Kiba, finding there’s really nothing else to do if he doesn’t want to be extremely late for history class, takes his hoodie off and holds it out for Kankuro.
When he’s finished putting the hoodie on — which looks a little small on him, if Kiba’s being honest, despite being oversized on his own form — Kankuro leans away from the door and starts washing his face, removing his makeup in the process. Kiba stands there watching, unable to look away, wanting to see how Kankuro looks without it. On a whim, he decides to put Kankuro’s shirt on himself, and is immediately assaulted with the intermingling smell of yogurt and something unfamiliar, something that is probably a mixture of Kankuro’s own smell and the detergent he uses.
Kankuro looks up at Kiba then, and laughs at him. “Looks good on you.” Kiba belatedly realizes he’s been sniffing at the hem for a good ten seconds at least.
“Shut up, Kankuro,” he says, embarrassed.
“Oh, you know my name?” Kankuro chuckles. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring ever since I got here. Got a problem?”
“Yeah, I do. Who do you think you are?”
“Kankuro, as you already know. But I don’t know who you are. So I assume you’re irrelevant,” Kankuro smirks, and it’s a little infuriating.
Kiba feels foolish, standing there in Kankuro’s shirt — which he ruined — and still picking a fight for no reason at all… other than maybe, maybe, searching for some kind of reaction or acknowledgement from this new person who — if he’s being honest with himself — really gets on Kiba’s nerves.
Only because of the fact that he seems unreachable. And Kiba, for one reason or another, wants to be able to reach Kankuro.
He just scowls, moving to get some toilet paper and clean the shirt to the best of his ability. He glances at Kankuro periodically while the boy reapplies some of his makeup and then turns to look back at Kiba, smiling.
“So what’s your name, yogurt boy?”
Kiba grimaces. “Kiba,” he grounds out, stomping towards the door. “I’ll wash the shirt and return it tomorrow.”
Kankuro chuckles. “Of course. And you owe me for wasting my time.”
“What the hell do I owe you?” Kiba crosses his arms over his chest defensively.
“I haven’t decided yet. See ya,” Kankuro says, walking out of the bathroom and letting the door slam shut in Kiba’s face.
Kiba's late for history.
“Hinata,” Kiba says into the phone later that evening, “how do you wash yogurt stains off a black shirt?”
“Um,” she says, and then there’s a shuffling sound for about thirty seconds. “Okay, first you need to scrape off the yogurt, then use a sponge with some dishwashing liquid and water to blot it out. Then you can wash it normally, and leave it to air dry. Why?”
“I… I spilled my yogurt all over someone earlier.”
“Oh.” Hinata pauses. “Is that what you did to Kankuro?”
“What? How do you know that?”
“Shino told me you did something stupid.”
“Of course he told you,” Kiba grumbles. “And now, that Kankuro said I’m indebted to him, even though I gave him my hoodie and I’m washing his shirt now.”
“Did he tell you what he wants?” Hinata asks.
“No. He said he hasn’t decided yet!”
“Well, you’ll just have to wait and see. Sorry Kiba, I have to go do my homework. You should do yours as well.”
Oh crap — yeah. Shino said he wouldn’t do Kiba’s homework anymore. “Okay. Thanks, Hinata!”
The next day, Kiba gives Kankuro's shirt back without incident. Kankuro nods and returns the hoodie, which hasn't been washed, by the feel of it. Kiba resists the outrageous urge to bring it up to his nose and see if it smells the same way the shirt did.
Everything is the same as before, except when Kankuro leaves and rejoins his siblings, his sister's gaze lingers on Kiba for a moment, making him uncomfortable.
Kiba almost forgets the whole thing the following week, swept up in his usual duties around the house and barely managing to scrape by with his schoolwork. By the end of it, he's itching for something fun to do, something to help him relax and unwind.
He doesn't know how he heard about the party and he's not even sure that he knows who the host is, but when Kiba finds himself seated on a weird couch in a weird modern house surrounded by his classmates, some of whom like him, some of whom don't — he feels good. Someone even managed to get alcohol; bottles and cups are being passed around and Kiba's never one to refuse something like that.
He's on his second cup, walking around the house now, alone because Shino and Hinata definitely aren't the party type. Naruto, Kiba's friend from the football team, disappeared somewhere earlier with a dark haired person in tow whom Kiba doesn't care to know. So he's alone now, looking at an oddly shaped sculpture that says it's supposed to be representing the tree of life — despite, or maybe because of the fact that it's made entirely out of recycled plastic — and it's then that he feels someone stand next to him.
When he turns, he's surprised to see it's Kankuro.
"Hi?" he says, a little uncertain.
"Hi, Kiba," Kankuro grins, somewhat menacingly. "Fancy seeing you here."
"Yeah, fancy…" Kiba chuckles nervously. "This house sure is fancy too."
"That's a hilariously pathetic attempt at small talk. I'm not going to do anything to you, so stop fidgeting."
Kiba takes a sip of his drink to compose himself. "Well, I keep wondering what you might ask of me, is all. Not that I'm afraid of you or anything," he says, trying to reassure himself more than trying to convince Kankuro.
"Well, since you've been wondering for long enough, how about I put you out of your misery?"
"You do realize that still sounds vaguely threatening, right?" Kiba scowls.
"That's the point. As for the favor… I want you to hang out with me tonight," Kankuro says, surprising Kiba once again.
"Hang out with you…? Is that all?"
Kankuro nods.
"I feel like there's more to it than you're letting on."
"No, that's really all there is to it," Kankuro says, a serene smile playing on his features.
It's really confusing, considering their last and only previous interaction was not particularly amiable.
"Why?" Kiba questions, looking at Kankuro. His makeup is heavier than usual, his face adorned with dark purple lines which go all the way around and across. It somehow looks really good, the black hood he's wearing casting shadows on his face and making it look oddly accentuated.
"I don't think anyone else I've met here is even remotely as interesting as you are, Kiba," Kankuro says, making Kiba's mouth inch open in disbelief. "I've watched you too. You have an odd relationship with your friends. I'm not sure if they hate you or adore you. And you're also the only one who's actually spoken to me since I've been here."
"But you're never alone," Kiba interjects.
"I don't count my siblings for obvious reasons."
"I wouldn't have spoken to you if you hadn't walked into my yogurt projectile."
Kankuro laughs at that. "I think you would have."
Kiba bristles, indignant. "What makes you say that?"
"Just a feeling," Kankuro shrugs. "So, you owe me this night. Come, let's take a walk."
The night is clear and beautiful, if a bit chilly. Kiba feels oddly shaken, walking next to Kankuro. He writes it off as the cold and not the sudden nervousness that comes from being alone with Kankuro again — not fear, but a trepidation, an excitement. He's watching and waiting for Kankuro's next move, who's walking by him, looking settled in a way Kiba hasn't seen before.
They walk around the mostly empty streets of a suburban maze, going left and right until Kiba thinks he's lost his way because he hasn't been paying attention. Kankuro seems content to continue walking in silence until they get to a small, secluded spot at the end of what looks like a dead end but actually isn’t — it opens to an open space that looks, for all intents and purposes, like a miniature square, like a yard that got cut off from someone’s house and now exists on its own, houseless. Kiba has never seen it before. There’s a bench that looks like it’s been dragged there by someone, and they go to sit on it.
“How did you find this place?” Kiba asks in wonder.
“When I first got here, I didn’t have much to do. I like wandering while I listen to music,” Kankuro says. “I discovered it by accident. It’s really quiet, I haven’t seen anyone here besides me — and whoever brought this bench, probably.”
“Huh,” Kiba says, sleepily blinking up at the starry sky. Those two cups of alcohol and the cold are getting to him. He shivers inadvertently.
The next moment there’s warmth on his right side, where Kankuro’s decided to press up against Kiba. They’re not hugging, but their sides and thighs are touching, and Kankuro’s body heat is very welcome for more than one reason. Kiba won’t admit it yet, but he’s enjoying the feel of having Kankuro next to him a surprising amount.
They’re quiet for a moment, until Kankuro shifts, and his hand lands on Kiba’s thigh. Kiba feels heat crawl up his face as he turns to look into Kankuro’s mostly obscured eyes.
“Kiba,” Kankuro says. “I know we didn’t really start off on the right foot.”
“We sure didn’t,” Kiba says, mostly because he feels like if he doesn’t he’ll blurt something embarrassing out at an inopportune moment — something like can I please kiss your neck or would you squeeze a little tighter?
“I know you noticed me, and I noticed you too. Maybe I shouldn’t have played with you — but…” Kankuro’s words fade away, and he looks unexpectedly bashful now. “I think you’re pretty.”
Kiba’s heart skips a beat, because he really didn’t expect those words, or his evening to go this way — Hinata’s going to have a field day when he tells her about this later. And he somehow feels like Shino will revoke access to the homework trove for another whole month once he learns about this new development. Despite that, he finds he doesn’t care. The swirl of feelings he got whenever he looked at Kankuro, ever since Kiba first saw the boy, crystallizes itself into what it has always been: attraction.
Gulping, Kiba leans in without thinking about it. Kankuro seems surprised by it, as if he was expecting rejection all along.
“I think you’re pretty, too. Pretty scary, that is,” Kiba grins.
Kankuro grins back, taking his hood off with his free hand, leaning in closer. “Yeah? Why aren’t you running, then?”
“I don’t really know what’s good for me — ask any of my friends.”
“If we kiss, I’m going to get purple on your face,” Kankuro warns.
“Then you’ll owe me,” Kiba answers.
Kankuro kisses Kiba for a long time, the shared warmth from their bodies keeping them in a cocoon of unawareness as the night wears on.
Their faces are both a total mess by the end of it.