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Today would be the day. King didn’t know exactly when or how, but he was going to do it.
With his pulse drumming and his grip tight on the controller, he risked a glance at Saitama, his sort-of-boyfriend who was currently caught up in his character dying for the fifth time. King swallowed hard, something definitely audible, though Saitama didn’t seem to notice.
Today he was going to kiss Saitama.
A week and a half ago he’d broken down and finally told Saitama how he felt. He had spilled his guts on everything, from how he’d daydreamed about Saitama when he only knew him as a nameless hero, to how he’d pined for months while trying to just be friends. Saitama had listened and watched while King confessed to everything, tears running down his face, and then Saitama had just given him a comforting pat on the back and said he liked him too.
And nothing had really happened since then. So they were kind-of-dating, sort-of-boyfriends, because King assumed they were but was too nervous to ask.
But today. Today he would change that, and really learn where they stood.
If only it wasn’t so terrifying.
Even ignoring the super strength, Saitama rejecting him was a scary thought. But the act itself was also nerve-wracking.
As little as he liked to admit it, King was inching closer to his 30th birthday and had never kissed anyone in his life.
King risked another glance towards Saitama, eyes fixing on the smaller man’s mouth. What if he messed it up? What if he kissed so bad that Saitama never spoke to him again?
He realized his heart was getting louder and took a deep breath, trying to focus on the screen. Panicking would do him no good.
All he had to do was wait for the right moment. Whenever that would be. The right moment… the right moment…
Saitama muttered a curse and set his controller down as his character lost its final life. He turned to the other man and tugged at his sleeve. “Hey, King, can we—“
King dropped his controller with a clatter against the hardwood floor and lunged in, pushing his lips to Saitama’s.
Saitama froze up. King’s hands pressed on either side of his face, squishing his cheeks in a desperate attempt to hold him still. King’s blood rushed in his ears, pulse deafening, the impulse so sudden that he barely realized what he was doing.
King didn’t even feel the kiss at all until he was pulling away, snapped to reality by the smack of their lips coming apart.
He stared down at Saitama. Saitama hadn’t moved. His expression hadn’t even changed from its default blank stare, excusing the distortion of his cheeks smooshed in by King’s hands.
Oh lord, he’d messed it up. King trembled, his hands still on Saitama’s face, somehow unable to let go. “S… Saitama-shi, I…”
Saitama still didn’t respond.
King fidgeted in place. Saitama’s eyes stayed blank, fixed on some point on King’s face that wasn’t quite his eyes.
It had been sudden, but he hadn’t expected Saitama to just… short-circuit.
“Um…” King patted Saitama’s face with his thumbs. “S-Saitama-shi?”
Finally Saitama did something, but only leaned back, slowly straightening up where he sat on the floor. King’s hands slipped from his cheeks and hung uselessly in the air, still framing the shape of the cheeks they’d held.
When Saitama still didn’t say anything, King dropped his hands to his lap. He tangled his fingers together and held them tight to try to keep from fidgeting.
“I…” King bit his lip hard. “I, I’m sorry…”
He flinched when Saitama suddenly stood. Saitama started walking away and King tried to protest but Saitama just held up a finger, miming for “one second” or something similar, then stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind him without a word.
King stares at the bathroom door, his brow furrowed in confusion. He didn’t move from his spot on the floor.
After several minutes, during which King heard absolutely nothing, Saitama stepped out and walked back into the living room with sudden determination on his face.
Saitama plopped down on the ground in front of King and smacked his hands down on his knees. “Okay. Do it again.”
King stared, blinking himself out of his stupor. “What?”
“Do it again,” Saitama repeated, sitting up straighter. “I’m ready this time.”
The confusion rapidly disappeared and was replaced with embarrassment, King’s face flushing red. “Uh—um…”
“C’mon!” Saitama’s face was turning red too, the determined look feeling more forced by the second. “Do it! I’m ready!”
“I—Uh—I-I…”
Saitama scoffed, face getting pinched “Oh, for…”
He pushed himself up and pulled King in, kissing him square on the mouth.
King let out an undignified squawk. He was aware enough to feel it this time, but Saitama was pressing way too hard, and it felt like his teeth were being pressed up against Saitama’s through their lips. King tried to pull back and couldn’t but Saitama immediately let go at the resistance, but before he could start to look confused or hurt King leaned in again, re-initiating with a much more gentle kiss.
Saitama sighed into it and tilted his head, letting King relax into the meld of their mouths. His hands came again to rest on Saitama’s face and this time Saitama laid his own over one, his other coming up to rest on the back of King’s neck.
When they eventually pulled away, King breathing hard, Saitama laughed in a way that was far too sweet for King to know how to deal with.
“I’m surprised,” said Saitama, grinning. “I thought you’d never kissed anyone.”
“Um…” King swallowed. His face was still burning. “I… haven’t.”
“What?” Saitama frowned. “But you’re really good.”
“Um… T-Tama-shi… I think that’s just...” King took a deep breath and tried to steel his expression. “...I think you might be bad at kissing.”
Saitama’s eyes widened, then his brow immediately twitched down in rage.
“And how the hell would you know, huh?!”
King flushed with shame. “Um—“
“If I’m that bad, let me practice!”
“What…?” King’s brows rose as Saitama started tugging him back down. “...oh.”
By evening, Saitama was decent; but really, King had no complaints.