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Hajime is sitting on a bar stool on the outskirts of the dance floor in the club Tooru dragged him to. Hajime doesn’t always come with his boyfriend, but if he's being honest, he doesn’t mind going out with Tooru too much. It’s not really his scene, the packed bars and crowded dance floors, but Tooru loves it. He comes to life under the flashing lights and pounding music and Hajime is perfectly content to sit at the bar and watch Tooru dance until he drops. He likes the way Tooru glances back at him every once in a while, like he’s making sure Hajime is watching.
Tooru always has admirers. Hajime is pretty used to it. Every time they go out together Tooru has suitors coming up and asking him if he’s single or if they can have his number. He’s always so nice about it, politely turning them down with a smile. It’s part of why Hajime likes him, always taking time to talk to his suitors even if it comes at his own expense.
But some nights, like tonight, Hajime feels a tad possessive of his boyfriend. He knows Tooru looks good. He has eyes and he’s dating the man for god’s sake. They’ve been here for an hour and Tooru has already had three people come up to him. Now Tooru is on the dance floor.
Hajime isn’t much of a dancer, he prefers to sit on the outskirts and watch his boyfriend. Tooru likes to put on a bit of a show when he knows Hajime is watching. Hajime eats it right up. Tooru will flash him a sweaty grin as he dances, holding his eye contact. It always takes every ounce of Hajime’s willpower not to drag his boyfriend to the nearest bathroom and show him exactly what he does to Hajime.
Tooru’s eyes are closed, hips swaying back and forth. He drags his hands up and down his torso. Bringing them down to his hips, up to his neck and through his hair. Tooru’s body moves with grace, his movements rhythmic and smooth. Hajime’s eyes are glued to his boyfriend. He probably looks like a creep, staring this hard, but he can’t help it. His eyes travel from Tooru’s long legs, up to his lean torso and finally land on his flushed face. Tooru is like a magnet, constantly drawing Hajime’s attention. Hajime feels his mouth go dry. He looks good. Really good.
Hajime is filled with a sense of pride.That’s his boyfriend. Hajime is the one Tooru is taking home at the end of the night. Nobody else.
It is a club, so it’s inevitable that people approach Tooru to dance with him, especially when he dances like that. He gets people weaving in and out of the dance floor. They dance with Tooru for a few minutes and then move on. But then, someone comes up behind Tooru, who’s more than a little tipsy at this point, and drags him backwards so Tooru is flush against him. He stumbles a little at the abrupt change in position and blinks around.
Usually, it doesn’t bother Hajime, seeing people dance with him. He’s comfortable in his relationship. He knows he’s the only one Tooru wants. But something about this guy is really getting on Hajime’s nerves. And also he’s a little drunk and feeling a little possessive. He grips his glass a little tighter. Tooru tries to politely move away, but the guy keeps a firm hold on his waist. That does it for Hajime, he’s seen enough.
He normally lets Tooru resolve these things by himself. His boyfriend is assertive and strong enough to tell pushy dickheads to fuck off, but Tooru is pretty drunk (and so is Hajime, for that matter). Hajime puts his drink down on the bar and pushes his way into the dance floor.
He makes his way through the crowd and taps the stranger on his shoulder.
“Excuse me, I just need to get through,” He says, making sure he’s loud enough to be heard over the music
Tooru can’t hear him over the noise so he doesn’t notice Hajime standing there. He looks uncomfortable, which only serves to further ignite Hajime’s protectiveness.
“But-,” The guy tries to argue but Hajime has already pushed past him and is now standing in front of Tooru, who’s mouth drops open in surprise. Hajime almost never comes out to dance with him.
Hajime takes in Tooru’s appearance—hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, cheeks flushed from the combination of alcohol and exertion, looking at Hajime with those big brown doe eyes—and promptly forgets all about the asshole still trying to argue with him.
Tooru looks so good here. Standing in this poorly lit club, under the flashing lights in the middle of the dance floor. They’re just staring at each other, Hajime in awe and Tooru still in shock over seeing his boyfriend on the dance floor.
Hajime blinks and the moment’s over. He pulls Tooru close so he can hear Hajime when he speaks.
“Hey. That guy was bothering you.”
“Oh? Are you my knight in shining armor, Iwa-chan? Coming to save the poor damsel in distress?” He tries to sound smooth when he says it, but the alcohol has slurred his words a little and he grabs onto Hajime’s waist for balance.
Tooru leans in very close to speak, lips brushing the shell of Hajime’s ear.
“Since you marched your grumpy ass all the way out here, won’t you dance with me, Hajime?”
A sober Hajime would have been content to tell him no, but something about the combination of the 5 shots he did 20 minutes ago and the way Tooru is already swaying his hips makes his mouth open without even thinking.
“Shut up, you, stupid—whatever. I’m already dancing,” Hajime says, the words coming out in fragments. He throws his arms around Tooru’s shoulders, hands clasping together behind his neck. Tooru looks a little surprised, but he takes it in stride and leads Hajime to a more secluded corner of the dance floor, never once breaking the hold they have on each other.
“Well? Are you going to show me how to do your stupidly attractive dance or are we just going to stand here like a couple of idiots?”
“Oh, you think my dancing is sexy, Iwa-chan? I would have never known with the way you’d been ogling me all night,” Tooru says, his breath on Hajime’s shoulders making him shiver.
“That’s not what I said, asshole. Now, you. Me. Dance. Now,” Hajime says, too drunk to form a coherent sentence. He stumbles a little when he stomps his feet in Tooru’s direction, and the asshole has the nerve to catch him in his stupidly strong arms.
“Well, if you insist, Hajime,” Tooru says, grabbing his waist and moving him in time with whatever irritating dance song that’s playing.
Hajime follows Tooru’s lead for the most part, who has a much better sense of rhythm. It’s good. Hajime wonders why sober him is so against this. Watching Tooru dance is one thing, but it’s another to be right beside him, to touch him as he moves. It’s exhilarating. He barely even notices the giant mass of people surrounding them.
They move together with the beat. Tooru slides his hands just barely under the hem of Hajime’s shirt, deft fingers skimming his lower back, just above his ass. The touch, though brief, lights Hajime’s whole body on fire. He suddenly wants more, unable to be any farther apart from him. He moves impossibly closer, using his hands to pull Tooru’s head down so he can kiss him.
The kiss is hard and messy. Hajime doesn’t even care that they’re making out in the middle of a club. Tooru is the only thing worth caring about anyway. Tooru is everywhere. His hands sliding up Hajime’s back, up to his neck, down to his ass. Hajime breaks the kiss to mouth hotly at Tooru’s neck. The little gasp of surprise Tooru lets out spurs him on. He moved from one side of Tooru’s jaw to the other, biting down gently on his pulse point.
Tooru gets his hands on Hajime’s shoulders and pushes him away, but only to flip him around so his back is to Tooru’s front. Hajime is a little stunned from the sudden change. Tooru smooths his hands down the front of Hajime’s chest. Everything is so hot. He feels Tooru grip his waist again and pull Hajime flush against him, grinding their hips together. Hajime’s eyes slip shut, his head falling back onto Tooru’s shoulder.
“You’re a fast learner, Hajime,” Tooru speaks directly into his ear and bites his earlobe.
“Shut up,” Hajime says, but there’s absolutely no heat behind it. He brings one of his hands up to keep Tooru’s face where it is, chin hooking over Hajime’s shoulder.
The song changes to something slower, dirtier. Hajime feels his concentration break and he’s hit with a wave of embarrassment for acting like this in public. He lifts his head and looks around. He sees other couples doing similar things or even worse, so he decides he doesn’t really give much of a shit anymore.
He grinds into Tooru’s hips and turns his face to kiss Tooru again, hand holding him in place. The awkward angle makes it sloppy, but neither of them seem to care.
Tooru slides one hand back up Hajime’s chest to rest lightly at the base of his throat, thumb stroking lightly across his sweaty skin.
Eventually, Hajime’s stamina putters out. Their once heated movements—his hands erratic and his entire body buzzing to be moving in time with his boyfriend—slowly turn quieter, lazier. Hajime realizes just how worn out he is. He turns back to face his boyfriend and wraps his arms around Tooru’s shoulders and speaks into his neck. He feels hands fall to his waist.
“I’m so fucking tired, Tooru. We should leave. Right now.”
Hajime feels Tooru’s body shake with a laugh. “So intent to take me home on the first date, Hajime? You’re so forward, you could at least buy me dinner first.” He says it with a kiss to the top of Hajime’s head.
“Fuck you, we’ve literally been dating since high school. Now take me home,” Hajime says, his voice still muffled by Tooru’s chest in his face. Suddenly he wants nothing more than to be home with him, laying down in his arms.
They leave the club, linked hands swinging between them. Hajime feels much more satisfied than he’d expected. He’s still a little bit drunk—they both are—and feeling a little bit giddy.
Tooru stumbles into Hajime’s side, bumping their shoulders together and releasing his hand in favor of weaving an arm around Hajime’s for better balance. Tooru is warm against his side and Hajime feels affection bubble up inside his chest as his boyfriend stares up at the sky where the stars are bright and twinkling. He’s not watching where he’s going so Hajime makes sure they don’t bump into anything.
“Iwa-chan, look!” Tooru points his free hand up to the sky and drags them to a stop, “I think I can see a UFO!”. He squints, as if that will allow him to see any better. It’s just a satellite.
Hajime pokes Tooru in the cheek,”I see an alien, it’s standing right in front of me.”
Tooru hits him with a big pout, mouth pulled into a frown and his lower lip jutting out. His eyebrows are furrowed; he looks unbelievably stupid. Hajime feels a smile spread its way across his face until he can’t hold it in anymore. It’s not even that funny, but he’s drunk and Tooru looks so offended. He bursts out laughing, pushing his head into Tooru’s chest.
“I’m sorry, it was right there,” Hajime says in between giggles.
Hajime is still pretty trashed, but even drunk he knows he can make fun of Tooru like this without any repercussions. His boyfriend wears his heart on his sleeve, and he can already see him struggling to keep the fake anger on his face, his dramatic frown cracking into a smile. He always says Hajime’s laughter is contagious, and now is no different. Tooru puts a hand to his mouth while trying to hold in his laughter. He tries to keep his eyebrows furrowed in a glare, but that only makes Hajime laugh more.
Soon, they're standing there, in the middle of an empty sidewalk, giggling like a couple of teenagers. Under the streetlight, with a light breeze, Hajime knows that this is a moment he’ll never be able to forget. He locks the sight of Tooru holding his stomach as he laughs into his memory forever. It’s perfect.
After they catch their breath, Tooru grabs his hand, pulling him in the direction of their apartment.
“C’mon, you meanie, let’s go home.”
Hajime pulls Tooru’s hand so he stumbles back towards him and reaches up on his toes to place a quick kiss on Tooru’s mouth.
“Fine, fine,” Hajime keeps Tooru close, slipping a hand into his back pocket as they walk home. These are the moments Hajime loves. The soft, serene moments he’d never have with anyone else but Tooru.