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“Bet I can pick you up,” says Kojiro.
“Bet you can't,” Kaoru replies, because he's a contrarian asshole on principle.
Well, that's not exactly true. His patience runs out quickly, and he can be pretty fucking arrogant when he wants, but he’s not all bad. Despite his whole delinquent aesthetic, Kaoru’s decent to most people.
Kojiro is not most people.
As such, he has to deal with jerk-for-no-reason Kaoru, but that’s fine. Most people also don't get to see Kaoru skate, and most people definitely can't keep up with him like Kojiro can.
They're sitting in a skate park near Kojiro's house; he likes to stay close by when it’s late, since he respects his curfew, unlike some delinquents he could name. The sight of Kaoru curled up in the branches of a tree above him makes Kojiro wonder if he'd fit in his arms.
“What do I get if I can?”
“Hm?” Kaoru’s not listening, Kojiro knows, as he hooks his legs around a branch and hangs upside down. His hair’s so long that it nearly brushes the ground.
“The bet. What do I get if I can pick you up?”
Kaoru gives him an upside-down look full of...something. Disgust? No. Dis-something. “I punch you in the nose.” Kaoru rolls his eyes, but to be honest the effect’s kind of lost when he’s hanging there like that. “You made the bet, figure it out yourself. If you can’t pick me up, though, I’m punching you in the nose.”
Kojiro’s nose, unbroken for now, wrinkles. “What is it with you and always threatening to beat me up over shit?”
“Violence is the only language an animal like you understands,” Kaoru sighs.
He flips off the branch gracefully as Kojiro says, “If I win, I get to pick you up whenever I want, for as long as we know each other.”
Kaoru’s face is red, the blood that rushed into his head still working its way back to the rest of his body. “Not fair. I’m not willing to be humiliated for the rest of my life.”
“Aw, Kaoru, you think we’ll be together for the rest of our lives?”
Kaoru groans but doesn’t refute it; the inside of Kojiro’s chest warms.
“If you're asking for something that’s lifelong, I want to change my wager.”
“No take-backsies,” Kojiro sing-songs. “Besides, if you break my nose, then I have to live with a crooked nose for the rest of my life. Then again, I guess I could get surgery or something. I feel like that would hurt a lot, though...”
Kaoru narrows his eyes. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were stalling. Losing confidence?”
Ah, there it is. Once Kaoru catches wind of a competition or bet, he sees it through until the very end, whether he started it or not. Kojiro flutters his eyelashes comically. “Oh, Kaoru, are you that desperate for my arms around you?”
Kaoru rolls his eyes again, and now that he’s right-side up, it gets the point across. “Just get it over with.”
Kojiro steps in front of Kaoru and immediately Kaoru backs up.
“What?”
“Don’t get all in my face like that.” Kaoru says, turning away from him. His face was still a little bit pink before he turned, some part of Kojiro notes. “Your breath stinks.”
“How am I supposed to pick you up if I can’t get close to you?!”
“Don’t gorillas have long arms? This should be no problem for you.”
Kojiro grumbles at the insult, but when he circles around to Kaoru’s front again, he doesn’t say anything. Feeling strangely nervous, Kojiro hooks his hands under Kaoru’s arms and pushes up. Kaoru shifts but doesn’t move.
He tries again. He thinks Kaoru’s feet lift off the ground a bit, but he still doesn’t come all the way up.
“Hm. All that big talk for nothing,” Kaoru says smugly.
“Not my fault you weigh two tons. What have you been eating lately?” Kojiro mumbles. Really, why was this so hard when Kaoru looked so light?
Well, third time’s the charm. Kojiro wraps his arms low on Kaoru’s waist, plants his feet and hefts. Kaoru makes an uncharacteristically high noise as he comes completely off the ground.
“Ha- ha!” Kojiro crows. It’s much easier to hold him like this, and Kojiro does a little victory spin. Kaoru’s nails dig into his arms.
“Put me down,” he says, the threatening tone of his voice wavering.
Kojiro smirks, and at eleven o’clock at night, in a completely empty skate park, spins Kaoru around in the air for as long as he can, while Kaoru shrieks to be let go of.
When Kojiro finally loosens his grip enough for Kaoru to drop, he pushes away from him, stumbling. Both of them are tripping over their feet with dizziness, and Kojiro is about to fall over he’s laughing so hard.
“I wasn’t even spinning that fast!” Kojiro manages between gasps.
“Shut up!” Kaoru hisses, the flush back in his face. “I just don’t trust you!”
Kojiro takes deep breaths while Kaoru gives him death glares and chews on his lip ring a safe distance away. That is, until Kaoru gets the idea to see who can jump higher on the ramps (trying to get back at Kojiro after losing the first bet, probably: vindictive contrarian asshole) and then they’re back in each other’s orbits again.
“Wait a minute,” Kojiro says, as they ride back to Kojiro’s place, rushing to get there before his midnight curfew.
“What is it now?”
“I can pick you up whenever I want, ” Kojiro says, the implications of the bet finally sinking in. Kaoru quickly speeds up, and Kojiro snorts as he follows behind him.
It’s stupid, but Kojiro really likes picking Kaoru up: it makes him feel strong, and lifting Kaoru without warning results in either a flustered or a just-plain-angry Kaoru, both of which Kojiro loves.
Hm. Maybe not loves . Just likes, a lot.
Kojiro backs off once Adam—Ainosuke—enters the picture, for the most part. Ainosuke is the mysterious prodigy type, and Kaoru...well, he isn’t being particularly shy about his interest in him. Kojiro’s not going to intrude where he’s not wanted.
As much as Kaoru loves to plan and re-plan (and re-plan) their trips, he never really seems to pack correctly. It’s a quirk about him that Kojiro still has not found any real reason for. Whatever the weather is, where they’re going, Kaoru never brings the right clothes. It’s the one flaw in the otherwise (this Kojiro grudgingly admits) high-quality vacation experience one can expect alongside him.
In this case, they’ve traveled to the countryside of Ireland to see if there is anywhere in the British Isles that has decent food. There are cows across every square inch of free pasture (a fact that tickles Kojiro endlessly and which Kaoru is begging him to shut up about), and the whole country is more green than any other place they’ve visited so far.
However, the whole range of Ireland’s weather is between “foggy and cool” to “rainy and cold”, and for some reason, Kaoru brought sandals.
Granted, when they left, the sun was out in full force, but they’ve already been here for a few days: you’d think Kaoru would realize that the sun is only a temporary visitor to the Emerald Isle. Five minutes after leaving their villa it started raining, and it had barely slacked off by the time they arrived at King John’s castle.
“Fuck this,” Kaoru grumbles, jumping over a small puddle as they approach the castle.
Kojiro snorts. “It’s not the puddle’s fault you don’t know how to dress.”
“I don’t recall asking your opinion.”
“You didn’t have to. I just knew you wanted to hear what I thought,” Kojiro says sagely. “It’s like a...psychic link.”
Kojiro covers up whatever retort Kaoru has by trudging through a puddle so big it’s practically a pond, kicking up a frankly disrespectful amount of water (though not in Kaoru’s direction: he still has a nasty right hook.)
He continues to walk along the path, looking forward to the tour of the castle. There’s nothing like the stone spires of a European castle in Japan, after all. But he realizes after a moment that his own boot-clad footsteps are the only ones he hears.
Sighing, Kojiro backtracks to see Kaoru still stuck behind the giant puddle. The water is deep enough to engulf his pale, exposed feet; wide enough to keep him from going around it without sinking into mud. And as easy as it’d be for Kaoru to jump on a skateboard, there’s no way that he’d try to do that without one. Doesn’t fit with his aesthetic, or something.
“Need any help?” Kojiro says, sending Kaoru a shit-eating grin.
“Eat shit,” Kaoru says, and Kojiro’s eyebrows tick up. Not that Kaoru’s a prude or anything, far from it, but Kojiro wonders if maybe the habits of the Irish are rubbing off on him.
“I'd lay my coat down for you, your Highness, but, uh...” Kojiro gestures at himself, clad in only short sleeves. “I didn’t exactly come prepared to be a knight in shining armor.”
Kaoru glances at his arms, now much bulkier than they were in high school, and scowls. With a smile, Kojiro crosses the cloudy water again.
“Well, it can’t be helped. After all, we wouldn't want our little princess getting his toes wet, now, would we?”
Kaoru is already backing up, knowing somewhere in his subconscious what’s coming, but he’s too slow. Kojiro grabs Kaoru, and ignores his squawks of protest as he sweeps his feet up.
“Put me down!” Kaoru growls. His poor sandals are about to fly off.
Kojiro stops right in the middle of the water and says, “As you wish, your Majesty.”
His right arm—the one supporting Kaoru’s back—slips away. Kaoru’s arms shoot out around Kojiro’s neck in a death grip.
“What’s wrong?” Kojiro asks, too sweetly.
“As soon as you let go of me, I swear to fuck I am going to break your kneecaps.”
“Guess I can’t put you down, then~” Kojiro singsongs, replacing his hand on Kaoru’s back and continuing along the path.
Kaoru gripes the whole time, but his arms don’t move from where they hang around Kojiro’s shoulders. Kojiro only puts him down once they get to the door of the castle; the hallways are too narrow for Kojiro to carry Kaoru through like the princess he’s acting like.
...yeah, they do fuck, sometimes. Far from often, which....if Kojiro could change that, he would, but he’d never force that on Kaoru.
Kaoru has always been physically attractive to Kojiro, from his days of silver piercings and ripped jeans to folded fans and kimono and every day in-between. He doesn’t know exactly when he started looking for more from him, from them, but the weight of his feelings are as heavy as a lifetime’s worth of wanting.
Confessing feels like dumping that weight on Kaoru, and the last thing Kojiro wants is to lose his closest friend. So, when Kaoru beckons to him late in the night, Kojiro chips away at the monolith of his own desire in other ways.
Kaoru is so much stronger than he looks, always hiding the sharp curves of his muscle under layers and layers of clothing. They soften him, make him look weaker, hide what he is. Here, now, there is no hiding.
Kaoru doesn’t wait to be lifted; he scales the front of Kojiro’s naked body, makes space for himself as he’s always done. His legs close around Kojiro’s waist like a vise.
“Do not drop me,” Kaoru breathes, his nails digging into Kojiro’s scalp and his mouth hot on Kojiro’s jaw.
“Have I ever?” Kojiro grins, and doesn’t give Kaoru room to reply.
Kojiro’s on a trip with Kaoru yet again, but that’s not the weird part. The weird part is that this one was completely unplanned, and even more than that, they have company. Don’t get him wrong, Kojiro doesn’t mind having the Kids (and babysitter Shadow) around, but they’re kinda messing with his pick-up game.
He’s got a sneaking suspicion that Miya wasn’t acting alone when he slunk out of nowhere calling him “Daddy”. Not that Kojiro thinks the kid doesn’t have it in him (he has a little bit too much of “it” in him, to be honest) but Kojiro’s well aware of how pissy Kaoru can get when Kojiro hangs around a hot girl too often.
Kojiro’s tried to call him on being jealous before, but to call him possessive would mean that he was Kaoru’s in the first place, which neither of them would ever say, or perhaps both of them politely agree not to say.
With ADAM flamenco-dancing his way back into the picture, Kojiro can admit (at least to himself) that he’s feeling more possessive: of S, of the young skaters he now finds himself caring for, and especially of Kaoru. That fire’s back in him: the competitive streak, the need to impress, to be worthy of Adam’s attention. It makes Kojiro’s skin prickle to think about Kaoru acting that way for anyone, doubly for the love-obsessed bastard.
So Kojiro won’t hold it too personally against Kaoru for sending his little minion Miya after him. He also might be completely off-base about his assumptions, but, you know. Either way, Kaoru is getting thrown.
After all, you can’t go to the beach and not get in the water!
The sun has begun its descent towards the horizon; Langa is back under an umbrella, recovering from his heatstroke, as Reki tends to him like a good little bedside nurse and Miya plays his handheld game like a bad bedside nurse. Although Kaoru is apparently in Miyako for work, his tablet is slipping from his hands as his head nods. His loosely tied hair curtains the sides of his face.
Kojiro strategically places himself between Kaoru and the rest of their party, shaking him lightly.
“Hey, four-eyes,” he says, affecting a disappointed tone, “you done with your nap? Everyone else already left.”
Kojiro watches Kaoru’s eyelashes flutter from over the rim of his sunglasses. “I wasn’t asleep,” Kaoru says, taking a deep breath and pushing his sunglasses higher up his nose. “Just resting my eyes.”
“As if I haven’t heard you make that excuse a million times. Just go back to the inn if you’re so tired.”
Kaoru doesn’t even bother to retort, lulled into serenity by the nice weather and the nap. Slowly, he makes his way to his feet, on the other side of the chair.
Before Kaoru can grab his skateboard and head back towards the road, Kojiro steps around the back of the chair and blocks off Kaoru’s path. It has the intended effect: he backs up from the board and stares up at Kojiro.
“What?” he asks, but it comes out as less threatening than Kojiro thinks it’s meant to be.
“What?” Kojiro parrots, getting even closer to him, bending down a bit towards Kaoru’s face. Even just being this close to him has his heartbeat picking up, as well as the anticipation of what he’s about to do.
He watches Kaoru’s eyes trace the lines of his mouth. They go half-lidded as Kojiro leans closer—
—and hooks an arm between Kaoru’s legs. Kaoru goes over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry almost too easily.
“I’ll take this,” Kojiro says, and plucks Kaoru’s tablet from his hands, tossing it onto the beach chair.
“Be careful with that, you barbarian!” Kaoru hisses, squirming and pushing against him like an unruly cat. He’s got the claws for it, too: his manicured nails leave stinging marks on Kojiro’s leg, the only place his one arm can reach.
Kojiro doesn’t have to endure it long, though; he dashes towards the shoreline, Kaoru bouncing on his shoulders. He can hear one of the kids take notice of them as Kojiro kicks up water and Kaoru slaps at any part of him that he can reach.
“Ready, gorgeous?”
Kaoru freezes. “What?”
And in he goes.
When he surfaces, Kaoru’s flushed a deep red with his rage, and seeing him so angry is always hilarious. But shining in the dimming sun, with the crystal blue water around his legs and dripping off of him like teardrop diamonds, Kaoru truly is gorgeous. It’s enough to take Kojiro’s breath away.
It’s not enough to keep Kojiro from kicking more seawater in Kaoru’s face, but it’s pretty fucking close.
Kojiro’s feelings might've changed after waking to a treasured, defaced article of clothing (may that aloha shirt rest in peace) but the image of Kaoru glowing in the sunlight is Kojiro’s to keep for as long as he can remember it. Besides, it could've been worse: if he'd thrown Kaoru in with the tablet he would've woken up to a broken board (or broken bones) for sure.
“Kaoru!”
The rules are that there are no rules at S, but this—it's beyond any of the sporting distractions any other skaters toss at each other. It's not fun, or entertaining, but some of the more bloodthirsty members are cheering anyways.
All the noise fades as Kojiro runs to Kaoru's side, where Adam is still sneering over him.
Please, please, please, is all he can hear, and Kojiro doesn't know what the hell he's begging for or to who. He can't focus on anything but the yellow-purple bruises forming along Kaoru’s cheekbone, on the blood streaming from his nose, the abrasions under his torn mask. His eyelids are just barely moving, and for that Kojiro is grateful.
“I thought I could have a little fun,” Adam drawls, emotionless, looming, “but Cherry was really boring after all.”
Kojiro’s fists are shaking where they lie on Kaoru’s body from the effort of restraining himself. How dare he, how dare he break open their lives and throw glass into their wounds, how dare he—
From behind him, Shadow pulls up in a cheery pink car and honks.
“Get in!” he shouts. “Right now, the most important thing is to get him to a hospital!”
As much as he wants to get back at Adam, Shadow is right. With as much care as he can with his hands shaking, Kojiro lifts Kaoru and manages to get both of them in the backseat of the car. He lets Kaoru’s body lay over the seats, with his upper body in Kojiro’s lap to keep it elevated. His hair has pieces of gravel in it.
The hospital isn’t far from Crazy Rock, and if Kojiro didn’t know better he would say it was by design. He brushes his fingers through Kaoru’s hair and, after a moment’s hesitation, presses his mouth to his forehead. Kojiro speaks quietly, as if too high of a volume could shatter Kaoru; his lips brush skin as they form words.
“Stay with me, okay, Kaoru? You’re gonna be fine. We’ll get you to the hospital, and they’ll check you out, and you will be fine—”
With a groan, Kaoru squeezes his eyes closed and shakes his head, which makes him wince even more. Kojiro backs up, startled out of his mild panic.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Stop—” Kaoru starts, and his voice sounds too weak, “stop whispering, stupid. My head hurts too much to focus on what you’re saying.”
“I know,” Kojiro says, even if he doesn’t. But Kaoru might have a concussion; he can’t be allowed to fall asleep. Even injured, though, Kaoru retains his ability to read Kojiro’s mind.
“You don’t have to keep me up,” Kaoru murmurs.
“What, you know you don’t have a concussion?”
“Even if I did have a concussion, I’m able to hold a conversation with you, so I’m not going to fall into a coma as soon as I fall asleep. That’s—” His teeth click together suddenly, and Kojiro presses his lips back to the crown of Kaoru’s head, trying to soothe him. “That’s common knowledge.”
Kojiro can’t help but marvel at the man lying in his lap. At his most vulnerable, he is the one supporting Kojiro. Kojiro stays where he is, just listening to both of their breathing. He can feel the pinch of Kaoru’s face relax.
“What are you going to tell the hospital?” Kaoru murmurs.
“I was thinking—” Kojiro starts.
“Not you,” Kaoru sighs.
“Not like we have to lie to them about the skating accident,” Shadow says from the front seat, and Kaoru nods in approval.
“Tell them Kojiro ran me over with his car while I was skating,” Kaoru mumbles. “He looks irresponsible enough.” Shadow snorts.
“If you’re well enough to insult me, maybe we won’t take you to the hospital,” Kojiro grumbles, as they pull into the hospital parking lot next to the ER.
They do not tell the staff that Kojiro ran Kaoru over while he was skating. It’s mainly because it’d be pretty odd for the assaulter to come into the waiting room of the ER, cradling his hit-and-run victim close to his chest.
“Are you going to carry me?”
Kojiro turns to where Kaoru is standing by the door of his rich-boy house, eyebrows raised.
The sky is tinted orange, and a light breeze is running along the streets of the island. Kojiro’s got plans this evening, plans that initially did not involve lifting Kaoru and taking him anywhere, for once.
Langa’s been in Okinawa for a little while, long enough to become the new reigning champion of S, but he still hasn’t really seen everything there is to see. So Kojiro, unintentional yet magnanimous mentor/father figure that he is, had offered to take Langa on an evening walking tour to get a feel for the island, and maybe to give out food recommendations. Of course, if Langa was going, that meant Reki also had to go (there was no separating those two, especially not recently); if both of them were going, there was no way Miya wouldn’t include himself, as well. Hiromi wasn’t tagging along for this trip: third date with the manager.
Kojiro had been in Kaoru’s kitchen for the past few hours, cooking up a storm: Kaoru had some kind of rich convention to attend, and the events would be taking up his days and nights for the next three days. So, Kojiro (who was definitely the nice one between them) wanted to make a few of Kaoru’s favorites for him to come home to after what would surely be countless plates of pinky-sized hors d'oeuvres. They had planned to leave the house together to meet up with their younger counterparts after he was finished. But like, with both of them walking.
“Am I going to carry you?” Kojiro repeats, feeling like he’s become the subject of a joke.
“That is what I asked, yes. Do you need me to say it again? Maybe the third time you hear it it’ll manage to cross the canyon between the inside of your skull and your miniscule brain.”
“I was under the impression you hated when I lifted you.”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever said that,” Kaoru sniffs.
“So you like it?” Kojiro wiggles his eyebrows.
“I’ve certainly never said that.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” Kojiro lilts, but he doesn’t expect any verbal honesty from Kaoru anytime soon. He’s known his friend long enough to know that putting his feelings into words isn’t always the easiest. In that way, Kojiro’s the same as him.
He bends over a bit and pats his shoulder. It’s been a long time since he’s given Kaoru a piggyback ride, but he seems to still understand the gestures.
“You’re really going to make me jump? You’re much taller than me now, you know.”
“Oh, I know,” Kojiro hums, “but you might as well do some work.”
Kaoru sighs, a long-suffering sigh that carries every annoyance that he has ever had or ever will have with Kojiro.
“Don’t have all day, Kaoru. Our kids are waiting for us,” Kojiro says, waving his hands in a “come on” gesture.
“They are not our children,” Kaoru huffs, and jumps onto Kojiro’s back. He’s still light, and straightening up and grabbing behind his legs is no problem.
“You have to at least claim Miya,” Kojiro argues, as Kaoru’s arms tighten around his shoulders. “He already sees you as his mommy, you know.”
Kaoru tries to kick Kojiro in the leg as he starts walking and misses. “Stop saying that.”
“C’mon, mommy, play nice.”
Kaoru buries his head in Kojiro’s shoulder. “You are insufferable.”
“And you are at my mercy for the next three blocks, so I’d be mindful of what you say to me,” Kojiro teases. “I might just drop you.”
Kaoru laughs a bit. “You won’t,” he says, and yeah, he won’t.