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Gin decides he’s going to kiss Akagi by process of elimination. First of all, he’s not going to kiss either of the Miyas, because that’s gross. Secondly, he’s not going to kiss Suna or Kosaku, because that’s also gross. Thirdly, he’s not going to kiss Kita, because anyone who kisses Kita either: a. has a death wish, or b. is out of their fucking mind. And finally, he’s not going to kiss Aran, because Aran would absolutely notice that Gin’s out of his mind, and therefore drag Gin to go see Kita, which means that Gin will have to face Kita anyway.
He could, hypothetically, kiss one of the first years, but Gin feels a little weird about that, since they only just met about a month ago. So he’s narrowed down his options to either Oomimi or Akagi. Gin’s still a little bit afraid of Oomimi, even after knowing him for a year. So—by process of elimination—Akagi’s the last resort. The more that Gin thinks about it, the less weird it is.
The whole thing about kissing someone is entirely Atsumu’s fault. He’s the one who thinks he’s such a hotshot now that he’s gotten his first kiss, and for the past several days, that’s all Atsumu has talked about during lunch.
It was a welcome break at first, since there’s practically nothing that can distract Atsumu from volleyball. But now it’s just annoying. Ironically, Atsumu’s fixation on kisses and first kisses—and the reason why he’s so ready to talk about them with anyone and everyone—is because he’d gone to the Japan National Youth Training Camp. Apparently, while there, he kissed someone for the first time.
Gin hadn’t been surprised when Atsumu told him. It was bound to happen at one point. The Miyas are well-known for their good looks, impressive volleyball skills, and explosive arguments that result in scraped knees and dirt-stained skin. Although Gin can’t imagine kissing someone like Atsumu, he’s sure there are people who are deranged enough to want to.
And—there is. Because Atsumu got a kiss, and now he has some sort of boy or friend or boyfriend or friend that’s a boy, and all he can talk about is the stupid kissing. More specifically, all Atsumu can talk about is all the kissing that’s not happening in Gin’s life.
“What’s yer type?” Atsumu asks him. He pokes at the near-empty bento box on his desk with the ends of his chopsticks.
“Type?”
“Yeah. Y’know. I bet you like tall people.” Atsumu narrows his eyes, a bit accusatory. “And nice people.”
For some reason, this comment feels a bit offensive in this situation, though Gin doesn’t really know why. “‘Course I like nice people. Everyone likes nice people.”
“I don’t think I even know nice people,” Atsumu says.
“Yeah. Cuz you’re a prick.”
Atsumu laughs, completely unbothered, and Gin sighs and excuses himself from the classroom. He’s starting to get annoyed with Atsumu, which is never a good sign. It’s better to walk away now and let the conversation die back down to normal before class resumes.
Gin ambles down the hallway towards the vending machine on the first floor. He pokes his head into Class 2-1, catching a glimpse of Suna and Osamu slouched in the back corner of the room. Gin lifts a hand to wave, and Suna lifts his hand back, face as bored and impassive as ever.
It’s almost funny seeing Suna and Osamu look like their usual selves. Gin has heard about the whole kissing thing with them, too, though it might be more accurate to call a relationship thing. It was a surprise to hear about, but also not a surprise at all. Because even though Suna and Osamu are too dense to do anything about the lame heart eyes they send to each other, everyone on the team knew that Suna and Osamu were going to smooch eventually.
But Gin’s glad they figured it out, and he snorts in amusement as he slips some coins into the vending machine. Truth be told, most members of Inarizaki’s boys’ volleyball club are thoroughly single and thoroughly un-kissed. Gin knows everyone gets their fair share of White Day confessions, but none of it has really led anywhere. He thinks that Oomimi might have dated someone for a brief stint last year, but Gin had been too absorbed in getting used to the Miyas’ shenanigans to pay much attention.
It’s not like any of them have time for that stuff, anyway. Even if the prospects are there, they’re too busy with volleyball to give it a second glance. Still, Gin thinks that if he’s not going to ever have a proper date or romantic relationship in high school, then maybe he might as well get his first kiss in. He’d hate to graduate without smooching anyone. Gin feels like he’s ready for the next step in adolescence or whatever, and it includes a kiss. If he’s going to kiss someone, the least weird person is—as Gin has concluded and re-concluded several times—Akagi.
“Hey, Ginjima-kun.”
Gin startles and almost drops his drink. His face automatically heats. He hadn’t been expecting to see Akagi at all, let alone at this precise moment, which is a little foolish, since Akagi’s classroom is right next to the vending machines. “Akagi-senpai.”
Akagi grins at him. His button-down is untucked, and his tie is loosened. Gin’s chest flickers with warmth at the sight. He saw Akagi this morning, waving as he passed him outside the school entrance, and he looked significantly less rumpled back then. “Thought that was you. I saw you pass by my class.”
Gin glances away. He makes a steady and conscientious effort to not linger too much by class 3-6. If he does, he knows he’ll get caught. “Hey.”
“Are you gettin’...” Akagi’s voice drifts as he sees the drink in Gin’s hand, then the flashing keypad at the vending machine. “Another drink?”
“Uh.” Gin realizes he’s holding a drink and that he’s already put in more coins, fully prepared to buy a second drink. Atsumu constantly complains that Gin doesn’t do ‘nice’ things for him, which is annoying, but it still makes Gin feel bad, so he’s always buying free drinks for Atsumu. Buying a second one in this case must have been reflexive. “Sorta automatic. D’you want one?”
Akagi stares at it, head tilted. He has thick and dark hair that sticks up like a mad scientist, and his eyes have always been wide and friendly. It’s enough to make the bundle of nerves clutched to Gin’s chest loosen. Unfortunately, it’s not enough to get rid of the damn visuals of Gin potentially kissing Akagi.
“Are you sure?” Akagi asks. He looks back at the vending machine. “It looks like you wanted two of ‘em.”
“I put my money in without thinkin’,” Gin says. “So I was just gonna, um, have an extra drink. I wasn’t plannin’ on drinkin’ it.”
“Oh. Okay!” Akagi takes the box from Gin’s hands. “I’ll buy you one tomorrow.”
Gin shakes his head as he pushes the button again to dispense another drink. The whir of the machine and clunk of the box is a familiar sound that Gin focuses on to ignore the rise of nerves pooling in his gut. He reaches down again to pick it up, straightening as he tries to put an appropriate distance between himself and Akagi. “You don’t hafta do that.”
“‘Course I do. I can’t letcha just buy me drinks. What kinda senpai would I be?” Akagi jams his straw into the hole at the top of the drink box and taps the corner of his drink against Gin’s. He takes a couple of sips. “Thanks, Gin.”
“It’s no problem. Really. Don’t worry about payin’ me—”
“I will, stupid.” Akagi gestures as he begins walking back down the hall. “C’mon, I’ll walk you to yer class.”
Gin nods as they fall into step beside one another. Akagi hums to himself, offering little more than the occasional slurp from his drink. Gin clutches his box as they pass by Oomimi and Kita’s classroom. He’s half-tempted to stick his head in the doorway to say hi.
He likes to think he’s close to the third-years. Akagi is no exception, though he’s certainly a special case. They’re friends, and close ones at that, and Gin would trust Akagi with any problem he runs into. Every time Akagi’s around, there’s a comfort nestled between them, a cornerstone of Gin’s time at Inarizaki. That comfort is rendered defenseless against how Gin’s stomach flip flops, and although Gin’s gotten better about coping with it, there’s nothing he can do to suppress it. When he glances over and sees Akagi peering up at him curiously, mouth breaking out into a wide smile, Gin kind of wants to die.
He has very nice teeth, Gin decides.
“Have you ever kissed anyone, Akagi-senpai?” Gin blurts, and he immediately regrets it. Gin holds his juice carton beside his cheek, hoping it shields the inevitable flush creeping across his skin.
Akagi’s smile drops, replaced quickly by surprise, but there’s a persistent flash of amusement that crinkles in his eyes as he tilts his head to the side. “Geez, Ginjima. That kinda came outta nowhere.”
Gin nods, still struggling to preserve eye contact with Akagi. “Atsumu keeps talkin’ about the whole kissin’ thing, so it ain’t really outta nowhere.”
“Hm,” Akagi hums. Gin risks a glance his way. Akagi raises one eyebrow, shit-eating grin twitching on his lips, a dimple in his left cheek and a pervasive gleam in his eye, like he knows something Gin doesn’t. “Are you thinkin’ of kissin’ someone, Ginjima-kun?” he teases.
“No.”
“Liar.”
“Fuck off.”
Akagi laughs. “Why’re you askin’?”
“I think I wanna try it,” Gin says, and Akagi blinks, gawking at him.
“Uh,” Akagi says.
“Yeah.”
This conversation is absolutely mortifying, but it’s Akagi, so Gin doesn’t think too much about it. He carefully pulls the straw from the plastic wrap and presses the pointed end through the top of his drink carton. Since Gin has already admitted to wanting to try the whole kissing thing, the next step is asking Akagi to try it with him.
Before he can think too much about how to do it, Akagi giggles. Gin kind of wants to die when Akagi giggles, but in a good way. “Cool.” Akagi slows down as they near Gin’s classroom, and he places one hand on Gin’s shoulder and lifts his drink. “Let me know how that goes.”
Gin waves as Akagi calls out, “See you at practice, Ginjima!” Akagi bounds down the hall, pausing to crumple his drink and toss the carton in the trash, and Gin watches as he turns the corner. He’ll have to talk to Akagi later, though he’s not quite sure how to broach the topic.
“So have you thought about it?” Atsumu asks when Gin returns. He eyes the juice box in Gin’s hand. He must be in a good mood, because he doesn’t say anything about Gin failing to bring him one.
“About what?”
“About yer type.”
“My type is anyone who’s not you.”
Atsumu wrinkles his nose. “C’mon, Gin.”
Gin sighs. “If we’re talkin’ just about smoochin’, I guess I’d kiss Akagi-senpai.”
“You’d what?”
Gin shrugs, tuning out Atsumu’s hurricane of questions. His phone buzzes, and he clicks it open. It’s from Akagi, a short and simple Thanks again for the drink!
He could, maybe, text Akagi to ask how he feels about the whole kissing thing. But Atsumu is craning his neck, trying to stick his nose into Gin’s private messages, and Gin turns away. It’s none of Atsumu’s business—or anyone’s business, really—and he’ll handle this properly the same way someone like Kita would. He’s sure Akagi will go along with it as long as Gin explains himself, that he’s just looking to knock off another bucket list item off his Things To Do Before Graduating High School checklist.
It’ll be fine, he tells himself. Akagi’s laid-back, so he’s not likely to do or say anything extraordinarily disastrous. The worst thing that’ll happen is that Akagi will say no, and Gin will shrug it off and find someone else, maybe a classmate or something. Gin is confident in that much, at least.
Apparently, confidence isn’t enough—because things are decidedly not fine when it’s spread throughout their entire team that Gin wants to kiss Akagi Michinari.
Suna’s face peers down at him, and Gin squints against the blinding gym lights. “Ginjima.”
“What?” Gin twists one leg over the other. He’s sprawled out on his back, stretching out at the end of practice. They spent half of practice trying to nail their jump serves, and Gin is tired.
“Do you want to kiss Akagi-senpai?”
“What?”
Gin shoots upright, and immediately, his head whips over in Atsumu’s direction. Atsumu doesn’t pay any attention to him, immersed in a serious conversation with Coach Kurosu. “Where the fuck didja hear that?”
“Osamu,” Suna answers, like it’s obvious.
Gin groans. “Where did Osamu hear that?”
“I don’t know. He just told me.”
Gin glares, and Suna crouches down beside him. He shouldn’t be surprised. Atsumu can’t keep a secret from anyone to save his life, and Osamu can’t keep a secret from Suna to save Atsumu’s life. “I’m gonna kill Atsumu.”
“So you do want to kiss Akagi.”
“No.”
“You totally do.” Suna smiles, sickly sweet, which is never a good sign, coming from Suna. Gin’s skin prickles the same way it does when a stray cat stares you down in a menacing way. “Good luck, Hitoshi.”
“Mind yer own business.” Gin’s face is hot, sticky from practice, but he knows there’s no use in maintaining a blatant lie to Suna. “Whether I wanna kiss Akagi-senpai or not don’t matter to you.”
“I see.” Suna props his elbows on each of his knees and studies Gin, like he’s one of the many spikers he’s faced off with on the court. Gin hates when Suna gets like that. It’s a telltale sign that Suna’s about to mess with him. “Is there a particular reason?”
“Is there a particular reason you wanted to kiss Osamu?” Gin shoots back.
“Uh. Yeah. Because he’s hot.”
“That ain’t what I—no.” Gin groans. “That ain’t what I meant.”
“It’s okay. Akagi-senpai is cute. In his own way.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Suna laughs quietly. He doesn’t elaborate, but he lifts his head, eyes flickering back and forth across the gym until settling by the door. Gin follows his gaze, seeing that Suna’s staring at Akagi, and immediately looks away.
“Don’t you dare tell anyone,” Gin says, but it sounds deflated, even to him. If Suna’s talking to him about this now, that probably means he’s already done the damage he’s wanted to cause.
“So you haven’t told Akagi yet, huh.”
“Shut up.”
“Are you going to?”
“Stay outta my shit,” Gin huffs. He pushes himself off the ground, brushing off the seat of his pants. “Leave me alone.”
“Hm.” Suna drops the conversation, but Gin’s eye twitches. He tells himself to relax. It’s not that embarrassing.
Or—it’s not embarrassing until Gin glances towards Akagi again, catches him staring, and there’s a breath in which everything sort of falls away. Not in a romantic way, but in a fuck-he’s-going-to-find-out way.
But then Akagi—in true, un-Akagi-like fashion—is the first to look away, and Gin realizes that it’s not a fuck-he’s-going-to-find-out way. It’s a fuck-he’s-already-found-out way.
And—fuck. He’s already found out.
Forget kissing. Gin decides he’s going to kill Atsumu first, and then figure out the kissing stuff later.
What’s this about you wanting to kiss Akagi? Kosaku texts him. Ginjima ignores it.
Try not to get too distracted, Gin, Kita texts him. Ginjima almost ignores it, but thinks better of it, and instead responds with a thumbs-up emoji.
I swear I only told Samu please don’t kill me Gin if you’re going to kill me at least kill Samu and Suna first ON GOD I ONLY TOLD SAMU, Atsumu texts him. Ginjima turns on read receipts for Atsumu for this one specific text message, just to make him a little terrified—for good reason—and he’s about to click off his phone when it goes off again.
From Akagi: I’ll buy you a drink tomorrow!
Gin reads it five times and hates how he can’t read beyond the six words on his phone screen. Akagi had glanced away. That means he’s most likely experiencing secondhand embarrassment on Gin’s behalf, and he pities Gin, but also probably pities himself, because if he looked away that probably means he doesn’t want to kiss Gin back, which is fine, but also it’s not fine, because Gin can’t help but feel a little disappointed.
He types in half a response to Akagi, but then stops. And he tries again, because maybe he should explain to him in a text message that whatever Suna’s been spreading around the team isn’t true. He’s about to start a text message draft for the tenth time before he sees bubbles appear on the screen, and Gin nearly drops his phone onto his desk.
The bubbles are only there for about half a minute, then they disappear. Gin hopes that it’s not a bad sign, but his expectations are low. He throws his phone onto his bed and resists the urge to slam his head into the wall. This is stupid. He’s stupid. Kissing is stupid, and he shouldn’t have seriously considered it in the first place. Like most things, he continues to blame Atsumu, because it’s his fault.
According to Atsumu, he only told Osamu. According to Osamu, he only told Suna. According to Suna, he only told Aran. And according to Aran—who Gin runs into the next morning, ten minutes before classes start—Suna approached the third-years in the clubroom after school, and it went something like this:
Suna: “Akagi-senpai. What do you think about kissing Gin?”
Akagi: “What?”
Oomimi: “Gin? As in Ginjima?”
Suna: “Just answer the question.”
Kita: “Why are you asking him this?”
Aran: “What the fuck.”
Akagi: “He’s nice.”
And that was that.
So even though Suna hadn’t technically said anything about Gin wanting to kiss Akagi, Gin’s nonetheless peeved. It isn’t his business.
Furthermore, Gin kind of understands how nice can be offensive now. He’s not even sure if he should be offended, since Gin knows that he is, objectively, a nice person—which is more than his other second-year counterparts. For some reason, coming from Akagi, it kind of feels like an insult. Which is absurd, because there’s no way Akagi would use nice as an insult.
If Gin’s being honest with himself, he’s a bit butthurt that Akagi hadn’t even bothered answering the question. At least it provides a half-answer to the question about whether or not Akagi would be willing to kiss him.
Gin decides it’s time to ditch the idea of kissing Akagi. He’ll just find someone else. It’ll take a bit more thinking and a lot more fumbling, but it’s better than—whatever’s brewing right now. Gin can forget about the kissing-Akagi-thing so he won’t feel as weird when he meets Akagi at the vending machines tomorrow for the drink Akagi insists on buying him. Problem solved.
Akagi slips a couple coins into the slot of the vending machine and wastes no time with small talk. “Is there a reason why Suna came up to me and asked what I thought about kissing you?”
Gin freezes. He hadn’t been expecting that. If he were in Akagi’s shoes and found out one of his friends wanted to kiss him, he’d probably go into hiding for at least six business days. “Um.”
“He gave me no context whatsoever.” Akagi isn’t looking at him. His brows are unusually furrowed, as he punches in the button for yogurt milk. The machine hums, and moments later, there’s a clatter of a carton falling into the bottom. Akagi reaches down to pick it up, finally turning to look at Gin with a pensive look. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Gin accepts it, averting his gaze. He can feel Akagi studying him, and he’s afraid of what he’ll find there—disgust, for one thing. Fear. Pity.
“So?”
“I dunno,” Gin mumbles. “It’s Suna.”
“Exactly. It’s Suna.” Gin hears the clatter of more coins clanking in the vending machine. “There’s always somethin’ goin’ on with him.”
Gin sips his drink slowly. He’s already given Atsumu the silent treatment at lunch today, and he has effectively avoided all text messages from his teammates about this whole mess. Akagi’s the only one acting normal—as normal as you can in this situation—and Gin will do anything to keep it that way. “It’s—y’know.”
Akagi wrinkles his eyebrows. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m askin’.”
Gin wants to scream.
“You can just give me a straight answer.” Akagi straightens after picking up his drink from the bottom of the vending machine, and he bends to the side, trying to get into Gin’s field of vision. “It’s just me.”
But that’s the problem. There’s no just Akagi Michinari—not for Gin, anyway. Gin knows this full well.
Still, Akagi’s kindness and how he’s not laughing in Gin’s face gives Gin enough permission to blurt out a stream of words so honest he thinks he’s going to die even as he says them. “I mean, Atsumu kept askin’ me if I wanted to kiss anyone, and then he kept askin’ me what type of person I’d wanna kiss, and he was so fuckin’ annoyin’ about it and wouldn’t leave me alone—so then I started actually thinkin’ about it, and how I don’t wanna just not kiss anyone forever.”
“Okay,” Akagi says slowly. “And?”
“And—” Gin tries to hide behind his carton again, but Akagi, fast as lightning, grabs at Gin’s wrist and tugs it down. Gin tries to resist, but Akagi is stronger than he looks. Gin scowls and hopes that it covers up how much his heart pounds in his chest. “—I dunno. I just said you. That’s all.”
“Ah.” A deafening pause that lasts either half a second or an entire decade. Akagi doesn’t move. His eyes are curious, and even though he’s not smiling, he doesn’t look disgusted or afraid or like he’s pitying Gin, either. “That makes sense.”
Gin blinks. “It does?”
Akagi releases Gin’s arm and stands up straight again. He sticks his straw into the corner of his mouth and sips as he considers this, and the panic that has been brewing in Gin’s chest begins to slow down. “Well, yeah. Who else wouldja kiss?” Akagi snorts. “Kosaku?”
Gin starts to feel less crazy, and he breathes a quiet sigh of relief. “So it ain’t weird?”
“No.”
“Really?
“Why would it be?”
“Oh.”
Akagi props a hand on his hip. “I don’t mind kissin’ you, Ginjima.”
“Oh.”
“So if you wanna, you can just tell me.”
Gin freezes. He’s used to being put in the spot, though it’s typically because of the twins and not out of his own volition. But it’s different with Akagi—it always is. “I mean. I wanna kiss someone. And if you don’t mind—”
“But do you wanna kiss me?” Akagi almost sounds annoyed. “Or are you just so focused on tryin’ to be kissed that you’re just choosin’ me cuz you got no other options?”
“I mean. I don’t have any other options.” Gin winces. “I’m not—it’s not like you’re—I don’t wanna make it weird.”
“Christ, you’re impossible.” Akagi grabs Gin by the wrist and tugs, sending Gin stumbling on his feet.
“Wait, Akagi. What are you—”
“Lunch ain’t endin’ for, like, ten minutes, right?” Akagi shoves past a group of students lingering in the hallway, past the lockers, and pushes out the doors of the school. Gin’s moving on autopilot mode, but each step is a little more difficult than the last, because Akagi strides with purpose and attitude that’s unlike anything he’s seen from Akagi before.
“Akagi—”
“It ain’t gonna be weird, you moron.” Akagi leads him around the corner of the school, underneath one of the large trees that offers shade underneath the blinding sunlight. “It’s only weird if you make it weird, and I’m tryin’ to not make it weird, so don’t make it weird.”
“Um.” Gin tries to distract himself by drinking his yogurt milk, but unfortunately, he’s completely out. He crumples the carton and tosses it into a nearby trash can. “Okay.”
“So?”
“So…what?”
“What’s yer answer?”
Gin tugs at the hem of his uniform jacket. He knows his answer.
When his eyes meet Akagi’s, he has a feeling that Akagi knows, too.
“I wanna kiss you,” Gin blurts, and all the mental gymnastics he’s worked himself into trying to convince himself otherwise—that he only wants to kiss Akagi out of convenience, that he only wants to kiss Akagi because he has no other options—falls away in that moment. Gin blushes furiously, considers digging a hole in the ground and sticking his head in it to avoid this confession, and repeats himself, quieter this time. “I wanna kiss you.”
Akagi nods approvingly. “Good answer.”
“You are so makin’ fun of me.”
“I ain’t makin’ fun of you.”
“Liar.”
Akagi laughs, and Gin’s panic loosens bit by bit. “Okay, I’m makin’ fun of you a little. But I can’t help it. You always act like you’re the reasonable one outta yer class, but you’re as ridiculous as the rest of them.”
“But do you wanna kiss me?”
Akagi looks at Gin in disbelief. “‘Course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”
He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Gin swallows and inches closer to Akagi. This isn’t how he thought his first kiss would go, but Akagi raises his eyebrows as if to say, Seriously?
Gin takes a deep breath. He’s survived being outed as a wannabe-Akagi-kisser to his entire team. He can handle this.
Gin dips his head a little, finds it’s a bit awkward, and tentatively places a hand on Akagi’s shoulder. He and Akagi are—close. Closer than anyone’s ever been to Gin, and still, it’s not close enough. His brain begins to pick up all these useless details, like how Akagi has a faint smattering of freckles on his cheeks and how there’s a tiny nick on his chin, presumably from shaving. More than anything, Gin’s brain picks up on the fact that Akagi—up-close-and-personal, about-to-kiss-Gin Akagi—is very, very attractive.
“I’m a person, Ginjima. You don’t hafta touch me like I’m gonna break.”
“I—” Gin has a snarky remark ready to leap off his tongue, but it dies when Akagi takes a step closer. “—I know that.”
The dimple forms on Akagi’s cheek again, and Gin suddenly finds that he wants to press his lips against it. He wants to feel Akagi’s smile underneath his skin, so he leans forward and pecks him right on the cheek, right on the evidence of Akagi’s optimistic temperament that Gin’s come to depend on over the past year of knowing him. His skin is warm.
Akagi freezes, and right when Gin thinks he’s done something horribly wrong, Akagi mutters, “That’s it?” before securing a hand behind Gin’s neck, tugging him down, and pressing his lips against Gin’s mouth.
It goes about as well as Gin had expected. He feels clumsy, awkward, like trying to run on sand, slipping every so often as his mind short-circuits. He’s not sure how Akagi’s able to kiss him with slow and easy movements while it feels like Gin is still scrambling to right himself. Gin keeps his eyes closed and tries not to succumb to the overwhelming suffocation that comes with kissing your friend, tells himself to breathe easy when all his body wants to do is spontaneously combust.
Gin does his best to keep up with Akagi, to keep in sync with how Akagi moves his lips and tongue and hands. After a couple of minutes, Gin feels like he kind of understands it a little, and he lifts his hand—the one hanging limp and useless by his side—and finds Akagi’s waist with it, snaking past Akagi’s suit jacket to bunch at the fabric of his permanently rumpled button-down. He is kissing Akagi, and Akagi is kissing him, and Gin isn’t sure what he’s doing, but Akagi tastes like yogurt milk and his mouth is warm and all Gin knows is that he likes it.
No—actually—all Gin knows is that he likes Akagi.
Akagi breaks away, but Gin finds that he wants more, so he cranes his neck to catch Akagi’s lips again, which makes Akagi laugh. Gin laughs, too, feeling the upward curve of Akagi’s smile against his mouth, and Akagi squirms when Gin slides his hand along the dip of his waist. “Wait—wait. Gin. Hold on a second.”
Gin finally pulls back, and he finds that he’s short of breath. Akagi’s fingers curl into Gin’s hair, and affection flashes through his eyes before he stands on his toes and pecks the tip of Gin’s nose. “You’re cute.”
“What?”
“Thanks for kissin’ me.”
Gin squints. Gin smooths out the back of his hair, which has become suspiciously messy since Akagi got his hands into it. “Didja just thank me for kissin’ you?”
“I’m a gentleman. I got manners.”
“You’re so weird.”
“You like me weird.”
“I like you—you.” Gin flushes again. He wonders if he’ll stop blushing now that he’s kissed Akagi. He has a feeling that’ll never happen, especially when Akagi stares at him unflinchingly, unusually serious. “I like you.”
In a funny twist of circumstances, Akagi looks caught off guard, and Gin feels a little smug about it while also feeling strangely vulnerable, because liking someone and liking the idea of kissing someone are two entirely different things. He doesn’t have time to overthink it, though, because Akagi tugs at Gin’s tie, coaxing him back down for another kiss.
Akagi doesn’t have to say I like you in order for Gin to know it’s true. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he knows—just like how he knows Akagi carries an extra pack of gum with him everywhere he goes and how Akagi likes pouring his cereal before milk. Like most things with Akagi and Gin, it falls into place, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t appreciate every moment of it.
So Gin says, “Thanks for kissin’ me,” Akagi tries to kick him in the shins for poking fun at him, and Gin laughs, tugs Akagi closer to him, and—his entire roster’s nosiness be damned—kisses him.
They spend the rest of lunch making out, and then a little bit more, and by the time both Akagi and Gin realize they need to get back to class, it’s already too late. Gin experiences a walk of shame as he trudges back to his classroom. He’d done his best to smooth out the wrinkles in his clothes, but he’s absolutely convinced evidence still clings to him.
His teacher says, “Where have you been, Ginjima-kun?” and Gin stammers through an answer, which elicits giggles from his entire class. He slumps into his chair, embarrassed and regretting being late.
“Where the hell were you?” Atsumu whispers. “Suna and Samu were lookin’ for you.”
Gin considers ignoring him, because Atsumu is a pain in the ass who unintentionally instigates things all the time. But he’s not annoyed anymore—though he is still cautious. The last thing he needs is for word to get out about Akagi and Gin being late to class because they were too busy kissing.
“None of yer business,” he says.
Gin receives additional classroom chores as a penalty for being late, and Atsumu offers to help him in an effort to amend the whole telling ‘only Samu’ about the kissing thing. Gin sighs, knowing that Kita won’t be happy that he’s late to practice because of this, and he’ll have to hear an earful of it later, but—
His mind thinks back to Akagi, and the flash of his dimple materializing on his cheek as Gin bent his head to kiss him, and the quiet and kind laugh that Akagi giggled against Gin’s mouth, and Gin realizes he doesn’t really care.
Worth it, Gin thinks to himself, a soft smile curling on his finally-kissed-lips.
Totally worth it.