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“That was entirely too dramatic, even for you,” Hakuryuu grumbles, pressing the cold compress in his hand just a bit more firmly against his bruised jaw. “It was only a few centimeters.”
“Easy for you t’ say,” Alibaba sulks, casting a sidelong glance at Hakuryuu, sitting at the next desk over—a bit close, considering the detention hall is empty, but even if they have just had a brawl, Alibaba thinks he prefers it this way. “Who the heck said you could get taller than me?”
“You punched me over a single centimeter,” Hakuryuu says through grit teeth, and turns in his seat so as to better glare at Alibaba. “Just one! That’s a ridiculous overreaction to a growth spurt!”
“Oh really?” Alibaba replies, eyebrows raised, “Because I seem to recall that you spent an entire summer randomly kicking me after I outgrew you in seventh grade.”
“That’s because you were a total brat about it!” Hakuryuu insists, voice going high as hint of pink rises to his face. Immediately he catches himself, clearing his throat before adding, “And anyway, I was a child—Though I guess that’s your excuse now?”
“Hey!” Alibaba shouts, shooting out of his chair, and then falters because—well, he did punch Hakuryuu for outgrowing him, which might’ve been a bit childish, and at any rate, he can’t think of a snappy come-back.
Hakuryuu all but sees the steam leaving Alibaba as he peers up at him, and can’t help the smirk that tugs at his mouth. “Hey to you, too.”
Alibaba’s face goes red, but he rallies nonetheless and says, “Did that extra inch come with a bad attitude or something?”
“No,” Hakuryuu replies coolly, getting to his feet as well. Toe-to-toe, they stand, shoulders tense and glares locked, “That was your punch—and it wasn’t even your best, really.”
That Alibaba’s fists curl into Hakuryuu’s shirt is no surprise, but there’s enough power in the motion to upset his balance all the same, and he’s forced to take hold of Alibaba to keep himself on his feet.
“What the hell Ryuu!” Alibaba shouts, and they’re way too close for shouting, but that’s never stopped Alibaba before, “You go away for a month, don’t even send a single damn text, and then come back all tall and broad and hot ‘n’ shit and expect me to be happy about it?!”
“Well I didn’t expect you to punch me for it!” Hakuryuu shouts back, before Alibaba’s words catch up with him, and then, “Wait—“
It’s almost embarrassing, how all the fight drains out of him when Alibaba’s lips crash down on his own, and his hands go from clutching at Alibaba for balance to holding on for what feels like dear life. There’s a shot of pain when their teeth click, and Alibaba’s split lip has re-opened so their kiss tastes metallic and tainted, but this is infinitely preferable to another brawl, and frankly a lot closer to what Hakuryuu had dreamed their reunion might be like, during those long nights leading up to his return home, so he’s happy to refocus his energy on exploring this new plan of action.
“Fuck,” Alibaba breathes the word out against Hakuryuu’s mouth, “’M sorry Hakuryuu, I shouldn’ta—“
Hakuryuu presses another kiss to Alibaba’s mouth, stopping him mid-apology.
“S’ok,” he mumbles back, his hands squeezing Alibaba’s shoulders lightly, “I should’ve called.”
“Yeah, mmnh, y’ shoulda,” Alibaba words are a slur, pressed against the corner of Hakuryuu’s mouth, his cheek, the curve of his jaw, his arms extending forward to curl around Hakuryuu’s neck and pull him closer. “Give a guy some warning next time.”
Hakuryuu presses forward, and the aisle between desks is so narrow that the motion pushes Alibaba into the desk behind him. It throws Alibaba off for a moment, his hold on Hakuryuu tightening, but Hakuryuu’s arms move to wind around the other boy’s waist, his hands pressing flat against the small of Alibaba’s back, and it’s enough to stabilize them once again.
Hands in his hair bring Hakuryuu’s attention back to Alibaba, and the hot mouth working on his neck.
“What, one bruise not enough for you?” Hakuryuu asks, only half-joking; if it’s like this, he’d let Alibaba leave any number of bruises on him.
“’M suckin’ the rudeness out of you,” Alibaba mutters, but only goes back to the newly-formed bruise on Hakuryuu’s neck to kiss it once. Hakuryuu doesn’t give him the chance to make another one, catching his lips in another kiss and keeping him there, their mouths moving together with all the desperation of a month’s built-up frustration. Frantic, Hakuryuu’s hand slides down Alibaba’s back, lingers—barely, but perceptibly—over the blond’s ass, before running down his thigh and hitching his leg up. Alibaba groans against Hakuryuu’s mouth, his hips rolling forward, grinding against Hakuryuu and—
“Ahem. This is detention, boys, not a kissing booth. Kids these days, really.”