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He’s only seen Aone smile, like twice. And they’ve known each other for years. Years. They’ve been best friends for just as long! Well, maybe best friends. Aone puts up with him, at least. Futakuchi thinks they’re best friends.
Even if the guy can’t play a game of goddamn charades to save his life. Or their team’s.
(It can’t be helped, he supposes. Not everyone can be as inexplicably talented at everything as Futakuchi is.)
But the smile. It’s not really fair. Futakuchi smiles all the time. His face is nothing if not a pleasant window into his soul, honestly. And Futakuchi knows that Aone is a big, stupid softy under all the scowls and inhuman height and the beefy arms.
So why the fuck doesn’t he smile?
It’s not fair.
~~
He tries the gummies first. The super sour ones that Aone said would probably tear the skin off the roof of his mouth, but they didn’t. He’s offered Aone pieces from his own packages before, but never has he given Aone his own. Surely it’ll work.
But right now Aone is giving him that blank stare, and that stupid crease is pressed between his eyebrows. “What are you giving this to me for?”
Futakuchi sighs, lifting the plastic bag in his hands higher for Aone to inspect. “They’re for you.”
Anoe’s blank face stares down at him. “Is it my birthday?”
“Wh—” Futakuchi growls in frustration. “You have to ask ?”
Aone shrugs.
~~
Next, it’s the Rilakkuma phone charm he caught Aone staring at, that time they took Futakuchi’s little sister to the pop up market near Christmas. This thing is so freakin’ cute, Aone has to smile. At least a little bit.
Except, when he holds the thing up, Aone just stares at him. His brow isn’t furrowed this time, at least, and his mouth parts for a split second—he thinks Aone might do it—before closing again.
“How did you get this?” Aone plucks the charm from its place pinched between Futakuchi’s forefinger and thumb. “The market closed nine weeks ago.”
“Nobody remembers that something happened nine weeks ago. Just say two months.” Futakuchi brushes the fringe out of his face. “Also, the internet exists.”
“Hm.” After looking at the small bear in his hands for a moment—it’s really quite comical, how small the thing is in the broad expanse of Aone’s palm—Aone turns and slips his phone from his back pocket. “Will you help me put it on?”
Not even a twitch of his lips. Futakuchi sighs, motioning for Aone to hand his phone over.
~~
Over the course of the next four months, he gives Aone no less than twelve gifts—gifts that would undoubtedly make Futakuchi glow if he received them. He even tries scaring Aone when he comes back from the washroom during one of their movie nights, once, to get any kind of reaction.
Nothing.
The bastard.
~~
They’re at a local park, the one that’s exactly halfway between their offices. Sometimes when the sun is out and their bosses don’t make them work through lunch, they meet up to gossip over their bentos.
(Well. Futakuchi does the gossiping, Aone does the solemn head nodding as if they’re talking about politics and not how terrible the new intern’s highlights are.)
But today is different, because this was planned. Aone made them both food. Futakuchi’s sandwiches have the crusts removed and the imprint of a panda’s face on the top piece of bread, and he thinks he might die, a little.
“It’s the least I could do in repayment for all the gifts,” Aone says slowly, reaching for a cucumber stick from the bowl set on the table between them.
“Wait, you’ve got a little—” Futakuchi leans over the wooden table and runs his thumb over the corner of Aone’s mouth, wiping away the small bit of mayo smeared there. “Got it.” He reaches for his half-full juice box, but he sees movement from the corner of his eye.
He shifts his gaze back up to Aone’s face and—yes! Finally! A goddamn smile! And it’s so—it’s small, but it’s so cute—
Wait. Uh.
But it really is—it’s not, like, a full-on grin or anything, but Aone’s mouth is quirked upward at both corners, and there’s no crease between his brow, and his eyes are as open as ever, and—oh, fuck.
Aone stares at him as a kid chases a rogue ball that flies right by their table. And he’s got the smallest, but realest, smile on his face.
Futakuchi isn’t—he’s not the best at thinking through all the things he says or does, so it’s completely in character when he pushes himself off the bench, leans across the table to grab Aone’s lapels in his hands, and presses his lips to Aone’s.
Oh. Um. Well.
He’s half expecting Aone to pull away first, but he doesn’t. So Futakuchi shifts, ready to separate them and somehow get through an explanation of what the fuck he’s doing, but Aone’s hands grab Futakuchi’s shoulders, and he’s pressing his mouth into Futakuchi’s mouth and oh god he’s kissing Aone and Aone is kissing back.
He can’t help the way his own lips curl up at the corners, can’t stop the giggle that escapes his throat because he’s kissing Aone and he can still feel Aone’s little smile against his lips.
It’s kinda weird, kissing while both people are smiling like complete dorks, but Futakuchi wouldn’t trade the feeling of Aone’s warm lips pressed against his for anything.