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“I can’t believe you did that,” he said, shaking his head as he applied antiseptic to the still-bleeding knuckles of the most stubborn person on the planet. “Aren’t you the one that scolds me for this sorta thing all the time?”
His eyes flicked up to Gentaro’s face. His friend was biting back a hiss of pain – seriously stubborn – but that glare said enough.
“You know I’m just trying to help,” Dice grumbled as he wiped away some of the blood with his pinky before pulling out a roll of gauze.
Gentaro was silent for a moment – which was concerning in itself – and then he said, “I know.”
Dice wrapped the gauze around Gentaro’s hand and risked a glance at his face. Gentaro was pouting, yet another thing he teased Dice for doing, even when it was Gentaro who had Dice’s lower lip jutting out without Dice even realizing it.
“And you call me the idiot,” Dice said as he finished with the gauze and taped it in place. “Aren’t you the one who refused to punch me in the face because that’s your writing hand?”
“Ah, but my concern was for your appearance as well,” Gentaro said, but the lilt in his voice sounded forced.
Dice’s eyes met Gentaro’s. He’d seen those dark circles under Gentaro’s eyes before, when he claimed to have a deadline, yeah, but also after they’d gotten their asses kicked by the corporate drone and that jerk of a host.
Half an hour earlier, those eyes had held a bit more fire, a flash of that same anger that Dice had seen when the host had insulted Gentaro’s clothes. Dice felt guilty for involving Gentaro – he honestly hadn’t meant to – but he was also glad that Gentaro had shown up when he had.
He wasn’t even surprised to see Gentaro – they ran into each other with almost alarming frequency in the streets of Shibuya – but what had surprised him was the way Gentaro had inserted himself between Dice and the shady guy that had tailed an embarrassingly oblivious Dice out of the casino after he’d finally managed to turn his luck around and leave with more money than he’d arrived with.
Gentaro’s complete bullshit story about the nonexistent symptoms the man was displaying, indicating an urgent need to visit a hospital at once for examination, had no effect, and the guy was getting antsy, yelling at Gentaro to shut the fuck up before reaching into his jacket.
Before Dice could take his mic out of his pocket, Gentaro’s fist connected with the stranger’s face, and he looked a little surprised himself as Dice grabbed Gentaro’s hand and started running. Gentaro kept up with him – he was surprisingly fast, despite all the layers he wore – but then, Dice had seen that once before, the night before the Division Rap Battle.
He was fast, but he lacked stamina. They were both breathing heavily, but Gentaro was nearly wheezing by the time they’d managed to give the guy the slip. They’d ducked into an alley to catch their breath before heading to Gentaro’s apartment, and Dice had given Gentaro’s hand a squeeze before releasing it.
He and Gentaro had gotten into a battle or two since the prelims, and they’d both managed to uphold their reputation – Fling Posse’s reputation – as rappers who were not to be messed with. Gentaro’s style was really something, arrogant in an entirely different way than Dice’s. His intellectual barbs, dripping with sarcasm, filled the gaps between Dice’s crude, to the point, insults, but tonight was different.
Tonight, Gentaro had acted without thinking.
It was strange. Ramuda had given Dice an opportunity when he’d asked him to join his team. It had been something to do, something exhilarating, something that made Dice feel alive in a way that no amount of slot pulls could.
More than that, it was the first time in a long time when Dice felt like he belonged.
And tonight – tonight was the first time in a long time when someone had defended Dice.
(Yeah, Gentaro had run his mouth at Rio’s cop friend the last time Dice had fucked up – not that it was entirely Dice’s fault, not after that guy had cheated him – but Gentaro had enjoyed goading the cop a little too much. It was a side of Gentaro that was always more enjoyable when it was directed at someone else, except when he decided it would be even more fun if he could throw in an insult or two in Dice’s direction.)
“You can let go of my hand now,” Gentaro said.
“You’re really something, ya know?” Dice asked. He didn’t release Gentaro’s hand, but Gentaro didn’t try to take it back, either.
Gentaro’s eyes opened almost comically wide, and his other hand fluttered to his chest. “Flattery, sir, will get you nowhere.”
Dice grabbed that hand, too, so he was holding both of Gentaro’s. “Well, you know me,” he said. He rubbed the knuckles of Gentaro’s unbandaged hand with his thumb. “I’m a gambler.”
“Oh, I’m well aware of your self-proclaimed profession,” Gentaro said. His face was a bit flushed – it did seem a bit warmer in here, now that they’d been indoors for a while – and still, he wasn’t pulling his hands away.
Dice leaned in. “Gentaro,” he said. “You can’t win if you’re not ready to lose.”
“Truer words were never spoken,” Gentaro said with an exaggerated sigh.
“Hey, Gen.” Dice leaned in a little closer. “Just because I’m ready to lose doesn’t mean I wanna lose.”
“You’re just so very good at it,” Gentaro said with a hint of his usual teasing smile.
“It’s not the only thing I’m good at.”
“Oh, pray tell, enlighten me.”
Dice had always been better with actions than words, so he kissed him.
And Gentaro showed Dice that his lips were good at something besides spewing lies as he kissed Dice back.
Dice relaxed his grip on Gentaro’s hands, which found themselves in Dice’s hair. Dice could feel the thick gauze wrap as it pressed against the back of his head, and he wrapped one arm around Gentaro, bringing him closer. Gentaro moaned into Dice’s mouth, and Dice would’ve deepened the kiss if his tongue wasn’t already tonsils deep in Gentaro’s throat.
It was several breathless minutes later when they parted. Gentaro’s fingers slid out of Dice's hair, and Dice recaptured Gentaro’s injured hand to press his lips against the bandaged knuckles.
“I never did thank you for earlier,” he said. “So, ya know, thanks.”
“I may never write again,” Gentaro lamented, but his eyes were twinkling. “In addition, I shall require a personal attendant while my wounds heal.”
It was a lie, of course, but Gentaro did enjoy being dramatic.
Dice was ready to retort with something along the lines of feeding Gentaro grapes, or to offer to help Gentaro in the shower or with getting undressed, but before he could think of a suitable retort, Gentaro's lips were on his once again, eager and demanding, and when they parted for the second time, Gentaro's chest was heaving. Dice liked the way Gentaro looked with his face all flushed and his clothing wrinkled and half-unfastened from the way Dice's hands had roamed wherever they could reach as they made out.
"Stay tonight," Gentaro said.
Dice had been planning on doing that to begin with, but hearing Gentaro say it, the way he phrased it as a command and not a question - it was kinda hot. But there was also the briefest hint of doubt that had flashed in Gentaro's eyes, one that Dice would have missed if he'd not been taking in everything about Gentaro that he'd known but not really appreciated, like how pretty Gentaro was, or how bold and determined he could be when he wanted something. The question was - what exactly did Gentaro want?
Gentaro tucked a damp strand of hair behind his right ear, and Dice felt a pull in his gut, the same feeling he got when he watched the wheels on the slot machine stop, one at a time.
It left him breathless.