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All things considered, it shouldn’t surprise Shiro to run into him tonight. The place is packed, reasonably so for a Friday night at the only pub within thirty miles from the Garrison; the question really is, who isn’t here? From his table to the bar alone, Shiro has already had to stop in his tracks at least three times for barely-audible small talk.
Still, he isn’t expecting it when he finally makes it, eager to order a drink and get back to his friends, only to find himself standing right next to Adam.
Shiro can’t help it: he stares. He doesn’t know what the proper etiquette is for when you see the person you most recently went on a date with, especially if neither of you has spoken to each other once in the time since. Not a call, not a text, not even a hello in the teachers’ lounge.
Shiro can’t count the number of times he’s picked his phone up in the past week, fruitlessly hoping for a message from Adam. He’d considered sucking it up and reaching out first, but at some point, the radio silence had begun to sting like rejection, and Shiro can recognize a sign when he sees one.
So, he’s unsure what to do, which isn’t a position he finds himself in often. Shiro can’t say he likes the feeling.
The decision is taken out of his hands when Adam turns his head and sees Shiro. He can pinpoint the exact moment Adam realizes it’s him, his eyes flashing with recognition. For a second, Adam looks surprised to see him. Then, his expression smoothens, his mouth pulling into a reserved smile.
“Hey, stranger,” Adam greets.
Well, nothing else to be done. Shiro folds his arms atop the bar counter, settling in. “Hi.”
Neither of them says anything for the next few moments, just looking at each other. For as much as he’s tried to temper it, Shiro can’t help the flare of attraction he feels when he takes Adam in. He’s still in uniform, though he isn’t wearing the jacket anymore, leaving Adam in a tight black undershirt, tucked into his pants.
“You look,” Shiro starts, mouth dry, “good.”
“This old thing?” Adam asks, amused. He shakes his head, then tugs lightly on one of the lapels of Shiro’s leather jacket. A small part of Shiro wishes he’d tug harder, give him an excuse to step closer. “You don’t look too bad yourself. Did you take your hoverbike going here?”
“No, just my regular bike.” Shiro huffs out a laugh. “I forgot I told you about that.”
Adam’s small smile widens. “About what? Your ultra-secret, against-Garrison-rules pet project? Shiro, how could I forget?”
That makes Shiro pause. “Shiro?”
“That’s your name, isn’t it?”
“I thought I asked you to call me Takashi,” says Shiro. “You know, during our…” Adam raises a knowing brow, and that pokes a hole in Shiro’s bravado. “Yeah.”
Adam laughs, not unkindly. “Well-put,” he says. He takes a sip from his drink, something neat and crystal clear, before speaking again. “And I thought you’d call me after.” He shrugs. “Guess neither of us got what we wanted.”
Shiro splutters, his thought process coming to a total halt. “I—what?”
Adam gestures with his hand, as if to say no worries. “It’s alright. No hard feelings, I promise,” he says. He smiles again, and it isn’t bitter, but it isn’t exactly happy either. Before Shiro can say anything, though, someone is calling Adam’s name from some distance behind them.
“That’s my cue,” Adam says, picking his drink up to take with him. There is a split second where Adam just looks at him, Shiro’s mind still reeling, and then he’s brushing damp lips against Shiro’s cheek, murmuring see you around just before he disappears into the crowd.
•••
Shiro spends the rest of the night watching Adam.
He does his best not to be creepy about it, and for the most part, he thinks he manages. It isn’t like he’s got an eye on Adam constantly. He holds conversations with his friends, laughs at Matt when is appropriate, greets everybody who comes his way to exchange pleasantries, the works. He’s present.
But when he isn’t, his attention is on Adam. Adam laughing, Adam dancing, Adam talking, Adam drinking—all him.
It’s a bit of an effort not to actually, physically seek Adam out. He’s still processing the conversation from earlier, picking it apart and turning each word over in his head.
If he’s being honest, though, there really isn’t much to unpack. Clearly, Adam had been expecting him to be the one to make a move after their date, and when Shiro didn’t, he’d taken that as a rejection. Just like Shiro had.
Guess neither of us got what we wanted, Adam had said. Adam wanted a call. He wanted Shiro. The big question now is, does he still want? Because Shiro does, and if this is an opportunity to clear the air and get them both on the same page, then he’ll take it, without a moment’s hesitation.
He recalls the sensation of Adam’s lips against his cheek, and thinks he knows the answer.
When his eyes find Adam again, it’s to the sight of him saying something to a friend just before making his way to the exit. Decision made, Shiro downs the last of his beer, then gets up to follow.
•••
He finds Adam in a back alley behind the bar, leaning against the building and staring up at the stars. It’s dark, for the most part, Adam only barely illuminated by the night sky and a neon fire exit sign, and all Shiro can think about is how much he wants him.
“Hey,” Shiro says quietly.
To his credit, Adam doesn’t seem very shocked by Shiro’s presence. “Hello again.“ Then, “You’ve been watching me.”
“I, well,” Shiro tries for a laugh, caught out, “yeah. Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He finally looks at Shiro. “I liked it. What I can’t figure out is why you were watching me.”
Shiro walks closer until they’re about a meter apart. “Can’t you?”
“Not a peep from you since our date last Friday.” Adam smiles and shrugs. “You tell me.”
“You could’ve called me,” Shiro feels the need to point out.
Adam laughs. “Touché.”
“Why didn’t you?”
The silence stretches between them, backed only by the thrum of the crowd from inside and the buzz of the bar’s AC units working double-time. Finally, Adam says, “You’re Takashi Shirogane,” like that’s explanation enough.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning,” Adam takes a shaky breath, “everybody knows who you are. Meaning, everybody knows you’re a go-getter. You go after what you want. It’s just what you do. And I figured,” he pauses, eyes on Shiro, who is closing the distance between them, “I figured that if I was someone you wanted, then you would come after me. I thought, all I’d need is some indicator, a sign.” He looks, really looks at Shiro. “A phone call.”
“I didn’t know,” Shiro says, breathless. “If I did, I would’ve called you the second I dropped you off and you closed your door.”
“And how was I to know?” Adam counters, so soft it’s almost a whisper. “You didn’t even kiss me goodnight.”
Shiro presses his forehead against Adam’s, hands going to rest on his hips. The proximity is dizzying, and Adam is holding onto Shiro’s jacket, keeping him in place. In that moment, they’re like opposite poles of a magnet: just far enough to resist, but close enough that all it would take is the slightest breeze to slot them together perfectly.
“Takashi,” Adam breathes, and Shiro kisses him.
It’s indescribable, simultaneously all too familiar and like nothing he’s ever experienced. It’s the rush of flight, but better. The satisfaction of a finished mission, but more triumphant. The exhilarating purr of an engine, but more electric, traveling down to the very soul of him. When the kiss deepens, and their mouths are open, and it’s all so very warm and wet and glorious, Shiro feels like the sun is rising in his chest, like there’s a tsunami in his belly that won’t stop crashing and pulling, leaving him asunder.
A maelstrom of sensation, and it’s all he’s ever wanted, and all he will ever want.
Eventually, they pull away from each other, breathing heavily. Shiro feels changed, almost, like something’s just clicked inside him and altered the course of his life forever. It nearly overwhelms him, if not for Adam saying, “Was that goodnight?”
Shiro laughs. Laughs, and laughs, and laughs. Adam, similarly, is shaking with mirth.
“Let me drop you off,” Shiro says, once the laughter has died down. He presses his mouth to Adam’s, quick and close-lipped, a kiss just to kiss. “Take you home.”
“Or,” Adam says, stealing another kiss, “you come home with me.”
Shiro shakes his head. “You’ve had a lot to drink.”
“I’m tipsy, not drunk,” Adam says. “Nothing cold air and a glass of water can’t fix.”
“I just don’t want to mess up. Not with you.”
“So there’s something to mess up?” Adam sounds pleased.
Shiro nods. “I want there to be.”
“Me too,” says Adam. Then, “Take me home, Takashi.”
The bar is still going, the AC units are still buzzing, and stars are glimmering up in the sky. Around them, the world keeps spinning, caught perpetually in medias res, but for Shiro, it feels like everything has just begun.