Work Text:
There are moments that no one can predict. The end of the world or a rash on one's face, ironically, both fall under the same category of unpredictable things. It seems as though there is always a possibility that the sky might fall when no one is looking up or that a meteor hits a nuclear power plant on a random Thursday afternoon.
Nothing is impossible. Yet somehow, we still don’t expect most of it.
There is another thing that falls somewhere between the falling sky and the meteor, something that seems even less likely and is still about to happen.
“Quit it,” Chuuya mutters, “I’m not kissing you if you make your lips bleed.”
Dazai stops mid-chew and releases his bottom lip from the prison that is his teeth. His lips look well-abused, red, and plump from the nervous biting he put them through for the past couple of hours. It’s stupid. Dazai plops down on Chuuya’s bed and presses his knees together to combat the nervousness in a less invasive way if only to keep the redhead from changing his mind.
He watches as Chuuya puts his backpack away and grabs a pair of joggers and a sweatshirt off the black office chair that faces his high-tech gaming set-up. Dazai can feel the jealousy tugging at his heartstrings. His parents would never buy him anything like that. A simple computer for school that they got off a secondhand website is enough, they say.
“I’ll be right back.” Chuuya disappears into the hallway and Dazai finally inhales.
One of those impossible things is about to come true, only because Dazai slipped up during lunch and confessed that he has never been kissed before. He is immune to anyone’s probing and probably wouldn’t have confessed to the fact that he’s nervous about being bad at it if it hadn’t been Chuuya asking.
His best friend since diapers, and secret, top secret– absolutely no one can ever know – crush.
And then he offered to practice. And Dazai, dumbstruck and eager, agreed.
Dazai leans forward and exhales, squeezing his knees with his palms. How did he get himself into this mess? Kissing your friends is the perfect recipe for an awkward, failed friendship, but he just couldn’t stay away. If he had been Eve, thousands of years ago, and the snake offered him a kiss from Chuuya, humanity would have been doomed no matter how great his faith in God was.
“Fuck.” He knows it’s bad when his brain starts making up religious connections to his feelings. He doesn’t even believe in god, and yet he finds himself internally praying, chanting ‘please’ into the atmosphere of his mind in hopes that that is somehow going to save him from the embarrassment that is about to ensue.
Dazai never kissed anyone before. Really. But Chuuya has kissed a lot of people. He’s about to screw it up so bad.
“Alright.”
Dazai startles when the door flies open once again and Chuuya steps in, looking unbothered and much more comfortable than him. Grey sweatpants sure look good on him…
“Are you ready?”
Dazai shrugs. He nods and then looks at Chuuya for direction, like a lost child. He doesn’t know where to look, so he just keeps looking at Chuuya, his arms, his feet, anywhere but his eyes, and those goddamn sweatpants.
“Scoot over,” Chuuya is walking towards him now and Dazai jumps back and climbs further into the bed as if about to get burned by Chuuya’s presence. He hates this. He’s not usually this speechless, but Chuuya is about to kiss him, and– he doesn’t know what to expect.
Dazai’s back hits the wall and Chuuya crosses his legs, facing him. “How do you want to do this?”
Dazai scratches the skin around his thumbnail, “The usual way.”
Chuuya snorts, “Which is?”
Dazai’s eyes jump around from one little figure on the bedsheets to another as his body freezes, “Let’s do it your way.”
“I don’t have a ‘way’, dumbass.”
“What do you mean you don’t?”
“I mean that this isn’t a pre-planned thing, it usually just happens.”
Dazai huffs and rolls his eyes, “Well, I don’t care. You tell me how you want to do it and then let’s just do it.”
“Stop saying we’ll ‘do it’. We’re just going to practice kissing so that you don’t embarrass yourself.”
“Stop being a pervert then.” Dazai shoots back.
Chuuya rolls his eyes, grabs Dazai’s arm, and with one strong pull, Dazai falls over and into his arms like the limp-limbed teddy bear he still sleeps with in secret. His heartbeat picks up and he can smell Chuuya’s scent like this. Traces of deodorant that he uses after soccer practice and his own, very personal scent. Dazai swallows and picks himself up.
“You need to come closer if you want to kiss me.”
Dazai wants to argue and insist that he doesn’t want to kiss him, but realizes in time that is exactly the kind of thing that would give him away.
“Okay,” he says.
“Sit on my lap.”
“What?”
Chuuya grabs his waist and pulls him closer until Dazai is perfectly situated in the hole that Chuuya’s loosely crossed legs form. Dazai goes stiff. He can feel Chuuya everywhere; his calves against his ass and lower back, his hands on his hips, and his face right in front of his own. He’s going to melt– or explode– or maybe the sky is finally going to fall.
“You’re so red.” Chuuya laughs, “It really is your first time, huh?”
“Don’t call it that, you miniature hypocrite.” Dazai mocks, and earns himself a pinch to his waist.
“Ow.”
“Don’t judge what I’m doing, just follow my lead and you’ll be fine.” Chuuya looks into his eyes for a sign of confirmation. Dazai hums, and exhales deeply.
Chuuya leans closer, his gaze locked on his lips. Dazai is aware of it all, the quickness of his heartbeat, the nervous coil in the pit of his stomach, and the simple existence of his own lips.
He mimics the way Chuuya’s eyelids lower themselves and opens his mouth just a little bit, not too much. He feels silly. Part of him wants to get to the part where they close their eyes already, the other part of him wants to shove Chuuya back, invent a time machine, and forget this ever happened in the first place.
Then Chuuya’s lips finally touch his, and all the thoughts pour out of his mind like a waterfall of warm honey. It’s but a gentle graze of intimate skin, and for a moment Dazai forgets himself in it. He forgets that this is not a serious kiss, not the kiss he’s been hoping for ever since he developed that stubborn crush on Chuuya.
This is just a kiss. His first was one of Chuuya’s countless ones.
Chuuya takes his time with it, adding just the tiniest bit of pressure into the next movement of his lips. Dazai somehow finds the confidence to press back and reciprocate it by mimicking. He’s good at that, at acting like he knows what’s going on.
Dazai imagined kisses to be less…less physical? He imagined something a bit more unreal. But this feels very real and he’s not sure he can deal with it. Even the thought that he is kissing Chuuya, for practice, is suddenly that much more defined in his scrambled mind.
The worst thing about it all is that with the way Chuuya presses his fingers into his waist, leans in, and chases his lips whenever Dazai so much as pulls away a mere inch, it almost feels like he doesn’t hate it.
Dazai places his hands on either one of Chuuya’s shoulders and relaxes further into the redhead’s lap. Maybe if Chuuya enjoys robbing him of part of his innocence, he can pay it as a one-time price to get to do this, to be so close to him that he can feel his breath on his own and the flutter of his eyelashes on his cheeks.
Chuuya’s hand cups the side of his face and guides it into a more natural position than the stiff one Dazai naturally assumed. His other hand slides behind and up his back to keep him close. The intimacy of it, the kind that they have never shared before in all their years of petty friendship, makes the blood rush into his cheeks, giving them a warm rosy tint.
Then he feels something new. Chuuya’s tongue pokes his bottom lip and asks for the most shameful continuation. When Dazai hesitates, Chuuya pulls away and Dazai immediately regrets it. If he just wasn’t so damn nervous–
“Are you okay?” Chuuya asks, thumb stroking his cheekbone.
Dazai breathes, “Yeah.”
“Do you want to stop?”
Dazai must look appalled by that suggestion because Chuuya’s azure eyes light up with the chuckle he lets out and he pecks Dazai’s pouty lips again, “I want to show you something. It’s better if you practice this with me now instead of trying it with a girl later.”
Dazai’s bottom lip juts out just the tiniest bit, “I don’t think I’m into girls.”
“Guys then.”
You, Dazai wants to say. He doesn’t. He just nods and says, “Show me.”
Chuuya’s lips capture his once again, not as careful this time. Dazai’s stomach tingles with butterflies when the pressure Chuuya kisses him with grows stronger as if he trusts that Dazai is ready for more.
Chuuya’s lips open just a little bit wider, wordlessly encouraging Dazai to do the same. Dazai allows himself to fall into the experience. He imagines that this isn’t just for practice, that this wasn’t planned, and that Chuuya wants him just as badly.
That last thing challenges the strength of his imagination.
He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, not when Chuuya licks into his mouth, the tip of his tongue meeting Dazai’s halfway.
It doesn’t taste like much, but the neutrality of it offers itself up as a base for the taste of boundless happiness and endless excitement. Chuuya doesn’t taste like anything and yet he tastes like everything all at once, and it makes Dazai’s head spin with desire.
Chuuya tastes like the first rays of sunshine after a long winter. He tastes like Dazai’s first time at the beach and he tastes like everything good and everything sweet.
A little noise escapes him, and he almost pulls back if the hand on his cheek didn’t clutch his face tighter and pull him back closer into an even hotter kiss.
Before Dazai knows it, he’s gripping Chuuya’s shoulders and leaning into his palm, their lips moving in near-perfect tandem now. Dazai has to concentrate so he doesn’t make any unnecessary noises or seem too eager but god– he is eager.
He wants to drown in this kiss and never pull back. The way their tongues circle each other makes him wonder how they can just go back to normal after this ends. It’s so intimate and so new that he feels like he’s pouring all his secrets into Chuuya’s mouth right now.
He pretends not to notice how Chuuya’s thumb slides under his shirt and glides over the naked skin of his hip. Is this all part of the act?
Chuuya’s tongue retreats and they go back to open-mouthed kisses, gasping for air in between, never getting quite enough of either – air and each other. Dazai will never get enough of Chuuya.
His cheeks are positively flushed and his lips even puffier than before when Chuuya pulls back and looks up at him, mystery written all over his face. Dazai is dying to know what’s going on in his mind right now.
“So,” he’s startled by the raspiness of his voice, “How did I do?”
Chuuya’s fingers tap his hip while he thinks of what to tell him, “I think you’re ready to go out into the world and kiss whoever you please.”
Dazai hums, biting down on his pout. “Whoever I please, huh?” He doesn’t want whoever . He wants Chuuya. But Chuuya just hums and leans back, putting his weight onto both of his arms.
Dazai shifts in his lap and clears his throat, “I think I still need a little bit more practice.”
“Yeah?” Chuuya gleams, “Well, I don’t mind helping out a friend.”
“Do you help all your friends like this?” Dazai purses his lips, looking at Chuuya with raised eyebrows.
The redhead huffs and grabs Dazai’s jaw with one hand, pulling him down until their lips are only inches away from each other. Dazai can’t stop his eyes from fluttering up and down from his eyes to his lips.
“Only the ones I really want to kiss myself.”
“Ha.” Dazai swallows.
“Maybe it’s your turn to kiss me now,” Chuuya whispers, grinning like a mean cat.
Dazai chooses to forget all the mouths that have kissed these lips before, because right now they are his, entirely. Closing his eyes, he leans forward and claims them as his for the first time, relishing in the confirmation he gets when Chuuya kisses him back with the same hot fervor and passion.
Dazai knows one thing; he never wants to get better at it if it means he can keep practicing with Chuuya.