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"So you’re telling me you’ve never gone past kissing a girl before?”
Narita stares at him, wide-eyed and incredulous, and it’s all Ennoshita can do not to laugh at the way Narita’s expression reminds him of the alien costume from one of his movie projects.
“Nope, but I came close... once,” Ennoshita says, words slurring, his face heavy and one eye squinting as he tries to keep his focus intact. He stares at his cup in silent wonder. “These are, mm, strong...”
It seems the drunker Narita gets, the more insistent he is. “Yeah, okay, but why not?”
“I dunno,” Ennoshita mumbles, eyebrows creasing when he tries to fight the heaviness in his voice. “Never interesting enough to go farther than that... I guess.”
Just then, cheers erupt from the group of girls stationed near the entrance of Daichi’s off-campus apartment, congratulatory shouts joining in from the rest of the guys who emerge from the kitchen to help Nishinoya unload his alcohol contribution. Automatically, Ennoshita cranes his neck waiting for the next person to appear behind his former teammate. When he realizes the implication, he’s sure the heat that spreads across his face is from more than just his steadily increasing alcohol consumption. Apparently, Narita thinks so as well.
“Hm. Inneresting...” he slurs, giving Ennoshita a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows in a way that makes the slight nausea Ennoshita already feels magnify tenfold.
“What?”
There’s a glint in Narita’s eyes, impish and teasing, as he leans in, cupping his hand around a very obvious stage whisper, “What about a guy?”
Oh god, no...
Suddenly, Ennoshita’s stomach plummets and he attempts to blink away the question as innocently as he could. “I don’t think I’ve ever tried.”
Thinking about something and doing it are two different things, after all. And no one needs to know he’s thought about scenarios involving a certain hot-tempered spiker more than he’d readily admit to anyone. Probably enough that he could go pro in the “more-than-kissing” department. He is already fairly intoxicated as it is and considering who just stepped through the door, he’s pretty sure “drunk” and “pathetically pining after your old high school crush” equals horrible, irresponsible consequences. Narita’s drunken observations aren’t helping either.
Not one bit.
“Crap, of all the things I have to remember when I’m shitfaced,” Ennoshita mutters as he sloshes what remains of his drink - a questionable mix of hard liquor he can’t quite remember except that Sugawara had handed it over with a tipsy grin, promising that it would help him loosen up. Help with getting into the party mood. Sugawara obviously underestimated his drink-making skills because whatever it is tastes like it could probably incapacitate a horse. If the smell doesn’t knock it dead from the fumes first.
Probably a bad idea to down half the thing after the three beers he’s already had, but he’d heard Tanaka was bringing someone to the party. A female someone, if he remembers correctly, biting back the swell of disappointment threatening to resurface. Reinforcements and liquid courage in the form of alcohol seems the only solution. That is, until Ennoshita realizes he’s now mostly drunk and Tanaka is most definitely alone. No date. No need for the stupid amount of alcohol he’s guzzled down like someone dying from dehydration.
Just then, the seat next to him dips and an arm slings casually over his shoulder. His reflexes must be operating in slow-motion because he hears the voice before he has the chance to turn toward whoever it is that’s breached his personal space.
“Did someone say ‘shitfaced’?” Tanaka asks, taking a few generous gulps of something blue from his red plastic cup. He offers the drink to Ennoshita with a lopsided grin and Ennoshita swears his stomach manages a somersault with a few cartwheels on the side before he lifts his cup to show he’s already nursing his own. “Looks like I need t’catch up, huh?”
“The way you drink? I give it half an hour.” Ennoshita blinks, his brain already a little hazy, but not hazy enough to ignore the very obvious way Tanaka is leaning into him and chugging whatever hellfire Sugawara doubtless put in his cup like he’s trying to win an Olympic Gold in alcohol consumption. “Easy there. You don’t want to end up puking in someone’s mouth in case one of those girls ends up on your lap. Or something.” That doesn’t sound right. “For making out...?” Why can’t I say that right? “And... ssstuff. That’d end up really bad for you. Probably more her.” Stop while you’re ahead. “’Cause... puke.”
“Chikara’s drunk. That’s... cute.” Tanaka laughs and waves Nishinoya over.
“No, don’t call him over here,” Ennoshita murmurs, knowing full well the teasing is on its way. He has the sudden urge to hide his face in his hand. Or the rest of him, really, though he’s almost entirely sure he wouldn’t fit.
“What’s good?” Nishinoya asks, plopping down on the floor after realizing all the seats are taken. Azumane follows and takes the spot behind Nishinoya, scooting in enough for the smaller of the two to fit comfortably against him. “I think Suga-san’s tryin’ to make sure no one leaves here sober.”
Azumane holds up his cup, expression distrusting. “I think he tried to pour half the tequila bottle in mine.”
“I don’t mind. You’re handsy when you’re drunk,” Nishinoya says, tilting his head back and running the tip of his nose along Azumane’s jaw. “Less work for me to get you compliant.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Instantly, Azumane flushes at his accidental slip, his quiet chuckle muffled by the sip he’s taken. “Have to make you work for it, right?”
Looking at them, Ennoshita feels something stab him from the inside. It had seemed so easy for Nishinoya and Azumane, the whole ‘getting together’ business. No weird awkwardness. No skirting around anything. He isn’t entirely sure if it’s the alcohol and the public displays of affection that’s giving the green-eyed monster a little prod, but like always, he swallows it down along with more of the alcohol burning a trail down his throat.
“Oh god, Asahi-san’s flirting. Suga-san must've really gone to town with those drinks,” Tanaka quips, waggling his eyebrows at the two who look like they’re about to make the rest of them severely uncomfortable in another minute.
“Speaking of ‘making out’,” Narita starts, his gaze sidelining Nishinoya and Azumane’s impending PDA with a pointed look in Ennoshita’s direction. “Enno-san says he’s never gone past kissing with a girl.” The not so subtle flicker of his eyes doesn’t get lost in translation as he adds, “or a guy.”
“All right, all right,” Ennoshita says, embarrassed and now regretting the decision to come out to his friends. He sighs. With Tanaka’s accidental proximity and Narita’s death wish, it looks like it’s going to be a long, awkward night. “Just ‘cause I go both ways doesn’t mean I’ll go all the way with just anyone.”
“How do you know if you like kissing guys just as much as girls if you’ve never tried?” Narita presses. Ennoshita resists the urge to kick him, if only to get him to stop giving Tanaka very obvious glances.
“It feels the same to me,” Nishinoya chimes in when he manages to take a breath in between his impromptu makeout session with a steadily intoxicated Azumane.
“But maybe it won’t be for Enno-san.”
“Told you to stop calling me that when you’ve been drinking, Narita. It sounds wrong.”
“That’s ‘cause I’m not your type, Enno-san.” Narita grins. An evil, plotting, devilish grin that makes Ennoshita inwardly groan. “Otherwise I’d show you what the difference between kissing a guy and a girl feels like.”
“Such good friends I have.”
Then Narita’s grin widens as he slurs, “I volunteer Tanaka as tribute.”
Oh god, no...
Ennoshita has the sudden urge to throw up when Tanaka stiffens beside him. He’s about to get up and maybe get some fresh air to clear whatever tension is building when Tanaka pipes up, the slur now noticeable when he says, “I’m down if Chikara’s down. What kinda dick move would it be if I left ya hangin’, right?”
Narita smirks. The smug bastard.
“Um. What?” Ennoshita blinks slowly, unsure if he heard right. I must be more drunk than I thought. It sounds like he said...
“But only if Narita makes out with Kinoshita first.”
Narita hums to himself and seems to consider this before he nudges Kinoshita awake. “Yeah, okay. I’ll take one for the team.” He winks at Ennoshita. Kinoshita grumbles something unintelligible when Narita nudges him again, harder this time. “Wake up, Kino.”
When he remains asleep, Narita shrugs, downs the rest of his drink, and leans in to get it over with. Ennoshita’s insides feel like they’re in the process of liquefying and he makes a mental note to deal with Narita’s traitorous suggestion when he isn’t trying to remember his own name. When Narita finishes, looking somewhat amused that Kinoshita only opens his eyes long enough to register the kiss and quirk a small grin before passing out again, he tips his cup toward Tanaka triumphantly.
“Your turn, man.”
“Damn, didn’t even have to think about that, did ya?” Tanaka says and with a lingering, visibly nervous glance at Ennoshita, follows suit and downs the rest of his drink before he shifts to face him. “A deal’s a deal. You ready?”
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Nishinoya chants, giddy, fist pumping into the air. Even Azumane looks encouraging, though Ennoshita couldn’t be sure with the way his eyes keep drooping between blinks.
He manages to polish off his own drink, but before he has a chance to ready himself and possibly kill off the butterfly effects fluttering angrily in his stomach, Tanaka leans in and initiates.
The warmth against his lips catches him by surprise, even with the pre-empted warning. Wet and a little chapped, but pleasant. Soft. Softer than he’s imagined in any of the hundred scenarios he’s played through his head. Instinctively, he reciprocates, tongue slipping between his teeth to flick against Tanaka’s bottom lip. Coaxing him. Testing boundaries. All the while trying not to think about what would happen if Narita’s little experiment results in some tent pitching not of the camping kind.
He remembers to breathe in between, even as Tanaka’s head angles one way to reciprocate the teasing with a flick of his own tongue before he dips in the other direction. Noses brush together and make the electricity in Ennoshita’s nerves crackle with each intentional sweep of Tanaka’s tongue. It’s less awkward than Ennoshita anticipates, the gesture more intimate somehow. Tanaka’s teeth graze Ennoshita’s bottom lip and tugs; gentle, slow, achingly sensual.
Ennoshita forgets to breathe.
He doesn’t know how long it goes, but vaguely, he hears the others cat-calling and yelling encouraging somethings around them. Maybe a wolf whistle or two, most likely from Narita. Then Tanaka’s hand cradles the side of his face as if to root him there, his tongue more insistent, bolder, and all Ennoshita can do is grip Tanaka’s shirt, holding on for dear life.
When they finally pull apart, his head follows Tanaka’s backward motion for a split second, disappointed at the loss of contact and still too into the moment to care that the others are watching. His eyes open to find that he’s not the only one breathless, not the only one staring wide in shock. In confusion. And something else, something Ennoshita doesn’t expect. He shuts his eyes and forces an exhale, fully prepared for Tanaka’s laughter, for the brush-off he’s expecting.
No, I’m drunk. I’m imagining it. There’s no way... he’s strai-- and I’m his fr--
Then Narita speaks, his tone drunkenly smug, shit-eating grin in place. “Looks like that was definitely interesting enough to go past kissing, huh, Enno-san?”
Ennoshita’s first instinct is to bury his face into his hand. Or maybe the couch cushions where no one can see his how well he’s come to resemble a ripened tomato. But the night seems filled with unexpected surprises because in the next second, a hand grips his. Tentative, just this side of shaky. And when he’s yanked up, Tanaka threads their fingers together. Tugging him away from everyone else with an ease he’s always envied in others, but never thought he’d have.
“Where’re we going?”
Tanaka shrugs, but the flush of his cheeks betrays any nonchalance he’s trying to pass off. His mouth quirks. Fingers tremble. But he holds on tight, secure.
“To see if Narita’s right.”
Ennoshita grins and remembers to breathe.