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The problem starts when Nanami misplaces his journal. Or perhaps, it started when he decided to buy the infernal thing in the first place. Either way, the journal is the root of it all, a terrible catalyst for what Nanami would consider a downward spiral.
He looks for it. Of course he does. In a school where you've got bold and prying personalities such as the likes of Gojo Satoru, a missing journal is cause for alarm. But it's like it's disappeared, totally reduced to atoms the moment he'd let it out of his sight. Which isn't ideal. Not in the slightest. And yet there's nothing more that Nanami can do – short of climbing onto the dining room table and announcing his plight to the few other students in Jujutsu Tech. He can't do that. It would be like throwing himself to the wolves, giving them an opportunity to ask about the significance of this elusive journal.
For a lack of options, Nanami has been going about his daily affairs, the one sign that something's off is that he's been jumpy, overreacting to the simplest of stimuli. He's since resorted to stewing, burning a hole into his pasta with his eyes and resenting his own ability to wield a pen with any sort of literacy.
"Is there a curse in your food?" Gojo asks, his eyes tracking the way Nanami's holding his spoon too tight, a smug little smile on his face, no doubt at his own comedic prowess. "Haibara-kun, do you see a curse on his tray?"
There's some things that coming to Jujutsu Tech has given Nanami. His friendship with Yu is top of the bill, gratitude spilling whenever Yu has his back on missions, bringing him a coffee on mornings when class starts earlier. Now, though, Nanami considers tossing Yu off his chair with how he actually listens to Gojo and peers at Nanami's food.
"Nope," he says, gleeful. "He's just sulking."
"What's poor Nanami-kun sulking over now?" Gojo points his fork in Nanami's direction, one eye shutting like he's looking through the sight of a sniper rifle. Honestly, being shot would be preferable to this, to Nanami's heart at constant unease because he can't tell if this is regular Gojo-grade teasing or the result of his journal being found.
"I'm not." Nanami is aware that his scowl probably doesn't make this convincing but he holds eye-contact anyway, managing to be resilient in the face of his impending doom.
He's going to say it now, isn't he? He's going to say he's found my journal and make fun of me in front of everyone.
Nanami holds his breath, dizzy from anticipation.
Gojo shrugs, turning his head to steal a fry from Haibara's plate. "If you say so."
It's easier to sense Geto before Nanami actually sees him. The Second Year never bothers to keep his curse energy on a tight leash when roaming around campus. It's a marked difference from how he is in public, stringent about the curses he holds at his disposal. So, Nanami looks past Gojo to where Geto has walked into the dining hall while clad in loungewear instead of his usual uniform.
"Yo," he says, a hand up in greeting. He's smiling down at the three of them, a natural sort of benevolence to the curve of his lips. "Ieiri's looking for you."
"Who?" Gojo asks, still munching on Haibara's fries, not seeming concerned about this, leaning back to bump his head against Geto's arm. "Me?"
Geto bends at the waist, building up suspense through a slow answer. He skips over Nanami, his gaze roving between Yu and Gojo, glittering with amusement that doesn't seem quite right. "Whichever of you decided to put hair removal cream in her shampoo." At once, there's a flurry of action. Gojo chokes on his mouthful of fry, Yu stands up quick enough that his orange juice spills onto his sleeve and then they're both gone, teleported away mid-choke.
Nanami's left staring at the empty space before Geto slides into a seat opposite him. "I wonder when Shoko-senpai will find them."
"I give it an hour."
"You shouldn't have given them a heads up."
"Maybe not but it benefits me too." Geto smiles, shrugging off his backpack and rummaging inside. "I assumed it would be better for us to be alone."
"Alone? For what?" Nanami's brows furrow, a bit confused as to Geto's crypticism. It's not his usual style of going about things. The confusion dissipates when Geto pulls a familiar book out of his bag, complete with a little star sticker declaring the contents private. "Oh."
"This is yours, right?" Geto asks, his voice kept light, like Nanami's inner world isn't crumbling right in front of him. "I found it under a bench outside."
It takes a considerable degree of effort for Nanami to not pounce across the table and wrench the journal away. His hands, where they rest beside his tray, twitch. But he keeps his breathing even and smiles. "How do you know it's mine?" Geto snorts, like this situation is in any way amusing.
"You're the only person I know who'd buy a moleskin." He slides the journal across, relinquishing it into Nanami's possession. "You're lucky I'm the one who found it. If it was Ieiri, she would have read it in a heartbeat."
"You didn't read it then?"
"Nah." Geto presses a hand flat against his chest, right where his heart would be. "Scouts honour."
The relief that floods through Nanami is akin to a drug. All of a sudden, the dining hall is bright and the blanket of doom which has oppressed him for a week is cast off. "Thank you, senpai."
He doesn't stop to ask whether Geto has ever actually been in the Scouts.
"I lied."
It's the sort of lazy day which has Nanami planted in the lounge. He's watching his guilty pleasure, some foreign telenovela about an escort and a priest. He's so enthralled by the latest development that he didn't notice anyone entering the room, so he jumps at the firm voice, barely registering what Geto's said.
"What?"
Geto taps his foot against the floor, the rug muffling the thud but not the steady rhythm. He's not frowning but he's not smiling either, caught in some halfway place that makes Nanami sit up properly. "I did read your journal."
"Oh." The lazy day Nanami had been indulging in is now a distant memory, everything turning cold in light of this reveal. He moves to stand up, considering how to drop out of school without anyone questioning him too much. This plan is cut short by Geto grabbing him arm and dropping down beside him.
"You can't be mad at me. A book marked private and you expect me to not open it?" Nanami opens his mouth, ready to say that he'll be as mad as he wants but Geto's grip tightens, his dark eyes even darker with the blinds closed, no light to reflect off the ink. "I was going to leave it, wasn't going to tell the truth, but I've been thinking."
"Thinking?" Nanami echoes, an emptiness to the question, like he's not quite sure what the word even means. He tests the give of Geto's hand around him and finds that it's sturdy, a warm shackle.
"You've never kissed anyone, right?" Geto asks, his voice low in some sort of show of kindness, a play at privacy.
Nanami stares.
Geto continues, leaning in closer with a growing smile. "You want experience. I can give you that," he says, dropping this bombshell of a plan with all the confidence of a boy on narcotics.
"Geto-senpai, I don't understand what you mean," Nanami replies, very deliberately, with the same intonation which one may adopt while trying to talk someone off a cliff. He's surprised his voice doesn't shake.
"You do understand. I'm saying I'll teach you the ropes when it comes to romance." Geto tilts his head, his eyes flicking away and then back. "You like guys don't you?"
It's a scary question. Nobody's ever asked Nanami that before and he wasn't planning on coming out today – if ever. The room is empty apart from them and Geto's no-nonsense demeanour seems to leave no room for judgement. He exhales, doesn't give in to the urge to lie, faces his fear head on. "I'm fine with both."
"Ah." Geto brightens, his body becoming larger somehow while he relaxes. "Then that's perfect. I'll fill in the gaps of whatever you want to learn."
"So, what? You're my tutor?" Nanami wrinkles his nose, mentally going over what he's written in his journal, endless late night rambles lamenting his desire for someone to show him romantic interest, daydreams about being close enough to touch anyone, to be wanted. He should be sick right now. And yet a strange calm washes over his skin. To be known, even inadvertently through secondhand scraps, is a weight off his stooped shoulders.
"I guess that's one way of putting it."
"What do you get from this?" The suspicion isn't unwarranted. The conversation they're having is insane and Nanami can't imagine a reason why Geto would ever offer him anything. He's popular enough to not run the risk of being touch-starved, that whole cool, disillusioned loner vibe attracting every third person at the arcade, until of course he breaks the act by rage quitting Pac-Man.
"I get to kiss a pretty boy?" he says, like it's a no brainer.
Nanami inhales too quick, stifling a cough while heat presses upon the tops of his ears. Geto's resulting smile is slow enough that it can only be on purpose. "What? Are you blushing because I called you pretty? It's just the truth. I could do it again if you want." He's doing this thing where his words are more air than they are solid, breathy teasing as he leans forward, so pleased with himself. Then he comes to a halt. "But since you don't want this, I'll, of course, stop. Just think of it as a blip."
In a strange turn of events, Geto is the one on the verge of leaving and where there should be relief, there's only panic, the ice of a missed opportunity flooding Nanami's veins and this time it's his hand which shoots out to grab Geto. Nanami is unable to look up. He's certain there's something wrong with the AC. It shouldn't be so hot in here. "Wait."
"What's wrong?" Geto says, and there's a smile in his voice. He must be enjoying this, seeing Nanami be so pathetically predictable.
Good senpai my ass. He's the worst from the three of them.
"You won't tell anyone, will you?"
Geto makes a sound, something that rumbles in his chest and he ducks his head down to meet Nanami's gaze, He's softer now, no trace of mirth left as he searches Nanami for something, his brows knitted together severely enough for a dip to appear. "I wouldn't tell anyone anything regardless. This isn't me blackmailing you. I'll forget everything I read if you just give me the word."
It must be his earnestness which has Nanami swallowing hard, leaning forward in kind to make some sort of bubble where just the both of them exist. "About the teaching, there would be ground rules right?" This, at least, has Geto perking up, unrepentant in his interest but still measured to the point that Nanami can tell he's not trying to pressure him. It makes something twinge within his chest.
"Yeah, sure. What do you want to establish?"
Nanami stares, tongue tied with embarrassment at the question, unsure of what he should even say. It's not exactly a normal situation, is it?
Geto must sense this because he swoops in to save him. "You want experience right? But you don't want to get it with just anyone because you're worried." He pauses, hesitant for the first time. "I know I'm the one who's proposed the idea but you don't have to worry about things like experience. We're hardly middle-aged. There's time."
Time. As if Nanami doesn't have a timer ticking out the seconds above his head, counting down until the inevitable mission where everything goes wrong. Geto's advice is the same cookie cutter crap that comes up when Nanami googles his concerns. All these blogs telling him it's fine when all this lack has got his stomach in knots. He squeezes his hands into fists. "When did you have your first kiss?"
"Me?" Geto frowns, a pinch between his brows. "I don't think that matters."
"When?" Nanami insists, completely forgoing his usual manners because his sudden curiosity needs to be sated by any means possible. "Tell me."
"...when I was around thirteen maybe. It was before I enrolled here."
"Shoko-senpai, Gojo-senpai, they've had theirs too right?"
While Geto's reluctance is visible he doesn't look away from Nanami, his eyes serious. "Yeah, but comparing doesn't mean anything."
Nanami ignores this weak reassurance, smiling close-lipped. "Yu has had his too."
"Really?" And then slower, with understanding that has Nanami's chest threatening to collapse in embarrassment. "Is that what's got you feeling this way?"
It would be difficult to admit that Nanami's biggest fear is being left behind in all avenues – to fail not just at being a sorcerer but also to fail at being a person. He wants to be the same as the rest and it's made worse by the fact that there are so few of them, the pool to which he compares himself to much more intimate than it would be for any regular person. It's difficult to admit so he doesn't.
"Am I unattractive? Is that why you've changed your mind so quickly?" Nanami tilts his head, blowing at his bangs. "Is it my hair?" He's unfortunately only half joking, anxiety gnawing inside him. It figures that Geto would get him to admit that he wants this and then rescind the offer. There's more shame in rejection than there is abstinence.
The room goes quiet, as if Geto has stopped breathing. Whatever tension there is deflates when he exales, folding his arms and knocking his shoulder into Nanami's. "It's not about that. I'm your friend. I just want to make sure that it's what you want."
"I want this." The blinds are shut but in the dim light Nanami's able to make out how Geto's expression flickers, his large hands clasping together in decision. "I won't regret it if it's you."
He's not thought about Geto in this way before. But he's not not thought about him in this way either. Nanami has had an almost absentminded cataloguing of the fact that he's handsome. It's a precise sort of beauty, enough for his personality to be more distracting, teasing without being overbearing. Inky hair, straight nose, the slant of his cupid bow. All things Nanami's aware of but he's never dreamed of him, never fantasised about touching beyond friendship and now–
Now, he's wondering how he's never considered it before.
"Okay," Geto says, rubbing at the corner of his mouth, seeming more mature somehow. "Okay," he repeats, leaning down and surprising Nanami again with how forward he is. "The ground rules are that we keep it to kissing and if anything makes you uncomfortable you speak up. How does that sound?"
It's not so easy to keep himself together but Nanami doesn't crumble, nodding like this is an every day conversation. "That sounds good." Then, with what he hopes doesn't seem like an overabundance of eagerness, he makes a vague gesture. "Now?"
When Geto speaks, his breath fans across the span of Nanami's face. It smells strongly of mint even though Shoko's the one always chewing on gum, a sort of displacement for her cigs during school hours. "They're all in the courtyard right now. This can be lesson one."
Nanami doesn't quite know anything about the etiquette of kissing but he knows enough to let his eyes fall shut when Geto finally closes the divide between their bodies, his hand encircling the side of Nanami's throat for leverage. The brush of his thumb against the hollow of his throat sends a jolt through Nanami but that's quickly forgotten about when their lips touch. It's soft, certainly softer than might be expected considering the habit Geto has if chewing at his lip during training, a sign of concentration and a residual of his technique – things to do with the mouth and the stomach, consumption in spades. But Geto's lips are soft when they move against his own, miniscule movements that manage to make Nanami feel nonetheless, his hands flexing at his sides with the urge to clasp onto something, to get rid of the fervent energy rising within him as if by osmosis, from Geto straight into him. Whatever chapstick Geto's applied is tacky and Nanami's makes a sound when he registers that it's flavoured, orange to be exact. Perhaps the sound is too much, because it gets Geto to part from him, and though it was chaste—or at least Nanami assumes it was chaste—there's still a slight wet sound when Geto's lips break away from his, distinct enough that Nanami blushes.
Despite no longer kissing, their proximity is maintained when Geto presses their foreheads together, his face an ever looming sign of seniority. Now that they're this close, Nanami can take the time to openly examine him since Geto has no problem with doing the same without a care. He has sparse eyelashes but Nanami overlooks that in favour of his eyes which remain like a lake under twilight, dark and still and so full of life that it takes Nanami's breath away just as much as the kiss did.
"Is that it?" Nanami manages to croak out, overwhelmed by how Geto doesn't seem in a rush to talk.
Would it be strange to ask for feedback?
Geto tuts, sitting back just a smidgen. He has a hand on Nanami's shoulder still. "It's your first kiss. I'm hardly going to maul you." He taps his hand once. "How do you feel though? Was it life changing?"
The caution makes Nanami more obstinate. "It wasn't what I would deem a Special Grade kiss."
If it's possible for a snort to be elegant, Geto manages it, those twin lakes twinkling in amusement. "Way to help a guy's self-esteem."
"I'm being honest."
"Second time's the charm I suppose." That's all the warning which Geto deems necessary, brushing back the loose strands of Nanami's hair before pressing a kiss to the newly uncovered skin, right at the swell of his cheek. "Do you want to join the others?"
It's safe to say that Nanami is caught off guard by the kiss, by how casual Geto's managed to make this appear. He remembers to close his mouth, fights through the petals of warmth unfurling within his chest and nods.
The second problem — or really just an extension of the first problem — is that Geto doesn't mention their kiss(es) again. Three days pass where Nanami is left on edge, though this is a different sort of edge from his missing journal, more anticipation than fear, anticipation which dulls the longer they go without discussing the topic. Nanami's left to wonder if one lesson is as far as it'll go, casting forlorn looks in Geto's direction whenever he's certain not even the Six Eyes is looking.
Maybe I was really bad and he doesn't know how to tell me without hurting my feelings, Nanami thinks, staring unseeing at his textbook. He doesn't have anything to compare the experience to and Geto seems to be an open book but he's great at keeping his cards close to his chest, his omnipresent half-smile indicating nothing in particular. He's doing it now actually, lounging back while complaining about this Friday's upcoming social studies exam. He's convinced he's going to fail despite the fact that Nanami's seen him in the library three times in the last week, his hair always loose against his shoulders and his gaze never straying away from a pile of worksheets.
"Nanami-kun," comes a too loud voice, right into his ear as Gojo slumps down beside him at the picnic table. "Just the person I was looking for."
By default, this doesn't bode well. It sounds very reminiscent of April Fools when Gojo was looking for him only to lock Nanami in a room with Geto for over an hour. Nanami frowns, not trusting Gojo to be serious. His distrust isn't helped when Ieiri sits down opposite. "Why?"
"Relax. Senpai has a mission for you." Gojo grins over at the grassy field where Geto and Haibara are reclining on the sunwarmed grass. "You too, Suguru. Get your ass up," he calls. It must be strange to Geto as well because he's slow to rise, clambering up with great reluctance.
"Me?"
"Yeah. Something about independence and teamwork. I would have gone but Yaga's already got me on a mission with Ieiri so." Gojo points at Yu, faux pouting. "You're on your own today, Haibara-kun."
"As if he cares," Shoko says, and as expected, Haibara just shrugs, laying back in the grass to cloud watch. His ability to be unbothered is one that Nanami could never hope to emulate. Especially not now, hyperaware of multiple sets of eyes on him. He's saved from his inevitable fumbling by Geto patting his back.
"Come on, Nanami-kun. We can collect the brief and get going."
It's the most he's touched Nanami in days.
"Okay."
It's turns out to be a supervisory mission. Nanami is being babysat by the guy he's in a kissing contract with. If this isn't infuriating enough, Geto's taken to following behind far closer than how his teacher usually would.
"What happened to the independence part of this?" Nanami huffs, swinging his short sword to cut through the air and gain some space. He might not be able to kiss but that doesn't mean he can't fight.
"Teamwork is important too, Nanami-kun." Geto continues following behind, not at all dissuaded by the threat of his weapon. "I might only be watching but sticking together is beneficial in case I need to intervene. Besides, I thought you'd like me being close by." It's the most he's hinted at what they've done though when Nanami glances at him, he's strolling with his gaze lifted toward the darkened sky.
"Why would I like–"
The balloon curse which they've been tailing decides to make a reappearance, already having mocked them twice and Nanami is alert, not willing to lose it a third time. He wants to get back to campus and do nothing for the rest of the day. Maybe that would be enough to wash away the stain of want that's imprinted upon his skin.
He checks for Geto and finds that he's already moved a fair distance away, standing under a grocery store's canopy, the lamplight missing his face. He's gone quiet, no longer so blasé now that the curse is back.
In all honesty, the curse is of no relevance to a Special Grade. It's a Grade Two, the kind of curse which might be categorised as a mere nuisance for someone like Geto. Nanami is no Special Grade. He has to use everything at his disposal to avoid the spit of acid the curse throws at an irregular order, his sword turning into a shield as much as it is a weapon. If the curse were bound to earth, it wouldn't be so much of a battle since Nanami isn't the best equipped for airborne enemies. Still, the curse floats down whenever it lose steam, screeching all the while.
"The string!" Geto yells, his voice carrying across as well as if he's right next to him. "Cut the string!"
The string in question is some flesh dangling down from under the 'balloon' part of the curse. It appears to be modelled after umbilical cords. Nanami has no idea what human emotion would have manifested this. He's not sure he wants to know either. He clutches the handle of his sword between both his hands, banking on hauling it above his head to sever the curse from its string. The timing is right. Or it would be, if not for the fact that the heavens decide now to be the right time for a bellow of thunder. It gives the curse a kick of energy, buoyancy returning just as the first few drops of rain patter down across dusty concrete. The drops turn into chilling sheets, Nanami drenched in a matter of seconds, his uniform sticking to him like a second skin while he takes off into a run.
As absurd as the curse looks, it has the potential to do very real damage.
I shouldn't have let it get to this point, he thinks, a flood of irritation pushing him forward, weaving between parked cars as the curse tries to escape into an area that would be much more populated. One good hit. That's all Nanami needs to get in. He squints through the rain dragging down his eyelashes and squares his shoulders, preparing for the moment the curse lowers.
Now.
And then Nanami is falling. Or rather, he's tripping, having skidded across a slipper patch of pavement and falling straight into an unseen pothole. He's on his hands and knees, confused while thunder sounds out above him. It's stupid and a rookie move but Nanami forgets about the curse, staring at the cold rainwater that's turning pink with his own blood.
Huh?
"Duck!"
Nanami listens by reflex, crouching close to the ground, getting his sleeve soaked to avoid dying at the hands of a Grade Two. He peeks up when something nudges his leg, Geto poking at him while one of his curse summons sits idle. The balloon is gone. Nanami adds this to the list of reasons why Geto will never kiss him again: almost died because it rained a bit too strongly.
It's a mere flesh wound, a good chunk taken out of his knee but nothing that requires any immediate medical attention. Yeah, it's sore but Nanami is capable of putting himself back together, limping along to the empty infirmary since Shoko isn't back yet. Acquiring an injury due to the tarmac is better than the alternative but his pride has been affected enough to have avoided heading straight to the dorms, knowing that Yu would first laugh and then fuss around him.
It was easier than he expected to get Geto to leave him alone, the other boy finishing up the report on the drive back and then filling out the incident sheet to hand in at the office. They'd spoken about everything that went wrong with the curse, Geto taking his supervisory role seriously and detailing what Nanami should pay attention to. It was both helpful and damning – a combination that has left Nanami even more unsure than he was before the mission.
Nanami sighs, the sound echoing amidst the empty space, his exhaustion reflected back at him while he searches for the antiseptic cream. He's washed away the dried blood, leaving just pink flesh on show. It never gets old, seeing these parts of himself which should be hidden away. He's not sure he wants it to either.
A creak comes from the door as it swings open to unveil Geto. He's already changed out of his uniform, having donned a pair of pyjamas with pirate flags across the bottoms. Nanami has a memory of Yu gifting it, wanting to impress their senpais with his amazing taste. It makes a involuntary smile flicker across his face.
"I wouldn't be smiling if I were you," Geto says, just as stern as he was during the car ride back. "It's been like twenty minutes and your leg looks the same. Do you need a refresher on First Aid?" At the jab, Geto strolls into the room and plucks the pot of cream out Nanami's hand. "Remind me to never ask you to substitute for Ieiri." Just as Geto starts smiling, Nanami's is exchanged for a scowl.
"I'm allowed to take my time."
"Not when it comes to this, actually, you're not." Geto continues to rustle around the room, seeming to know exactly where everything is. It wouldn't be surprising since he's always down here, sitting on a side table while Shoko is advised by their sensei. "If you don't treat it properly, you'll scar."
Nanami would point out that scarring is the least of their worries in a field where sudden death is a very real possibility but he's at least semi-sure that would be a downer. He settles for a shrug, trailing his gaze down to Geto's bruised knuckles, a byproduct of fending the curse off before his summon had finished up. "Thank you for helping out."
"It's not something to thank me about," Geto says, examining his knee for a few seconds and then smearing a thin layer of cream over the patch of skin, careful to keep his nails from adding to the pain. He's efficient, not bothering to make small talk, unlike Shoko who'd tease him from start to finish. Nanami looks at the lights, hopes for it to finish quicker but knowing better than to rush Geto. It would only make him go unbearably slow in retaliation. He's just as efficient with the gauze, lowering himself to the ground for better purchase, one hand holding the hollow behind Nanami's knee to wrap around the wound, looping over and over until he's able to secure the gauze with tape.
"You can thank me for this though." Geto pats his knee lightly, checking the circulation.
Nanami tilts his head. "You could give Shoko-senpai a run for her money."
"She'd make you bleed some more if she heard that." Geto looks up at him, his cheeks full from mirth though that soon melts into an entirely separate emotion, lascivious on a coin flip. "Y'know, this is a good angle for you." All of a sudden the situation takes on a different tone, Geto on his knees for a far more suggestive reason.
To add to the incredible cliche, Nanami gulps. "You shouldn't do that," he says, quiet to keep from cracking open.
As if to push him further, Geto rests his head on Nanami's thigh. He's a comforting weight. He's a demon. "Do what?"
"You know what."
"I don't." Geto sits back on his haunches now, still looking up though now he's genuine. "What's wrong?"
"We– you–" Nanami doesn't think he can bear to utter the words when Geto's peering up at him like there's nothing outside of this room, as if Nanami is the one person left in the world. "Did we meet a quota for kisses?" he blurts out, somehow managing to make the whole affair sound so formal that it's a wonder he doesn't disintegrate when Geto squints.
"Quota?"
"It's been days and we've not continued the lessons. You haven't even mentioned what we did." Nanami should stop here but now that he's started, the truth trickles from him in earnest. "How are you so good at being unaffected?"
"Ah."
"Ah?" Nanami repeats. He lays a hand against the infirmary table, scrunching up the hygiene sheet. He focuses on the crinkle. "That's all you have to say?"
"I've not done anything to you which you should be affected by." Geto stands back up, casting a shadow that encompasses the length of Nanami's body. He's reminded of the difference in their builds, Geto bigger when he's a mere year older. His grin is like that of a shark, all edge. "Yet."
Yet.
"If you're going to be blushing all the time then I should give you something to actually blush about. Lesson number three is that build-up is often just as important as the kiss itself." Geto points at Nanami's temple, straightening his diction out to be perfect for this impromptu lecture. Nanami gawps, not liking the sound of that at all.
"What? Like treat 'em mean to keep 'em keen?" he asks, incredulous, having thought that was the sort of advice middle-aged divorced men lived by, not people like Geto Suguru.
"Not exactly," Geto replies, his entire face pinched like Nanami's said something funny. "Is that what you think I've been doing? Being mean?"
Oh great. Now I sound like a kid in the playground.
"Well, you've not been nice," Nanami admits, the begrudging admission taking a lot of willpower.
Geto settles next to him on the infirmary bed, a bubble of laughter in his voice when he speaks. "I'm sorry for being a bully, Nanami-kun. Let me make it up to you?"
"How do you plan on doing that?"
Nanami gets his answer in the form of a kiss – multiples kisses actually. Geto presses his lips to both corners of his mouth, then moves up to the cut of his cheekbones, three along his jaw and one smoothing out the furrow between his brows. Each kiss is featherlight. Nanami's eyes flutter shut and he shifts, tilting his head back to direct Geto to his lips but they go untouched. Another kiss to his chin and then to just under his ear, tickling Nanami with air.
He huffs, opening his eyes to glare. Geto throws up both his hands before he can complain. "What was the lesson?"
"Build-up implies some sort of end result," Nanami points out, reminded of debating with his teachers in class. It's not the vibe he wants to go for.
"I'm curious," Geto says, rolling his shoulders back. "Are you desperate or just impatient?"
Nanami doesn't get to react to the question with all the affront it deserves because Geto takes this as the perfect opportunity to swoop in and kiss him properly, slotting their faces together at the perfect angle to swallowing Nanami's retort. He's surprised again — always endlessly surprised these days — because Geto goes further than he did last time, licking at the seam of his closed mouth. Geto does it once but Nanami stiffens up. Logically, he knows the next step and yet his nerves get the better of him. Whatever thrill there should be from the simple contact of touching is lost within Nanami's frustration with himself.
A moment goes by. Then two. Geto must figure he's a lost cause since he halts his minstrations. It's the most shameful moment of Nanami's life thus far. If Geto wanted to end the arrangement, he wouldn't argue. Though Nanami really, really doesn't want to end it. He opens his eyes and stares at the flush of Geto's cheeks since that's easier right now, his gaze travelling up when Geto whispers. "You don't have to be so afraid." The grains of his eyes are conflicted, a slant to his brows, hesitation permeating his entire being. Nanami doesn't like how uncertain he looks, the expression unnatural on someone like him. This isn't the result he'd been hoping for – messing up the mission and then coming home to mess things up with Geto. All because he's indecisive at the most pivotal time.
This is perhaps the only motivation he needs and Nanami steels his trembling body.
"I'm not." To prove it to the both of them, he winds a hand in Geto's hair, pulling at the dark locks with barely enough pressure for it to count. They're both still damp from the downpour and Geto shudders, his teeth bared in a grin that's a few steps off feral. When their lips meet again, Nanami parts his mouth first, encouraging access. The hand on his back snakes lower, bunching up the hem of his shirt and staying there while Nanami reminds himself to breathe through his nose as the tip of Geto's tongue slides over his own, licking at the crease of his gums. With his limited experience, Nanami tries his best to return the effort, throwing all passivity to the wind and gripping the flex of Geto's bicep, maneuvering him in a way where every inch he moves is under Nanami's approval.
A flame sets alight right under Nanami's skin at the noises he manages to pull from Geto. Older, more experienced Geto moaning because of him. It's all so much and Nanami's head whites-out, succumbing to the sensation of touch and sound, until the place where they meet is the only part of him that matters.
Three days without this seems like a lifetime now.
The hand on his back pulls at him, forcing Nanami to drop away from the kiss. He doesn't chase after Geto's mouth though it's a definite temptation, especially when he realises how red his lips have gotten. The other boy is breathing hard but so is Nanami, their pants louder than what he'd expected.
"What do you think then? Was the build-up worth it?" Geto asks, managing to sound teasing even with how wrecked his voice is. Nanami doesn't bother answering, standing as he delivers an impressive eye roll. He doesn't trust himself to answer without being too truthful.
The build-up was the second best part.