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Rindou, a man of already considerably low patience, can only tolerate so much bullshit before it completely runs out. And tonight, Sanzu's testing it. Big time.
He wonders how and why he got himself in this situation — alone with Sanzu in this dingy-ass abandoned bowling alley, that is. According to Koko, some random good-for-nothings were on the gang’s tail tonight. Side characters, he said with a lazy wave of his hand. But for all of their safety, the Haitanis and Bonten's number two need to stay out of their current hotel for the time being, until the coast is clear, at least. It would have been no problem had Ran not deserted Rindou and Sanzu about half an hour ago to go grab food for the trio — or so he said, but Rindou remembers the time his brother went out to "buy bread" and came back 2 days later with a whole new criminal record. He knows better than to trust his brother's word so easily, anyway.
"Hey, how much do you bet that I'll make a full strike?" Sanzu says with a grin, snapping Rindou back to his present situation. He points his finger obnoxiously at the purple-haired man sitting a couple of yards away. A dusty, burgundy-colored bowling ball sits cusped in his right hand, eager for its first bit of action since who-knows-when.
Rindou sighs. "And why are we betting again?" He eyes the pink-haired man with a mix of impatience and exhaustion as he tilts his head and rests it lazily on his propped-up elbow. Ran sure is taking his sweet-fucking-time getting back.
Sanzu rolls his head back to peer at his colleague, his smile unwavering. "Any better ideas on how to kill time?"
As a matter of fact, yes. Ignoring his coworker, Rindou scans his surroundings — paint chipping off the eerie walls, broken lights hanging from the tall ceiling, dust piling at the corners of the seats that would definitely make his older brother complain when he would have to get their suits cleaned eventually — familiar, having the qualities of practically every one of Bonten's many hideouts when they would move about evading authorities. All in all, a lackluster and unamusing place, to say the least. Rindou sighs once again.
"Oi, eyes up front." Sanzu calls over his shoulder, making sure to grab his singular audience member’s attention before getting into position. He draws his dominant arm back, ready to crown his bowling ball the striker of the century. "Rin, if I knock all of 'em down in one go, you owe me 10 billion yen, 'kay? And the Roppongi Tower."
This is what Mikey deprivation does to a person. Or, just Sanzu apparently.
Rin’s answer (in his head) is a fuck no. But he doesn’t even get the chance to voice that before Sanzu sends the ball rolling down the lane so poorly that the burgundy sphere vacillates between rolling into the right gutter or the left gutter multiple times before finally surrendering into the right one, leaving all ten pins untouched.
In fact, the ordeal is so pathetic that Rindou’s head is now in both of his hands. "You're fucking wasted," he says, his voice muffled by his palms.
"Awh, shi– And? Aren't we always?"
"Sanzu, I watched you down three bottles of Romanée-Conti in one go an hour before we ended up here."
"I’m having the time of my life, man. You should try it too. But, right, I forgot you can't hold your alcohol. What was it that happened last time you were drunk? Didn't you–"
"You can stop right there," Rindou says hastily, lifting his head from his hands to send Sanzu a sharp, warning clare. His face twitches slightly, cringing at the memory of what happened last time.
Sanzu looks at him, wide-eyed. "Hmm? Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed by your own actions. You know, it was a hassle trying to explain to Mikey why our necks had matching hick–"
The older is on his feet in an instant, finger pointed accusingly at the younger. "Say another word and I'll reopen those scars of yours."
"Woah, you forget which one of us has the advantage here," Sanzu snickers, reaching into the ball return and taking out the same shiny burgundy sphere he had just embarrassed himself with a few moments ago. Now, he’s holding it like a basketball with the full intent of throwing it like one. This stupidass drunk bastard–
"Really now?" Within another blink, Rindou has his pistol in his hand and a small smile plays across his usually stoic face. Two can play at this dumbass game. "Let's see which is faster, your fucking ball or this bullet."
The two men stay unmoving for a while, holding each other's intense gaze, until Sanzu finally sighs dramatically. "Rin, you're no fun at all" — he puts down the bowling ball and shrugs — "acting as if you don't get to use that gun every day. If you got a little more creative, you'd find that there are so many better weapons to use." He pauses for a moment, then adds with a shit-eating grin, "that's why I've always preferred your brother."
Rindou's hands tense around his gun, refusing to lower his arms despite the other man’s surrender. "Well, I don't recall it being my brother who had your bite marks all over–”
“If you’re choosing to acknowledge that night now, then I also don’t recall it being anyone other than you who insisted on climbing into my bed after a single shot of Hennessy.”
Rindou’s ears burn red as the memories that he tried so hard to suppress made their way right back to the surface. Briskly, he stuffs his pistol back into the inside of his blazer and practically storms up to Sanzu, snatching a hold of his necktie a little too forcefully. "You really don't know how to shut up, do you?" he says in a low voice, well aware of the rising heat in his face and the feeling of Sanzu's alcohol-ridden breath against his own nose bridge. A unique glint flashes over the taller man's eyes as he leans towards his colleague’s ear to whisper, "Make me."
Almost a little too eagerly, Rindou smashes his lips against the other's, his hands now abandoning the tie to run his fingers through his partner's pink hair. He pushes his tongue into Sanzu's mouth, tasting the alcohol in his saliva and ignoring the slight sting that’s building up in the back of his own throat from it. With just as much force, Sanzu kisses back, biting on the lip of the other before pulling back abruptly. Now separated, they both gasp for air.
Rindou holds Sanzu's intense gaze as he wipes the edge of his swollen lips with his sleeve, still breathing heavily. Maybe it’s the remnants of alcohol from Sanzu’s tongue, or the fact that he’s still trying to regain his breathing, but Rindou feels awfully lightheaded. He observes the man in front of him — pupils wild and hungry, and lips slightly parted and tinted red from what just happened.
"I'm amazed you can do something like that while sober, Rin," Sanzu says with a teasing tone. Before Rindou could reply, their lips crash together again, earning a low groan from him that he prays evades Sanzu's ear. He leans into the kiss, the euphoric feeling intoxicating, making him wonder why he was never just honest about his feelings earlier so he could experience this ecstasy again and again. In a fight for dominance, their tongues clash and lock, carnivorous for more of each other.
Truth is, Rin knows he has always found Haru attractive, irritatingly so. But that’s never going to be something he can admit, upfront, when either of them are sober, or in front of the others, or even to himself when he kinda wishes Bonten was short on money so that he would have to share a hotel room with Bonten’s number two.
Their lips part again, breaking that momentary rapture, strings of saliva clinging onto them as if begging to come together just once more.
"Hey, whatever happened here just now stays between us, got it?" Rindou huffs, his hooded eyes trying to capture Sanzu’s expression in a mental snapshot to last forever.
"Like I would ever brag about smashing faces with Haitani Rindou."
Sure, he’s intoxicated, but Rin wants to at least believe that Haru’s flushed face, like that of a teenage boy experiencing his first heartthrob, means more than just the influence of alcohol. That there is something coursing through his veins too, something that causes his heart to also beat harder and to yearn hungrily for more.
But on second thought, Sanzu is being just as insufferable as always.
Rindou hopes, prays, that this feeling is only temporary. Because if he were to fall for this idiot, God, what the heck would he do?