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Karasu's legs are sprawled out like he owns the floor and anyone who dares step foot on it. He's got one hand behind his big head, propping himself up, while the other lazily flicks at the end of the joint he's smoking.
It looks so familiar, like he's done it a thousand times before tonight.
Which, now that Otoya thinks about it... Karasu has done it a lot. But, nah, definitely not a thousand times before.
Otoya may not be the best at math, but he knows damn well that there’s no way something like that is possible. Right…?
The point is, Karasu looks cool. Like he knows exactly what the fuck he's doing.
“You done hogging that shit yet? I wanna get high, too.” He teases Karasu, sticking his tongue out playfully at him. Otoya plucks the joint from Karasu's fingers before he can even answer, feeling far too tipsy and impatient to wait for a response from that stoned dumbass.
A simple “bro” is all Karasu can get out before he ends up bursting into laughter. Otoya watches, amused, as his friend keels over, practically inconsolable.
He takes a puff from the joint, feeling the smoke slowly filling his lungs. The familiar sensation burns throughout his chest, and, within seconds, he ends up mimicking Karasu - completely keeled over - but the thing is that he's having a coughing fit and not a laughing one.
It's not chill.
He probably looks like even more of a dumbass than Karasu does now, dammit.
Karasu kicks at Otoya, nudging his foot with his own and breaking him out of his concentration. “Ya gotta inhale longer, headass. Otherwise, yer just wasting that good shit.”
“Inhale longer, my ass,” Otoya mocks him, feeling defensive all of a sudden. He's the one who started smoking a year before Karasu, after all. “You think you can do better than me?”
Karasu raises an eyebrow curiously, considering the challenge.
Oh, shit.
A dope idea forms in Otoya's head as he stares at his friend, who's now sucking on his vape like he's got some kind of oral fixation or something that can only be cured by a GeekBar.
“I have a better idea,” Otoya says with a grin. He's already feeling kinda crossfaded, and it makes the idea even more exciting. “We take turns shotgunning it instead, and the first one to exhale is declared the official loser.”
Damn, what a good ass idea. He gives himself props for coming up with it, the perfect mixture of funny and challenging.
“Let me get this straight, we're gonna take turns shotgunning? And the loser is whoever exhales the smoke first?”
“Precisely, sensei.”
Karasu laughs again, hitting his vape one more time before putting it back in his pocket and scooting himself closer to Otoya on the ground. “Bring it on, ninja,” he says, and Otoya just knew he would accept that challenge.
Karasu's always so competitive, but, like, in a fun way. Otoya's glad to call him his best friend, never once getting bored around him. He challenges him in all the best ways possible.
“You can blow into my mouth first,” Karasu continues, establishing the rules. “Let's do this right, though. Set a timer on yer phone.”
“Sounds fair enough,” Otoya hums in agreement, pulling out his phone and opening up the stopwatch on his clock app. He sets his phone on the floor right next to them, so he can easily press the start and stop button while shotgunning Karasu. Because there can only be one true winner in the end.
Otoya holds the joint between his fingertips, observing it like a puzzle to solve. He taps it once before taking a hit, much slower and steadier this time than his previous one. He does his best not to cough, nearly popping a blood vessel in the process.
Karasu watches him intently, lips parted slightly like he's already ready to inhale.
Otoya shifts closer, his knees bumping into Karasu's as he lets the tiniest bit of smoke out from the side of his mouth. He's saving the majority of the hit for the challenge, keeping it in his puffed-out cheek. “Ready?”
Karasu gives his signature cocky smirk. “Born ready, bro.”
And so, Otoya leans in, cupping Karasu's cheek to steady himself.
He's the closest he's ever been to his best friend's face, the definition of all up in his space. But it doesn't feel uncomfortable. He never feels uncomfortable around Karasu.
Otoya holds the smoke in until his lungs are aching, begging for a release. He's nose to nose with Karasu now, so he exhales gently, right into his mouth.
Their lips brush up against one another just so, and Karasu is suddenly inhaling like it's the easiest thing in the world.
Like this isn't kind of stupid and insane of them to do with each other.
Eh, fuck it, Otoya thinks, as he squints his eyes at Karasu with a challenge, before settling further into his current position.
They stare at each other, trying to be menacing, but neither of them is successful with their intimidation tactics.
All Otoya feels is Karasu's hot breath mingling with his own, their lips dangerously close to a real kiss. Neither of them move for a the next few seconds, both too focused on the challenge aspect of it all. Otoya can't help but feel distracted and off his game, though, which isn't fair. Being this close to Karasu is actually throwing him off.
And why does he feel an urge to just make out with his best friend right now?...
Then, to Otoya's surprise, Karasu's eyes flick down to his parted lips. It's barely noticeable, but Otoya isn't called the ninja for nothing. He sees, and it makes him feel better about his sudden and oddly impulsive urges.
He decides that he won't take this anymore, moving without thinking twice about it. Without even thinking about his very own and very cute girlfriend.
He closes the gap between them and kisses Karasu.
Absolutely nothing about the kiss is graceful, let alone magical, like how Otoya thinks kisses are supposed to be. Their noses bump together abrasively, clashing in a war of what seems like incomprehensible incompatibility at first.
But then, Karasu is kissing Otoya back. Kissing him hard, like he's been waiting for it.
Whatever the hell this even is.
Otoya kinda likes it now, though. Hell, he wants more.
Things take a total 180, the kiss turning messy and heated as both Otoya and Karasu open their mouths to each other, working to deepen the kiss. Otoya hums softly against Karasu's lips when his hands tug harshly at his shirt, bunching into the fabric there in a desperate show of need and want.
He shifts his position again, moving to straddle Karasu's lap without any preamble.
Their legs are tangled together, the joint now out of Otoya's hands and located around them somewhere.
Yeah, it’s gone now. Maybe it fell on the rug.
In the back of his mind—very, very distantly—Otoya worries that the rug will catch on fire or something like that.
Fuck, hold that thought.
He's actually making out with his best friend in the world right now. What the fuck.
He may not understand why, but, damn, he really likes this.
Otoya sighs, pleased, as Karasu pulls him in closer, hand sliding under the hem of his t-shirt, palm warm against the soft skin of his hip. He shivers from the intimate touch, hips pressing down unconsciously. Otoya's so lost in bliss from their kiss, completely oblivious to his actions as he starts to grind down further into Karasu's lap.
“Shit,” Karasu breathes out against Otoya's now spit-slicked lips, his voice sounding husky and really fucking hot, whatthehell. “Yer taking this challenge real serious, hah?”
“Yooo,” Otoya says to that, stilling as he thinks about the original challenge they had started this whole thing with. “How the hell are we supposed to know who wins now?”