Work Text:
“Water’s boiling,” Zanka calls, his voice accompanied by the soft whistle of the kettle. “You better come make your tea—I ain't doing it just to get scolded again.”
Suou appears in the kitchen from seemingly from nowhere, smiling and unruffled as he leans past Zanka to lay out his favourite tea set. He smells subtly like bergamot.
“It’s not difficult,” he says mildly. “You just have to avoid scalding the leaves. Why don’t you try again—I’ll watch you this time.”
Zanka snorts. “Yeah, no thanks. Gonna stick to coffee, myself.”
“Wait—”
Halfway through reaching into the kitchen cupboard, Zanka freezes. Suou’s hand is deceptively gentle on his shoulder; Zanka knows the strength there, feels the effortless way Suou guides him down off his tiptoes to face him. They’re suddenly standing very close.
“What?” Zanka asks bluntly, flustered by the abrupt increase of his heartrate.
Suou smiles. “Your earring is caught on your shirt. Let me…”
His touch is so delicate Zanka can’t feel anything except the barest of tugs on his earlobe as Suou frees the tassels and smooths them out. Zanka’s gaze flicks across the concentrated set of Suou’s eye, his mouth, and then immediately away again. Suou’s own earring sways gently with his movements.
“There.” Suou’s murmur is quiet. Zanka can feel the warmth of it on his skin, watches the crinkle of Suou’s eye as he smiles. “That’s better, you—”
There’s a deep sort of satisfaction in being able to startle Suou. His chin is warm in Zanka’s fingers, his lips still open on a soft, surprised sound as Zanka presses their mouths together in a clumsy kiss. His breath trembles against Zanka’s upper lip.
Suou goes very, very still. Just as Zanka is about to pull away and apologise, Suou’s hand drifts through the tassels of Zanka’s earring and alights on his shoulder. The kiss ends, but they both shift as one, drawing closer, heads tilting to meet in a second kiss.
It’s bolder this time, freed from the hesitation of surprise. Zanka breathes Suou in, his insides turning to jelly as their lips drag warm against each other, slow and purposeful.
When they separate, Zanka traces his thumb along the line of Suou’s jaw. “Tea water’s gettin’ cold.”
Suou’s hand slides further up Zanka’s shoulder, cupping the side of his neck. “Is it?” he murmurs. His gaze settles boldly on Zanka’s mouth. “Never mind.”
Zanka kisses him again, and this time there’s nothing clumsy about it.