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“Hey, is this seat taken?”
Claude looks up to find Shu standing over him, a can of beer in one hand and a diet coke in the other.
He rolls his eyes. “It’s the floor, Shubert,” Claude tells him, patting the rug-covered laminate with his hand. “It’s all free range.”
“Right,” Shu laughs, dropping down to sit in the empty spot to Claude's right, careful not to spill his drink.
Claude eyes the still unopened can of soda in Shu’s other hand. “Someone’s thirsty,” he jokes.
“Nah,” Shu says with an easy smile, “this one’s for you.”
“Oh.” Claude blinks in surprise, accepting the offered can. “Thanks.”
“Sorry, they were all out of Baja,” Shu teases.
“Oh, shut up.”
The words send Shu into a round of wheezing laughter, just a little bit too loud to be entirely sober.
“How many of those have you had so far?” Claude asks, suspiciously.
“Just one,” Shu chirps.
“Right… Forgot you’re a lightweight.”
“So are you.”
“Yeah, but I’m not drinking tonight.”
Claude has a feeling that Shu already knows this, given the fact that he brought him something non-alcoholic just now, but he doesn’t mention that.
Shu takes a swig of his beer, for emphasis maybe. “So, what are we playing?” he asks, leaning back on his other hand.
In front of them, a couple of their friends have begun constructing a tower of wooden blocks, in a familiar pattern, alternating layers of three. Someone else pours a small arrangement of shots, placing them on the rug near the base of the tower.
“Jenga,” Claude answers. “But each block has a truth or dare and if you don’t want to do it you have to drink.”
“Oh! Sounds fun!”
“It’s alright. Here, I’ll go first.”
Claude looks around the circle to make sure there aren’t any objections, before rising to his knees and scooting closer to the tower. He slides out a block from near the bottom, raising it to his face.
“Do 20 pushups,” he reads with a loud laugh. “Are you kidding me? Who wrote this?”
He stands up to place the block back on top of the tower before completing his ‘dare’ without much fanfare.
They go clockwise after that.
The circle is big enough that by the time Shu’s turn comes around, there are significantly fewer safe blocks to choose from. Claude watches him contemplate his options, before ultimately deciding on a side block, closer to the top. For a second, Claude thinks the game is about to end right there, but after a bit of finagling, it finally comes free.
He’s expecting a celebratory whoop, but instead, Shu falls silent, staring at the piece of wood in shock.
“Shu?” Claude asks. “What does it say?”
Instead of answering him, Shu places the block on the top of the tower, and then immediately reaches for a shot.
The entire circle erupts into chaos, but Claude barely hears it, too focused on watching Shu down the drink less than gracefully. He sputters and coughs at the end, Adam's apple bobbing as he rushes to get it all down his throat.
Wordlessly, Claude offers him the diet coke.
Shu gulps down a few mouthfuls before handing it back with a grimace.
Claude desperately wants to ask what the hell was on that block. It sits at the top of the tower, written side down, taunting him with its secret. The clamor around them has barely died down, and yet, no one seems brave enough to pull the block back off the stack and reveal the mystery. Maybe Shu’s unnerved reaction is making them hesitate. Claude finds himself staring the piece down so hard he almost forgets that it’s his turn now.
He decides to go for one of the last remaining center blocks, about a third of the way up. It slides out easily enough.
“Sit in the lap of the person to your right,” he reads. Claude grins, relieved to have another simple dare. “Easy. Make some room Shubert.”
“Wait, wha—” Shu makes a strangled noise as Claude settles on top of him, letting out another couple coughs.
“If you say I’m heavy, I’ll cry,” Claude jokes.
“I– oh my god…”
He can’t really see Shu’s reactions like this, but Claude has a feeling his hands are covering his face right now.
The game continues.
At some point, Claude gets so used to sitting in Shu’s lap he forgets to ask how long they’re supposed to do this for. He assumes it’ll end when it’s Shu’s turn again, but to his surprise, Shu just wraps an arm around Claude’s waist and scoots forward together. He plays his entire turn with Claude still in his lap, long arms reaching around his shoulders.
Claude can actually feel the sigh of relief Shu lets out when he reads the question off the block. “When was your first kiss? Haven’t had it yet.”
It takes a second for that to register. “Wait, really?” Claude asks, twisting around to look back at him.
“Yeah? Is that surprising?”
“I… I don’t know,” Claude falters, suddenly feeling kind of stupid. This shouldn’t even be something that concerns him. Plenty of people haven’t had their first kiss by college.
His mind wanders back to that initial mystery block.
There are enough rows on the tower now that Claude could pull it again. But does he dare to?
He glances around the circle. Everyone except him has had at least a few drinks by now. They probably won’t notice, right?
Claude gets up from Shu’s lap.
He reaches for the piece he’s been staring at for the past half an hour, heart thumping in his ears. Inch by inch, Claude carefully attempts to free the block from its confines.
But the jittering of his fingers proves to be too much. He can sense it the moment the weight becomes too lopsided, the wooden tower swaying, listing sideways before shattering to pieces in a slow avalanche.
Once again, the circle around them explodes with excited yells.
And Claude, once again, pays them no mind. Because the words scribbled on the little wooden rectangle in his hand read out—
“Who do you have a crush on?”
Claude drops the block like he’s been burnt.
He whips around without thinking, checking to see if anyone has managed to catch what he’s done, and nearly jumps when he finds Shu still exactly where he left him.
Too late, Claude realizes his mistake. One look at Shu’s face lets him know he’s been caught red-handed. Any hope for subtlety dies the second their eyes meet.
Shu doesn’t seem upset, which is a relief, but there’s this look on his face that Claude can’t quite figure out.
Around them, people begin to clean up the fallen jenga blocks. Some of the untouched shot glasses have knocked over and spilled too.
Honestly, poor planning on their part.
And normally Claude would grab some paper towels and help too except—
Shu is still staring at him.
And while he might not be able to read his expression, Claude recognizes the way his face has begun to turn red, all the way to his ears.
“Oh, boy.”
Shu raises an eyebrow at him. “What?”
“Nothing, um, let’s get out of the way though.”
“Oh, right.”
Claude watches anxiously as Shu gets to his feet. They only make it a few steps before he’s grabbing his head in his hands. “Whoa…”
“Shu?”
“Oh god, I think that shot is hitting me now,” he laughs, but there’s an edge of nervousness to it that Claude immediately picks up on.
He steadies Shu with a hand on his arm, keeping his tone light. “Okay, let’s go sit down.”
The couch is thankfully empty now, so Claude pushes Shu onto it by his shoulders, not trusting him to make the journey on his own without stumbling.
Shu makes a confused sound when Claude doesn’t sit down with him.
“I'll be right back,” Claude reassures him. “Gonna get you some water.”
“Mmm, water…” Shu repeats back at him, which Claude takes as an agreement.
When he returns, Shu is no longer sitting on the couch, but instead lying down across it.
The cozy loveseat is too short for his legs though, and his feet dangle over the armrest, swinging back and forth in lazy sways. He grins upside down at Claude when he spots him.
“Hi,” Shu chirps.
“Hi. Sit up,” Claude tells him. “You need to drink this.”
Shu makes a face at him, tongue out, but doesn’t move. So Claude wedges his free hand behind the other man’s back and shoves him into an upright position.
He quickly plops himself onto the newly emptied cushion, and almost spills the water when Shu’s head falls into his lap.
“Dude!” Claude laughs. “Sit up.”
Shu giggles back at him. “But I’m comfyyy~”
As if to emphasize his point, he rubs the back of his head back and forth over Claude’s thighs. Claude tries not to think about what a cat-like motion it is—and fails.
He squeezes his hand beneath Shu’s shoulders again, putting a stop to his wriggling. “You can lie down later. Water first.”
“Fine.”
It takes a noticeable effort, but Shu eventually manages to get all his limbs in order, situated properly on the couch again. His hair is a mess now though, sticking up in weird directions from all his rolling around.
Claude pats it back into place with one hand, the other raising the plastic cup up to Shu’s mouth. “Drink.”
Shu mumbles out something that sounds like a thanks and takes the cup. He downs most of the water in one go, but the rest misses his mouth in his haste.
It drips off his chin onto his shirt, darkening the fabric where it hits.
Shu looks down at himself in despair. “Oh no…”
“It's just water,” Claude says, trying not to laugh at how Shu sounds like a little kid who dropped their ice cream. He looks for something to dab at the drops with and finds nothing but the end of his own sleeve. “It’ll dry.”
He presses his sleeve-covered wrist to Shu’s chest, and startles when he feels how quickly his pulse is beating.
It’s a perfectly normal side-effect to drinking alcohol, but something about feeling it with his own hands has Claude’s face turning red like he’s been drinking too.
Shu doesn’t seem to notice, thank god.
Claude takes the now empty water cup from him, placing it on the coffee table. “Someone who gets tipsy off half a beer should not be doing shots, you know.”
Shu rolls his eyes, but it’s hard to see with how much his lids are drooping. “It was just one…” he whines.
“Did you forget you were on your second beer?” Claude asks, eyes drawn to the lip Shu has now pulled between his teeth.
“M-maybe…”
“Oh my god.”
Shu at least has the decency to look guilty, but he’s started to giggle again, which isn’t really helping his case.
Claude sighs. “Why did you do that anyway? You could have just lied, you know.”
“It's truth or dare not lie or dare.”
“Yeah, but come on! It’s not like we strapped a lie detector to you! You could have just said you didn’t have a crush on anyone. No one would have questioned it.”
Shu’s mouth pulls tight. He's not laughing anymore.
And okay, maybe Claude shouldn’t be pressing this while he’s drunk.
The silence reminds him of what got them here in the first place—the newly revealed information that Shu of all people has a crush on someone. And was so determined to not tell anyone that he drank a whole shot of vodka.
“I didn't even know you got crushes,” Claude admits, quieter now, half to himself.
But even drunk, Shu hears him over the din of the party around them. He shoves Claude’s shoulder. “Oh, come on, I'm not a robot.”
“I’m serious!”
“First you were surprised I hadn't kissed anyone, but now you’re surprised I get crushes? Pick a side, Clawmark.”
He says it with a smile, but Claude can admit Shu has a point. He’s just glad Shu didn’t call him out for taking so much interest in either of these topics in the first place. Even Claude is still trying to figure out why he cares so much.
He could say it’s just because they’ve known each other for so long that it’s not often he discovers something new about the other. But Claude has a feeling this is more than just that.
He’s pulled out of his thoughts by Shu letting out a loud sigh, head lolling backwards on the couch. “I’m drunk,” he says to the ceiling.
“Yeah,” Claude agrees. “You are. It’s okay though, we just gotta let it work through your system.”
Shu’s next words are slurred so badly, Claude can barely make them out. But he thinks it’s something like, “Heck yeah, liver activate.”
“What is this? A sentai move?” he teases.
Shu laughs instead of answering. His arms hang limply at his sides, but his fingers have begun to fiddle with a loose thread on Claude’s pants.
Claude keeps his eyes on Shu’s hands, because looking at his flushed face right now makes him feel too many things, confusing things.
It's been a while since the last time he saw Shu this many drinks in. Claude had forgotten how his voice gets higher when he’s drunk, less rumble and more rasp. He’s already starting to list to the side again, like his body is allergic to staying vertical.
Another silence passes. Both of them seem to know what’s coming next, so Claude doesn’t really feel too bad when he opens his mouth to ask the question currently burning his tongue.
“Who is it anyway?”
“Huh?”
“Who do you have a crush on?”
Shu bursts into laughter. “You think I'm gonna tell you that?”
“Well, yeah! I told you all of mine! Even the embarrassing ones.”
“Sorry, but no.”
“It can’t possibly be worse than Ms. Johnson,” Claude says, an attempt to lighten the tension he can feel creeping up on them again.
He’s expecting to at least get a laugh, maybe another lazy eye-roll, but instead Shu falls silent.
He stares at Claude for a very long time, drunken gaze going in and out of focus like a lazy camera lens.
They’re close enough on the couch that Claude can hear him gulp.
“I think it might be,” Shu whispers eventually.
“Oh.”
Claude doesn’t know what to say to that. What could possibly be worse than having a crush on your English teacher? He tries his best to think, but his mind returns empty handed.
But what’s really bothering him is how serious Shu looks right now, remorseful almost.
Alcohol usually makes him giggly and giddy, loose and carefree in a way that anyone would find endearing. Seeing his mouth so flat right now feels wrong.
Before Claude can think about it more, Shu speaks again.
“Hey.”
“Yeah?” Claude prompts when he doesn’t continue.
“I um—” Shu cuts off into a hiccup. “I need to use the restroom…”
“Okay?”
“Do you know where it is?”
“Oh!” Claude springs to his feet. “Yeah, of course! I'll take you.”
Shu attempts to follow, but his eyes bulge out of his head when he stands. “Ohhh,” he groans.
Claude’s hands instinctively reach out to steady him. “You alright?”
“I thought I was sobering up but never mind.”
He says it so animatedly, Claude can’t help but laugh.
They find the downstairs bathroom occupied, so Claude guides Shu up the stairs and into a bedroom en suite.
The din of the party below muffles when Claude closes the door behind them.
He waits by the bed while Shu goes about his business, and tries not to overthink.
Claude doesn’t know why his mind refuses to be normal about all this.
He almost wishes he were drinking tonight. Maybe then these thoughts would stop racing around his head.
Shu returns after a short while, leaning heavily on the doorframe, but looking slightly more lucid.
“Feeling better?” Claude asks.
“Yeah, I think—” Shu stops to clear his throat. “I think so.” That odd expression from earlier is back on his face, this time accompanied by a furrow between his brows.
Before Claude can ask if something is wrong, he speaks again, barely above a whisper. “Do you… really wanna know? Who it is?”
Oh.
That.
Claude had already accepted that he wasn’t going to find out tonight.
Had already decided to let it go, to let Shu tell him when he was ready.
He just hadn’t expected it to come this soon.
Claude finds himself suddenly scared to say yes. Even though he was practically begging to know earlier. Now that the offer is real, it feels like maybe, he might not be ready for it.
“I’ll tell you,” Shu adds, “if you promise not to make fun of me.”
He’s staring right into Claude’s eyes as he says it, gaze far too intense for someone who can barely walk straight. It’s like he’s trying to beam the answer directly into Claude’s brain.
But of course, Claude is not a mind reader.
So he whispers with a nod, “I promise.”
He’s not sure what he’s expecting Shu to say, something earth shattering or life changing maybe, considering how serious he’d been about this earlier.
But Claude is expecting him to say something. To give him an answer. A name.
He’s not expecting him to stumble forward, closing the distance between the two of them in three long strides.
And he definitely isn’t expecting Shu to grab his face with both hands and drag him into a messy kiss.
Messy for multiple reasons, but mostly because his aim is slightly off.
So Claude helps him out, tilting his chin until their lips slot neatly together.
The result is electric.
Clumsy as Shu is in this state, something about it has Claude’s knees feeling weak.
Drunk Shu is a lot more forward than Claude is used to, guided by a brazen enthusiasm. One of his hands wraps around Claude's waist, hauling him closer. The other cups Claude’s face still, palm warm and grounding.
Claude doesn’t really drink, has always hated the taste of alcohol when it wasn’t drowned in so many layers of sweetness to become undetectable.
But he thinks he might not mind the burn so much coming off Shu’s tongue.
It's when Shu’s hands move to his chest and begin to squeeze that Claude finally puts some distance between them.
Shu almost doesn’t let him, lips chasing Claude’s as he pulls back.
“Shu, Shu, Shu,” he huffs. “Let’s slow down.”
Shu beams at him like he’s just happy to hear Claude calling his name. Giggles spill from his lips as he catches his breath.
The smile remains even as Claude takes each of Shu’s hands in his own, gently lowering them away from his front.
“Sorry, I should have asked first,” Shu slurs out.
He doesn’t sound particularly sorry.
But Claude can’t find it in himself to scold him for it either. Not when Shu’s looking at him with stars in his eyes.
And then, Claude realizes something.
The shock must show on his face because Shu tilts his head. “What?”
Claude continues to stare in disbelief. He drops Shu’s hands, fingers flying up to hover over his tingling lips. “That was your first kiss,” he says, feeling like an idiot.
“Oh yeah… I guess it was. Sorry, could you tell?”
“I— I— Oh my god,” Claude stammers, struggling to find his words. He can’t believe he’s the sober one right now. He wants to bury his face in his hands completely to hide how much he’s blushing, but he knows he’ll never hear the end of it from Shu if he does.
It takes him some time, but when Claude finally finds his composure, all he can manage to say is, “I think it’s time for us to go home now.”
“Yeah,” Shu sighs. “Yeah, I think so too.”
Halfway through the walk back to their dorm, Claude somehow ends up carrying Shu on his back.
The nose pressed to the nape of his neck puffs warm and steady air across Claude’s skin, raising goosebumps under the brisk night air.
It’s as those breaths even out and slow down, Shu finally falling victim to unconsciousness, that Claude realizes—
He may have a crush too.