Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The vulgar boy has soft lips. How Ren knows this is difficult to explain. Mainly because any attempt to think about it starts with holy and ends with shit.

Sakamoto is a lot less aggressive than Ren thought he would be. His back hasn't been pushed into the alley wall and their skulls haven't bonked awkwardly once. Even the gripping and grasping have been relatively tame compared to the idea of scorching palms wrenching at clothes and the limbs trapped within them.

What he feels is this: a single hand, trembling, cupping the back of his head while its twin braces Sakamoto's body and strength against the wall. It's deliciously hot. Ren would like more, please. It feels good to be rewriting what happened to them. What nearly happened to them. Everything in that cell is a blur, but he remembers Sakamoto held aloft, blade at his neck.

Sakamoto taps at his shoulders. Ren snaps their lips apart and distance—cold, horrible, how did he survive before this—wedges between their chests and tightened pants. His lungs violently remind him that he has to breathe. He gasps and gapes like an unflattering fish, but Sakamoto doesn't look nearly as breathless. Ren looks down (Oh! He's taller than Sakamoto! Nice!).

Holy shit, Sakamoto has thighs.

And lips. Kissable, bruised and plump lips that go so gently under teeth. Sakamoto gathers his voice, all half-lidded and rough, "W-We should talk about this, dude."

Ren agrees. Talking sounds very adult and smart. He should talk about how they should kiss more. Ren opens his mouth, "I like you too."

He smiles, like he's done something.

"T-That's—!" Sakamoto hurdles over rosy pink and simply turns red. He slaps Ren's shoulder and forgets to take his hand back. "That was my first kiss, asshole! I want to talk about it! It's important!"

Pause.

"So you do like this."

"That's what you take away from all that!?"

Ren lays his lips against the corner of Sakamoto's lips. If he misses the corner for the full front door, well, who can say? It's sweet either way and Sakamoto positively melts at the tease. The words come easily, beckoned by want. "Talking is good," Ren nods, solemn. "Kissing is better. I like kissing. I really like kissing you. Can we…?"

Under his breath, Sakamoto mutters something to the effect of, "How the 'eff did we end up here?"

Ren would mention the perverted castle and the naked demon teacher that would have killed him had Sakamoto not decided to fall on the sword and provoke Ren into awakening his inner power. He would mention the adrenaline, the wide-eyed looks they gave each other as they dropped back into the real world and immediately ran for the nearest pocket of privacy with three people scooting awkwardly around their entwined bodies.

He would mention all that, but Sakamoto's shoulders are raised nearly to his ears. One wrong word could send him up, up and away from Ren's life. 

He doesn't want that.

He really doesn't want that.

Ren scoots off the part of him that likes to act first and act always (a dark laugh inside his head), taking a moment to truly think about what they're doing here.

Except.

Sakamoto kissed him like he was worth protecting ("Just go! Get outta here!"). Ren doesn't know a whole lot of what affection looks like, but he knows what it means to keep something safe and soft and sacred.

Thinking doesn't work out very well. He should start small.

"Did you like kissing me?"

Sakamoto looks askance. "I like kissin'," he says.

"I thought I was your first. What else do you have to compare me to?"

"Asshole," bites Sakamoto. Metaphorically, to Ren's disappointment. Still, he's smiling. Nothing ear-to-ear, but it's beautiful all the same. He's stopped shaking as much, fear waxing into something more honest. "I always liked the idea of it, ya know? People seemed to be having fun in the movies. Getting all close, the dramatic lighting and the works. I-It…It was pretty nice. Your whole…lips n' shit."

Adorable. "Do you want to keep kissing me?"

Sakamoto buries his head into Ren's collarbone. It has an intimate effect of interring the sensation of hot boy breath against the weave of his school shirt into Ren's long-term memory.

Worse is the way Sakamoto mumbles Yes, sound travelling the short distance straight through fabric to buzz directly on his skin.

"It was good?"

"Y-Yeah."

"How good?"

A soft fist against his shoulder. The white-knuckled kind, vibrating with restrained force. He doesn't touch anywhere the guards had brutalised. 

"Okay," Ren breathes. "Okay." He runs a hand down Sakamoto's back in hopes of collecting the growing anxiety he can feel fraying the other boy's confidence. Kindness does not come easily, but he can figure it out for this. For him. "How about this: I want to keep kissing, you want to keep kissing. That…that's good, right? We stop the moment it stops being good. Deal?"

This close, Sakamoto's eyes are so loud. They tell Ren everything he needs to know. All the nerve, the pluck and burgeoning something that even Ren doesn't want to examine too closely. Not yet. He can work with everything else.

Ren leads with a hand wrapping around the cheek Kamoshida had punched only moments prior. Sakamoto's breath hitches. He does not pull away. He leans into Ren's palm, allowing, asking, and anticipating. Brown eyes disappear under fluttering lashes.

Sakamoto leans in first and—and—

Fuck. It's so much. The crush of mouth and spit and Sakamoto's little noises. Parcels of desire bubbling against his lips, sloppy and wet and full of fire without any of the smoke. They keep being gentle. Bodies electrified by their restraint and mutual, reflective desires not to royally screw this up. Ren does not let go. Neither does Sakamoto. They take their time until they're satisfied, lungs full of each other's breath.

They're horrifically late to school.

Chapter Text

Problem.

The kissing does not stop being good.

It actually gets better? The difference between Ren saying Ryuji versus the slurred Sakamoto from that first day should really be studied by a person who is not him because 1) Ryuji hates studying, and 2) he's too busy being a part of a different scientific endeavour.

Namely, what can Ryuji get away with if he asks Ren with his legs wrapped around Ren's waist and his thighs flexing in this very specific way?

The limits have yet to be fully explored. Much to consider.

(There's only so many sodas he can ask for before even he cottons onto the fact that the thing he wants most is to stay exactly where he is, exactly how they are.)

Ren bonks their heads together. "Your head is so loud."

"S'all hollow up there," Ryuji mumbles against Ren's lips. They're so close. Practically swapping CO2 or whatever the fuck. "Didja hear that echo?"

'Grinning' doesn't hold a candle to how downright devious Ren looks. "It was a little quiet from all the way out here." The extremely hot boy presses closer. "Think I'm gonna need to hear it again."

Ryuji laughs. Well, he tries for something charming and ends up wheezing like a dork, chest filling with light every time it presses up that small distance right into Ren's shirt. "Not a chance you're kissin' me again. My lips are still tingly because ya got all excited."

Hot air across his nostrils. "It was good, though?"

"Yeah," Ryuji breathes. "Pretty bangin'." His eyes slip closed, and Ren groans into his mouth, pleased and warm and so, so fucking close to being enough.

The evening dissolves like sugar spun into coffee. He doesn't even complain when his lips melt right off of him. Numbed by Ren's touch, buzzing with a lingering affection.

—·—

It's not like they spend all their time kissing. There's the important stuff. The Metaverse, Kamo-shitbag and Ann. Shiho. It kinda fucks with him how much his life has changed in the past two weeks.

His ma doesn't let him have a moment of peace over it.

It's in her smile. Tired, faint, but his guiding star on a windless night. He kisses her on the cheek as he heads out. Two ships passing by, her lumbering in after a long shift and him practically leapfrogging out the door with breakfast hanging out of his mouth. He didn't even have time to toast it. It's just bread.

(Bread-breath ain't the worst thing in the world, is it? Maybe he should test it out…)

"I'll be home late!" he tells her, "Dinner's in the fridge. Eat it before you take a shower so you don't forget."

"You know, you can always bring your boy over. I'd like to see my son more often and I don't mind if my little 'Yuji is now part of a set."

"Ma!"

She chuckles, shouting after his blushing head. "Just think about it!"

Ryuji will absolutely not do that, thank you very much. There's no need to fantasize about Ren standing on their beat-up tatami mat floors and smiling as he sits down to chat with Ma while Ryuji tosses something together in the kitchen.

Ren's got better things to do.

Speaking of—Ren glances up from his phone and shoves it deep into his pocket the second Ryuji comes within audible distance. The sun does the stupid thing of glancing off his glasses to obscure his soul, but Ren fixes that real quick by leaning forward and a little bit down.

He smiles.

Ryuji kisses it right off, taking the fond little quirk with him as he spins around to drag Ren away from the station.

Hand-in-hand, of course. Boldly, Ren introduces them to a little interlocking-finger action. Ryuji blushes.

A thought he's had before: does this make him gay?

Ryuji has no fucking clue and no desire to find out. He doesn't know why he leaned in to kiss Ren (and it was him who leaned in first! Don't be fooled, it's all Ryuji's fault!) that fated day, but—

Actually. That's a lie.

Ren saved him. Ren saved him. Before rebellion, before Arsène, it was Ren, body moving before his mind could catch up and hands yanking desperately at the knight's elbow.

Who the hell wouldn't fall in love with that?

(Run, Ryuji thought, scared out of his mind. You need to survive. If my death's worth your life, that ain't a bad trade. Just go! Get outta here—)

"Where are you taking me?" Ren, beautiful and kind. Eyes the colour of starstruck flint just on the edge of an ember.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Ryuji would also like to know, but cool kids don't admit shit like that. He picks a direction and goes, Ren right beside him like it's the most natural thing in the world.

They swing their arms back and forth. Real cutesy. They beeline every single pole they can see, playing a game of chicken to see who'll let go before impact.

Their arms are so fucking sore, but their hands? Solid. Unbreakable. Maybe they should invest in some red and yellow gloves to keep the magic alive after Kamoshida's Palace.

(He doesn't want to stop. Being a thief, being Ren's—)

Anything truly goes. The first vaguely interesting streaks across their sight, and they're off. Ryuji leads them on with a confidence that doesn't suit him. Lots of manga, video games and hundred yen store gems to rifle through and shoot the shit with Ren about.

Nothing particularly catches Ryuji's eyes, so he's happy to hang back while Ren inspects store shelves. It's a lot to take in. Without the school and Metaverse forcing him into inoffensiveness or bombast, Ren is different. Stripped down—not the sexy kind, but also not not that.

Ren's got the sort of look he's seen on Shiho during casual volleyball matches back when they were friends. His inner arms throb with the phantom ache from catching her serves, but Ryuji remembers the lead-up to them better.

The tiny rituals. Three bounces low to the ground and a smooth draw back to position. A slap on the top of the ball. Orienting it to the right about ninety degrees and capping it off with a deep breath. Her eyes were always cold, face absolutely wiped of any mercy. She always smiled right before she tossed up the ball. A little wild, a little too pleased to knock you flat on your ass.

Just like the look Ren's giving the memorabilia in front of him. Like he's going to filch this city for all it's worth. Ryuji so badly wants to help him do it. Hell, he'll just straight up give whatever Ren desires if he only had a few priceless diamonds in his possession.

They don't stay long anywhere. They're too broke to buy anything, but they have fun. Ren laughs three (three!) separate times. Everyone is leery of the two delinquent boys strolling about with a bit too much boredom between them. More than one gives them boot based on Ryuji's hair alone, but it doesn't hurt as much now.

Because every time Ren turns to look at him with that unfair smile and fluttery eyes. Asks, "Where to next, Ryuji?"

Love is a difficult word for Ryuji to swallow.

He's not good at it. Everything he does dare to treasure either gets ripped from him or they fade away on their own. He hates that death more. The long pauses between messages until even their ghost has stopped haunting him and he's left in the aftermath, a little bit less, a lot more empty.

It scares him that he wants to try this anyway. He wants to run, but he can't do that anymore. Because Ren's right here and somehow, Ren needs him. It doesn't matter for how long—it's not like Ryuji has a future anyway.

"M'kinda hungry," Ryuji says, voice low enough to devour. "You?" His eyes flick to Ren's lips. Ren takes it as the invitation it is and leads them away to make good on the heat that has built between their sweaty palms, world falling away until there's nothing left but touch and taste.

They do get ramen. Eventually.

—·—

"So," Ann says, leading and long in a way Ryuji thinks is supposed to be clever. Her grin widens to be level with Ren's cat-and-cream smirks.

"The hell are you doing?"

Ann's response to that is to nudge closer, arm around his neck and hooking him into her space. Her knuckles scrub violently against the top of his head.

"You and Ren, huh?"

"You're already dining on my wallet," Ryuji grouses, tapping at her arm. She gives a final squeeze before letting him free. "You forfeited your right to get on my case about 'nything."

"Not even denying it." Ann twirls the end of a twin-tail, glancing outside to watch the crowd mumbling past just through the glass. "Last time you were on the dating scene, you turned red from denying it up and down to anyone who had ears to listen."

"Dating someone with cooties wasn't cool," he flushes, poking at the sugary drink that he's had three sips of. "I was twelve."

Ann slaps the table. "So was I! You weren't nearly as cute back then as you are now. I feel scammed." Blue eyes on the prize, tracking the condensation dripping down the cup. "I put up with your shit for a whole three months and you still owe me, buster."

She makes her move.

Thank you, Ma, for giving him freakishly long arms. Easy enough to play keep-away, holding the melting milkshake just out of Ann's reach. Just because he doesn't want to finish it doesn't mean he's okay with Ann finishing it. If she wanted more, she should have ordered two—on her own dime, too. He only agreed to cover the one and these things are expensive.

He's getting his money's worth even if he hates it.

After finishing the last of his shake, Ann licks the bits of cream still clinging to his straw. "I'll break his hands if he hurts you."

"What."

Ann palms his scalp and forces him to look at her. "I said I'll break his hands if he hurts you."

Ryuji balks, glancing for a way out. Fuck his self from twenty minutes ago for choosing the window seat because Ann loves sitting by the window. "Don't, uh, do that, holy shit." He wouldn't wish a broken bone on his worst enemy and Ren kind of needs his hands. They're too important. The fate of the world could rest in them and Ryuji wouldn't even blink at the very thought. "Why're ya going to war about this? It's fine."

"You met him two weeks ago, Ryuji," Ann says dryly. She nudges his shoulder with her own. It's supposed to be comforting, but all Ryuji feels is weary. Suddenly, this conversation is important.

What he says next is going to matter a lot.

"So did you." Ann's expression doesn't change; it just deepens. The planes of her face all of a sudden sharp and shadowed. Panther's fury underlines her unhappy mouth.

"You don't think it's going too fast?"

He did, once. Had a panic about it just after he tossed and turned the whole night, replaying the dark halls of Kamoshida's castle and the screams over and over. And then Ren linked their pinkies while they were sitting next to each other in Ore no Beko and Ryuji immediately thought that was a load of crap.

Because so what if it's going too fast? So what if he can crash and burn this ship faster than Joker can tear a Shadow's mask off?

Pop quiz: What is Ryuji really good at?

"Is that so bad?" Ryuji blurts out, committing to digging his grave. He scratches the back of his neck, trying not to feel like his entire skin-suit wants to vibrate off his bones. "I mean, even if," if, he says, because Ren gave him back hope, "—it turns awful, he's worth that. I can live with a Ren-shaped hole in me 'cause at least then, he'll still be with me."

Ren's a risk he isn't afraid of taking.

(If you answered: getting hurt, you win a prize!)

For a long time, Ann is quiet. He's never seen her fight for someone who wasn't Shiho before. Maybe she was just as lonely as he was. A little less so, now, with two idiots to hold her hands while they wait for news on Shiho's condition.

Ann deflates, throwing herself into his side all warm-bodied and pokey. "I'll break one finger," Ann decides. "Ren can keep the rest."

"Don't break any of 'em!" Ryuji shouts, crunching in on himself when Ann—and several other patrons—give him the shut up look. He hisses, "I like his fingers!"

"What," Ann teases, grabbing a cheek and pulling, "—they taste nice, or something?"

Don't think about it.

Her eyes widen. "Oh my god, Ryuji!" She shrieks, just as loud. At least two people glare. Hell yeah, some equality. "I'm happy for you, but ew ew ew!"

"We haven't—" Ryuji blushes. He shakes his head and gets up, Ann's body-block be damned. "I'm going home! I don't have to listen to this!"

"Use, uh, protection!"

Ryuji opens his mouth and screams.