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Subaru was growing restless.
By now, Kurama knew all the signs, such as the way gloved fingers would tap at the edge of the table as he waited for Kurama’s next move. How those curious eyes, glowing almost golden in the afternoon light, rivaling the shine of Kurama’s own resin dice, would glance about the board before resting on Kurama’s face.
Last but not the least was the way the light in those honeyed eyes slowly dying after each consecutive loss.
“Hmm…” Kurama placed a hand to his mouth.
As the god of gales, there was an inherent power imbalance between him and any mere mortal. Subaru was anything but ordinary. Earth Dancer status aside, he was too stubborn, too outspoken, too brilliant to ever be subject to Kurama’s whims like a leaf tossed by the errant winds.
Doubtless, Subaru enjoyed playing these games (not as much as Kurama himself, obviously.) But perhaps the monotony of repetition grated at his soul? Or maybe he was feeling ill? Or—
“Is something the matter, Kurama?” the question was voiced innocently, after a few long minutes of silent purgatory.
He folded his arms over his chest, reading into every inch of the gentle smile resting on Subaru’s lips. “Windsong, are you enjoying yourself?”
“Of course! Why do you ask, Lovebird?” Kurama felt like an insect trapped in that wide amber-resin gaze.
“Well…” Kurama rubbed the back of his neck. “You seemed a little… listless. I knew you could not be coerced into doing anything, so I wondered if you were simply tired or I was not acting as an engaging opponent or attentive partner.”
Subaru stood up so fast that he nearly toppled the pieces on the board. All too used to a certain oni’s shenanigans, Kurama instinctively held them upright. “Kurama, how could you say that? You know I love spending time with you, I’m just…”
“Yes? Just what?" It was Kurama’s turn for his fingers to drum against his sleeve, anxiety fuelling the restless rhythm.
A lovely pink blush settled over Subaru’s cheeks. “I was a little distracted.”
Kurama’s brows inched skyward. “By what, pray tell?”
“By how cute you are when you concentrate, of course.”
“You jest.” Heat crept up his own cheeks. Irritably, he pulled out his fan and summoned a light gust to the flames building on his cheeks.
“Nope. I do enjoy playing with you, Lovebird. I just can’t seem to win when I’m too busy staring at your face.”
“Tch!” Kurama folded up his fan and pointed it at the Earth Dancer. “Do try to concentrate and give it your all. Just because we are… involved does not give you the excuse to slack off.”
A lilting laugh escaped Subaru’s lips, floating in the air between them. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
At the end of their pai sho match, however, Kurama was thoroughly and utterly distracted each time the Earth Dancer’s fingers brushed his as he moved a piece across the board or the warmth of his thigh as he pressed close. Even when Kurama asked Subaru to sit across the table (when had he even gotten so close?), Kurama's normally shrewd attention would falter as his mind got caught in the way Subaru would bite his bottom lip in concentration.
Instead of reaching for victory, his fingers reached up and brushed stray strands of brown hair away from Subaru’s face.
“Thanks.” The smile that greeted Kurama was brighter than any YOU WON loading screen.
Still, none of this meant that Kurama went easy on him. The highest form of respect was to give it your all against your opponent, which is why, when Subaru claimed the final piece that cinched his win, Kurama could only feel pride.
“Congratulations.” He was impressed by the Earth Dancer’s sheer resilience and adaptability. The more they played, the more Subaru was able to quickly anticipate his moves. Despite multitudes of years developing different stratagems, Kurama could foresee that a war of attrition would not be in his favor.
“Thank you for the great game.”
There seemed to be something at the tip of Subaru’s tongue, held back by the warm glow of satisfaction and not wanting to be a sore winner.
“Out with it.”
“Huh?”
“You were going to say something?”
Kurama was prepared for him to gloat, to call him names, to eat the pieces in a bloodrushed frenzy. What he didn’t expect was:
“Can I get a kiss?”
“Wh… what?”
“You know. As my prize for finally defeating you.”
A sigh leaves Kurama’s lips. “You are aware that you do not need to best me in competitions to ask that, yes?”
“Yeah, but it’s fun this way. I had a great time, no matter who won.”
“Liar.” But Kurama’s words were as soft as a gentle breeze tickling one’s cheeks. He sat next to Subaru (how had they gotten so far apart?) and, while looking away, planted a chaste kiss onto his cheek.
Or at least, that was the intent until Subaru turned his head.
They met in the briest brush of the lips, featherlight. All the same, the soft warmth of Subaru’s smile pressed against his mouth sent lightning strikes of sensation through Kurama, as though Subaru’s affection was a storm of its own, and Kurama was as helpless as a leaf shaking in the wake of his adoration.
Though Subaru had pulled back, Kurama was seized by the sudden, inexplicable urge to chase his lips and be swept up in the galeforce of his passion, heedless of propriety or even of the human need for air itself–
“EW! This is the shittest prize ever,” crowed the very unwelcome oni who had very rudely opened the door to Kurama’s house.
Kurama very nearly yeeted him into the skies of Azuma.
Instead, he remembered his breathing techniques as Subaru asked, “Aw, Kai! Are you jealous? Do you want us to kiss you too?”
Kai spluttered uselessly, “WHAT!? N-no! Why would the god of the underworld want that? Sure, it looked nice–for a bunch of nerds, but–”
Kurama tuned out Kai’s incessant yammering. He lifted his fingers to his lips, still warm. Although he’s technically suffered a loss, it somehow felt like a priceless victory.