Chapter Text
His mom has no idea she’s just given Jerome the best news he’s heard all week.
Ample time to get on Jinn’s nerves – the perfect excuse to be all up in his space – Jinn’s burning brown eyes focused on him as he glares at Jerome, that snarl he’s so familiar with curling his lips.
Jerome can’t even bring himself to care that he doesn’t know how to dance and will definitely make a fool of himself in front of Jinn.
So what if Jinn’s been dancing all his life? He’ll still be the same flustered, brightly blushing Jinn he’s always been.
Staring at him with suspicion as he enthusiastically nods at her demand he take dance classes from Jinn, his mother points an accusatory pair of chopsticks his way. “Be nice, Jerome.”
“I always am,” he replies, grinning and stuffing the last pieces of meat into his mouth before she can pinch his ears.
“Where are you going?” his dad asks as he practically sprints away from the dinner table and towards the bathroom.
“Meeting the guys,” Jerome explains, toothbrush hanging off one side of his mouth and fighting to put on the chain he wears nearly everyday around his neck, all at the same time. “No racetracks or anything that could get me killed,” he adds before either of his parents can berate him for it. “Unless you count Jinn trying to poison me at the bar.”
On the receiving end of his mother’s unfazed glower, Jerome only laughs, finishing getting ready before heading to the door.
“Don’t come home too late,” his dad warns.
“And don’t forget about the dance lesson!” his mother advises.
“I won’t!” Jerome responds equally, leaving the house in a rush.
Today must be his lucky day, he thinks, because as soon as he toes on his shoes at the doorway, Jinn appears on the other side of the street, his usual I wish you get run over by a truck expression making Jerome all kinds of giddy.
Carelessly, he walks to the gate, watching in delight as each step closer only makes Jinn look more like a pissed off little kitten, the inches Jerome has gained over him in the last few years merely working in making him resemble a tiny ball of concentrated anger.
“Fuck off,” Jinn says as soon as they’re standing only a couple feet apart, scowl and crossed arms included.
Jerome chuckles, amused, head shaking. “Good night to you too, Jinn.”
“Never a good night when I have to see your ugly face,” Jinn scoffs, fringe falling over his eyes. His fingers tap restlessly against his thigh, like he’s just itching for a cigarette – or to land a punch on Jerome’s cheek, whichever he can get to first.
“Shouldn’t you be happy?” Jerome smirks as Jinn’s brows furrow. “You’ll get to see it even more when you dance with me.”
Jinn’s unimpressed laugh is as familiar as the redness of his cheeks, always furiously blushing with ire. “As if that’d make me happy.”
“Why?” Diminishing the distance between them, Jerome feels something do somersaults in his gut, the same as each time he tries to get under Jinn’s skin. “Afraid that I’m a better dancer than you?”
Sparks ignite in Jinn’s eyes, brown irises alight with fury, and Jerome can sense the thrill of getting a reaction out of him run through his veins.
Fingers tug harshly at his collar, with enough force that he knows it’ll be irremediably stretched, but Jerome doesn’t really care, not when he’s got Jinn right where he wants him.
“Are you trying to make me mad?” Jinn says in a low tone, well versed after years on how to not catch their parents’ attention when brawling in the driveway.
It’s a rhetorical question, of course – Jerome’s favourite pastime since they both learned how to talk has been bothering Jinn, the way he gets fired up like a supernova fuelling Jerome.
So Jerome doesn’t reply, no words he can say more effecting in sending Jinn off than just standing there, shrugging as the sound of Farm’s car approaching cuts through the night.
Van’s voice rights out as he waves from the passenger seat. “Hey, you two! Save the fighting for another day and get in!”
Jinn’s gaze stays on him, just as Jerome expects it to, grasp on his shirt tightening and bringing them nearly nose to nose. “Tomorrow, 3PM, Faculty of Performing Arts practice room,” he utters. “If you’re even a little bit late, I’m gonna tell your mom you’re the one who set fire to the school bathroom.”
Pushing Jerome with enough strength to have him stumbling to catch his footing, Jinn struts away, not a single glance back Jerome's way, but two can play this game, as they've found out time and time again.
“I didn’t do that alone, remember?” he shouts after Jinn’s retreating form, earning himself a pair of raised middle fingers he only laughs at, running after Jinn to catch him by the wrist.
That makes Jinn falter in his steps, just long enough that Jerome finds a weak spot in his stance and twirls him around like they’re waltzing, ungraceful and almost sending him to the ground, cackling to himself as he manages to get into the back of the car first, watching as Jinn makes it a point to round the car and seat on Mai’s other side, the biggest scowl Jerome’s ever seen him sport contorting his expression.
“Do you ever get tired of being an asshole?” he retorts, Mai already covering his ears before they’ve even begun the journey to the club.
“Do you ever get tired of losing?” Jerome quips back, sticking out his tongue.
“I’m gonna show you who the real loser is,” Jinn grumbles, arms crossed over his chest.
Another completely normal start of a night out with them.