Chapter Text
What the hell am I doing here?
That’s what Rin thinks when he looks at his surroundings: obnoxious laughs and drunk football players milling around him while he sits in silence by himself.
He’s at a restaurant with the rest of the Blue Lock facility, celebrating the end of the NEL by finally leaving the confines of the football prison. If he had a choice in the matter, he would have rather stayed behind to practice more.
But Ego insisted, refusing to let him linger in his sanctioned room, so now he’s watching Shidou, Karasu, and Chigiri play beer pong on top of some empty table. It’s a good thing Ego rented the place out for the occasion, because the noise level is aggravatingly high, and any sane person would complain immediately.
But Rin’s complaints went unheard a long time ago now. So he’s seated at the far side of the Blue Lock table, nestled into the farthest corner of the booth with his phone in hand, scrolling some social media page aimlessly.
Someone screeches, and he looks up instinctively to see Otoya and Hiori pointing and laughing at the beer pong players, insulting the devastating loss of Karasu. He bites back the urge to shout an irritated shut up, knowing it would make no difference when everyone’s halfway wasted.
They’re not technically supposed to have alcohol, as Ego had explicitly forbidden it—but the older players were of age and managed to acquire enough from the restaurant’s bar to intoxicate nearly every person present.
Not Rin, of course. He would never taint his body for some useless social gathering.
Annoyed, he presses further into the booth, even though he’s already as far from everyone else as he can be. This is really the worst, did Ego really have to force him to come? It’s not like he’s going to talk to anyone. They’re all—
“Lukewarm,” a new voice teases mockingly, accompanied by the soft give of the booth as someone takes a seat beside him. Too close.
He snaps his head to the side, ready to berate whoever decided to take their chances against a very upset and very intolerant Rin.
Deep blue eyes, sparkling in the light of the overhead fixture, meet his own as he stares openly at the newcomer. Isagi. It’s weird to see him outside of a Blue Lock jersey; he’s got a button-up shirt on, a few notches open to let his chest breathe, with khakis and sneakers. It’s a typical outfit, definitely.
So why does it look so good on him? Isagi, with his soft black hair falling just below his chin, rumpled from whatever escapades he’s partaken in tonight, and a soft, healthy flush painting his cheeks delicately.
He looks like his inhibitions are gone, somehow. It’s not something anyone else would notice, but Rin does. Rin notices everything, especially when it comes to his number one rival. Surely Isagi didn’t have anything to drink, right? That would be so dumb, when he’s prioritized progress so fiercely.
Rin cuts his own thoughts off when he realizes he hasn’t snapped anything rude yet. Huh.
“What the fuck are you doing?” He glowers, scooching back minutely just to be matched by Isagi moving forward, too.
The man in question completely ignores him, blind to the simmering frustration that’s certainly evident in Rin’s face and in the way his muscles are beyond tense.
“You’re so lukewarm! Come hang out with us! I know you’re a sour, prickly recluse, but who knows when we’ll have another chance to have fun like this?”
Isagi finishes with a pout, the flutter of his eyelashes placing the final nail in the coffin that yep, he’s definitely tipsy.
Ugh, this is so annoying.
This time, Rin punctuates his irritation with a small shove, pushing Isagi back with ease before huffing out another complaint.
“I don’t give a fuck about that. I said, what the fuck are you doing?”
And Isagi just looks at him like Rin is the dumbest person ever. Can you believe that? He looks at him, with bright eyes and a childish expression of petulance, looking up through long, wispy lashes to stare at Rin and—
Woah. He must be feeling the atmosphere, despite having nothing to drink himself. Yep, it’s the only explanation for his brain perceiving fucking Isagi Yoichi as attractive. Maybe his dinner isn’t sitting right with him.
“You don’t have to be so grumpy all the time. You’re the only one who’s all alone here. I thought you looked sad, so I came to keep you company, and this is how you treat me?” His words are typical, but gone is the true fire that’s normally there, that warns Rin of imminent danger when they talk.
No, Isagi’s not joking right now. He really means what he’s saying (or, as much as he can in this state).
And after yet another attempt to get Isagi to back up, Rin switches it up. It’s clear that this idiot can’t get a thought through his brain right now, so Rin will just have to make him.
Strong, slender fingers find their way into the front of Isagi’s dumb button-up, scrunching up the fabric as he yanks the older boy towards him to…what was he doing again? Right. To intimidate him so that he leaves.
He tries to think of something harsh to say—that’s never been a problem for him. But suddenly, the rage drains from his body and he just scoffs condescendingly instead. Before he can even think to say something, though, Isagi’s already opened his mouth to spout off some new bullshit.
“Careful, Mr. Itoshi. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re trying to make a move, not make an attack!” The words come playfully, which is not what Rin was expecting since he just made an aggressive gesture. What—
Oh. Before Isagi can say anything else, Rin’s eyes flit down, capturing what he’s saying in a millisecond. This position is definitely compromising, suggestive even, and Rin throws Isagi back with a little too much force, irritation immediately replaced with embarrassment.
And while Rin’s not usually one to feel shame, he does now, his traitorous mind flashing images of Isagi, pliant with Rin’s hand in his shirt. The blush comes embarrassingly quickly, his perpetual scowl flooded with heat and what can only be a too-bright shade of red.
Why did he have to say something like that? Now, Rin’s mind is going places it shouldn’t, and it’s all Isagi’s fault. He brings a hand up quickly to shield his face, trying to be as discreet as possible even though it definitely falls short.
Isagi is recovering from Rin’s hasty toss of his body, pout swapped for a knowing smile as his cheeks seemingly flush in tandem with Rin’s own. He crawls back, hands and knees cushioned by the restaurant booth, to where he was before, undeterred by Rin’s actions.
Ah, that’s even worse. Now he’ll see the replay of Isagi crawling towards him on all fours, cheeks flushed, lips plump and pink, every time he closes his eyes. This night is not going how he expected.
During Rin’s inner turmoil, he fails to notice Isagi’s hand darting up to Rin’s face, snatching his own away to reveal his surely completely blushing face. For a millisecond, neither of them move, Isagi’s hand on Rin’s as he lowers it to the younger boy’s lap.
And then Rin’s eyes are widening with horror as he snatches his hand away, returning it to his face which is so hot by now he’s practically got a fever. This kind of closeness is something he’s never experienced except when he was a child—and now, his chilly demeanor usually scares people off before he can react so humiliatingly.
So, really, it’s not his fault that he’s so flustered by the too-close boy in front of him, whose eyes are now crinkled as he laughs at Rin’s expense. He’s sure if Isagi was sober, he’d be embarrassed too. How unfair.
“Oh, Rin, you should’ve seen your face! Does a little proximity really make you so ruffled? It seems like you are my underclassman, after all,” he pauses for half a second to let out another chuckle before continuing his verbal assault, “how cute.”
This cannot be happening right now. Isagi would never say something like that normally. Hell, no one would! The last time someone’d called him cute was probably Sae when he was, like, eight years old. It’s not his fault that he’s not used to it!
The situation has quickly fallen out of his control, his focus no longer on his phone or the suffocating atmosphere of the restaurant, but rather, the cheeky boy in front of him, crossing every boundary Rin has and completely ignoring the rule of stay in your own space.
He can’t even say anything. He can’t even move. Rin just sits there, body glued to the back wall, as far from Isagi as he can get, as the man in question continues to fluster him more and more.
“It’s not like we’re not close on the field! You’re always pressed up against me, it’s so annoying, really,” Isagi says, never looking away from Rin’s averted gaze for a second. “Hm, on a different note, I’ve never seen you from up close before. You’re surprisingly quiet right now, so I can just sit back and, I don’t know, count your dumb under eyelashes or something like that.”
What is he saying?!
That’s the final straw for Rin. He stands up abruptly, startling Isagi, before hurrying off in the opposite direction.
“Gotta use the bathroom…” He mumbles, probably not loud enough for Isagi to catch anyway.
And he does just that, escaping to the overwhelming relief of a silent bathroom, ignoring the stares of his teammates as they wonder what could possibly make the brooding, silent Itoshi Rin move so fast other than football or his brother.
He doesn’t really know the answer either.
In the bathroom, Rin stares at his red cheeks and out-of-character expression of shock, slapping himself lightly with both hands to try and snap out of it. He throws some water on his face, hoping to calm the fire that’s been lit under his skin.
Wow, this is terrible. This is so embarrassing. If Sae could see him…
Really, Rin? Isagi Yoichi?
“Really?” He asks himself in the mirror, watching the flustered reflection match his every move.
He hates Isagi. He hates him. The one whom Sae acknowledged, rather than him, in the U-20s match. The one who stole the final goal from him. The one who ruined his long chain of wins, taking the crown from him after the PxG vs. Bastard match.
His ultimate rival, the one he has vowed to crush. And he still will, it’s just…it’s really just that he doesn’t know how to deal with an Isagi that doesn’t act like normal Isagi. Rin’s unprepared for this kind of subtly flirtatious, cocksure Isagi that does the exact opposite of what he’s expecting.
Who says something like that? Especially to Rin, whom everyone believes to be an immature edgelord?
Rin curses under his breath as the words play back, over and over in his mind.
How cute.
He glares at himself in the glass. He is not cute. Rin is the number one striker of Blue Lock, and eventually, will be the number one in the world. He is the better half of the Itoshi siblings, the monster who stops at nothing and starts for even less.
Right. That’s right. Isagi is Isagi, and Rin is Rin. And when he goes back out there to slump into the booth, Isagi will be gone, messing with someone else who can tolerate him normally. Then it will be fine; this is just a small slip-up of his usual cold mask.
Rin tells himself this as he dries his face with a paper towel, tossing it in the garbage bin on his way out. He doesn’t really believe it.
Slipping out of the men’s room, he keeps his head down and ignores the various glances thrown his way, focused on returning to his (un)quiet corner to relax until this god-awful mess of a night is over.
And Isagi is…not there. Perfect. Rin doesn’t worry about where he’s gone, approaching his previous spot in the restaurant with brisk steps. The game of beer pong is still ongoing, though the players have rotated, and the noise is even more chaotic than it was before he left.
Just before he was able to sit down, half a foot away from the cushioned bench, someone’s warm breath on his neck scares the fuck out of him.
“Found you.”
Rin promptly spins around and socks the stalker in the face.
“Rin! You dumbass!” He hears someone shout, before he registers who he’s just assaulted.
Of course, it’s Isagi. And Isagi is currently on the floor, blood gushing from his nose as he tries to staunch it with the hem of his shirt. He glowers at Rin as best he can from his position on the floor, never breaking eye contact even as people rush over to address the situation.
Reo’s bounding over in a second, crouching beside Isagi and coaxing him to move his hand so the injury can be observed. Purple eyes glare at him, too, Reo’s frustration evident as he tries to help Isagi stop the nosebleed.
“You’re so cruel! I know you don’t like him, but really, did you have to punch him? And he’s already out of it from, like, three shots earlier. You’re an asshole, Rin,” Reo rants, throwing his free hand that’s not helping Isagi into the air to exaggerate his anger.
Honestly, Rin’s kind of offended by how quickly he was blamed.
“It’s not like I just punched him out of nowhere! He just…whispered in my ear and I got spooked!” He protests, his defense quickly being lost in the cacophony of voices that now surround him.
Reo opens his mouth, ready to say more, before Isagi’s voice, muffled by the bottom of his top, comes out muted and apologetic.
“It’s alright, Reo. I was being an idiot. I shouldn’t have snuck up on him like that, because I know how he gets…” Isagi says, some hint of mischief in his voice.
Rin immediately tenses up at the hidden accusation.
“”How I get?” What does that mean, you shitty—”
“Shut up and take him to the bathroom or something, Rin. He’s bleeding all over the place,” Aiku says, ever the team captain, as he tries to problem solve.
“Me? But—” Rin sputters, cut off once again as someone else joins in.
“It’s your fault, you fucking idiot. That’s why you should fix it.” That’s Barou, eager to dog on Rin and give his two cents.
He tries once more to protest, but stops in his tracks when he realizes that maybe Barou is kind of right and it’d be easier to just get on with it.
Rin glowers at Isagi, rolling his eyes hard as he bends down to help the other up. Reo backs away, his job done, watching with much judgment as Rin not-so-carefully handles Isagi’s weak state.
“Be careful,” Reo hisses, before turning away, effectively ending the situation for everyone but Rin and Isagi.
He just bites back another snarky comment, focusing on wrapping an arm around Isagi’s waist to steady him. Boy, he needs steadying, his whole body swaying from what could be the alcohol or the disorientation from a punch to the face.
Isagi leans fully onto him, being uncharacteristically vulnerable by showing such obvious physical weakness to Rin. He supposes it’s his fault, though, so it’s to be expected.
“You better not bleed on me, you lukewarm striker,” Rin huffs, keeping his gaze fixed on the slowly approaching bathroom as he half-carries, half-drags Isagi along with him.
“Mhm…’s your fault, though. And your fancy-pants shirt needs some color on it, anyway,” Isagi lightly slurs, his head tilting until it rests on Rin’s shoulder.
His muscles freeze up but he forces himself to relax, reminding himself that he got himself into this situation and Isagi’s drunk right now. It’s not like he would ever do that normally, so…
“If you didn’t sneak up on me and whisper into my ear like some creep, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” Rin grumbles back, the fight gone from his voice.
“Sorry,” he offers back, not sounding sorry at all.
They finally reach the restroom, and Rin hoists Isagi up with one arm with a grunt, quickly grabbing the handle with his now free hand before returning it to Isagi’s waist.
Now that they’re away from everyone, he remembers what he was worrying about before, and suddenly it feels too hot where his hands hold Isagi. He gulps nervously, trying to discreetly loosen his grip.
Nope, not gonna work. Isagi pitches forward without the support, his hands tightening over Rin’s arms as they tilt forward with the weight of both of their bodies. He tries to recover his former position, but it’s far too late.
They both go tumbling forward, narrowly avoiding the small trash can placed by the entrance, and crashing into the floor of the bathroom with full force. Rin tries to slow their descent, but any progress made is negated by Isagi’s dead weight, and he accepts his fate as they go down.
In a last-ditch attempt to have some sort of selflessness, he throws himself in front of the other, softening his fall and absorbing the brunt of the shock. Rin’s eyes slip shut for half a second as his back hits the floor, a small groan of pain falling past his lips at the impact.
When he opens them, the pain blooming fiercely through his body before dissipating, he registers the warm, solid weight on top of his chest. Familiar black hair grabs his sight, the crown of Isagi’s head facing his gaze.
His face is slumped against Rin’s chest, cheek smushed in with his limbs tangled in Rin’s. Isagi is hot and toned, and Rin can feel every outline of his muscles from where they rest against his own. He makes no move to get off, seemingly unperturbed by their fall. It’s almost as if he’s sleeping…
On Rin. On the floor. Lying on top of him.
Like a switch is flipped, Rin halts his perplexed staring and scrambles to get up, jostling the boy above him and pulling out little protests.
“Nooo…I’m definitely comfy like this…” Isagi whines, sliding his arms underneath Rin’s torso, tightening each time Rin tries to move.
The sensation of hands gripping the back of his shirt stops him, once again, cold in his tracks. He just sits there for a moment, stunned with his mouth hanging open, cheeks quickly reheating as Isagi fucking cuddles him on the floor of the bathroom.
What the actual fuck? What even is tonight?
This is uncharted territory, even more so than it’s been the whole night. Rin has never, well, touched someone else so much before, and it’s Isagi, and somehow that sleepy protest makes him want to just…go with it.
And he does, for all of two seconds, before he’s trying to stand up once again, this time with an octopus of sorts wrapped around his waist.
“Riiin.” Another soft mumble makes him sigh, officially giving up on moving one very out-of-it, and apparently, clingy Isagi.
Hearing his name in that voice…his brain has already been a mess because of this damn boy the entire night, and now, it’s just like it’s unavoidable. Like Yoichi just made his way into Rin’s head and is never going to leave.
Wait, fuck. Rin just thought of him as Yoichi. Oh, he’s fucking fucked.
And like he’s not fighting an entire war with himself right now, the other boy chooses that exact moment to lift his head from Rin’s chest to look at him.
Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.
If Isagi looked good earlier, he looks irresistible right now. Maybe he had another shot or two while Rin was in the bathroom, or maybe he’s just feeling the heat too, because his cheeks are a gorgeous, delectable candy-pink shade that complement the magnetic appeal of his eyes so well.
Another button has slipped, likely while he was tugging on his shirt to stop his nosebleed earlier, revealing pale, unmarred skin that tempts Rin oh so badly. It’s just begging to be marked up, and boy could Rin help him with that right now.
His inky hair falls around his delicate face like he was chosen by some sort of god, because no one just looks like that naturally. It’s unfair, really. His lips are a deep pink, pushed out into a pout as he looks at Rin with these fucking puppy dog eyes. Rin doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, but he wants to give it to him anyway.
“Rin, I’m so cold.”
No, he’s not. He’s burning hot. But for once, Rin doesn’t reply with the obvious—he just nods like an idiot, mesmerized by oceans of blue and trying his best not to let his gaze slip to Isagi’s lips. He’s starting to get why they fight wars over hot people.
Isagi tightens his arms around Rin’s torso impossibly more, scooching up to come even closer to Rin’s face, pushing them back into the bathroom wall as he crawls up Rin like a sexy, sexy insect.
He instinctively tilts his head back, trying to avoid the unavoidable beauty that continues coming closer, closer, closer, too close. He feels the back of his skull softly meet the wall, a muted pang of oh shit, I’m fucked running through his body.
But he can’t seem to break away from Isagi’s alluring gaze, his limbs hanging uselessly on the floor beside him as he just waits, accepting his fate in a moment of weakness.
And then it stops, blue escaping his vision, as he breathes out a sigh of relief (or maybe regret…) as Isagi stops just short of being nose to nose to burrow into Rin’s neck. Bare skin meets skin, Isagi’s face against the exposed swath of Rin’s neck that’s peeking out from his wide-necked sweater.
He wishes he had worn a turtleneck. Or nothing at all. It’s hard to decide, when soft breath is hitting his collarbone, little murmurs of content falling out of Isagi’s lips as he readjusts his arms so they’re clinging to the back of Rin’s neck and shoulders, rather than his waist.
It’s far too intimate, and Rin’s face has never been so hot before. His blood boils beneath his skin, every part of his body poised for something as Isagi turns him into his own personal teddy bear. He doesn’t protest anymore. Rin doesn’t do anything at all, actually.
Until another complaint sounds from on top of him, the words hitting his neck before they reach his ears.
“I said I’m cold,” Isagi repeats his previous statement, the lack of context stumping Rin immensely.
“Wha—?” Rin stutters uselessly, stopping short when he understands what the other is implying.
He wants…he doesn’t, does he? Rin’s just thinking about this too much, and Isagi is definitely too drunk, and oh yeah, they should probably check on his nose…
But unlike before, these realizations don’t come with the urge to get up and satiate them. Now, he just acknowledges it, then acknowledges the fact that he’s not going to move, no matter how embarrassed he is and how much he’ll regret it tomorrow.
Isagi’s weight is comfortable, pressed too close into Rin’s own body, enveloping him in that fever-hot heat. It’s much too intimate, especially for being on some random bathroom floor in some random restaurant when any of his teammates could walk in at any moment.
He acknowledges these thoughts, and then ignores them, tossing his inhibitions out of the window before giving in to what he wants most.
And what he wants most is to wrap Isagi up in his own embrace. So he does.
Carefully, gently, like Yoichi is something fragile that must be handled with the utmost care, Rin lifts his arms from his sides and encircles Isagi with them, hugging him close to his chest. He holds him like he cares about him, like he can’t afford to lose him.
His right hand rests lightly on the other’s hair, and after a moment’s deliberation, he begins to move it back and forth softly. Up, down, side, side, Rin’s hand travels over the top of Isagi’s head, scratching with a cautious yet firm pressure. He marvels at the silky texture of his medium-length locks, lifting one strand up to the light before continuing his ministrations.
The response is immediate, and oh, so bad for his rapidly failing heart.
More soft, nearly inaudible sighs of what seems to be enjoyment rise from Yoichi, gracing Rin’s ears and filling his brain with a spike of dopamine. He continues, if only to prompt more of those contented noises from the boy above him.
“Mmm, Rin…” Yoichi murmurs against his skin, moistening the surface of his neck just the slightest bit when his mouth opens.
It certainly wasn’t meant to sound so…captivating, but the almost-moan makes Rin uncomfortably hot once again, his legs twitching a bit as he chokes on his own breath.
“Fuck.” He whispers, mostly to himself.
Yeah, he’s definitely fucked.