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Enjin never thought, this day would come.
The day, he would be privileged enough to see this side of Zanka Nijiku. The side that he's very much sure, isn't just for anyone's eyes to see.
They've just rolled the Jeep into the HQ garage after a whole day of mission. Enjin has pictured a different scenario in his head when this happens—himself finally getting the chance to smoke in the open bay while Zanka heads inside to report or stretch his legs.
After a full day of fighting the Trash Beasts, to say that Enjin is restless, is an understatement.
Don't get him wrong, he loves every single opportunity to shred garbage monsters with his Umbreaker, but he's also a man of needs.
And his need is simple.
Enjin hasn't had his dose of cigarettes since this morning. The sudden call to the site for their mission, the stubborn and bothersome Trash Beasts to destroy—it's apparently very time consuming.
He would say, it was very tempting to just go, screw it, and pull out his cigarette, but he doesn't think it's fair for Zanka who takes off his mask and looks like he's never been this grateful to breathe a clean air.
So, while he thinks (never in too dramatic way) that his body is practically digesting itself, craving the nicotine; he decides to wait until they've got home.
When Enjin kills the ignition and sets the brake, he expects Zanka to climb out and give him a moment to indulge. Instead, Zanka gives him more than that.
"What a day," Enjin huffs, almost to himself, doing a quick scan of the empty garage before he rolls the window down. The familiar scent of oil, metal, and dust drifts in, but at least there's clear air.
"You go first, Zanzan, I really need a smoke break," Enjin says, hand already reaches for his pocket, pulling out a nearly crumpled pack of cigarettes "Just one, and then we can start working on the repo—"
The rest of the word dies on his tongue the second Zanka moves.
Enjin never thought, this day would come.
The day, he would be privileged enough to see this side of Zanka Nijiku. The side that he's very much sure, isn't just for anyone's eyes to see.
In one fluid shift, a pair of toned legs bracing against the passenger floor, body twisting over the center console—and suddenly the younger is right there, knees bracketing Enjin’s thighs, weight settling fully into his lap like he belongs there.
The leather seat creaks under the added pressure. Enjin’s half-drawn cigarette pack is still open in his hand; the first stick is already between his fingers when Zanka’s dainty fingers close over it.
"Zanzan, what are you—" Enjin starts, but Zanka doesn't let him finish.
Instead, he puts his hands on Enjin's shoulder, slightly looking down at him.
"I want to have one of those, too," his eyes flicker to the object on Enjin's hand.
There are thousands of scenarios running in Enjin's head about what happens when they get home, none seems to ever come close to this exact sight in front of him.
The sight being Zanka, if he hears him right, asking for his cigarette. It isn't like he hasn't coaxed the younger to follow his step. He would be more surprised if Zanka is fully repulsed by his smoking habit, because even if Zanka doesn't actively seek the opportunity, he always looks like he's always open to any chance of smoking under Enjin's supervision.
"You're sure about this?" Enjin tilts his head, slightly amused.
Zanka doesn't answer, he merely snatches the cigarette off Enjin's hand, slipping it between his teeth. Enjin has to restrain his urge to replace the nicotine with his lips, because while Zanka has always been sexy to him, he just never sees the younger, sexier than this. Perched on his lap in the dimness of the garage, a cigarette on his lips, ready to be lit.
Who is Enjin to deny him?
"I'm a bad influence on you, Zanzan," Enjin chuckles, slipping another cigarette on his own lips, before he rummages through his pocket.
Not long, he pulls out a metallic lighter, a tiny umbrella with a letter 'E' engraved on it. The lighter is Zanka's gift, he still remembers when Zanka handed the item shyly, telling him, that maybe it's better for Enjin to have one on his own, rather than he keeps on borrowing people's lighter.
"C'mere," Enjin murmurs, as if their distance can't get any more shorter than this.
Zanka leans in, just a slight, as Enjin flicks the lighter up.
With the lack of lighting around them, the red and orange flame casting a beautiful shadow dancing on Zanka's even more beautiful face.
How come the sight of innocence has turn into whatever Zanka is now?
When the fire finally catches on the rolled tobacco, Zanka leans back, inhaling the item. Enjin goes to light up on his own, mimicking the action.
And in the confinement of the parked vehicle, they both exhale the smoke.
Enjin watches him closely, monitoring every movement.
Zanka clearly has been practicing, because he hasn't coughed, not for once. He returns the stare back to Enjin, the grey substance a thin veil between. The confidence is new, but this new shade is a good color on him.
"Good job," Enjin grins, can't help the pride seeping out in his voice at the sight in front of him.
Zanka takes another drag of his cigarette. Enjin does too. His other hand drops on Zanka's waist, pulling him closer.
"You've learned so well," Enjin puffs out the smoke, as Zanka closes his eyes, seemingly drowning himself among the trace of nicotine in the air.
Enjin can't stop himself from squeezing his hips, just a slight.
When Zanka opens his eyes, the azure has darkened, it turns almost sapphire. Enjin flicks the cigarette, the ashes drop on the car seat—something that Gris will admonish later.
Zanka follows suit, as if he's aware of the consequences of his actions too and decides that he doesn't care.
Enjin can't bring himself to care too.
Not when Zanka inhales again, keeping the smoke in, as he leans forward with his eyes focused on a particular feature of Enjin's face.
Enjin is giddy with anticipation, knowing what is coming to him.
"I have the best teacher," Zanka whispers, before he targets Enjin's lips, just like fate has intended.
Who is Enjin to deny him?
He opens up; welcoming the smoke, welcoming Zanka.
To his surprise, Zanka doesn't claims the kisses that are always there for him to take. Instead, he breathes out the smoke straight to Enjin's open mouth, letting the substance surrounding them as if Enjin won't be greedy enough to inhale everything Zanka has given him.
He may be the bad influence on Zanka, but hey, if it's bad, why does it feel so good?
If it's wrong, why does it feel so right?
Enjin never thought, this day would come.
The day, he would be privileged enough to see this side of Zanka Nijiku. The side that he's very much sure, isn't just for anyone's eyes to see.
If he were to be honest, Enjin had never once imagined this version of Zanka would exist outside the quiet corner of his own private fantasies.
While the younger doesn't show any sign of repulsion towards his habit, Enjin is observant enough to notice that Zanka is the type who wrinkles his nose at the first whiff of tobacco and throwing blatant dislikeness when anyone smoking near him.
Except, when it comes to him.
Enjin is always an exception for Zanka.
And, here he is: perched on Enjin’s lap like he belongs there, taking the smoke out of Enjin's lips just as much as he gives Enjin.
The sight so otherworldly erotic, Enjin has to physically convince himself, this isn't just a fragment of his imagination.
No words exchange, because honestly, what's the use of them when the gesture is more profound than any sentence known to mankind?
Zanka leans back, never too far, still in Enjin's grasp.
Enjin almost feels like a predator, when he eyes the younger, like Zanka is a delicious prey to lure on.
How come he's granted the privilege of sitting on the front row upon this show of beauty?
Watching Zanka lips part to let the cigarette settle, how the burning tip sparks red as he inhales, lips shaped into a perfect little 'O', eyes half-lidded as if the nicotine itself was a lover he had already learned how to please.
"Sure, you do," Enjin takes a drag of his own, feeling the pride and the possessiveness intertwining inside of him.
Zanka has learned so much.
And as his mentor, he can testify.
Enjin can see it in the way he holds the cigarette now, two fingers relaxing, instead of clumsily pinching the rolled tobacco. Zanka no longer sucks too hard and chokes; instead he breathes the smoke in slow and deep, letting it sit in his lungs just long enough as if he tries to taste every distinctive note before releasing it in a controlled exhale.
The more he sees, the more he learns.
And that's also the case with Zanka.
To think that his protege has watched Enjin all this time—mimicking the tilt of the head, the slight purse of the lips, the way Enjin sometimes lets the ash hang a second too long before flicking it away; it's awakening something in him.
Something he's afraid, he just can't control.
"Look at you," Enjin's hand is splayed wide on Zanka's hips, the palm almost cups his behind. "Doing so good for me, already."
Zanka definitely tries to not preen at the praise, but Enjin sees it right through him.
To think that his protege has practiced everything, simply to please him; feels too intimate, almost romantic in a way.
Enjin never thought, this day would come.
The day, he would be privileged enough to see this side of Zanka Nijiku. The side that he's very much sure, isn't just for anyone's eyes to see.
The side that doesn't just tolerate the smoke but also has just transformed the action as another way to close the distance between them.
The side that gets the younger to lean in with purpose, the darkening sapphire only gets even darker, offering the shared breath like a secret only the two of them are allowed to keep.
And instead of just breathing in the air of burning nicotine, Enjin gets to taste it.
Zanka’s lips finally met his, almost in a slow motion.
The second transfer of smoke fills their lungs with reluctance of separation.
Enjin’s hand slides higher, fingers spreading even wider across the small of Zanka’s back, pulling him flush until there is nowhere left for the smoke to go, except from one mouth into the other.
Zanka exhales carefully into the kiss, and Enjin drinks every bit of it, tasting the acridity of tobacco and something sweeter underneath—Zanka himself.
Oh, this is it, Enjin thinks. This is how being greedy feels like.
When they finally part, a thin veil of grey still connects them for a heartbeat before it dissolves; clearing the air, but keeping it charged still.
Zanka’s cheeks are flushed red, the cigarette still burning between his fingers, ash threatening to dirty his sleeve.
Enjin can't take his eyes off of Zanka.
The insignificant detail doesn't let him look away.
“You’re staring,” Zanka mumbles, voice a little rough, both from the smoke and the excitement.
“Can you blame me?” Enjin answers, thumb stroking slow circles against Zanka’s hip, pressing lightly, only to satisfy his curiosity upon how Zanka responds to them. "You're such a sight to behold."
Zanka takes another drag, holding it before he leans in once more—not quite kissing, just close enough that the smoke ghosts across Enjin’s mouth when he speaks.
“I just want to be good at something you love.”
It takes everything in Enjin to not squeeze Zanka's hip, revealing his true feelings.
He fails rather miserably.
Enjin never thought, this day would come.
The day, he would be privileged enough to see this side of Zanka Nijiku. The side that he's very much sure, isn't just for anyone's eyes to see.
Next, everything happens in a blur.
Enjin extinguishes his own cigarette against the edge of the dashboard ashtray without looking, then gently takes Zanka’s from between his fingers and sets it aside too.
With both hands free now, he cups Zanka’s face, thumbs brushing the warm skin, deepening the blush there.
"Oh, Zanzan," he begins, fingers dragging themselves before they settle on Zanka's chin, tipping him up. "you're perfect as you are."
Enjin means to tease, but the words only come out way more honest that he intends to.
Zanka’s lips twitch before a small smile sneaks on his face, almost too shy.
Zanka is so cute, Enjin thinks giddily, he's too cute.
And to think that this is the same person who has just given him the secondhand smoke, Enjin is overwhelmed with both overflowing affection and undeniable lust, at the same time.
"I can do better," Zanka's eyes are zeroing on him.
And just like the switch has been flipped, Enjin can't help the smirk to bloom, at the determination to prove himself.
To Enjin.
Enjin never thought, this day would come.
The day, he would be privileged enough to see this side of Zanka Nijiku. The side that he's very much sure, isn't just for anyone's eyes to see.
"Can you, Zanzan?" Enjin pulls the younger flush to him again as Zanka wraps his arms around his neck. "Why don't you show me, what you have learned, then?"
Enjin doesn't even need to hear the answer, he just knows, Zanka can definitely do that.