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Your Lips On Mine

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They’re walking home together.

 

It’s already late and dark outside, the sky’s blue fading into black and littered with clouds.

 

This has become their tradition, lately: walking home together, after afternoon practice. Aone doesn’t live that close to Kenji; still, Aone walks him home every day without fail.

 

There are things that Kenji had expected and things he hadn’t expected, when he’d gotten up his entire courage two weeks ago, squared up his shoulders, looked Aone right into the eyes and said, “I like you. Not just as a friend. I like you.” It had been terrifying and exhilarating all at once; years of friendship with Aone leading up to exactly this. 

 

Aone’s voice had been gruff but soft when he’d taken Kenji’s hands, told him he returned his feelings. 

 

Kenji had almost cried. Only almost, though! And nobody is ever going to find out about that. The story he tells friends definitely doesn’t involve him half-falling into Aone’s arms either.

 

He’s much cooler than that. At least in his portrayals. And therefore in all portrayals, since Aone isn’t wordy when telling stories, and rarely does tell stories.



Being Aone’s boyfriend, he has realised, is a whole mix of experiences.

 

Things he had expected: Aone’s hand, big and warm, holding his. And indeed, Aone holds his hand every day on the way home.

 

Things he hadn’t expected: Aone walking him home, every day after practice.

 

Aone is soft and courteous and a huge romantic at heart; Kenji had kind of expected that, because he knows too well that Aone is hiding a marshmallow heart under his gruff exterior. 

 

Still, he hadn’t been prepared for how sweet Aone is.

 

He’s brought Kenji self-made chocolates twice now, and cupcakes once. They were perfect, too. It’s almost a shame that nobody else is ever going to find out that Aone is an amazing baker, because Kenji is not telling anyone about the baked goods. But Kenji is not sharing his baked goods or him.

 

Kenji has also had to realise, much to his own chagrin, that it is indeed possible to fall even harder for one Aone Takanobu, a thing he’d formerly thought impossible. The butterflies in his stomach refuse to quiet down whenever Aone so much as looks at him; it’s horrible and entirely wonderful at the same time. 

 

Another thing he has had to realise, against his own will: he is the jealous and possessive type. He kind of knew that before, but now that Aone is all his, he’d like for everyone to actually know that. Especially that shrimpy decoy from Karasuno. 

 

He wonders if he could get Aone to wear boyfriend t-shirts. Probably. Aone is sappy like that.

 

He wonders if the endless teasing would be worth it for a) the psychic pain it would inflict upon their poor kouhais and b) having everyone know that Aone is taken.

 

He has yet to make his mind up.



And then there is the big thing.

 

Walking home with Aone, the wind a cold presence on the skin of his neck where it’s exposed—he’s not buying a scarf; he’s pretty sure that if he refuses to buy one long enough, he can get Aone to knit one for him. He could just ask, of course, but that would be humiliating—there is one thing on his mind.

 

He hasn’t kissed Aone yet.

 

Or been kissed.

 

It’s perhaps a stupid thing to worry about; he’s Futakuchi Kenji, he’s definitely got enough self confidence to kiss his boyfriend!

 

Except for how he doesn’t. Because what if Aone isn’t ready yet? Or isn’t into kissing? Or what if Aone isn’t into kissing Kenji, specifically? Sure, he said he likes him, but does that mean he wants to kiss him? 

 

Kenji doesn’t know.

 

He could just ask, almost definitely so, but that would be kind of humiliating and also terrifying, because what if the answer is that Aone doesn’t want to kiss Kenji, specifically? 

 

Just because Kenji is cool doesn’t mean he’s always confident. And he definitely is a little less than confident around his boyfriend, who is so, so sweet, and the best person Kenji knows, and big and bulky in a really attractive way that kind of makes Kenji lose his mind whenever he looks too long at the span of Aone’s shoulders, the definition of his back muscles or the size of his biceps. Even having Aone’s huge hands wrap around his is a lot; Kenji’s aren’t small, and he himself isn’t a small guy, not by a long shot, but he feels almost dwarfed by Aone. It’s mind-blowingly hot.

 

And Kenji has been dreaming about kissing Aone since—well, since Aone’s lips had first ticked up in the tiniest smile around him, which was three months into knowing him and had almost brought Kenji to his knees with how incredibly affectionate and fluttery he’d suddenly felt. 

 

So perhaps Kenji is very very gone on Aone and kind of desperately wants to kiss him.

 

But hey, who could blame him? He has the most perfect boyfriend. Of course he wants to kiss him. 

 

He just doesn’t know how to find out if it’s something Aone wants, too.

 

So he just revels in Aone’s hand in his, big and warm and perfect, and Aone’s eyes on his face, fond and attentive as Kenji chatters on, and all the lovely little gestures Aone performs for him all the time.

 

They’re almost at Kenji’s house now; just about two minutes away from it, and Kenji has once almost again missed his window of opportunity to ask, to know; holds onto Aone’s warm hand and convinces himself that that’s enough, that he doesn’t have to know.

 

He looks at Aone from the side and finds Aone already looking back, his eyes so soft, the corners of his mouth risen up into a soft smile, and Kenji’s words still in his throat, as does his entire body. Aone stops with him, and raises an eyebrow inquiringly.

 

Kenji lets go of Aone’s hand to ruffle through his own hair for a second.

 

“I want to kiss you,” he says, and immediately clamps his mouth shut. That came out way too entitled. He can see Aone opening his mouth to reply something and starts over again quickly, his words almost falling over each other: “I mean, you don’t have to kiss me. I just—I wanted to ask if you’d be into that. In general. Kissing. Or not in general! Specifically with me. If you’d be into kissing me, Futakuchi Kenji, specifically—”

 

“Yes,” Aone interrupts him. Kenji claps his mouth shut and stares. And then, slowly, gently, Aone leans down and Kenji leans up so quickly he half-crashes into Aone, who catches him around his hips, his hands a warm and firm presence.

 

His mouth is warm too, and soft, so soft, as soft as Aone’s huge marshmallow heart, and Kenji melts into him. There are a million fireworks going off in him.

 

They just stand there, kissing, for what could be a few minutes or several hours, before Aone softly lets go of him.

 

Kenji opens his eyes again and stares at his incredible boyfriend. “I’m never going to stop kissing you know. I hope you know that,” he tells Aone.

 

Aone smiles, softly, as Kenji stretches up again, just to prove his point.