Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Suguru didn’t like parties. Getting tipsy and spending time with friends sounded like a good idea, but when he actually went, he wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. It was always too loud, too crowded, and people were even more obnoxious when they were intoxicated.

The worst part, no doubt, was dealing with Satoru. The man knew full well how little tolerance he had for alcohol, and yet he drank more than he could handle every time. By the end of the night, he was a total mess. And, of course, he was dumped on Suguru whenever he became a problem. 

It wasn’t like he got into too much trouble. The closest thing to a real issue he’d started was when he challenged a stranger to a fight in a bar after Satoru spilled his drink on the guy. Nanami stepped in and apologized for him before they managed to do anything, but Satoru was no longer allowed to drink unaccompanied after that. 

Mostly, he was just annoying and hard to manage. But Suguru didn’t really want to spend his night trying to babysit a grown man. And, if he was honest, he really didn’t want to have to watch as strangers tried to take advantage of his compromised state and get him into their bed. The worst part was that Satoru played into the flirting. 

It was just his nature, and Suguru knew it didn’t mean anything, but it got to him bad. Even though he was certain that Satoru wouldn’t actually go home with any of them, just seeing him giggle at their compliments or wink playfully made Suguru want to rip his own hair out. He hated how much it bothered him. Yet, he couldn’t help it. 

The thing was, he had a big fat stupid crush on his best friend. 

He had for a while, and couldn’t get rid of it no matter how hard he tried. If anything, it only got worse. He was downright enamored with the man. Their friends teased them about their close relationship, but none of them had any clue just how much Suguru dreamt of kissing Satoru, or holding his hand, or spending the entire goddamn rest of his life with him. 

Except for Ieiri. He didn’t mean for her to find out, but her deductive skills were quite impressive (because surely Suguru wasn’t that hopelessly unsubtle). It actually made it a bit easier, having someone else who knew. She ridiculed his taste in men, but he knew he could rely on her when it came to that stuff. 

She joined them that night at the party, along with their other friends. Suguru lost track of her until he stepped out into an alleyway to get a breath of fresh air and was immediately hit with her signature cigarette scent. He looked to his right to see Ieiri leaning against the wall, smoking and texting on her phone. 

“Hey,” he greeted, standing a couple feet to her left. 

He’d come out for clean air, but cigarette smoke air would do too. He’d been around her so much that there was hardly a difference to him anyway. It was almost comforting. 

“Evening,” she replied monotonously. 

For a few more seconds, she typed away at her phone, then flipped it shut and shoved it in her pocket. 

“How’s your night been?” she asked. 

“Exhausting. I haven't even had a drink yet and I already feel like I could pass out.”

“I hear that,” she empathized. “Where’s your man?”

Suguru twitched at her choice of words and crossed his arms defiantly. 

“Don’t call him that.”

“But you knew who I was talking about,” she pointed out. 

“Yeah, because he’s my best friend.”

Ieiri clutched her heart in feigned pain and jokingly complained, “Ouch.”

Suguru rolled his eyes, though he knew she couldn’t see it in the dark. 

“I can have two best friends,” he defended. 

Ieiri dropped her hand, then lifted it again to ash her cigarette. 

“I’m just giving you shit. Seriously, though, where is he? He isn’t alone, right?”

“Aww, you care about him,” Suguru teased. 

Hardly a second passed before he regretted it, because he knew exactly what she would say in reply. 

“And you want to bang him. So, I win.” 

As expected. 

“Shut the hell up,” he growled, a little too harshly, because he didn’t have an excuse. He did, indeed, want to bang him. He also wanted to hold his hand and wake up next to him each morning, but he wouldn’t bring that up voluntarily. “I swear, you’re like some kind of sadist. Always bringing my… feelings for him up just to make me uncomfortable.”

Ieiri just laughed in a self satisfied manner. 

“Call me what you want. Besides, if I’m a sadist, you’re a masochist,” she accused. 

“How do you figure?”

“Spending more than three minutes around him at a time is painful, and you want to spend your life with him. If that isn’t masochism, I’m not sure what is,” she explained. 

Suguru wanted to argue, but then what would he say? That nobody makes him as happy as Satoru? That spending time with him is the only thing that consistently lifts his mood? That he misses him whenever he’s not around? Lame. 

“Whatever. Don’t talk about it like it even matters. Nothing’s going to come of it anyway.”

Suguru knew he was wallowing, as he always ended up doing by the end of parties like these, but he couldn’t help it. Yes, Satoru made him happier than anyone else, but he also made him miserable, because he would always be tortured by the fact that they would never be anything more than best friends. 

“Dude, we’ve been over this. He’s into you,” Ieiri insisted impatiently. 

“Like hell he is. I doubt he’s even into dudes.”

Ieiri snorted. 

“One would think you’d pay more attention to the guy you’re in love with,” she said. Suguru opened his mouth to retort, but closed it before any words got out. “Someone who isn’t into dudes has absolutely no business looking at you like that. Seriously, it makes me want to throw up. And the way he talks about you when you aren’t there? Come on. He won’t discuss it with me, but I know he feels the same.”

“Maybe he won’t discuss it with you because there’s nothing to discuss. Did you consider that?”

“You’re about to consider my fist in your face hard if you keep that up. I’m trying to help here.”

Suguru’s first instinct was to argue, but he stopped himself and took a deep breath, wrinkling his nose when Ieiri blew a lungful of smoke from between her glossy lips at the same time. 

“Right. I’m sorry.”

“You’re what? What was that?” Ieiri cupped a hand around her ear and leaned in, smirking. 

“I swear to—”

“Theeeere you guys are,” Satoru drawled as he stumbled through the doorway of the side exit. 

It didn’t take much detective work to figure out that he was wasted. His words were slurred, his gait was unnatural, and his face was bright red. It had barely been half an hour since they’d arrived at the party, but Satoru was a lightweight and went through drinks fast when they were sweet.

“Wow, you look like shit,” Ieiri said to him. 

“Yeah? Then how’ve three people…” Satoru held up three, then two, then three fingers as he boasted. “…already offered to take me home?”

Suguru was there for the first two, which was the reason he wasn’t there for the third. Sure, Satoru always turned people down. But every time was a reminder of how much it would hurt if Satoru didn’t turn them down, how badly Suguru wished he had the right to tell those assholes to back off. 

“You’re young and shitfaced, of course people are trying to fuck you,” Ieiri replied. 

Satoru rolled his eyes. 

“Y’can jus’ say I’m hot.”

He motioned to himself like he was showing off an art piece. When Ieiri looked unimpressed, he waved her off. 

“Whateverrr. You're not the right person t’ask ‘bout looks since you’re so bitter ‘bout your own.” He turned to Suguru. “Suguru. Can you at least admit that I’m a smoke show?” 

Suguru’s shoulders tensed. Ieiri shoved him playfully and snickered. 

“Yeah, Suguru, don’t you think he’s a smoke show?”

That traitor. 

“Um.” 

He had to come up with something quick. Something that wouldn’t reveal the fact that he thought Satoru was the hottest man to ever live. Would calling him ugly be overcompensating? Should he just agree jokingly, like he’s being sarcastic? Maybe it didn’t matter what he said, but how he said it. But then how should he say it?

Finally, he settled on, “You’re… You could look worse.”

He sounded far too nervous for someone simply telling their best friend that they aren’t the ugliest they could possibly be. 

Apparently feeling merciful, Ieiri stepped in to say, “What’re you doing out here anyway?”

Satoru leaned on one hip, suddenly looking a little embarrassed. 

“Got into a fight. They kicked me out ‘cause I won,” he murmured. 

Ieiri didn’t even act surprised. She just took another deep drag of her cigarette and exhaled with a sigh. Suguru wasn’t all that surprised either. Of course he’d get into trouble once he left him alone. Well, he’d left him with Haibara, but he was pretty drunk too. 

“You might be the least responsible adult in the world,” Ieiri criticized. Suguru hummed in agreement.

“I don’t need that from you,” he whined. “You’re not my mom.”

“Yeah, thank god. But I am your friend, and I have the right to make fun of you when you act like a fool. It’s not normal to need others to watch over you like an infant when you have a few drinks, you know.”

“I can handle myself,” he protested. 

“You most certainly cannot handle yourself. You proved that tonight. Just let Geto take you home.”

Excuse him?

“Excuse me?”

“Geto, get your boy home. You’re not having any fun here anyway.”

It was true. But dealing with an intoxicated Satoru would be decidedly less fun than staying and getting drunk. 

“Why can’t you do it?” he asked. “You’re not having fun either.”

“He’s your responsibility.”

“Says who?”

Ieiri looked at him like he’d asked where he might possibly find the ground beneath his feet. 

“Uh, besides everyone?”

The look Suguru gave her did nothing to make her back down. 

“Just drive him home, okay? Everyone else is almost definitely unfit to drive, Nanami has to stay and drive everyone home, and I…” Ieiri trailed off, tilting her head in an exaggerated display of contemplation. “…don’t want to.”

Suguru eyed her for a moment, considering his options. He could either stay at the party feeling bored and guilty, or he could take Satoru home and deal with whatever that would entail. It wouldn’t be the first time. From past experiences, he knew he could expect his ear being talked off and probably some vomit. 

He looked at Satoru. His best friend. Maybe it was the lopsided smile he was giving him, or the way he leaned against the wall to keep himself upright, but something about the sight made Suguru’s decision for him. He’d get Satoru home safe. Something ugly and possessive in him told him that he was the only one that could be trusted with the task. 

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

“Good. Thanks. Go on, then. It’s just about his bedtime.”

“See you, Ieiri,” he said, turning to leave. 

“Night, Suguru.” Ieiri waved goodbye. 

Suguru grabbed Satoru by the bicep, finding that he’d turned Infinity off already, and dragged him along to his car. Satoru went without protest, leaning into him for support as they walked. 

———

Suguru had wanted to go home when he was done dropping Satoru off. But, when he got to Satoru’s door with the man swerving with every step and hanging off his shoulder, he knew he couldn’t leave him. He needed food, water, and a shower, and Suguru was certain that when he left, he wouldn’t give himself any of those things. 

So, he stayed. When they got inside, he dumped him on the sofa and took off both of their shoes, laying them neatly by the door. All the while, Satoru was chattering loudly, bouncing between subjects and occasionally complaining about a headache from the lights. Suguru half listened, half tuned him out. 

As he made for the kitchen to get a glass of water, Satoru finally began to grow quiet, evidently becoming tired now that he was lying down. Suguru glanced at him from the sink to see him draped over the sofa, watching him with glassy eyes. He seemed to like watching Suguru, though it made him a little self conscious. 

“What’re you looking at me for?”

Satoru startled at being noticed and flopped back down on the couch. 

“Nothin’,” he mumbled.

Suguru walked towards him, glass in hand, and sat down on the edge of the couch. Satoru groaned as he helped him sit up and used his shoulder to lift himself. It stayed there even when he was upright, which Suguru was oddly appreciative of. Satoru was always touchy. So why did his touch still make him feel all warm and giddy?

“Here, drink,” he encouraged, pushing the glass into Satoru’s empty hand. He mumbled a quick “Thanks” and took the water from him, downing it in a few seconds. 

“Are you nauseous? Definitely should’ve asked you that before giving you water.”

Satoru shook his head and handed the glass back to Suguru. 

“‘M fine. Head hurts though.”

Suguru almost laughed at how pathetic he sounded. He got so pitiful when he was drunk once the vivacity wore off. It should have made Suguru want to tease him, but instead, he felt the need to take care of him. It was an instinct so deep in his bones that it felt primal, like an inherent evolutionary urge. 

“I know. Even reverse cursed technique isn’t gonna cure that,” he said. “Since you aren’t nauseous, though, we should try getting some food in you.”

Suguru began to stand, but Satoru held him down with a hand on his shoulder and leaned into him, rounding his back to rest his head by his hand. 

“Don’t get up. You’re warm.”

It was stupid how easy it was for Satoru to make his face burn. When he got clingy like he did when he was drunk, it made Suguru wish to god he wasn’t gay, because his friend looked way too cute when he latched onto him and beseeched him not to go like that, and it really wasn’t the time to be thinking that. He had a job to do, dammit. 

Trying to ignore how pretty Satoru’s eyes looked when he peered up at him through his long white lashes, Suguru pushed him away and got to his feet. Satoru whined, but didn’t stop him. 

“Sorry, but I need to get you some food. I know you haven’t eaten all night,” he told him. 

Glumly, Satoru sat back and waited while Suguru searched his kitchen. As expected, there was an overabundance of sweet foods. But, shockingly, there were signs of a somewhat balanced diet. Suguru supposed it made sense. He had to keep his body looking like that somehow. 

Finally, he settled on a slightly overripe mikan that he found, having heard that fruits are good for drunk people. He peeled it as quickly as he could, fumbling a bit in his haste, but being thorough. He knew Satoru wouldn’t eat it if much of the white was left. Once the task was complete, he got Satoru’s attention and tossed it at him. 

Satoru, even in his drunken state, managed to catch it in one hand before asking, “Whazzis for?”

“To eat, dumbass.”

Satoru inspected the fruit as though processing what it was for the first time, turning it around in his long, slender fingers. 

“You peeled it for me.”

Sure he did. For the sake of expediency. Better that than watch Satoru, with his alcohol induced loss of deftness, try to do it himself. Admittedly, though, there was the added bonus of seeing the peculiar look on Satoru’s face at the act of service. It was the same look he got when he bought him a soda or reminded him to get decent sleep. 

He hadn’t deciphered what it meant, but he figured it was something adjacent to embarrassment. Satoru felt pressure to do everything without help, and it was no wonder why. His path had been decided for him, and it wasn’t a forgiving one. He either had to be the strongest, or be dead. So it made sense that favors might make him feel a little embarrassed. 

That wouldn’t keep Suguru from doing them for him, though. He wanted the very best for his friend. He enjoyed doing things for him. That’s how friends were meant to feel. Maybe they weren’t meant to feel a spark of non-platonic interest at the thought of assisting their friend, but that was none of anybody’s business but Suguru’s. 

“Uh, yeah. Is that a problem?”

Satoru shook his head dumbly and examined the mikan again. Apparently satisfied with Suguru’s peeling job, he took a slice between his thumb and forefinger and tossed it in his mouth. Suguru sat beside him once again, and almost immediately, Satoru’s head was in his lap, facing up. Suguru froze, curling his hands at his sides, before he relaxed. 

It wasn’t the first time they’d done this. The first time had actually been on a similar night, when Suguru had been saddled with taking care of a drunk Satoru. That was the night when he decided that going the rest of his life only being Satoru’s friend would be torture. He wasn’t stupid, though. He knew that’s all he’d ever be, and he’d given up on trying for more. 

But when Satoru put his head in his lap like that, it made it harder. It made it feel almost like he had a chance, and that feeling terrified him. He couldn’t afford to have hope about something so far beyond the realm of possibility. 

“Sit up. You’ll choke on your food like that.”

Satoru pouted up at him. 

“I’m comfortable, though.”

Something about the fact that Satoru found his lap comfortable was immensely pleasing to Suguru, although he tried his best to ignore the feeling. 

“Eat first, and then you can lay down,” he ordered.

Satoru laid there silently, seemingly debating with himself whether or not it was worth it to continue being defiant. Eventually, he settled on an answer and sat up to hastily eat the rest of the mikan. It was gone in less than a minute, and then his head was back in Suguru’s lap. 

“There. Happy?”

Suguru made eye contact as he was about to reply, but found himself quickly looking away. 

“Yes. Thank you,” he said simply.

Upon hearing his thanks, Satoru smiled and let his eyes fall shut. Suguru knew that he should tell him not to fall asleep yet. He should take a shower, then sleep in an actual bed. It was Suguru’s plan to make sure he did that. But he couldn’t help what he wanted.  

Instead of saying anything, he put a hand in Satoru’s hair and began stroking the soft white strands. Satoru’s eyes fluttered open in response, but they closed soon after. A small smile made its way across his face. Suguru smiled too. 

“I like it when you touch my hair. Makes me feel all warm,” Satoru mumbled.

Suguru’s heart skipped a beat and his hand stopped. 

“What?”

Satoru’s eyes opened, then squeezed shut as he laughed at himself. 

“Uhhh. Uh oh. Inside thought,” he said.

Other than his faint blush, Suguru didn’t respond. Okay, his best friend felt “warm” when he touched his hair. So what? That was just a normal friend thing. He’d just keep doing it. 

Slowly, he resumed the scratches in his hair. He trailed his nails up and down, starting from his nape and going to his temples and crown. Satoru turned his head toward him to give him room, putting his face far too close to Suguru’s crotch. Suguru thought of telling him to move, but he looked comfortable and, admittedly, really adorable, so he shut his mouth. 

Satoru shivered as a nail scratched just behind his ear, and his lips parted slightly when he ventured further down than he had before, dipping under his shirt collar. Suguru shouldn’t have been having dirty thoughts when he was doing nothing but essentially petting his friend like a cat, but Satoru quickly began to make noises. 

When Suguru hit just the right spot or added a little extra pressure, Satoru would let out a loud exhale or gasp. He even whimpered softly when Suguru accidentally tugged lightly on his hair. He apologized, but Satoru appeared to barely hear him.

Suguru wished he were a little more aware of himself so he could stop looking and sounding so tempting. At least he wouldn’t remember how Suguru blushed in response. He couldn’t be blamed. Not when the man he was in love with looked so perfect and sounded like he did in Suguru’s less innocent fantasies. Shit. The thought of how he looked in those fantasies was dangerous. 

Once he felt an alarming sensation in his cock, he immediately declared, “Okay, you need a shower. You can rest later.”

Satoru groaned and squinted up at him. 

“I don’t need a shower,” he argued. “I showered this morning.”

“Well, now you've gotten all sweaty. Trust me, it’ll help you feel better,” Suguru averred. 

Though he got an eye roll in response, Satoru agreed eventually and the two made their way to the bathroom. As Suguru started the water, Satoru began stripping off his clothes right in the middle of the bathroom. Startled, Suguru turned his head. 

“Can you not wait until I’m gone?”

“Geez, calm down. I’m keeping my boxers on.”

He clearly didn’t understand the torment he was causing him, because when Suguru turned to look at him, he was leaning back on the closed toilet seat, muscular legs spread and defined abs on display. Suguru swallowed dryly. They were best friends. They had shared the communal showers before. There was no reason to freak out. 

But the thing was, no matter how many times he saw him shirtless, or in shorts, or even in a partially unbuttoned shirt, he lost some of his brain function. Satoru was gorgeous. And he wanted nothing more than to tell him that. Show him that. He didn’t care that he already had a massive ego. He fucking deserved it. 

Suguru was thankful when Satoru ripped him out of his thoughts by complaining, “I’m cold.”

“Yeah, well, you’re almost naked and a high blood alcohol content lowers your body temperature, so I can see why. Just hang on, the water’s warming up.”

Sticking his hand under the spray, he felt that it was almost scalding hot, the way he knew Satoru liked. His brain unhelpfully and against his will pointed out that their difference in preference would be an obstacle if they ever showered together. Feeling like a bit of a pervert, he motioned to the shower with his head ducked in shame and slipped out of the bathroom. 

“I’ll bring a change of clothes,” he said as he left. He thought he might have heard Satoru thank him, but his mind was too preoccupied for him to be sure. 

True to his word, Suguru grabbed a pair of black sweatpants and a loose white t-shirt, as well as a pair of boxers and some socks, and placed them on the counter as Satoru showered. With that done, he laid on Satoru’s bed, slightly propped up on a couple of pillows, trying not to think about his best friend in the shower. It was harder than it should have been. 

It wasn’t long before Satoru stepped out of the bathroom, his messy hair dripping onto the pale blue towel he’d draped over his shoulders. Once again, Suguru caught himself thinking he looked cute. 

He couldn’t say that though, so instead, he asked, “Feel better?”

Satoru nodded, shrugged off the towel, and flopped onto the bed beside him. Close. Very close. Suguru held his breath as an arm stretched across his chest and a head rested on his shoulder. Satoru’s hair wetted his neck and jaw, and it was slightly uncomfortable but it wasn’t nearly enough to distract from how shockingly close all of it felt to dreams he’d had. 

“Warm,” Satoru mumbled. 

Suguru remained silent. 

Satoru’s knee nudged his own. Then it rested atop it.

“C’n you… Can you do what you were doin’ before? With my hair?”

Suguru’s hand twitched as though trying to follow orders without his permission. Yet, he found himself hesitating. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. Actually, he hadn’t stopped thinking about playing with Satoru’s hair since it happened. He’d always wanted to touch that silky, pretty white. He just wished it didn’t take Satoru being drunk for him to ask. 

Still, he listened when Satoru impatiently nudged him with his foot. Slowly, he brought the hand on Satoru’s side to his hair and threaded his fingers through the damp strands. It was softer than before. He must have used Suguru’s conditioner. It certainly smelled like it—like mint, to be precise. The thought made Suguru’s heart flutter just a little. 

Satoru hummed and tried to press himself closer, even though he was already as close as he could be. Suguru wanted to ask if it was good, just to hear him say yes, but he kept the question to himself and continued to stroke his hair. Then, quietly, Satoru spoke. 

“I still feel kinda sick,” he grumbled. 

“Do you… need me to get you something?”

“I dunno. Not really. Just wanted to say it, I guess.”

A dangerous thought crossed Suguru’s mind. He shoved it away on instinct, before deciding it was worth considering as long as he insisted to himself that it was an entirely selfless idea, and not at all motivated by his feelings for his friend. 

“Maybe… Can I try something?”

“If it’ll help.”

“No promises. But, uh, that’s the goal.”

It took him a moment, but Suguru followed through. The hand in Satoru’s hair slid down to his back and began rubbing up and down his spine. Anticipating Satoru’s dismay at not having a hand in his hair, he used his other one to resume the soothing motions. 

“Oh,” Satoru breathed out, his breath hot against his collarbone.

He shivered, and his fingers flexed against Suguru’s sternum. 

“Is that okay?”

Satoru nodded. 

“Feels good. Keep going.”

Trying to ignore the thoughts that appeared in his head at the words, Suguru did as he was requested. He didn’t want to acknowledge it, but he couldn’t deny how good Satoru’s defined back muscles felt. He’d seen what was under his shirt, but actually feeling the broadness and strength of his back, even through clothing, was something else. 

He desperately wanted to touch his bare, warm skin. He’d thought about it more than he could admit to even himself, and it scared him how easily he could do it, his fingers brushing the hem of his shirt on every down stroke with the way it had ridden up just above his hips. But he couldn’t. Not unless Satoru told him to, and he sure as shit wasn’t about to ask. 

For the moment, he was content enough with touching through the shirt. At least the fabric was thin, which he didn’t think about when he picked it out but was certainly grateful for. Testingly, he applied more pressure to his back. To his surprise, Satoru let out a deep hum, nearly a moan, and arched his back into it. Suguru willed his body not to react. 

Which was hard, because Satoru didn’t stop reacting as he continued. When it wasn’t a noise, it was his fingers curling and uncurling, or him burying his face deeper into the crook of Suguru’s neck. A confusing mix of arousal and affection, one that had been present but not too much of a problem just a minute before, swelled substantially within him. 

He wanted to tug him closer and kiss him sweetly just as much as he wanted to roll on top of him and make him moan for real, or rather do all that to a sober version of him, and the feeling was a little overwhelming. He was a grown man, though. So he kept himself and his body under control, even as Satoru’s breath got heavier and mixed with the prettiest noises he’d heard in his life. 

And then he noticed it. 

Satoru was getting hard. And his hips were moving ever so slightly against his thigh. Fuck. 

He’d had dreams like this before, although Satoru was never intoxicated in those. And he was usually his boyfriend. He’d wake up hard and ashamed, unable to face Satoru the entire day. The worst part was always knowing that he’d have a similar dream soon enough, and the guilt would continue to pile up until he collapsed under its weight some day. 

This, though, was real. If he got hard then, when Satoru would know, he’d never recover. Satoru at least had an excuse, but Suguru hadn’t had a drop of booze the whole night. He just had to put a stop to it. Simple as that. Satoru was drunk, and probably forgot he was even lying against his friend and not some random, hot—

“Suguru…”

Suguru’s eyes went wide and he cursed himself for the flicker of excitement at the fact that he said his name. His name. If a god existed, it was playing a cruel, cruel trick on him. 

“Uh. Yeah?”

He didn’t get an answer. Not for a while, anyway. Satoru just kept up the minute movements while clinging to him. Maybe he should have pushed him off, but his body reacted automatically, as though it was muscle memory from his dreams. He stayed still other than the hands on his back and in his hair, following his instinct to please and comfort him. 

It was fine like this. Satoru was taking care of a natural bodily reaction, and Suguru was helping soothe him. He always wished someone (Satoru) would rub his back on the rare occasion that he had a few too many drinks and felt like shit, so of course he’d do that for his best friend. And that’s all it had to be. A friend helping a friend. No reason to get hard, and no reason to freak out. It was okay. 

As he repeated this to himself, Satoru spoke again, shattering every reassurance and decimating every scrap of sanity. 

“Wanna feel you. Want—Want more,” he expressed.

Suguru gritted his teeth.  

“I… I can’t. Not when you’re drunk, alright?”

Satoru groaned. 

“I’m not dr—I’m thinking straight,” he insisted. 

Suguru knew better than that, though he wished it were true. 

“No, you’re not. It’s a no, Satoru.”

A whine left Satoru, and Suguru could feel his lips quiver against his skin. 

“Are you mad at me?” Satoru asked in a small voice. 

“I’m not mad,” Suguru said truthfully. “Not at all. I just don’t want to take advantage of you. Understand?”

Satoru was silent for a moment, thinking his words over. 

“If you don’t wanna help, can you… can you talk to me?”

Satoru’s voice was hesitant and meek, entirely out of character. For the millionth time in his life, Suguru thought, this boy is going to be the death of me. 

“It’s not that I don’t—I mean…”

He couldn’t. Suguru knew that. As much as he wanted to be able to listen to Satoru’s request, it wouldn’t be right for him to do anything while he was drunk, even if it was just… just talking him through it, or whatever. 

“I’m sorry, Satoru. I’ll help you fall asleep, but nothing more.”

Gently, he grabbed Satoru’s hip with the hand that had been stroking his hair, stilling him. Satoru didn’t fight it, although he did whine disappointedly. 

“‘S not fair,” Satoru complained. 

“It’s the only thing that’s fair,” Suguru argued. “Just try to sleep.

“Fine. ‘Nother time,” he said. 

Another time. 

The words repeated over and over in Suguru’s head. In those two slurred words was a promise that he could only hope would be carried out, yet he dared not to assume it would be. After all, Satoru wasn’t sober. Whatever he said would mean nothing to him the following morning, or any morning, noon, or night afterwards. It didn’t matter. But Suguru kept thinking.

Another time. 

As he debated the likelihood that something would come out of whatever happened between them that evening, Satoru’s breathing slowed. He was usually too alert to fall asleep quickly, especially around others, but it was different with Suguru. The alcohol was sure to have helped as well. In a matter of minutes, he was passed out. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d fallen asleep on him. It wouldn’t be the last. But it wouldn’t be the same after that, and he knew it. They would always have the memory of that night in the corner of every room they occupied. Maybe one day it could be nothing more than a joke between them, but that hurt in its own way. Selfishly, Suguru wanted it to mean something.

There was something there, wasn’t there? It was Suguru’s name that he said, Suguru’s body that he clung to. He trusted him. No, what happened could never be treated as a joke. There was too much sincerity in what they had for that to be a possibility. Their connection was special. 

Whatever. Suguru had let his mind perambulate into alarmingly hopeful territory. Anyone who knew them would say that they were as close as two people could be without being sewn together, but that didn’t add any meaning to the events of that night. It didn’t mark a favorable shift in their relationship. They would both just be better off if Satoru forgot. 

———

Satoru did not forget. He didn’t forget the firm, strong hand sweeping across his back, nor the thick bicep flexing against his shoulder with every movement, nor the gentle words murmured just for him. His pounding headache and the brightness of the light through the window reminded him of the chance that had slipped away last night, both created and destroyed by alcohol. 

His hangover was the only verification that he had that the previous night had indeed occurred, as Suguru was absent from the bed. Satoru couldn’t tell whether he was relieved or disappointed. On one hand, he wasn’t ready to face him. On the other hand, it would have been nice to wake up beside him. 

He was quite certain that Suguru didn’t reciprocate his feelings. He’d flirted with him and got nothing in return, so he gave up on hoping. It was a painful realization, but even Satoru couldn’t get just anyone he wanted. With this in mind, he resolved to pretend like nothing happened. 

Shoving down the part of his brain that begged him to examine his memories for evidence that that night meant something to Suguru, he changed into new pairs of boxers and sweatpants and left the bedroom. He half expected Suguru to have fled his own house in an effort to escape his mistake, so he was a little shocked to see him in the kitchen.

He was turned away from him, his head thrown back as he finished a glass of water. He had changed his outfit, now wearing black pants and an oversized pale green shirt—an outfit he’d left at Satoru’s house during one of his very frequent visits. His hair was down for a change, adding an odd sense of domesticity and intimacy to the scene. 

Satoru walked forward cautiously as Suguru set the glass down on the counter. Then, like he could sense him, Suguru turned around with an unreadable expression. At least, it would be unreadable for anyone other than Satoru. He could tell that he was uncomfortable, and to him, that confirmed his suspicion that he regretted the night before. 

Neither spoke for what seemed like an eternity, only staring at each other, then looking away nervously. Finally, Suguru turned his body to face him, his grip on the edge of the counter behind him the only indication that the casual pose was an attempt to mask his anxiety. Satoru copied him, leaning on one hip and balling his hands in his pockets. 

“Morning,” Satoru greeted. 

“Hey,” Suguru replied. 

A tense silence blanketed the room once again. No longer able to bear the stillness, nor the nearly physical sensation of having Suguru’s eyes on him, Satoru went to pour himself a glass of water.  As he did, he couldn’t help but say the words that had lingered in his mind since he remembered the events of the previous night. 

“I’m sorry.”

He faced the cabinets to Suguru’s left as he said it, keeping his eyes fixed on them intently and gripping his glass hard. He couldn’t remember the last time he apologized (non-sarcastically, at least), and it tasted foreign and bitter on his tongue. But he felt like he had to say it, like it might help fix the mess he made, so he swallowed his pride. 

“What?”

“I said I’m sorry,” he repeated, turning his body slightly towards him to add an ounce of visible sincerity. 

“For what?”

“You know what for.”

“I know, I just meant… You don’t need to be,” Suguru clarified. 

Satoru wanted to take comfort in his words, but he couldn’t. No matter what Suguru said, he’d let his desires slip through his drunken, fumbling hands and lay themselves bare before him in his own bed. It was embarrassing, and completely unfair to Suguru. He had surely made him uncomfortable. 

Lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t say anything. So, Suguru took it upon himself to keep the conversation going. 

“Can we talk about it?” he asked. 

“I kinda really don’t want to do that at all,” Satoru answered honestly. 

“Let me rephrase, then: We’re going to talk about it,” Suguru declared, pivoting where he stood to face him. “I don’t want things to be weird between us, so let’s just address it now and then forget about it.”

Satoru faced him as well, though his gaze stayed firmly stuck to the counter behind Suguru. 

“What is there to talk about? I already apologized.”

Suguru rubbed the bridge of his nose, a habit that occasionally showed itself when he was stressed or frustrated. In this case, Satoru suspected it was both. 

“I don’t want an apology. I guess I just… I don’t want you to feel bad or anything. I know you don’t feel that way about me, which is fine, obviously, I’m not—”

“Huh?” 

Satoru looked him in the eye, searching his face for signs of a joke. 

“What?” Suguru questioned. 

“You’re serious?"

“Yes, I’m serious. What’s your issue?”

Unless Suguru really was messing with him, that meant his advances, or what he’d previously considered to be advances, went completely unnoticed. Which is crazy, because Suguru was usually good at reading people. Freaky good, actually. Especially when it came to Satoru. 

“I thought you knew. Holy shit,” Satoru laughed lightly in disbelief. “You’re dumber than I give you credit for.”

That got Suguru to look less frustrated and more outright agitated. Satoru didn’t mean to be insulting, but the possibility that Suguru hadn’t been turning him down and just didn’t realize that Satoru was into him filled him with a rush of shock and hope. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Suguru demanded. 

Without letting himself think too hard about it, Satoru took a chance. 

“Suguru, I’m super into you. I have been for years. I thought you knew that and didn’t feel the same, which is part of the reason I felt so awful about last night. You’d made it clear that you—and yet I—but, well, I guess… You actually didn’t know?”

Suguru stood so still that Satoru questioned whether he was even breathing. His eyebrows were raised high. Satoru started to think about what he said then, and worried that he’d made a terrible mistake, but then Suguru responded. 

“How the fuck was I meant to know that you felt the same?”

It was Satoru’s turn to freeze. 

The same? As in, the same way Satoru felt? As in, he was romantically attracted to him?

“Wh—Actually?”

“Actually what?”

“Like, you felt—feel the same?”

“Obviously,” Suguru said simply. 

“What do you mean obviously? You were way more subtle than I was!”

Suguru adopted a defensive stance and replied, “Maybe you just didn’t notice because you’re so self absorbed.”

He wasn’t wrong, exactly. Satoru was aware of that fact, and he wouldn’t dispute it. But also, it wasn’t really the time to say it. He could get angry and fight him on it, but it wasn’t the time for that either. Besides, he knew his friend. Suguru was only lashing out to feel a little more in control of a moment of vulnerability. Satoru understood. 

“See what I mean? That’s not flirting.”

Suguru rubbed a hand over his face in annoyance. 

“No, dick, it’s not. I don’t flirt unabashedly with everyone who looks at me, unlike some people in this room.”

Satoru pointed at himself, mouth agape, feigning offense. 

“Flirting isn’t the only way to show interest, though. I mean, haven’t you noticed how I am with you compared to other people?” Suguru questioned. 

“Uh, yeah, you’re meaner to me.”

“Sure, sometimes I am. But I also buy you food and check in on your wellbeing. I even let you touch my hair and wrap your arm around my shoulders. Not to mention the times I’ve let you lay your head or feet or entire body in my lap. I don’t do that for anyone else. Not even Ieiri. Who, by the way, says I even speak differently to you. More softly, or whatever. But it’s Ieiri, so she could just be making shit up. Either way, I care about you. Maybe the way I show it isn’t obvious for someone as oblivious as you, but I do in my own ways.”

Satoru was silent, taking it all in. He’d never read into any of those things. That’s just what friends did, right? But hearing it all out loud and comparing it to other friendships, it sounded like more than just friend behavior. Some of it even sounded like it was pulled from a shojo manga—not that Satoru read those, or anything. 

Of course, there were times that he’d recognized that maybe normal friendships didn’t consist of sharing bikes and falling asleep with tangled limbs and tucking long, black hair behind pierced ears without a second thought. But as romantic as it all sounded, he’d long known Suguru as someone that he couldn’t have. Not in the society they lived in, and especially not as long as he was who he was. 

So, all those moments were held close to his heart without any real meaning. Without any hope. They were just glimpses into a dream that would never be realized. That’s how it felt, anyway. And yet, there he was, watching through somewhat bleary eyes as that dream came true. 

For what must have been only the second or third time in his life, Satoru was at a loss for words. He hadn’t seriously considered that he might receive a confession from Suguru, so he hadn’t planned a graceful or witty response. His usual ability to come up with responses on the fly had been destroyed both by his hangover and by the revelation he’d just been hit with, so he paused awkwardly before answering. 

“I… guess I didn’t think about it?” 

Suguru rolled his eyes. 

“I can’t believe I have feelings for your clueless ass,” he grumbled. 

“No fair!” Satoru retorted. “I’ve been blatantly flirting with you for years and you still didn’t realize. You have no right to call me clueless.”

“You flirt with lots of people,” Suguru reasoned. 

It was true, but he didn’t flirt with others the same way he did with Suguru. The most he did with a stranger was wink and pose, and maybe offer a compliment. He wasn’t sure why he did it, because he didn’t want any of those people. Maybe it was just for appearances, or maybe he liked to pretend that he wasn’t as untouchable as he really was. Like he was still human. 

Either way, it was different with Suguru. As much as he tried to just be playful about it, every flirtatious remark or gesture was charged with emotion and sincerity. Suguru had peeled back layers of holy, superficial skin to reveal a version of Satoru that he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge before. 

That version of him loved Suguru to such an extent that his love could not be shoved between his human flesh and godly shell, where it would be hidden out of sight. When he was around Suguru, that love spilled through the cracks of his shell and pooled at their feet as Satoru joked about Suguru acting like a nagging spouse or ran his fingers through his dark hair while commenting on how long it was getting. 

His love gave meaning to everything he said to Suguru, even when he didn’t want it to. The girls at cafes and clothing stores didn’t get a drop of that adoration. They hadn’t earned his authentic self. Suguru had. That wasn’t to say that playfully flirting with strangers was all part of an act. In truth, it came naturally to Satoru. But the flirting that Suguru got was from his very soul. 

Satoru didn’t want to explain all of that, though, so he simply said, “It’s different with you.”

“How so?”

“I mean,” he began hesitantly, “it doesn’t mean anything with them. It’s just what I’m supposed to do, I guess. But with you, it’s more… honest. Like, I’m actually telling you how I feel, but pretending it’s a joke. I’m shocked you didn’t pick up on that.”

His last comment made Suguru huff. It was a welcome sight during such a serious conversation. 

“Okay, fine, now we’ve established that we’re both dumbasses. Now what? What do we do about… you know… us?”

For a long time, Satoru didn’t let himself dream about what he and Suguru could have. He grew up in a conservative clan that didn’t care about what he wanted, and would have certainly tried horrible things to “fix” him if they knew that he would end up wanting a man. Additionally, he wasn’t impervious to the hate towards people like him that he witnessed in society. Therefore, he got it into his head that it wasn’t worth dreaming about. 

But, it got to a point where he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t imagine a future where he and Suguru weren’t entwined, and being nothing more than friends was never quite enough. The more he thought about it, the more he was certain that he wanted to be with him regardless of what he had been conditioned to fear within himself, and what others might think. 

“I don’t want to just be your friend anymore,” Satoru stated. “We don’t have to tell people, but I want to date you.”

Part of him was worried that Suguru was still clinging to the same fears that Satoru had. But, he knew he’d always regret it if he didn’t tell him what he wanted. Suguru let out an exhale, eyes closed, and smiled. 

“I want that.”

Satoru let out a relieved exhale of his own. 

“Okay. Good. Great. So, we’re boyfriends.”

Calling them “boyfriends” felt odd and impossible, but it felt right. Not only right, but inevitable. Although Suguru’s eyes widened at the word, he didn’t seem displeased. If anything, he appeared the opposite. 

“Yeah. Boyfriends,” he affirmed. 

It sounded even better when Suguru said it. 

“So, then… should we go on a date?” Satoru asked. 

He’d never dated anyone before, so he didn’t know how it all went. He knew it was traditional to invite people on dates when you were into them, so he figured he’d start there. Then again, this had all started because he grinded against his leg when he was drunk, so maybe people like them weren’t meant to do things the traditional way anyway. 

“Are you asking me out, or just pondering?” Suguru quipped, tilting his head. 

“Shut up,” Satoru replied. “I’m trying to do this right.”

Suguru laughed softly. The sound always made Satoru feel like there wasn’t enough air in his lungs. When Suguru looked up at him, there was a new tenderness in his eyes that filled him with a strong urge to grab his face and kiss him. Later, he told himself. He’d get his chance. 

“I know. And, yes, we can go on a date soon. But, I think we should start with the basics.”

The way he said it was almost sly, and Satoru started to get worried. 

“Huh?”

Slowly, Suguru stepped toward him, a small smile on his handsome face. Satoru held his breath and released Infinity, which he’d been automatically keeping activated. Noticing the shift, Suguru’s smile widened. When there were only six or so inches between them, Suguru stopped and looked up at him, a challenge in his eyes. 

“Well?”

Satoru’s heart was going to beat right out of his chest. He couldn’t believe what was happening. After years of pining, he’d finally get to kiss him. That’s what he wanted, right? God, he hoped so. While he couldn’t help but be a little nervous about it, he didn’t doubt that he’d figure out what he was doing quickly enough. If he could teach himself reverse cursed technique on the verge of death, he could teach himself how to kiss. 

Instead of letting himself stall and worry, he took a breath and pressed their lips together. And, wow. He knew it was cliche and stupid to get so impressed by a kiss, but he couldn’t help it. He’d felt many, many feelings over the course of his life, and kissing Suguru was, without a doubt, the best one. He moaned quietly with satisfaction. 

It started out clumsy, but they found a rhythm before long. The brushes and presses of their lips felt somewhat intuitive, albeit slightly awkward. Any lack of skill was more than made up for with enthusiasm, though, and Satoru was too high off pure mirth to be bothered by anything at all. 

Their hands wandered over each other’s torsos and necks, making Satoru gasp and twitch from time to time. Although he tried to suppress his reactions, he’d become sensitive after depriving himself of touch so often for several years. Letting Suguru touch him despite that weakness was scary, yet it made him realize how lucky he was to have someone who he could trust enough to do that. 

Satoru threaded his fingers through Suguru’s silky hair, just like he always dreamed of doing. Suguru hummed in response and rubbed up and down his sides. Embarrassingly, it caused Satoru to shiver. He’d known that his sides were sensitive, but it was so much worse when Suguru was the one to touch them. He couldn’t even imagine what his hands would feel like on his cock. 

He shooed the thought away for the time being, not wanting to get hard from their first kiss like a teenager. Though, he supposed he’d done far more shameful things in the past twenty four hours, and that hadn’t exactly scared Suguru off. Besides, Suguru was pressing against him like any distance was physically painful, so he was clearly enjoying himself as well. 

When Suguru pulled away, Satoru felt horribly bereft, but he was also out of breath and desperately needed air, so he didn’t fight. For a moment, they panted against each other’s cheeks. Satoru’s head was still spinning, and his smile must have looked ridiculous, and he’d never been happier. 

A warm pair of hands came up to hold his face. Automatically, he let them bear the weight of his head. As they stared into each other’s eyes, Satoru felt some kind of shift in the cosmos. Everything felt so real, suddenly. It was all sinking in at once, and it was both overwhelming and wonderful. He wanted to kiss Suguru again. 

“You know… we’ve been busy lately,” Suguru began, dragging a hand down to Satoru’s waist. “Maybe we can find a way to celebrate this other than leaving the comfort of our homes and going on a date.”

The hand on his side went down to the hem of his shirt, where it played with the fabric before slipping beneath it and resting on his bare waist. Satoru gasped and tightened his fingers in Suguru’s hair. Even the simple touch on his skin, especially paired with his almost suggestive words, made him feel a bit unstable on his feet. 

“Yeah? What were you thinking?”

He wanted to sound playful and teasing to match Suguru’s tone, but he instead sounded flustered. Now that he was sober, the idea of being flustered by Suguru, or made to feel less dominant in any way, was somewhat scary. What was even scarier was how natural it felt for him. Yet, he didn’t want Suguru to stop. 

“Well, I was thinking…” Suguru kissed a line from his chin to the corner of his jaw before speaking into his ear. “…we could spend some time alone. In your room, or in mine. And, I don’t know about you, but there are many things that I’ve wanted to do to you for a while, but haven’t been able to.”

“Me too,” Satoru whispered. 

He felt like he was in a trance. Suguru’s voice in his ear and his hands on him, stroking his skin, had blood flowing south humiliatingly early. 

“Good. Then, we can try some of those things. Sound good?”

Already, Satoru was already thinking of “some of those things”. There were lots of things to choose from that he had been imagining for a while. 

“Yes. That’s—Yeah.”

Suguru kissed another trail to the corner of his lips. Before their lips met properly, he paused. Satoru didn’t dare move, despite the way his heart pounded with anticipation. Something about the confidence in Suguru’s gaze held him in place, waiting for Suguru to make the move. It was hard, though. He had gotten turned on in record time and wanted nothing more than to kiss him against the fridge. 

“Perfect.” Suguru smiled slyly, then backed away until there was an entire foot of distance between them. “Well, I have a mission I need to get to. I’ll see you later, Satoru. For our date.”

And then, tragically, he turned and left. Satoru stood, frozen, as he heard the front door click shut. What the hell had just happened? He knew Suguru was kind of a dick, but that was uncalled for. Yet, he had to admit that he liked that side of Suguru. It was hot, if he was entirely honest. Not that he’d tell him. 

Brushing off Suguru’s betrayal—though the end of their interaction and their first kiss wouldn’t leave his head any time soon—Satoru checked the clock on the wall across from him. Shit. He had a mission soon, too. He didn’t know how he’d be able to focus. Then again, he could only think of one or two fights where his full attention had been required. He was the strongest, after all. 

Being the strongest made many things possible for Satoru. Things that most people wouldn’t consider even close to realistic. He couldn’t deny that it made him feel superior. At the same time, though, it made very ordinary things seem impossible. After the childhood he’d had, and with the burden of his own power, he’d been made to believe that he couldn’t have small, human luxuries. 

Love was out of reach for someone like him. Someone above humanity. That’s what he’d thought, anyway. But Suguru had proven him wrong. Ordinarily, he hated being proven wrong. He’d even ignore it, on occasion. He didn’t mind being wrong about that, though.