Kis-My-Ft2, Take a Picture (It’ll Last Longer)

Title: Take a Picture (It’ll Last Longer) [Kitayama/Miyata]
Rating/Warnings: R
Summary: Kitayama and Miyata meet on a soccer field, have a lot of karaoke dates, and somehow manage to make it all work out between the two of them.
AN: This is all the stuff that leads up to the AU I wrote in Rough Sketch, the fic where Kitayama is a middle school soccer coach and Miyata ends up drawing BL doujin of the rest of Kisumai. This was supposed to be short and then I got stuck with it for days and days because they wouldn’t do what I said. Posted for Kitayama and Miyata’s birthdays! At least I’m in time for Mitsu’s.

Take a Picture (It’ll Last Longer)

Kitayama first noticed the guy a couple weeks ago. He’s not particularly noticeable, average height, clothes neither fashionable nor awful, sometimes a cap to shade his eyes if the sun’s out. The only memorable feature about him at all is that he has kind of a big nose.

Also the fact that he’s been sitting on the bench in the same spot for the last ten soccer practices, drawing in a sketchpad. Eventually curiosity gets the better of Kitayama, and at the end of the practice instead of following everyone else in from the field, he ‘accidentally’ kicks the ball near that guy.

The guy’s eyes widen in surprise when he realizes that Kitayama’s heading straight for him, but he doesn’t bolt. Kitayama halts in front of him, and puts his foot on top of the ball to keep it from rolling off.

“Art student?” Kitayama asks.

“N-no,” the other guy says, glancing around nervously. “Sorry, if I’m bothering you, I won’t come anymore.”

“Eh?” Kitayama raises an eyebrow. “How can you be bothering me? You’re just sitting there. But you are drawing, right?”

The guy looks down like he’s forgotten he’s got a sketchpad in his hands. “Oh! Right, yeah. I was, um, I draw manga? Or I try to. So I came here to watch, you know, sports.”

“Like a shounen series?” Kitayama asks. The guy bobs his head. “That’s cool. That you’re trying to draw your own stuff, I mean. I have awesome handwriting but I can’t draw a damn thing.” Looking him over more carefully, Kitayama notices the One Piece characters hanging off of Miyata’s bag, sitting next to him on the bench. “You like anime too?”

“Yes!” Miyata answers, straightening a little. “I always have, it’s why I started drawing. I think it’s so interesting the way they change stories to go from paper to the TV, don’t you? And this season there’s so much good stuff, I can hardly…” He trails off suddenly, cheeks turning pink as he seems to realize that he got a little carried away.

Something about him, Kitayama can’t say exactly what it is, makes Kitayama look him over more carefully. His shy smile, his slightly out-of-fashion clothes, they way he looks so nervous, it’s cute. He’s cute, appealing in a sort of everyday way, and before Kitayama knows what he’s doing, he’s asking the guy if he wants to go out.

“Out?” The guy looks around at the open field, then up at the sky. “We’re already out?”

So cute, Kitayama chuckles internally. “No, not out, do you want to go out. With me. I’m Kitayama, by the way.”

“…M-miyata.” Miyata blinks a few times. “Miyata Toshiya. I…on a date? Like a date date?”

“It’s okay if you don’t like guys,” Kitayama says gently, regretting a little shooting his mouth off before thinking. The poor guy just came here to sketch and Kitayama’s gone right to questioning his sexuality.

“It’s just, I’ve never had a guy ask before.” Miyata’s eyes cut to the side, fingers curling more tightly around his sketchpad. “Actually no one’s ever asked before. Especially not anybody so…” Miyata trails off, cheeks turning even pinker.

“You seem nice enough to me,” Kitayama says, figuring calling the guy ‘adorable’ won’t help things along any no matter how true it is. “Do you like karaoke? I can do a lot of anime themes and stuff.”

That’s the right thing to say, apparently, because at least Miyata looks back up at Kitayama properly. “Okay. I guess? Um, that’s not a euphemism for something, right?”

Kitayama bursts out laughing, making Miyata jump, but after a second he laughs too. His eyes scrunch up when he does, and Kitayama likes it.

“Tomorrow afternoon, if you’re free?” Kitayama asks. Miyata thinks a moment, then nods. “We can meet at the station, there’s a cheap place nearby I like. My afternoon class ends at 15:00, if that’s okay.”

“Yes, I only have morning classes tomorrow,” Miyata nods.

Just then one of Kitayama’s teammates calls for him to move it the fuck along already, making Kitayama glance over his shoulder. “Okay, tomorrow then, a little after 15:00. See you.”

“See you,” Miyata echoes. He still looks a bit shell-shocked as Kitayama jogs off to rejoin his teammates. Kitayama forces himself not to keep glancing over his shoulder because he isn’t trying to creep the guy out or whatever, and keeps his fingers crossed that he doesn’t get stood up tomorrow.

The next day at the station, there’s a moment when Kitayama is afraid that’s exactly what’s happened, before he finally spots Miyata hovering nervously near a wall ad for the new Pokemon movie. There’s no mistaking the relief on Miyata’s face when he catches sight of Kitayama coming towards him.

“You thought I was gonna stand you up,” Kitayama says, grinning. He shouldn’t tease, since he thought the same thing, but he can’t resist.

“I just,” Miyata hedges, ducking his head a little, “I did think maybe it was some kind of prank. Your teammates aren’t going to jump out from behind something, right?”

“I hope not. They can’t sing for shit. Come on, the place is right around the corner.”

It’s nearly an hour before Miyata relaxes most of the way. Kitayama always finds that karaoke is a good first date because you don’t have to make a lot of awkward smalltalk, and in this case especially his strategy doesn’t let him down. It turns out the two of them watch a lot of the same anime, and have at least a passing knowledge of the other artists the other person puts into the song picker. Miyata leans a little more pop than Kitayama’s rock/indie, but it’s nice to be introduced to new things. Miyata’s voice is good too, as good or better than Kitayama’s on songs he knows well.

By the fourth hour, they’re squabbling comfortably over song choices, both of them getting hoarse but neither one of them wanting to quit. They both jump when the phone rings to tell them their time is nearly up. Kitayama is opening his mouth to say just one more hour when Miyata starts coughing quietly, and he tells the woman they had better quit.

“Do you want to eat something?” Kitayama asks. He doesn’t want their date to be over yet, and also is regretting not trying to kiss Miyata in the privacy of the karaoke room.

“Okay, sure,” Miyata agrees. “But I’m paying,” which Kitayama has to agree is only fair, since he sneakily took care of the whole karaoke bill while Miyata was in the bathroom for two minutes.

There’s a family restaurant nearby that Miyata studies at sometimes, and the place is quiet enough since it’s past dinner rush. Long after their food is gone, they hang around chatting, taking turns going back to the drink bar.

“You ever bring anyone else here?” Kitayama asks, teasing a little, but he’s curious.

“No,” Miyata shakes his head. “You mean on a date, right? Definitely not. I meant it when I said nobody’s ever asked.”

“You could ask,” Kitayama points out. Miyata’s smile is part sheepish and part self-deprecating, and Kitayama doesn’t understand at all why Miyata seems to feel like that. He’s seen a hundred guys way more unfortunate-looking than him snag girlfriends.

Miyata just shakes his head. “I couldn’t, I’m too shy. I’m just the weirdo who hangs around and draws people even when it’s a little creepy. I’m jealous of the way you asked me out just like that. You seemed so cool. People tell you yes all the time, right?”

“I don’t ask a lot of people,” Kitayama says. It takes a second, but then Miyata gives him a small smile. “And I didn’t think you were creepy. Are you going to show me the drawings, though?”

“You want to see?” Miyata chews on his lip a little, gaze sliding away. “It’s…you really will think I’m creepy.”

“Try me,” Kitayama insists. He can take it, he thinks, and besides, the curiosity about what Miyata found worth watching for ten practices in a row is kind of driving Kitayama crazy.

Miyata reaches into his bag to pull out his sketchbook. He hesitates, then draws a deep breath and hands it over. Kitayama looks to make sure the tabletop in front of him isn’t wet from his glass, then sets the book down and flips through the first couple pages. The sketches are rushed, most of them only half-done, but Miyata has a good eye for detail and for picking out the features that make a person’s face their own. Even in the quickest sketches, Kitayama can usually see which teammate Miyata was drawing.

“Aha,” Kitayama says when he turns a page to discover himself. He sees that nose in the mirror every morning, the way his hair puffs to the side sometimes and the relaxed shrug of his shoulders. There are a lot more of him, Miyata getting the likeness closer with more practice, and this is obviously why Miyata is embarrassed. When Kitayama looks up, Miyata is staring at the tabletop like it owes him money.

“Sorry,” Miyata mutters, apparently feeling Kitayama’s eyes on him. “It’s creepy after all.”

“A little,” Kitayama says honestly as he closes the notebook. “But it’s kind of flattering. Why’d you pay all that attention to me?”

“I’m not sure. Your face felt easy to draw.” Miyata looks up, watching Kitayama’s expression as if trying to figure out when this stops being okay.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in ages,” Kitayama says, grinning as he hands the notebook back. Miyata’s hands curl around it automatically, like he needs something to hold onto tightly. “So do you like guys? I’m sorry I didn’t ask you properly before, by the way. I was afraid you’d say no.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever liked one before,” Miyata answers. He gives Kitayama that same small smile. “But…so far, I think I might like you? Is that okay?”

“It’s fine,” Kitayama says, so quickly Miyata laughs. “I mean, it’s definitely fine if you like me. I like guys sometimes, you know how it is.”

“Soccer team,” Miyata says knowingly, and blinks in surprise when Kitayama laughs hard enough to cover his mouth to try and keep from drawing the attention of everyone in the restaurant.

Back at the station, Kitayama is out of things to suggest but still doesn’t want the date to end. They haven’t kissed or even held hands, but every time Miyata smiles that shy smile, Kitayama feels a little more like this is the best date he’s ever had.

“We can go out again, right?” he asks while Miyata is looking for his train on the electronic board. “Please say yes.”

“Yes,” Miyata agrees. They both shuffle their feet. “Well, bye, I guess.”

“Yeah, see you later.”

They give each other awkward little waves, and then Miyata turns to head for his train, and Kitayama goes for the vending machine for a drink before sauntering towards his own platform, needing a moment to collect his thoughts. He’s so caught up in his thoughts as he heads down the steps and gets in a line without really looking, that he nearly jumps out of his skin when somebody taps him on the shoulder.

“Miyata?” he asks in confusion when he sees who it is.

“I think there’s a chance,” Miyata says, obviously trying to hold back laughter, “that we ride the same train every single day. Don’t panic, but we might actually be shojo manga characters.”

“God, I really should have kissed you in the karaoke booth,” Kitayama blurts, making Miyata’s eyes pop comically wide.

It takes a few more dates for their first kiss, mainly because Miyata is too shy to try anything and Kitayama doesn’t want to force him in public where it might be an issue. Even when he turns on the couch to face Miyata during their anime-watching home date, he’s still a little afraid he’s forcing Miyata with the strength of his personality.

He leans in close enough that Miyata has to know what’s happening before he asks, “Is it okay?”

“Yeah,” Miyata says, voice quiet.

“I don’t want to force you,” Kitayama explains. Miyata shakes his head a little. “I like you a lot and I really want to kiss you, but I don’t know if you’ll tell me if it’s not okay, because you seem to say okay to just about everything I–”

“Would you please kiss me already,” Miyata interrupts, so plaintively that Kitayama almost ruins the whole thing by laughing.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Okay.” He puts his hand against Miyata’s cheek to make sure he gets him in the right place on the first try, and then leans in to press their mouths together. It’s slow and sweet and Miyata has so little idea what he’s doing that Kitayama starts to doubt that he does either. He pulls back to ask, “Is it o–” and then Miyata cuts him off by leaning forward to kiss him again. It’s longer and a little better, Kitayama coaxing Miyata’s mouth into moving against his by example.

“Don’t have to ask every time,” Miyata says when the kiss breaks, voice low enough that Kitayama wouldn’t understand if he weren’t so close. “I won’t tell you no.”

“That’s not the sort of blanket permission you want to give a guy from the soccer team,” Kitayama says, only sort of teasing because right now he wants to do a lot of things with Miyata that are probably not okay yet.

His heart skips a beat when Miyata looks up to meet his eyes squarely. “I’m giving it to you.”

It’s way too early for that conversation, so Kitayama distracts himself with more kissing, and Miyata really must like him since he doesn’t object to missing the rest of the episode of the anime he’s been talking about non-stop all week. For days afterwards, Kitayama wanders around grinning like a moron to that thought, walking into trashcans and poles and door frames until his mother finally asks him what his damage is.

“Nothing,” Kitayama answers, looking up from his phone at the breakfast table in the middle of his mail asking if Miyata’s free later. It buzzes in his hand with an incoming message asking the same thing, and Kityama almost drops it in his natto.

His mother rests her cheek against her palm and gives him a onceover. “Who is she?”

“There’s no girl, Mom,” Kitayama answers, attention mainly on texting back that he thinks today could be the day they break their karaoke length record.

“Don’t play a player, Hiromitsu.” Kitayama-san reaches over and uses one finger to push Kitayama’s phone down from his face. “What’s her name?”

“His name,” Kitayama’s grin turns shy but it’s still spread pretty wide across his face, “is Miyata Toshiya.”

She only hesitates a second, because his mother is awesome. “Then I guess you’d better invite Miyata-kun over for dinner this weekend, and tell him to be on time because at least one of you needs to be.”

“Sure.” It takes a minute for the import of what just happened to sink the whole way in, and by then his mother is already picking up her breakfast dishes and the moment to make a big deal out of it is already past.

He settles for hugging his mother tightly on the way out the door. She ruffles his hair, and he knows she gets what he’s saying.

“I told my mom about us,” Kitayama says as soon as he sets foot in the karaoke room, before Miyata even says hello.

“O-oh,” Miyata fumbles for a response for a second. “How’d it…go?”

“It’s fine.” Kitayama sits down next to Miyata, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “She thought I was lovesick over some girl. She wants you to come over for dinner this weekend, is that okay? Sorry, I said yes without asking you. But in my defense, she always gets her way.”

“I’m sure I don’t know anyone else like that,” Miyata says dryly, and Kitayama chuckles sheepishly. Miyata eyes Kitayama thoughtfully. “Lovesick?”

Kitayama coughs. “Well…” He’s surprised when Miyata is suddenly close enough to kiss him firmly, one hand coming up to cup Kitayama’s jaw, thumb stroking his cheek. Kitayama relaxes into it immediately, more than a little interested in the elusive Miyata who takes charge once in a while. Miyata’s tongue brushes Kitayama’s lower lip, making him shiver. When Miyata pulls back, Kitayama almost growls in annoyance.

“You told her, just like that?” Miyata asks. Kitayama nods. “Do you think you can teach me to be brave like that?”

It takes Kitayama aback, because while he’d realized they were keeping it quiet, he’d never thought about Miyata as something he should be worried about telling people. Even if some people don’t care for that, Kitayama could care less. But Miyata’s eyes are anxious, and Kitayama forgets sometimes that not everybody has so much self-confidence to carry them through.

“You were brave enough to say yes when I asked you out,” Kitayama answers after the pause stretches a little too long. He puts his hand over Miyata’s to thread their fingers together. “Is it something you’re worried about? Your family?”

“I don’t know,” Miyata says. The way he’s squeezing Kitayama’s hand so tightly says he’s not happy about it. “It’s never come up. I don’t think they’ll throw me out or anything.” Miyata laughs ruefully. “They should be happy anybody likes me, after all this time.”

Kitayama clicks his tongue at Miyata’s self-deprecation. “Quit that. You’re the best boyfriend or girlfriend I’ve ever had. You’re so low-maintenance, if girls had any brains at all they’d be lining up around the block to keep you as a no-hassle booty call.”

Miyata bursts out laughing, hard enough he slumps against Kitayama’s shoulder. “Who on earth,” he gasps when he has some breath back, “would booty call me?”

“Come home with me this weekend, and I’ll show you,” Kitayama says, the words spilling out before he can think to stop them. Miyata tilts his head back to look at Kitayama, eyes surprised. “I mean,” Kitayama amends, wondering yet again if he’s pushing too hard, “if you want.”

“Yeah, okay.” Miyata says, and Kitayama lets go of the breath he was holding. “Don’t look so relieved. If I were a girl how many times would we have done that by now?”

“Since you’re not a girl, who cares?” Kitayama says loftily, stealing a kiss. It’s quick, because he doesn’t trust himself to linger there longer. “My mom’s probably just glad I can’t knock you up. Pitch it to your parents that way, see what happens.”

“I’ll definitely try that,” Miyata says with a soft snort. He stays right where he is, slumped against Kitayama’s shoulder as Kitayama finally picks up the song picker and actually chooses some of the karaoke they are paying for.

Kitayama’s mother makes enough of a fuss over Miyata that Kitayama accuses her of being a cougar as he tries to shoo her off.

“That’s what you get for bringing such cute boys home,” Kitayama-san informs her son, both of them ignoring Miyata’s blush getting darker and darker. “Ne, Miyata-kun, I look just like this guy’s older sister, right? Nee-san can teach you lots of things~.”

“Seriously, get out of here!” Kitayama bellows over Miyata’s splutters, pointing at the kitchen. His mother saunters out, and even when she’s in the next room they can still hear her giggling at herself. “Ugh, I’m so sorry, oh my god.”

“She’s so much like you,” Miyata murmurs, half-mortified and half-awed, and Kitayama eyes him sharply and wonders if he’s headed towards some sort of terrible hentai scenario. Then Miyata shakes himself a little. “I’m glad you told her. I hope she likes me.”

“She will,” Kitayama assures, reaching for Miyata’s hand to squeeze it. “I do.”

“Awwwwww,” coos Kitayama-san from the doorway, and Kitayama hopes this thing with Miyata is made to last because he is never bringing anybody else home ever again.

Kitayama’s mother feeds them until they both want to die, not that it stops them from eating the cake she produces as a surprise. It says “congratulations” on the little square among the fruit, making Kitayama snort and glance at Miyata to make sure this isn’t way too much. Miyata’s expression is odd, looking partly flattered and partly sad. Kitayama reaches under the table to surreptitiously squeeze his hand.

“This isn’t an omiai, Mom.” Kitayama rolls his eyes showily, attracting his mother’s attention to keep her from noticing Miyata’s face.

“So full of yourself,” Kitayama-san scolds, plucking one of the strawberries off the top of the cake to pop in her mouth. “It was a birthday cake nobody picked up, so I got it half-price.”

That makes all of them laugh, and Miyata’s expression is back to its regular happy smile when Kitayama looks again. It isn’t until they escape to Kitayama’s room that he can ask what that was all about.

“Hm?” Miyata asks. “Oh, sorry. It wasn’t anything. You don’t think your mom saw and thought I didn’t like it, do you?”

“She didn’t, don’t worry about stuff like that,” Kitayama assures. “But it was something, so just tell me already.”

“It’s just…my parents for sure aren’t going to buy a cake about it, you know?” Miyata tries to offer Kitayama a smile, but then gives it up when Kitayama clearly isn’t buying it. “I think it’ll be okay. And I’m glad you told your mother. You two are close, right? You laugh at your own jokes the same way.”

It’s so Miyata, to try and make Kitayama happier when it’s Miyata himself who feels badly, and Kitayama reaches over to pull Miyata into a firm hug. He holds on until Miyata relaxes against him a little.

“You can wait as long as you want to tell them, I don’t care,” he tells Miyata. “And whenever you’re ready, I’ll come with you so you won’t have to do it alone.”

“You don’t have to.” Miyata hugs Kitayama back, arms tight around his waist. “I already know I’m not alone.”

It makes Kitayama’s heart squeeze to hear that and he can’t think of anything to say in return. Instead he goes on holding Miyata until Miyata himself steps away, apparently having gotten what he needs out of it.

Since it’s the first time they’ve spent the night together, they have an awkward exchange about pajamas and whether they need a futon, and end up changing back to back. Kitayama cheats and peeks over his shoulder a few times, and has to swallow laughter when he catches Miyata doing the same thing.

“O-oh,” Miyata says, turning around and realizing that Kitayama only has on sweatpants. He’s in a pair of pajama pants himself and a One Piece shirt that’s been worn so often the design is soft-edged.

“It’s how I sleep usually,” Kitayama explains. Miyata nods, looking him over shyly like he isn’t sure he’s allowed, but when Kitayama holds out a hand, Miyata takes it without hesitation. He tugs Miyata gently into bed with him. They negotiate positions, Miyata curling up on his side facing Kitayama, and Kitayama rolls onto his own side to face Miyata. He puts a hand on Miyata’s waist to urge him just a little closer, then leaves it lie there, thumb stroking the soft fabric of Miyata’s T-shirt. It’s a little awkward to stare at each other from so close, but that doesn’t mean Kitayama doesn’t like it.

“Are we…” Miyata starts, before hesitating. “Do you want…”

“Do you?” Kitayama asks. He strokes Miyata’s side more purposefully when Miyata only looks at him, unsure. “Just sleeping is fine, too.”

“No, I…” Miyata’s eyes drift down to Kitayama’s bare chest and then back up again. “I don’t know. Kiss me, please?”

Kitayama slides closer to comply, never one to pass up a chance for kissing. Miyata relaxes into it right away, this part familiar, and Kitayama takes his time about it, enjoying it for what it is. Miyata knows what he’s doing by now, and it makes warmth spread over Kitayama’s skin when Miyata takes charge, pressing closer and brushing his tongue against Kitayama’s lips. Miyata’s hand comes up to stroke along Kitayama’s cheek and into his hair, and Kitayama hums in encouragement.

He’s a little surprised when Miyata’s hand continues down his neck and bare shoulder, fingers trailing lightly over the inside of Kitayama’s arm. It’s not quite a tickle, but Kitayama shivers anyway. When Miyata starts tracing the dips of Kitayama’s ribs, he can’t hold back the quiet groan. Deciding that if Miyata can explore, he can too, Kitayama slides his hand under the back of Miyata’s shirt. Miyata’s skin is hot against his palm, and Kitayama lets it rest on the small of Miyata’s back to give him some warning before brushing it up Miyata’s spine.

Miyata arches against him, either from surprise or else it’s just a sensitive spot, but hard enough to break the kiss. Kitayama opens his eyes to find Miyata staring down at him in surprise, and he drags his fingers down Miyata’s spine more deliberately.

“Ohhh,” Miyata gasps, cheeks turning pink for a different reason than usual.

“Like that?” Kitayama asks. Miyata nods, leaning back into Kitayama’s touch. Kitayama tugs at Miyata’s T-shirt. “Can I take this off?”

“Y-yeah,” Miyata agrees. He sits up enough to pull the shirt over his head and drops it over the side of the bed. Kitayama wraps arms around his waist to pull him down, Miyata’s eep of surprise turning breathless when they’re pressed chest-to-chest, skin on skin.

“Wow, you’re warm,” Kitayama comments, running hands over Miyata’s shoulders like Miyata had done to him earlier. “I am so keeping you around for winter.”

“Good to hear,” Miyata says. He leans in for another kiss, and it’s still slow but definitely hotter when they’re pressed so closely together like this. Kitayama’s hands roam without definite purpose, over Miyata’s skin, over the sharp ridges of his shoulder blades and the slight pudge around his waist which Kitayama finds adorable. He pinches Miyata’s waist a little, laughing when Miyata mutters a “Hey!” at him.

“Cute,” Kitayama says, the first time he’s said it out loud, but about the millionth time he’s thought it. Miyata opens his mouth; Kitayama kisses him before he can say anything in case Miyata doesn’t appreciate Kitayama’s sentiment.

They’ve made out before, but it’s the first time they’ve done it long enough that they slip past the point where they can just stop. Before Kitayama realizes, Miyata is squirming against him, and it only takes one roll of his hips to understand why. He breaks the kiss and looks Miyata over, definitely enjoying how flushed and dark-eyed Miyata looks.

“Can I touch you?” Kitayama asks. Miyata nods. “Will you touch me too?” There’s a few heartbeats of hesitation at the second question, but Miyata bites his lip and nods again. “Good, because I really want you to.”

“Yeah?” Miyata asks shyly. He sounds surprised, and Kitayama doesn’t understand why Miyata still doesn’t seem to have taken to heart how much Kitayama likes or wants him.

“Did you think it was just you?” Kitayama rolls over so that he’s half on Miyata and rubs pointedly against Miyata’s hip. Miyata’s eyebrows rise, and Kitayama can’t help but chuckle. “You don’t have any idea how good you look like this, do you? I really do want you, you know. Anyone ever said that to you before?”

Miyata shakes his head. “Are you joking? Me? Whatever it is you see, you’re the only one who sees it.”

“Good,” Kitayama says, fiercely enough that it surprises both of them. He tightens his arms around Miyata, grip possessive. “I don’t want to share you.”

He expects Miyata to say something else about how nobody else wants him, but instead Miyata smiles likes Kitayama is better than any limited edition, collector’s boxed set of anime in the whole world. “Okay. Me too.”

Kitayama kisses him like he’s sealing a promise, affection and heat washing through him and leaving him dizzy. Maybe it’s all the waiting that’s making him feel so intensely, but that’s just fine with Kitayama.

He slides his hand down Miyata’s hip and forward to the front of his pajama pants, giving him plenty of time to say stop. When he curls his hand around Miyata’s cock through his pajama pants, Miyata makes a breathless noise that means anything but stop.

“Touch me too?” Kitayama asks. To his surprise, Miyata slips his hand inside Kitayama’s sweatpants without hesitating and curls his fingers around Kitayama’s length. “Oh,” Kitayama murmurs, tugging Miyata’s pants down so that he can catch up.

“Like that?” Miyata asks, and Kitayama says yeah, whatever’s fine. Just the fact that it’s Miyata’s warm, strong hand on him finally is enough, so much better than when he touches himself. “You’re bigger than me.”

Kitayama muffles a laugh against Miyata’s shoulder, because Miyata probably couldn’t dirty talk if he tried, but his nervous sex-talk is kind of hot anyway. “Yeah. You’re longer, though. I like it.”

“O-oh,” Miyata stutters. Kitayama focuses on making him lose it, drinking in every soft noise and shift that Miyata makes, wanting to see it even more than he wants to get off himself. Miyata doesn’t disappoint, face flushed and hair damp with sweat when he spills over Kitayama’s hand.

“Wow,” Kitayama says, using his clean hand to brush Miyata’s hair out of his eyes. “You look good like this too.”

“Hn?” Miyata blinks up at Kitayama hazily. His fingers twitch around Kitayama’s cock, and his eyes clear like he’s just remembered what’s going on. “Ah, sorry–”

“Shh, you can have a minute,” Kitayama tells him, leaning down for a kiss that’s a lot slower than how his blood is rushing.

Despite his big talk, he’s glad when Miyata’s grip tightens around him before the kiss even breaks. Miyata’s next couple strokes are clumsy, but then he pulls himself together and soon Kitayama is thrusting into his hand, chasing his own release. When he finally catches it, the rush of his orgasm spread the whole way to his fingers and toes, and when he goes limp against Miyata’s side, the heat of Miyata’s skin against his own makes him feel like he’s still tingling all over.

Miyata seems to be all about cuddling after sex and isn’t all worked up about the mess, which Kitayama adds to his long list of things that are awesome about Miyata. He’s perfectly content to just lie there and bask with his head against Miyata’s shoulder, Miyata running fingers idly up and down the outside of his arm and shoulder.

“I’ve never touched anyone else’s before,” Miyata says, apparently not out of nervous chatter yet. Kitayama hums that’s he’s listening, sort of; he likes the sound of Miyata’s voice well enough even under non-sex circumstances. “Good thing it works the same as mine, I guess. I wasn’t that good at girls, so I’m glad you seem a lot easier.”

“Hey,” Kitayama protests without any energy.

“I mean,” Miyata backpedals, “I’m glad you have…you know, what you have. I like you this way.”

“You say the dumbest stuff, and I like it so much,” Kitayama says, peeling open his eyes to look at Miyata. Miyata’s face is still a little flushed from sex, and Kitayama wants to make it darker. “I like you, too.”

Miyata’s smile is happy and relaxed, and Kitayama feels like the world’s best boyfriend.

“We can do it again, right?” Miyata asks, and he actually sounds a little unsure, bless him.

“As many times as you want.” Kitayama yawns. “Will it blow your mind if I tell you there’s a lot of other sex things to try?”

“I’ve watched porn,” Miyata scoffs, like he wasn’t just complaining about how complicated girl parts are half a minute ago. For now he seems content to let Kitayama use him as a body pillow, though, and Kitayama is entirely satisfied with that, for the moment.

As long as it took them to get to that first time, after that dominoes fall surprisingly quickly. It doesn’t hurt either that once soccer season ends, Kitayama has a lot more free time on his hands, and winter is barely getting a good grip by the time he’s run out of sexual senpai street cred with Miyata.

“I never should have taught you all that stuff,” Kitayama groans as he stretches sore muscles out across his bed.

“And you’re supposed to be an athlete,” Miyata scoffs, nudging Kitayama back when he starts to push Miyata too close to the edge of his bed with his sprawling. “And to think when we first met I would have thought soccer was your major.”

“If only,” Kitayama snorts. “It’d be a lot more fun than education classes.”

Miyata’s chuckling cuts off like someone threw the switch. “You’re…an education major? You’re going to be a teacher?”

“Ideally,” Kitayama says, scratching at his bare stomach and glancing at Miyata’s sudden tense posture. “I didn’t mention that ever? I’m trying for middle school.”

“Oh,” Miyata says. There’s an awkward pause.

“What?” Kitayama asks when Miyata doesn’t say any more. “What’s wrong?”

“Well…” Miyata lets out a little sigh. “You can’t be sleeping around with some guy if you’re teaching impressionable students, right? After you graduate…” He trails off.

It takes a second for Kitayama to understand what Miyata is worried about, and then another for him to choose his words carefully. “You aren’t some guy I’m sleeping around with. My feelings won’t change when I graduate.”

“But–”

“It’s not like I plan on going to interviews and telling them about my cute otaku boyfriend who has the tamest hentai collection on the earth.” Kitayama reaches over to squeeze Miyata’s hand. “It’s not any of their business. So maybe I can’t take you to sports day and kiss you under the bleachers, big deal. I haven’t been to a single interview yet and you won’t be done with school when I do, so don’t worry so much, okay? There’s no point in borrowing trouble.”

Miyata lets Kitayama tug him over to cuddle against his chest, and Kitayama rubs his back in slow circles when Miyata is obviously still worried about it. “It’s just that, by then, it’ll be so much harder, you know? To stop.”

“Then let’s not,” Kitayama suggests. Miyata presses his face against Kitayama’s shoulder and hugs him back without any further argument. Kitayama closes his eyes and wishes as hard as he can that out of all the stupid things he promises Miyata, that he can manage this one.

It takes Miyata almost the whole way until graduation to tell his parents, and Kitayama is never prouder of him than when he’s standing in the Miyatas’ living room, Miyata’s fingers squeezing his tightly but his voice not shaking at all. Miyata’s sister doesn’t seem nearly as surprised as his brother and father, while Miyata’s mother keeps glancing back and forth between Miyata and Kitayama like she just doesn’t know where to look.

“Maybe you had better sit down and tell us about yourself,” his mother finally says. If she takes an unusually long time in the kitchen making tea, nobody says anything about it when she finally returns. It’s really awkward, but Kitayama answers all their small talk questions willingly, thinking that if this is the worst thing, he’ll take it gladly.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Kitayama asks when he’s putting his shoes on by the door. Miyata nods, looking wrung out but otherwise all right. Kitayama hugs him, quick but firm. “Call me if you need anything.”

Miyata promises he will, giving Kitayama a brave smile. Hours later, Kitayama is still awake thinking about that smile, staring at his ceiling in the dark and thinking about what comes next.

That’s the night that Kitayama decides he doesn’t want to sleep alone anymore. It’s barely light when he sends a mail asking if after he graduates, Miyata wants to go apartment hunting with him.

“Did you mean it?” Miyata asks as soon as he stumbles into the karaoke room, cheeks bright pink from the wind, eyes bright. “You want to live together?”

“Yes,” Kitayama says. “I know I don’t have a job yet, and you still have school, and neither one of us knows how to clean up after ourselves or do laundry or cook–”

“I can make omurice,” Miyata interrupts, tumbling into Kitayama’s lap and hugging him so tightly his breath rushes out in a whoosh. “The rest of it can’t be that hard to figure out.”

Kitayama’s chest fills with relief and excitement and love, and he kisses Miyata fiercely, trying to pour all of that out without words. Miyata clings to him just as tightly, both of them breathless by the time the kiss breaks.

“You aren’t worried?” Kitayama asks. Miyata shakes his head, grinning so hard his eyes are scrunched up. “When did you get so brave?”

“You taught me,” Miyata tells him. He gives Kitayama another quick kiss and then slides off his lap, onto the seat beside him. “So hurry up and find a job so you can support my high-class lifestyle, okay?”

“You think high class is a black Wii,” Kitayama snorts, grabbing for the song picker.

“You think it’s getting your ramen hakata-style with extra pork,” Miyata replies. “Which is your graduation present, by the way, so try to act surprised.”

“Proposal accepted,” Kitayama announces, already day-dreaming about eating omurice in bed with Miyata, curling up together when it’s raining and hitting snooze until they’re late for everything. He’s involved enough in the fantasy that he misses the opening line of a song he picked himself, and Miyata laughs at him and grabs for his hand, squeezing it tight.

It’ll all work itself out, Kitayama is sure, jobs and school and the apartment and whatever else. If he can have Miyata beside him, he’ll make sure it definitely works out in the end.

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