Title: Happenstance
Author: keelhaul lizzie
Pairings: KagaxMitani, onesided Tsutsui-- Kaga
Rating: R
Genres: Drama/Humour
Summary: We're making out inside crashed cars.
Wordcount: 918
Warnings: yaoi, pron. You know the drill, ladies.
Date: September 3, 2006

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wishing to be the friction in your jeans

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Kaga and Mitani meet on a street corner. It isn't a meeting as in "I'll call you and meet you at five"; it just is. It just happens.

Kaga is in his bomber jacket and Mitani in a cheap windbreaker. They shrug at each other, look each other up and down (it's a wonder they still recognize each other), and don't bother with a standard greeting; saying "hello" is so passé in Mitani's world. Hell, he doesn't even bother with "it's been awhile".

"You goin' anywhere?"

Kaga takes off his big sunglasses—he keeps them on even in January just in case the sun shines, in case he's got someone to impress; prospective fucks, flavour-of-the-week girlfriends. He says, "nowhere."

Kaga puts out his cigarette, and they head to a burger joint; they've got nothing better to do, they're cheap, and neither wants to pretend to be anything but classless.

They step in, take their coats off. Mitani's still a scrawny redheaded loser in the dorkiest pair of suspenders Kaga's ever laid eyes upon; Kaga's still an asshole, but he doesn't need to take his jacket off for Mitani to know that. They don't talk much in between mouthfuls of fries, but it's probably more than they would say normally, so it's a start.

"So, uh, you still play Go?"

"Sometimes, yeah. You still play shougi or whatever?"

"Sure, yeah."

Moments pass.

"...You ever talk to Shindou anymore?"

Kaga leans back; looks out the window at the traffic in the snow. Son of a bitch, the snow; it was fucking snowing. "...Nah."

Mitani shrugs. "Me neither."

Hikaru was the only reason those two even knew each other, and now neither of them even saw him; of course they wouldn't have seen each other either, but, well... it just kind of happened.

They squabble over the bill, obviously; squabbling turns to petty name-calling turns to kicking each other's shins underneath the plastic table—finally Kaga concedes by saying "well fine, if you're that poor" and Mitani kicks him one last time for good measure, because he knows it's true.

They never really got past the middle-school bickering.

Either way, Mitani walks Kaga to his car. Or follows him to his car. Or they both wander in the direction of Kaga's car.

Something like that.

On the way there (not that they're really walking with a purpose or anything), they meet up with Tsutsui. It isn't a meeting as in "I'll call you up and meet you at six"; it just is. It just happens.

They look him up and down; shopping bags under his arms. He shrugs.

"I didn't know you two were friends."

Ever the optimist.

"We're not," Mitani says with a shrug; just stating a fact. Kaga doesn't seem to disagree with him.

Tsutsui always manages to get the wrong impression. He flushes and pushes his glasses up his nose, an awkward nervous reflex.

"Oh. Well. I'll see you later." Mitani can tell he's only talking to Kaga; he hurries on down the street into the snow.

Tsutsui's impression couldn't have been that wrong, however (and he does have the strange ability to predict things anyways) because not ten minutes later Mitani and Kaga are somewhere in a dark parking lot, pressed together in the back seat of his car.

Not exactly what Tsutsui was thinking, but he never had much of an imagination for that sort of thing anyways.

Mitani would argue they're just sharing body heat, shivering in the cold and pressing closer, closer, mouth-to-mouth and hip-to-hip. Kaga wouldn't, because he's never one to pass up the opportunity for a good lay and the right to brag about it later.

Either way, it just sort of happens.

Somewhere in the middle of unbuttoning his jeans and fishing around for lube and a rubber, Kaga's cellphone rings.

Of all the fucking times.

He flips the top open and opens his mouth to say "hello?" but Mitani pulls Kaga down on top of him anyways. He answers the phone with a grunt.

"Uh, Kaga?" Yes, of all the fucking times indeed—it was Tsutsui.

"Oh, uh, hey." Mitani grinds against him, whispering breathless nonsense; Kaga tastes like smoke and smells like cologne, or maybe the other way around.

"Oh, well, I was just wondering if sometime you might want to—"

"U-uh, look, d'you think maybe you could call back later?" Kaga pants out. Mitani's hand is on his cock and he can't think straight can't talk straight. "I'm... kinda busy."

"...Oh. Yeah. Sure. And um—"

Somewhere in the middle of Tsutsui's sentence Mitani says, "Would you get off the damn phone and fuck me?" Kaga suspects he knew exactly who was on the other line; Tsutsui just hangs up.

"You're an asshole," he says, half laughing half moaning.

"You should thank me," Mitani murmurs against his neck. As Kaga rolls the condom on, lubes up, slides in, he thinks, "fuck, yeah."

Mitani had never really gotten along with Tsutsui. Then again, he had never really gotten along with Kaga either, and there he was, getting pounded into the back seat of his car.

And oh, it's all so sordid—

But hey.

It just happens.