Author's Note: Short drabble I wrote for a request on LiveJournal. Boss!Kida is... well, the boss!
It seemed like such a strange combination to have, especially in a unique vender such as this. After almost an hour of chowing down some rather unscrupulous menu choices, and throwing back glasses of an unnamed liquid like no tomorrow, Mikado was surprised to learn that Kida was interested in ordering desert.
"Why not? I've got the money," his friend smirked as he lazily leaned back in his seat. He seemed completely unaffected by that rogue piece of cheese-covered squid Mikado had painfully watched him finish devouring not 5 minutes earlier. The furious chopping of the chef and the light banter of a sparsely filled restaurant buzzed in his thoughts, and the younger teen suddenly found it difficult to come up with an argument for that.
His sole question came with the chink of glass against metal as the blond sat across from him toyed with the rim of his tumbler. Nimble fingers traced the circumference slowly, and for some reason Mikado found himself unable to look away as he murmured his next enquiry.
"And where exactly did you get that money?"
Unfortunately, the only response he was able to pry out of that confident face across from him was a simple raise of an eyebrow, before their next set of orders arrived in record time. Not surprising really, considering that business could never really be called booming in this tiny sushi bar. The fact that more than half the menu was composed of illegible Russian text could have had something to do with it.
However, as the lone plate was set before Kida, Mikado found himself thrown by the simplicity of it.
Strawberries. And cream.
Nothing else, just that.
Will wonders never cease?
"What's the matter? Want some?"
That knowing smirk never really seemed to leave Kida's face these days, at least not hen he was around Mikado. It was never quite clear to him exactly what provoked it; being the leader of your own gang was hardly something to write home about these days, at least not in Mikado's opinion anyway. Despite this, the blond across from him seemed to have developed a swagger that could rival the president of any multi-national corporation. He simply oozed confidence and self-esteem...although somehow, he wasn't arrogant either.
Whilst in the throws of deep contemplation for his friend's developed personality, Kida seemed to have given up on trying to pry a response from him and had instead got stuck in with his dessert.
Still, the younger teen's eyes were glued to that one particular point of his friend's face.
That mouth.
He'd only glanced at it earlier to observe the enigmatic smirk there, but his gaze had since become jammed. Like the lag on his screen when he had something important to say for once in the chat room he frequented.
Now though...well, now that mouth was doing something rather interesting indeed. If Kida noticed him staring (which he probably had, judging by the satisfied, glazed look in his eyes - although whether that was out of the pleasure of putting on a show or for his love of strawberries, nobody quite knew), he didn't say anything.
The lag continued to affect Mikado's vision as Kida's lips closed around one such cream-covered piece of fruit. The lag stayed with him for a further few minutes as the blond went through a cycle of licking, biting, chewing, and then swallowing. The room's temperature seemed to have been raised considerably, and the collar of his green jacket made the space around his neck feel like a furnace.
All too soon, a lone strawberry was left sitting on the very edge of Kida's plate. Although Mikado had hardly noticed, so focused on the sight of the other teen's tongue reaching out to swipe away the excess cream from his lips.
So it came as a bit of a shock then, when he felt the light touch of said strawberry prodding against his own mouth as Kida leisurely looked on.
"I know you want it. You've been watching me eat like a hawk - I knew you were still hungry."
Hungry for what he didn't say.
Mikado obediently parted his lips and let the other teen gently push the red fruit into his mouth. This felt like some kind of surreal dream where the only things that existed was Kida's smirking face and a large plate of strawberries.
Which was now empty. Huh.
Even though Mikado loathed the sickly sweet taste of strawberries with the uncharacteristic passion of a thousand burning suns, with Kida's hand still at his mouth and that knowing smirk firmly in place, the younger teen suddenly found it very hard to care at that point.
The End.