Title: Disbelief
Summary: Since when has Kumo been able to hold his alcohol better than Kiri anyway? Still, Kiri's a stubborn bastard.
Word Count: 1,011
Rating: M
Warnings: Alcohol, shmex, and incest. Kumo/Kiri
Fluff for Feral Phoenix!
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At some point, recklessness had passed beyond that, and into the realm of stupidity.
Not that either of them really cared all that much, to be honest.
Alcohol had become involved in some way, but when and how, Kiri could no longer remember. Kumo had finished his last shot already and after setting his empty glass back down on the table, looked at him with a barely-there smirk that was equal parts smugness and challenge. Watching. Waiting.
For what? They had made some sort of bet, but that part of hazy and he couldn't remem…
Oh. Right.
Kiri glanced back down at the nearly-forgotten shot glass in his own hands with distaste. He had never been adverse to getting tipsy, hell, or even drunk. But there were limits. And from the looks of the empty bottles standing in an accusing row on the table, he had already long since passed any level of alcohol consumption that could even remotely be considered healthy. The fact that he was drunk out of his mind, his grip on the glass unsteady, his body swaying slightly despite his secure seat on the couch, had not escaped him.
Kiri supposed he could always let Kumo win…
His brother was still smiling at him, and despite the serene expression on his face, there also seemed to be a certain triumphant gleam in those pale green eyes. Noticing his brother's incredulous stare, Kumo smiled back at him, seeming completely unaffected by the sheer volume he'd drunk.
…
No way in hell.
Even if he couldn't remember what the stakes in their little 'drinking game' bet was, Kiri was not about to lose.
And to prove that, he stubbornly kept his shaking grip on the glass and tipped it all back in one long gulp, nearly dropping his cup when the world swam around him in accompaniment to the weak burn of alcohol down his throat. Even after he'd replaced the cup on the table, creating another damp ring of moisture on the wet wood, the ground beneath his feet continued to tilt alarmingly. He watched his younger brother reach for the bottle, seemingly to refill his glass, while trying his best not to look like he was about to keel over… and everything went black.
Reality returned to him in little bits and pieces. Kiri was becoming dimly aware of the scratchy texture of the couch underneath his cheek, the pressure against his horns as they dug into the chair, and the soothing circular motions Kumo's hands made against his shoulders. Blinking upwards muzzily, he caught the tail end of an amused smile sliding off his brother's face and scowled halfheartedly in return.
"I think this means I've won." Kiri opened his mouth to object- he was perfectly fine, thank you, just a tad drunk- and Kumo took advantage of that moment to press his mouth against his brother's, tongue sweeping into Kiri's mouth in a rush of hot sweetness that managed to scatter the remnants of his mind to the four winds.
Along with the bets, the drinks, and the circumstances behind all of this, Kiri could no longer remember why he had been protesting in the first place. A small part of his mind was awed by the fact that Kumo could still manage coherent sentences, but the rest of it was lost to incoherent want. The hot mouth against his lips moved downwards, trailing kisses down his throat and ah-! It wasn't fair that his little brother had such soft lips, and knew how to do such wickedly delicious things with them…
"Nngg… cheater." He felt the hands working into his shirt pause for a moment, and then withdraw, the pressure of his brother's weight on his lightening before disappearing altogether. Realizing that at some point during the kissing, he had closed his eyes, Kiri opened them to find Kumo raising one pale eyebrow quizzically at him with a small smile, no longer trying to hide his amusement, but keeping his hands to himself for the moment.
"Whatever are you talking about?"
It took entirely too long for Kiri to puzzle out the sentence before comprehension finally dawned, and drunken indignation overtook his mind.
"Must've… not possible… since when can you hold your liquor better than me?!"
His brother grinned in lieu of response, eyes twinkling mysteriously. Realizing that he wasn't going to get a straight answer, Kiri decided that they were doing far too much talking and not enough of anything else, so he leaned forward and fastened his mouth on his brother's with a hungry kiss, running his hands down his brother's torso and lower… when he noticed an insistent tug on his clothing, which was, regrettably, still on him.
"Bed."
Whuh?
He must have made a sound that appropriately demonstrated his confusion, because Kumo hissed in frustration and tugged harder at his shirt.
"Bed. I'd rather do it on the bed. Couch is too we…unh…" Kiri had chosen that moment to concentrate on his brother's slim chest, absently running his fingers up the sides of his ribs. "Save it for later. What was I-? Couch is too narrow. Come on!"
What? What? Oh… "Alright…"
They lurched unsteadily from the couch in a tangle of limbs and clothing towards their shared bedroom, Kiri clinging onto Kumo's shoulder for support. After a seeming eternity of shuffling steps and bumping into doors and drawers, they tumbled onto the bed, each lost to the feel and the taste of the other.
The next morning…
Kiri had woken up to a splitting headache and a sleeping Kumo curled next to him. He winced at the bright morning light filtering into their room, and gingerly climbed out of bed, muttering about painkillers underneath his breath.
It was only later when he came across the large puddle that smelled strongly of alcohol that had leaked out from underneath the sopping wet patch on the couch and found the small hole at the bottom of his brother's glass– where he'd let the it all leak out- that he understood.
"KUMO!"
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A/N: What? Alcohol is a recurring theme in all of my Cloudshipping fics? Whatever are you talking about?