"Bokuto-san, did you have another argument with (f/surname)-san again?" asks Akaashi, sipping from his cup of punch. Obnoxious music drones overhead, making the walls buzz with every thump of the bass. The party is crowded and very loud, making it easy to have private conversation.

Bokuto chokes abruptly on his own punch and, after coughing up a storm, he laughs, tears of exertion in his eyes.

"Argument? What argument? We never have arguments!" he wheezes, "Why do you ask?"

"Because you hid behind a plastic fern the moment you spotted her on the other side of the room," Akaashi deadpans.

"H-hiding!? Naw, I-I thought this lovely specimen was real! Yeah. I-I-I was insecting it for inspects! Yeah! Thought it was real; still do!"

"Please get up off the floor."

Bokuto stands and steals a glance in your direction, a faint pout on his face. As you turn his direction, he jumps and squeezes up behind the nearest door frame, Akaashi on his heels for no other reason than to tell him how childish he's being.

"Go talk to her," he says, staring at Bokuto, "And if the argument was your fault, apologize. If it wasn't, pretend like nothing happened. She'll know you forgave her."

"Dude, it's not that easy."

"It should be."

"Dude, she hit me."

"Why?"

"I don't know! That's why it's so awkward! What if she hits me again!?"

"She wouldn't hit you again," says Akaashi.

"HOW DO YOU KNOW!?"

Akaashi sighs softly. "You'll find out now," he says, "Here she comes." And he turns to walk away.

"What!? Dude, don't leave me here! I thought we were bros forever! AKAASHIIIIIIIIIIIII!"

"Am I interrupting something?" you ask, tucking a stray strand of (h/c) hair behind your ear. Bokuto practically jumps out of his skin, and he throws himself away from you, landing with a thump against the wall on the other side of the hallway, his arms splayed out across the wallpaper in a vain attempt to keep him from falling on his rear.

It's a very funny sight, and you crack a grin, not daring to pass up the opportunity.

"Eyy, baby, cat got your tongue?" you ask, "You okay? You didn't hurt yourself?"

"H-hurt? What do you mean; I don't feel pain," he stammers inelegantly, still sprawled against the wall.

"Sure, hot shot," you tease, stepping over to him. His unease is etched into his features, though his words beg to differ. You squat down in front of him, effectively trapping him. "Sorry for slapping you yesterday."

"..."

"At least it didn't make a mark," you muse, sliding your hand up against his cheek. You smile as it grows warmer beneath your palm and you lean in for the kill.

Perhaps the last thing Bokuto expected tonight, after seeing you, was a kiss, but that's what he gets and he melts into it.

That's the funniest thing about him.

He has a big mouth and he talks himself up, but when it comes to the two of you, he can't seem to keep his cool. You'd love it if he would completely dominate a kiss, but he has yet to do so and until then, you don't mind leaving him bashful afterward.

"Kotaro-kun?"

"Ye-yes?" he breathes, a little out of it after the kiss. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and licks absently at the lip gloss left behind.

"Kiss me."

"HAH!?" He snaps back to reality and his eyes grow wide. He's never actually instigated a kiss before and his nerves may well be his downfall. "Well, I-I-I-I guess then...um...close your eyes?"

His voice cracks at the last word and he forces a brutal cough to try to cover it up. Graciously, though, you do as he asks. You feel his sigh against your cheek and you bite the tip of your tongue to keep from grinning. His hands cup your face and tilt it slightly, and briefly, he presses a feather light kiss to your waiting lips.

It was okay, but not much more than that.

You wet your lower lip and leave your mouth slightly ajar for his next attempt, a gentle coax to boost his confidence. He tries once more and, though sloppy, he does a decent job in fitting your mouths together and sucking softly on your lip. The tip of his tongue creeps into your mouth and you hum in approval, using your own to get him to curls his around it. He pulls away a moment later to catch his breath, his face burning, and he rests his forehead against yours.

"Man, I like kissing you," he whispers.

"I like kissing you, too," you say, "But we really have to work on your leading."

"I don't know if I should be offended or excited."

"I'd say the latter," you tease, pressing a silky kiss to his pouting lips, "We'll make a fine kisser out of you."