A/N: midterms what midterms hahahaHAHAHAHA ain't nobody got time for that shit
"Onde's not the only dance I can do, sensei," Hiroshi spoke. His cheeks were flushed due to his slightly inebriated state, just like Handa's.
"Oh yeah? What else can you do?" It was meant to be a question but it came off more snarky than anything else; Handa didn't get drunk all that often but he didn't exactly carry himself well when he did.
"Salsa... and waltz... and some kami mai..." he mumbled. Hiroshi was sure there was some other funky dance he'd learned just because, but he couldn't for the life of him recall the name.
Beside him Handa snickered a little despite himself; the image of Hiroshi in a tuxedo waltzing away was a little hilarious, if he said so.
The blond scowled, "Ya don't believe me, do ya, sensei?" Handa simply grinned. And that bothered Hiroshi. For some reason it bothered Hiroshi very much indeed. He clicked his tongue in drunk annoyance. "Tch. I'll show ya!"
His legs weren't as steady as usual but he stood, pulling sensei up with him, drawing his hand around the calligrapher's scrawny waist, slipping his fingers into the spaces between sensei's, and holding their chests close together.
"Hiro-"
Hiroshi didn't listen. He moved, his firm grasp taking Handa along as well, slow swaying motions in the middle of the empty room. When he took the first step to the left Handa was slow to catch on; but drunk Hiroshi could have cared less, the blush on sensei's face was its own reward. Then a step front, a step back, and wow Hiroshi was seriously considering doing this more often because sensei's face was getting redder and rosier with every moment.
Wanting to see how far he could push sensei, Hiroshi discreetly pulled sensei even closer to him; their chests were practically meshed together at that point. Sensei was trying to hide his face, pressing it to Hiro's chest - cute! Sensei's grip on Hiroshi's hand had tightened as well, as if he was trying to get rid of his embarrassment like that.
Hiro stopped dancing then. In the stillness he was sure sensei could hear his loud heartbeat, and Hiro himself tried to engrave the sensation of sensei in his arms into his brain forever. He'd love to stay like this for a long, long time.
Untangling their bodies slowly, Hiroshi placed his hands on both sides of sensei's face, tilting it upwards so he could see every inch of it. Handa's eyes were scrunched up, his teeth biting his lips as if he was trying to hold back tears.
"Darn it - how am I ever supposed to leave if this what I'll lose?"
Hiroshi jerked in surprise; then he smiled and whispered, "that's easy. Just don't go." He brought his lips closer to sensei's, brushing them against each other. Sensei returned his kisses with fire, almost like he was afraid that tomorrow he would wake up miles away back in Tokyo and never kiss anyone again.
"Hiroshi. Will you stay with me tonight?"
Hiroshi was surprised. Sensei had never asked him to stay the night before, at least not from his end. He must have heard something from his friend in Tokyo; was he going to leave soon? Hiroshi's heart raced. Sensei couldn't leave now, it was far too soon for that.
"Yeah. No problem," Hiroshi replied. He needed to get sensei to tell him what was weighing on him so much. If sensei was leaving... no. Hiroshi wouldn't let that happen.
Sensei wouldn't leave, not as long as Kido Hiroshi breathed.
A/N: please sensei please don't fucking go
