Meme fic for blackroseasylum. Tachibana/Hiiragi, to include the line: "He had always wondered whether Hitonari's hair was that colour everywhere on his body."
Degrees of Adjustment
It was still sort of embarrassing. No matter what way he looked at it, Tachibana couldn't get away from that fact. Every time he got over one embarrassment, another, bigger one was there to take its place.
Not that he disliked this...thing between him and Hiiragi. Definitely not. But that didn't mean that it wasn't embarrassing.
Like the first time they had hung out together, knowing that they were 'more than friends'. That had been awkward as hell, not knowing where to look or what to say to each other, or how close together it was appropriate to sit. Far more awkward than the first time they'd kissed, which had just sort of happened, without any time to be self-conscious about it.
That was the problem, of course. Too much time to think about things. And all too often, those things left Tachibana red in the face and praying that no one would ever be able to read his thoughts.
This evening, for example, they were in Hiiragi's apartment - which was nice, because it was private and had satellite TV - and they were sitting on the couch, not cuddled together or anything like that, but Hiiragi was just sort of leaning in Tachibana's direction, just on the edges of his personal space and obviously comfortable there. And nothing was really going on, they were just watching a cheesy horror flick and eating pizza, but the only thing that kept running through Tachibana's head was: how far will things go tonight?
Onscreen, things were looking tense for the semi-clad heroine, but that wasn't the reason Tachibana jumped when Hiiragi reached across him for a slice of pizza, his arm brushing Tachibana's. Hiiragi just looked amused, obviously thinking the movie was getting to him, and Tachibana grinned sheepishly. And surreptitiously looked at the arm that had touched his for a few moments, and wondered why it had startled him so much. It was just an arm, after all; just Hiiragi's arm, and it wasn't as if he hadn't seen it hundreds of times before, the olive-coloured skin and the mole on his elbow, and the small fair hairs dusting its length.
Another of Tachibana's embarrassing thoughts: he had always wondered whether Hitonari's hair was that colour everywhere on his body. Not all the time, of course, but even before there had been anything more than friendly going on between them, he had been fascinated by Hiiragi's light-coloured hair, and had occasionally speculated on whether it was ubiquitous. Now, of course, he had much more opportunity to examine various parts of Hiiragi's body without looking like a weirdo, but he still didn't know the answer to the ultimate question. And it wasn't as if he could ask. It wasn't the sort of question you asked someone, even if you were more than friends with them. It would just be humiliating.
He was still looking at the arm, and it seemed that his hand moved of its own accord, shifting over to rest on Hiiragi's lower arm, feeling the warmth of skin and the brush of those little fair hairs against his palm. It felt nice. Tachibana let his hand move up a little, tracing the muscle and bone, almost able to feel the map of veins under the skin. Up over the sharp bone of the elbow, and his palm was curved over Hiiragi's bicep, the uncoiled strength of it. Then he touched cotton, and his fingers were easing up the sleeve of Hiiragi's t-shirt, pushing the fabric aside and running his fingers up over the sweep of the shoulder.
Tachibana heard a hitching breath, looked up to see Hiiragi's head bowed towards him, a faint flush on his face. Right then it occurred to Tachibana exactly what he was doing, and he hesitated, feeling the sudden rush of embarrassment at the gesture. Hiiragi raised his head, his expression a mixture of uncertainty and annoyance.
"Why are you stopping, idiot?"
"I don't know," Tachibana replied, and he didn't know. Because there were a million good reasons to keep touching Hiiragi, and not a single reason to stop except his own unease, and who was here to see it but the one person that it really wouldn't matter to? Tachibana wasn't usually much for logical thought processes like that, but in this case it didn't really matter, because Hiiragi leaned closer and began kissing him, and didn't stop, and then Tachibana's back was against the couch and he was being pressed into the cushions, and logic became completely irrelevent.
And whether it was something in the pizza toppings, or whether Hiiragi's left arm was one big erogenous zone, after that things got a lot more intense and involved a lot more squirming and hands under clothes, and in the brief moments when his higher brain was functioning it occurred to Tachibana just how embarrassing this was, being pinned to a couch under Hiiragi, with Hiiragi's teeth working on his ear and Hiiragi's leg pressing between his like that, and Hiiragi pressing against him in other places too. Then Hiiragi's fingers began tugging impatiently at the fly of his jeans, and Tachibana somehow forgot all about his embarrassment.
It returned full force a while later, lying there rather stickier and more exhausted than he had been ten minutes ago, and Hiiragi dragging himself off and zipping up his jeans. The realisation hit Tachibana like an anvil to the head: he'd just had his first ever legitimate sexual experience with another person, and that person was Hiiragi Hitonari. He had been completely and utterly exposed - both literally and figuratively - in front of Hiiragi; it didn't get a great deal more humiliating than that. He quickly followed Hiiragi's example, fastening his fly with shaky fingers, then began hunting ineffectually around him.
"What are you looking for?"
"My jacket. Have you seen it?"
"Why? Where are you going?"
Tachibana glanced up; Hiiragi was looking at him, expression genuinely puzzled.
"Well it's probably about time I headed home."
"What? But it's only ten o'clock, and we don't have school tomorrow - and the slasher movie marathon has only just started!"
"I know, but, well - "
"Come on, don't tell me you're embarrassed or something stupid like that."
Tachibana bristled at that, and rather than replying he simply plonked himself back down on the couch and pulled Hiiragi into something that was more like a headlock than an embrace. Because yeah, he might be embarrassed, but he wasn't about to admit that to the guy that was still his rival, and if Hiiragi could be cool about this then he could too. And really, as he sat there, his arm loosening so it lay comfortably across Hiiragi's shoulders, Hiiragi's head tilting to rest lightly against his, he realised that the embarrassment was fading away, and the more he thought about it the more he figured that what had just happened was, really, okay.
Someone was being disembowelled onscreen; Hiiragi, eyes closed and obviously half-dozing, made a soft sighing noise, and Tachibana twisted his head - just briefly - and pressed his lips against the other boy's temple. All the embarrassment, he reckoned, was worth it for this.