A/N: This idea came from a tumblr prompt: "We met each other on a Sunday morning, both doing our walk of shame." I felt like answering it with something smutty rather than cute so I did. The plot is paper-thin and the tone is pretty lowbrow. Don't take this too seriously, please.

Warning: Absolutely not safe for work from the get-go,yo. This is just an excuse so I can write hot people drooling over each other because of said hotness. Vulgar language, vulgar thoughts, vulgar situations all around.

Takes place on a college campus somewhere in the US of A.

Navel Rings and Tramp Tattoos

Lavi is having a horrible, horrible morning.

No, really, he is. Not only is it super fucking cold for a day in April, despite the deceitful sunshine and the hint of flower buds on the trees, but he, Lavi Bookman ("Junior" for short but very few people outside of his family call him that), is awake at the ungodly hour of 6 am on a Sunday, trying to run through the entire damn campus grounds to get to his single dorm room before too many people see him. And why doesn't he want many people to see him, you ask? Well, mostly because he looks like shit, smells like shit, and feels more than like shit because of a certain freak he unwittingly picked up the night before.

He met the man at the bar he frequents and was immediately drawn to the dark curls and hazel eyes. The man noticed, bought him a drink, and soon Lavi learned that his potential lay for the evening lives in an apartment a few blocks from the campus proper. The bar is pretty far from the university, so this convenient coincidence should've set off some sort of alarm in his head, had he not been so taken by the man's clever words and cleverer hands under the table. He went home with him, tipsy and horny as hell and expecting a good night of debauchery. His exams are next week but they're nothing he can't handle if he sacrifices some sleep – might as well have some fun before the madness, no?

He did not expect to be handcuffed to the ridiculously large bed and the crazy number of sex contraptions that magically appeared from the seemingly tiny bedside drawers. Lavi likes it rough in bed as much as the next person but there are limits, and what started as tentative open-mindedness went long past what his curiosity (and body) could take. Once the man brought out the cock ring and candles Lavi started emphatically saying no, which turned into stop which turned into let me go or I'm calling the cops you crazy asshole. Fortune did smile on him (albeit a very small, condescending one) in that the man did listen after Lavi's fairly serious threat, and uncuffed him. However, like the trap it was, when the man said he lives a few blocks away he neglected to mention that should Lavi choose to walk through those said few blocks at that time of night he'd inevitably get knifed and mugged, no lie. He's too broke to call a cab so he had to wait in that supremely uncomfortable apartment until daybreak and campus security started their morning rounds before leaving. No, the sofa he half-slept on was not comfortable. And no, the man denied him the luxury of a shower after he shut the bedroom door in his face.

So Lavi is well aware of how he looks this brisk, cold morning as he runs like a madman into the dorm lobby. His clothes are wrinkled and his hair a crunchy mess sticking to his scalp. His ears are red and slightly swollen from the man nearly ripping his earrings straight out of their holes. (They're still sitting on the man's vanity last time Lavi checked, and he laments because he really likes the set but there's no way in hell he's going back there to retrieve them.) His navel ring is still whole and untouched, by some miracle, and as he runs he can feel it snagging on his shirt because there's a huge rip on the front due to that crazy man's crazy, crazy hands.

The guard gives him the obligatory "I don't want to know" look as Lavi flashes his dorm badge. He slows down as he approaches the elevator, breathing a sigh of relief as he is finally near his destination. After he takes a shower it'll be just about time for the dining hall to open for breakfast. Its food's nothing to write home about but his body could really use some greasy, high-energy calories right now.

The elevator dings. The doors open as slowly as they always have and Lavi rushes in, not paying a lick of attention to where he runs.

And of course he crashes straight into the person about to step out of it, hard enough that they both yell "ow!" and Lavi promptly falls down.

Kanda Yu is having a fucking terrible day.

It started last night. No, late afternoon, when he ran into his ex while on his way to the Co-Op Market to buy some noodles for dinner. The encounter soured his mood immensely, and Kanda gave up cooking for the night and opted to go out to a party that he was timely reminded of by his phone's notification. (He didn't remember ever putting it on his calendar, though, probably a mis-swipe when he was updating his exam dates). It was at another dorm, the one closest to campus and very far from his own, but the food was free and there was plenty of booze. Good enough for a bad Saturday night, Kanda figured, and grabbed his keys and went.

Apparently everyone else on campus had also heard there'd be free food and booze so Kanda found himself surrounded by way too many strangers than was ever comfortable. The party spilled into the hallway, the entire length of it, mind you, and Kanda, after a few beers too many, wandered into a corner suite by mistake. And lo and behold the sole occupant of the room – a brunet reeked of weed with a weird henna on his forehead that made him look like he had five eyes – was staring intently at his laptop while touching himself. Kanda blinked, drunk but not drunk enough, and began to back out.

Except someone else came in and effectively blocked the only exit. The brunet looked up, past Kanda at the person behind him, and the weird face twisted into something obscene. Kanda felt himself being pushed aside, strongly, and he recognized the person as one of the defenders on the football team. The guy was blond, squarely built, and so big that he had to duck around the ceiling lamp to fit. He walked straight up to the brunet, looked briefly between the laptop and the guy slowly jerking himself, and started to unbuckle his own belt.

It was obviously time to leave. Kanda turned, hand on the doorknob but he heard a clear and deliberate remark behind him. "Hey," it said, thin and high pitched. "Want to join us?"

No? was the right answer but his ex's face chose that exact moment to surface in his mind. He debated briefly with himself on just what he rightly deserved after all the shit he had gone through and decided, well, fuck that. Why the hell not? What the hell does it matter anymore fuck you Al –

"Fine," he heard himself say.

And so he found himself involved in an impromptu threesome that he started to regret ten minutes in. The brunet was clawing at his back while the blond rammed into his ass like a piston and Kanda was gritting his teeth to keep from biting his tongue off. It was much rougher than he liked but the dots of pleasure from that tight ass and that huge cock was enough to keep him going. Would've been almost okay had not, halfway through, the door opened again and this girl sauntered in. Her hair was dyed blue and she looked about twelve years old (but wasn't because she was obviously a student here), just waltzed in like she owned the place. She stopped in front of the trio and laughed in that telling, I'm-so-fucking-stoned-I'm-seeing-dreams kind of way and stood there and watched. Fucking watched like they were a porno and Kanda wanted to bolt right there but the other two pinned him between them, even synced their rhythm so Kanda had little choice but to groan and shudder and then come hard and fast in front of the Lolita-wanna-be in an utter stranger's room.

He supposes it was his own fault for passing out from post-coital bliss and too much booze afterwards. It was also his own fault for tailing out there at first light of dawn but he couldn't find his shirt anywhere so had to make do without. It, however, was absolutely NOT his fault when the slowest elevator on earth finally touched ground and opened, and this guy who looked as much of a mess as and smelled worse than he was ran into him hard enough to leave a new bruise on his ribs.

"Ow!" Kanda yells, stumbling back into the elevator and preventing the door from closing automatically. The guy is now on the floor rubbing his sore elbows. Kanda looks down, catches the sight of the single green eye and the hickeys on the neck and the rip on the shirt and – wait, is that a –?

He curses and curses and curses some more until he forgets that he's standing in front of the elevator still, and the closing doors slam into his sides like pincers, and Kanda yells "ow!" again and curses one more time for being a weak-willed human being with an unhealthy fetish for piercings. Especially the trashy, navel-y kind, which is peeking at him from the rip of the shirt on a beautifully toned stomach, shining like a silver beacon to his tired, bleary, and very interested eyes.

The first thing Lavi notices is that the guy in front of him is gorgeous. Like, inhumanly gorgeous, with piercing blue eyes and long dark hair (albeit in a messy tangle) and a body that doesn't really match the delicate features of his face. But that's ok, because that body is all muscle and shiny, smooth skin. A tattoo of the Sanskrit Om decorates his left pec, right above the heart. The faded jeans cling to the slim hips, the top button almost ripped off and just tight enough that Lavi can see the vague outline of his cock pressing against the zippers. Lavi has to hastily bite his lips to keep from visibly drooling.

And then he notices all the other things. Things like the bruises resembling bite marks peppered on the naked torso, the wrinkles on the pants and the scrunched up socks tucked in the sneakers, the frizzy state of the hair and of course, the smell of dried sweat and faint, stale alcohol. And Lavi realizes, immediately, how utterly stupid and embarrassing of a run-in this is turning out to be. They're both obviously coming back from a night of...questionable decadence…and had they actually known each other they'd probably avoid contact for weeks, if not months. But since they don't, Lavi can pretend that the blush on his cheeks and the subsequent one from the other man are from their physical collision. Adrenaline, you see, the normal sporting kind, caused by two people unexpectedly colliding in haste. Perfectly plausible, yeah?

He slowly stands up as the elevator door threatens to close again. The other finally steps out from its clutches, throwing him a dirty look before saying "watch it, idiot" and pushing past him toward the lobby.

"Sorry!" Lavi yells back, extending a hand to keep the elevator doors from closing but comes up short. He sighs, re-presses the up button and once again waits. He can't help but glance toward the direction that the other has gone, if just to have one more look at that perfect, naked upper body and that tight, sweet ass.

To his surprise the man stops just before the glass doors, hands patting down his jeans like he's searching for something. Lavi hears variation of curses coming from his general direction. The long hair parts with the slowly growing frantic movements, and something on the small of his back catches Lavi's attention. His eye widens when he realizes it's another tattoo, sitting right above the denim hemline and taking up a good portion of the lower back. A few more jostling and the tattoo is fully revealed. It's a monochrome lotus flower, finely inked with intricate detail work and an embellished stem that points, not so subtly, down toward the tailbone.

Well, isn't this just goddamn kick-in-the-mouth fantastic? The one thing Lavi has a discreet but significant obsession with is tattoos. Not only does this gorgeous man have two gorgeously done pieces but one just has to be, like, has to be, where Lavi likes it the most. It's something he's never admitted to anyone, not to his friends and certainly not to any of his past flings. What a conversation that'd make. Yeah, so I kind of really dig those tramp stamps on a guy so, wanna get one for me?

He hears the other sigh loudly, followed by a "shit" and a "fuck my life" and an abrupt turn as he walks back to where Lavi's standing. The redhead raises an eyebrow, as the other pointedly ignores him and stares blankly at the closed elevator doors. When the contraption once again opens he strides inside without a pause, dismissing the girl who has just stepped off and nearly stumbled from his push. Lavi follows, praying silently that the boner slowly forming in his pants is going to go unnoticed.

"Which floor?" Lavi asks, careful not to look at the man beside him.

"11."

Of course to his floor. So many fucking coincidences that Lavi wanders if he has somehow pissed off a minor deity somewhere who's currently laughing maniacally at his expense. He presses the button, distinctly aware of how bad the smell is now in this cramped, horribly ventilated space. The other crosses his arms and stares at the peeling paint in the corner. Lavi is only glad that there's no one else in here because goddamn do they make a fucking miserable pair.

He stares up at the too-low ceiling and feels his mouth go dry at the thought of running his fingers down that gloriously tattooed backside. This is going to be one hell of an elevator ride, and that boner is quickly becoming as raging as it could get. So Lavi does the only thing he knows how to do when he's nervous or scared – he starts talking.

"So, uh, I haven't seen you around before. Do you actually live here? Not that it matters it's just I live on the same floor you just said and I pretty much know everyone so, uh, yeah..."

Kanda suppresses a groan. The nerve of some people. Why is this guy so intent on making conversation when it's pretty fucking obvious that it's better if they just leave the other alone? Kanda tries to give him his coldest glare, but falters when he again sees that silver stud so enticingly nestled in the – focus, Kanda Yu! Focus! He clears his throat and looks away. They've only reached the third floor. Fucking hell is this going to be a long ride up.

"You're not on this floor, right? I mean unless you just transferred or something I definitely would've seen you before. You visiting a friend or..?"

Shut up shut up shut up! Kanda wants to say, and almost does when a sudden clarity informs him that he's probably stuck with one of those morons who gets extremely unnerved by perfectly good silence. Just great. On top of losing his fucking dorm keycard in that weird ass henna guy's room, now he's stuck in a two-by-two space with a weirder guy with an eyepatch who can't shut up. He looks despairingly at the floor indicators – they've only reached halfway.

The idiot opens his mouth again but Kanda decides to spare himself the agony and cuts him off. "There was a party," he grumbles. "I left something."

"Oh. Oh that's right!" the other exclaims. "That pre-exam thing, yeah? How was it?"

Kanda's glare now can melt metal. Of all the stupid questions this has to take the cake. How was it? He's without a shirt, covered in sex marks, and looks like he desperately needs a comb. How the fuck does this idiot think it was?

"It's your floor's party, isn't it?"

"Yeah but I wasn't involved in the planning. Plus I was, uh...out...last night. And dude, quit staring, it's not like I asked to get this shirt destroyed, ok?"

Kanda almost chokes on his spit – the guy noticed! How could he not, really? – but is minutely thankful that the other got the completely wrong idea. The elevator finally dings and the doors slowly crawl open. Kanda practically sprints out. There's no one waiting outside so at least he doesn't knock anybody else down, not that he cares, especially. He just wants to shake this moron free, get his stuff, and get back to his dorm before the urge to physically assault someone overcomes his reason.

But to his dismay the guy is tight on his heels. "Why the fuck are you following me?" he snarls back, which startles the other into a short stop.

"I'm not. My room's down the hall. Why're you going this way? I thought the party was in the lounge."

Kanda's patience wears out and he ignores the question, instead runs down the absurdly long hallway. When the room finally comes into view he curses loudly at it before slamming his fist into the door. To his utter dismay he hears the sound of jingling keys behind him. Bloody fucking great, that guy just has to live right across the hall. Kanda adamantly stares at the generic pane of wood as if it'll open just from the intensity of his rage alone.

He has to hit it four more times before the door finally creaks open. It's the blond football player, dressed in nothing but his boxers with a sleepy look on his face. "Who're you?" the big man boomed, again blocking the entire entrance. "What you want?"

"My keycard." Kanda says. "And my shirt."

The big man just grunts before reaching behind the door. A moment later he hands a square card attached to a string of wooden beads to Kanda, who snatches it out of his thick fingers. "Shirt I threw out." The big man says, and before Kanda can protest further he shuts the door with a definitive bang.

"Asshole!" Kanda yells. He punches the door one last time for good measure. The pain shoots up his closed fist but at least he feels marginally better. He turns around and sees that the other nuisance is casually leaning against the door frame across the hall. Thankfully he has changed into a different shirt, so Kanda at least isn't too distracted to focus on his face, which, if he were being honest, is actually quite nice.

"What?"

"That's pretty far," the redhead says, ignoring his animosity and nodding toward the telltale dorm key. "And the bus isn't running for another hour. You gonna walk the whole way back dressed like that? I've been out; it's a bit chilly today, you know."

"So?"

"So. You can borrow one of my shirts if you want. Or a jacket. I don't mind."

Kanda narrows his eyes. "What's it to you?"

The guy laughs before disappearing inside his room. Kanda walks across so he can better hear the muffled voice coming from its depth, although he doesn't go further than the threshold. "Nothing," the other says, sounds of rummaging traveling out. "I just know that those two aren't very nice folks, in bed or out. Must've been a rough night, huh?"

Kanda let a sneer creep up his face. "And I suppose you're just offering out of the goodness of your heart?"

He hears more laughter before seeing the redhead emerge from the back of the room, a wad of black in his hand. A flick of the wrist and the bundle is flying toward Kanda, who catches it and unfolds it into a thick, black sweater.

"That's right," the redhead grins. "No ulterior motives here. But since you asked, mind giving me your number so I know my favorite sweater won't just get lost in the ether?"

The audacity of the guy appalls him. But Kanda has been hit on constantly in his life, so it's not really anything new. "Give it or don't. I don't need it." He says, and starts to throw the sweater back, but the redhead puts up a hand and stops him.

"Well," the other shrugs, "you can't blame me for trying. It's fine; take it. But at least tell me your name, yeah?"

Kanda pulls the sweater over his head. It fits a little loose at the shoulders and smells like laundry detergent, but other than that he can't complain. Briefly he considers if he should actually give the redhead an honest answer, but just as quickly he banishes the thought. Hell'd freeze over before he, Kanda Yu, succumbs to a moment of weakness because of something as stupid as human desire.

"Fuck off!" he blurts out instead, and pretends not to see the other jerk in surprise. With a defiant kick of his heels he strides back down the hall, toward the elevator and away from this fucking cursed space.

Lavi spends the next six days fretting over dates and numbers and questions of the human condition. He jerks off to pictures of lotuses and imagines how the tattoo'd look on that back when he's taking the other from behind. He looks on campus for that swish of long hair and, when failing to find it, thinks about resorting to ask his not-so-nice neighbors. It proves to be a waste of time, as those two know nothing except what Lavi already knows – that the tattooed man lives in the dorm farthest from campus. This creepy girl down the hall tries to tell Lavi how thick the man's cock is and Lavi runs away before she finishes, not because he isn't curious but because hearing something like that from someone with the face of a child is enough to make Lavi feel slightly sick, not to mention the whole implication is unreservedly wrong and disturbing. (She was there too? Participating? What in the seventh hell?)

Despite all signs to the contrary he still believes the man will come to return his sweater. When nothing of the sort happens and the next Sunday comes around Lavi is seriously debating between giving up and calling it a loss or spending hours searching the entire dorm directory. In the end he nixes the search, because that would take away from his study time and Lavi Bookman is not one to let objects of infatuation ruin his stellar GPA. So he chides himself for vanity and lust and concentrates on the exams, unaware that his unanswered questions are very soon to be resolved by one of his close acquaintances – an innocuous, short little fellow going by the name of Allen Walker.

Kanda spends the next six days cursing over anatomy and chemical bonds and stupidly obtuse quantum mechanics. He thinks of running his teeth over the silver ring on that tanned stomach and comes in his hands more times than he should. The sweater he borrowed is washed, folded, and put away with the rest of his clothes. He was going to return it on Monday but then he forgot it in his dresser, and by the time he finally made it back to his room he remembered he still had that final project to wrap up. And every day zoom by like this and when Kanda finally gets around to the damn thing it's the next Sunday morning. He feels a little guilty for ignoring it but the more he ignores it the more he wants to continue to do so. Fucking idiot can get it back himself, he huffs. It's not like he's not listed in the school directory, and the other already knows where his dorm is.

He conveniently forgets that he refused to tell the guy his name and the directory can't be searched by pictures. If Kanda were just a little bit more introspective he'd have gone over even after all this delay because the potential of him actually getting his mouth on that piercing (or piercings – oh god forbid the thought!) is still very, very high. However he is who he is and the last time he was impulsive he practically performed porn to a fake minor, so you'd have to excuse him for being a little hesitant. His brain is too wracked from memorizing bones and postulates anyway, so he shoves the sweater deeper into his closet and convinces himself that his work is much more important than potentially mind-blowing sex.

Unbeknownst to Kanda Yu that sex practically arrives at his doorstep a few days later. And the whole thing wouldn't ever be set in motion had he not had the misfortune of living on the same floor as this annoying, bleached-blond, idiotic pipsqueak named, you guessed it, Allen Walker.

to be continued...

A/N: Yes, Wisely/Kanda/Skinn Bolic threesome is now a thing. You're welcome. XD

This isn't an epic so it should have at most one or two more parts. "Real" smut to follow.