Of all the things Takumi had expected to happen to him in his uneventful life, sleeping on the floor of his crush's room was definitely not one of them.
But then again, his life hadn't been uneventful ever since the redhead with brilliant golden eyes had proclaimed, "I'll take the top", with unwavering confidence and a smile sharp enough to carve an imprint into Takumi's mind.
(and though he hasn't yet, he sure has taken something else from takumi)
In fact, the very reason he was currently in this situation was all due to his self proclaimed rival.
Simple cook offs had become a thing between them ever since his first issued challenge against Souma. Closest thing they would ever get to a date, Takumi would bitterly think as he viciously scrubbed pots and pans after each challenge.
Today's challenge has stretched long into the night, and Takumi curses putting doing the dishes as bet.
(it was thirty against twenty seven now, so close and yet so far. just like souma's and takumi's hands. takumi now had a steady but strong dawning that this crush might actually kill him one day. heart failure - what a terrible way to go.)
Perhaps it was going overboard, both of them cooking a full course meal for everyone in the dorm for a contest with such low stakes. The dishes that had piled up in the sink certainly agreed.
In the end, Souma had found him bowed over the sink painting a perfect picture of defeat - head nodding, soap suds up to his elbows with foam on his nose, sponge still methodically moving back and forth over the insides of a gleaming bowl. So he'd been shovelled off to the bath, then up to Souma's room, where he fell face first into a futon laid out and waiting.
Then the realisation that he was in Souma's room, sleeping next to him, barely an arm's reach away struck him like a lightning bolt and sleep was the last thing on his mind. In fact, burying his face into the pillow and screaming was the very first. He wonders if Souma can feel the heat radiating from his face from such a short distance. Probably not. How did physics works again?
"Does the futon feel okay?" Souma's voice cuts through the silent room. Takumi very nearly jolts upright from fright. His sore muscles and leaden bones are the only things keeping him on the plush futon.
"Yeah. Smells kinda nice, too." Takumi replies absentmindedly, a barely suppressed yawn slipping out towards the end, dulling out the last word.
Souma's short chuckle at his reply sounds taken aback.
Corners of eyes crinkling, lips twitching.
The image is so clear in his head it's almost as if he's facing Souma right now, and not the tiled ceiling.
Firewood crackling, warm tea, melting butter.
He can almost hear Isami's snickers of "You have it bad, Nii-chan.".
"You have Megumi to thank for that." Soft rustling.
Ah, he's scratching his head.
Takumi wonders how it'll feel between his fingers, those locks a little too long for his own liking, but strikingly handsome on the other. Times when he's brave enough to reach out to tug and attempt a scold at the length tells him it's unbearably soft.
"Yes, if it wasn't for her I wouldn't even have a place to sleep." Takumi teases, with a fluttering heart.
It's nothing akin to a flirt, hell, they're even talking about another girl, but Takumi feels his heart skip a beat with every word he says, regardless. It always seems to, whenever he speaks to Souma. From a simple greeting to a full blown argument over which spice would compliment a dish better.
He's just thankful the blotches of red that decorate his face are often mistaken for anger(he hopes, anyway); that Souma never notices his red ears for hours on end(and if he does, he never says anything. Takumi isn't quite sure how he should feel about that possibility.).
There's a sheepish laughter, and Takumi's eyes involuntarily fall shut, his lips curving into a slight smile.
Wind kicking up hair, hats thrown into the wind.
"Sorry about that. Didn't realise that not airing out my extra futons for...uh, months. Was a bad idea."
Takumi rolls his eyes, lets out a snort.
"I don't think you realise a lot of things, Yukihira." Oops. He hadn't meant for that double innuendo.
"Wow." Then Souma's face pops into vision, and Takumi has to use everything in him to not simply combust into a flurry of red. He's pretty sure he's doing a terrible job, from what his burning back, neck, ears, face, burning everything, tells him.
Way to go, Takumi Aldini. One job at making sure your crush doesn't realise he's your crush, and you probably failed months ago.
Truth to be told, Takumi is pretty amazed by how...oblivious Souma seems to be concerning his not-so-platonic feelings. He feels transparent whenever he speaks, acts around Souma, nimble hands growing slow, silver tongue dulling. Isami makes a point to casually remark about how "Nii-chan, I think you're burning holes into Souma's back.", often, so he knows that he isn't literally losing his mind because of Souma.
Sometimes Takumi even half expects Souma to just turn around with a "I'm going to file a lawsuit against you if you don't stop staring longingly at my back whenever i walk away", or "I know you like me, but I don't. So could you stop talking to me, forever?", or the absolute worst, in Takumi's melodramatic, soap opera opinion, "Hey Takumi, I really like this one other girl, can you be my wingman, and my best man at my wedding? Thanks, you're the best friend any person can have!".
Takumi firmly tells himself he is definitely not tearing up that that imaginary scenario he just thought up.
"Anyway, I do notice things."
Great, Souma hasn't noticed Takumi mentally breaking down at the thought of giving a speech on how wonderful their totally platonic no homo friendship is at his future wedding yet.
He's too focused on...Takumi's arm?
Souma rests his chin in crossed elbows, lying on his stomach, head peeping over the mattress.
Eyes focused on the left arm of Takumi, glinting with curiousity.
"You have a burn scar there, right? How'd you get it?"
Takumi lifts the arm in question, watches as Souma shifts forward in anticipation. Watches as Souma watches him.
Heart thudding wildly in his chest, repeating in his head "it's nothing special" except it is because Souma is interested in knowing something about him and just that thought makes Takumi's entire being flood with warmth, crackling and popping like fire crackers.
Takumi's right hand floats above where the mentioned scar lies hidden beneath a thin layer of cotton, wills his voice not to quake or quiver.
"I was….six. I was baking pizzas." Takumi stops to let out a soft laugh. "It was my first time without help. Without anyone in the kitchen, actually. It was going to be a surprise for my mother and Isami, so it was a huge event. The peel was heavier than expected, I tried to close the oven door while balancing the peel and," Takumi motions bumping his left arm, meets air, but his memory supplies the pain the simple brush against the scorching oven had left him.
"The best part is," Takumi finds himself continuing, divulging more of the embarrassing anecdote, unable to stop the excited rush of words. "I thought smearing butter would help, and i did just that. Turns out i mixed up the folk remedy of treating a bump and a burn. Then my entire family found me bawling my eyes out with the fridge half open, butter melting all over the floor and a burning pizza in the oven. The end."
There it was. Takumi's most embarrassing incident in the kitchen. All laid out for Souma to see. How big of an idiot is he, to be rambling about his traumatising childhood experience in the kitchen?
The regret that consumes him coupled with Souma's lingering gaze makes Takumi want to release a lung searing scream.
But before he can do just that and run flailing out the room to escape the shame, Souma bounces to sit upright, head still angled to face Takumi.
"That reminds me of the time I got the scar of my leg! You've seen it, right?" He begins to speak, rolling up his pants leg.
A long, ugly scar that runs up the entire side of Souma's calf quickly reveals itself. Takumi sucks in a quick, sharp breath, fists balling up as he pushes himself up. He'd caught sight of the scar during the bath they shared during training camp, but he hadn't noticed how big it was then. He had been too busy trying not to stare at Souma's naked frame, if he had to be honest.
Souma's curtains aren't drawn, windows half opened. "To let the air in." Souma had explained. Now, it allowed the moon to shed light into the room. Illuminating the bottom half of both boys, giving Takumi a clear sight of the puckered skin.
Takumi stretches a hand out, flinches at the mere thought of flesh being dug open, snatches his hand back. It probably wasn't in his place to just...touch Souma like that. No matter how invitingly Souma was stretching his leg out to him.
Tease, Takumi thinks venomously, hungrily.
"Everyone thinks i got it in a fight or something. Which is a pretty cool theory, so I never correct them." Souma pauses to snicker. "Truth is, I got this from being flung off my bicycle when I was eight. Moral of the story is, you should never brake when going downhill unless you want six stitches on your leg."
Takumi winces.
"Ouch." He voices aloud, catching Souma's eye. Offers him a grimace and a shake of head.
Souma shrugs, putting his leg down.
"What's done is done." Souma cheerfully states, maneuvering to lean on his side, propping his head up with one arm, "Now that we're sharing scar stories, I want to know about...this one."
His free hand reaches out, grabs Takumi's left hand that rests on the side of the mattress.
If Takumi's mind didn't short circuit from the sheer gentleness of Souma's touch - the touch he'd been longing to feel since he'd penned down his feelings five months and twenty seven days ago - it certainly did when Souma ran a thumb across his knuckles, coming to a stop at the dent of the scar between his first and second knuckle.
Electricity sparked where Souma's thumb traced, firing up Takumi's veins. He thought he might have stopped breathing for a second there. Maybe he did. He isn't very sure, not with the sudden difficulty it took to formulate smart words and logical sentences.
"An accident with the mezzaluna." The words seem to flow out of Takumi in a single, not so fluid breath. Unable to think, to comprehend what he was saying. Souma's thumb presses softly into the scar, an involuntary sigh tumbles out Takumi's lips, and the words melt into alphabet soup.
"I was practicing, it slipped." Details can't be that important now, not when Souma is tugging his hand closer to his face, not when he can feel Souma's even breaths against the back of his hand.
Eyes glazed over, eagerly trained on Souma's lips that ghost over the faded scar. Fingers twitching, heart thumping.
Then Souma flicks his gaze forward, staring straight into Takumi's hungry gaze. Caught off guard, yet unable to tear his eyes away.
Static electricity. Popped champagne.
Takumi thinks he might have invented new shades of red from his face colour alone.
Finally sliding shy cerulean away from predatory gold, Takumi very nearly buries his face into his hands, if one wasn't being so dearly held.
"Yeah." He ends off lamely. Wonders if Souma will let go of his hand now. Hopes not.
"I see." The words are low, quiet. Takumi's hand is still in Souma's as he lowers it to rest on the bed. Takumi doesn't dare think what that may mean. What Souma might be trying to imply.
There's a beat of silence. Neither awkward nor comfortable, but an odd combination of both filling the air.
Finally Takumi musters enough courage to look back up. Finds that Souma has been looking at him this whole time, a look in his eyes Takumi can't really decipher. His ears burn terribly, and Takumi wonders if a person can get third degree burns from the heat of blood pulsing beneath the skin.
"...What about the scar on your eyebrow?" Takumi asks, voice low, as if trying not to break a spell they'd weaved with their joined hands.
"Which one?" Souma answers with a cheeky smile.
Irritation, or is it impatience and pure desire, bubbles in Takumi's belly.
Daringly, pushed forward by the courage their connected hands bring him, he reaches his right arm out, cups Souma's cheek, slides a thumb over his eyebrow.
"This o-,"
Souma's eyes fall halfway shut at the action. Breath stuttering for a moment. Shoulders laxing, leaning into Takumi's touch. (just barely, but it's enough)
The blond freezes.
Oh. Oh.
"Souma?" Takumi tentatively whispers, tongue rolling over each syllabus more carefully and sincerely than he would with any other word.
It's tastes new, foreign, yet falls out his mouth as perfectly as he had always dreamed it could.
Souma's eyes snap open, his lips part in a surprised smile. The warmth of the cheek against Takumi's palm grows, and Takumi notes delightfully that Yukihira Souma is blushing at his, Takumi Aldini's, call of a name.
"Yeah, Takumi?"
It's the same name he's always been called by, but it sounds different, somehow, to Takumi.
Takumi's cheeks hurt from how hard he finds himself smiling. He doubts its from the tickle of Souma's breath against his lips - oh, he's so close, just a lean in and - and thinks it's more of the way Souma is looking at him, eyes filled with starry reverence and yearning.
"Are you going to kiss me, or do I have to do everything myself?"
And Takumi loses all memory of witty quips when Souma's lips meets his.
Soft lips fall unevenly against one another, with too much force, with too little. It's awkward, their inexperience shining through. There isn't any fireworks or explosions, not like Takumi had expected it, but it makes his spine tingle all the same, goosebumps rise on his arms.
Hesitant and sweet, the kiss is a shortlived one. Takumi lets out a shaky exhale when they break apart, Souma squeezes their interlocked hands.
"Again?"
Takumi nods, and this time, Souma kisses with a little more fervency, Takumi with a little more desperation.
Neither yield, but neither really pushes forth either. Takumi felt almost afraid that he'd just be waking up in his own bed any second now, but the pain drawn from clacking teeth reassures him otherwise.
When they break apart again, they stare at each other for a moment, before Takumi bursts into short laughter, Souma following suit not long after.
"We're terrible." Takumi gasps out.
"You can't blame me! It was my first!" Souma protests, but he's laughing all the same.
"Mine too." Takumi says, grinning, positively glowing.
The stars are all aligned today, probably. Make a fool of himself and still scores a kiss from his crush who definitely likes him back. Who was definitely stringing him along this whole time. Takumi makes a mental note to give Souma hell for this, later. For now, he's content with the feeling of Souma's forehead pressed against his, both faces dyed cherry red.
It can't get any better than this.
Suddenly, Souma's face brightens even more than it already has.
Rising sun, campfire, golden brown crusts.
Scooting backwards towards the wall, Souma pats at the empty space beside him.
"Hey, come up! Sleep with me tonight!" Souma exclaims, eyes sparkling.
Well. Maybe it can.
Takumi splutters. Was that how that nursery rhyme went? First came sharing childhood memories, then a dreamy kiss, and now, sleeping together? He was pretty sure marriage was in the equation somewhere.
"D-Don't you think that's to-too soon? We just. Kissed." Takumi nearly implodes just from saying the last word. Kiss. They kissed. They kissed. Wow.
Souma's eyes widen. Backpedalling fast as he can with intelligible splutters and a nervous giggle.
"Wa- No! No! Not in that way!" Souma waves a hand in the air, face redder than a tomato. "I meant, sleep. As in, literal sleep. Because it's late. And the floor looks cold." Takumi doesn't bother pointing out the fact that he's laden with two very thick blankets, courtesy of Megumi. "Also maybe because I want to see how you look like when you're asleep."
Takumi's face contorts in red. Heart beating so hard and so out of pace, he thinks there might be bruises lining his ribs if he checks.
"Only because you want me to." Takumi mutters, as he climbs on the bed. Carefully, so he doesn't let go of Souma's hand.
They face each other on the bed awkwardly, neither saying anything. Plays with the hem of the blanket Takumi had dragged with him onto the bed.
"So," Souma clears his throat, tucks his free arm behind his head. "Are we going out now?"
"I won't take no for an answer." Is Takumi's immediate, hot reply. "You knew i liked you, didn't you?"
"I guessed." Souma's silly smile earns a sulky pout from the blond. The redhead laughs again, in shy fondness.
Kisses Takumi on the forehead, murmuring against hot skin, "Sorry. About the whole ignoring your feelings thing. I wasn't really sure how I felt until...a month or two ago? So. Sorry." Squeezes Takumi's hand.
"...You know, you're cute when you sulk." An uncalled for, but not unappreciated afterthought.
Takumi's mind is filled with a million responses, but with Souma's lips still pressed on his forehead and Souma's long fingers tangled with his own, all his mouth can formulate is an affirmative sigh.
They stay in this position until Takumi feels Souma's gentle breaths sweeping across his fringe even out. Moving to get to eye level with Souma, Takumi leans forward to softly kiss his cheek, murmuring goodnight to the slumbering boy.
The last thought Takumi has before he falls asleep is of how Souma hasn't let go of his hand yet.
Takumi kind of hopes he never does.
A/N: this is...the longest oneshot ive ever written...it's kinda choppy and not all that well written imo, but its what kept me sane this whole week so
the title is taken from the song unidentified flavourful object by mili