/
The first thing he announces: "I don't like the flowers."
"Hmm?" Keigo doesn't know what Ryoma is talking about at first. He is too busy trying to find the car keys, which should have been in his back pocket. He only finds his wallet, though, and his momentarily distracted as to what Ryoma was jabbering.
"Here, idiot." The keys dangle in front of Keigo, and Keigo blinks for a minute before taking them out of reflex, forming a scowl. Ryoma ignores him and continues. "The flowers. You have horrible taste."
"It's nice that you lack any tear-wrenching sentiment even for your own graduation," Keigo says flatly. "Those are the traditional ones. The florist recommended them."
"You went to a crappy florist then."
"I did not—" Keigo stops and sighs. He rubs his fingers between his eyes and mentally composes his bearings. "Fine. I chose the wrong florist."
Ryoma grins at him, his normally disarrayed hair neat and combed for once. His blazer is smartly ironed for the occasion, and his face is sharp and clean. "I'm glad you're nice today," he muses, "It would've been awful if you're going to be difficult."
Keigo laughs despite himself. "Me? I'm sure. Come on, then, you must be freezing. Let's go eat."
"No photos? Now look who's lacking feelings." But Ryoma doesn't protest at Keigo's declaration, merely turns back to give a quick, terse smile at his older cousin, who came to see Ryoma off in place of his parents. They were in the States, and Ryoma did not want his father to be a bother, as he had adamantly told Keigo last week over the phone.
"So," Keigo had said slowly, "You want me to come instead."
"To pick me up," Ryoma sniped over the phone line, "Go someplace to eat after, take a drive, etc."
"Your request for a date is unfailingly unromantic as ever," Keigo muttered before he could stop himself from sounding like a demanding girlfriend. He quickly amended his complaints with an attack of his own. "I have work to do then."
"No you don't." Ryoma sounded irritated or faux-irate, Keigo couldn't tell which. "You could always reschedule. Plus, you've been bragging about your driver's license for weeks now. You could show it off to me."
"I don't need to show off to anyone. My driving skills are perfect."
Ryoma scoffed and Keigo scowled. "Sure," Ryoma taunted, "Because I heard it was going to snow that day. I'm sure you've trained for all the icy roads though, yeah?"
"Oh, shut up," Keigo said, "If you're going to goad me, at least be more subtle about it. I'll come."
The phone conversation that lasted for less than five minutes with Keigo yielding to Ryoma's ridiculous, last-minute demands (as always) comes to haunt him now, as Keigo briefly wonders if Ryoma found him easy to goad for his own amusement. Perhaps, Keigo thinks grimly, inwardly rolling his eyes. He unlocks the car and Ryoma, shivering by now, opens the front seat door as Keigo also slides into the driver's seat. The car still smells faintly of fresh leather.
"New car," Ryoma observes, smirking and taking a look at the back.
"I picked it out last week." Keigo gestures at the bouquet that Ryoma is still holding and points to the backseat. "You could throw it back there."
"It'll get squashed," Ryoma says, tilting his head and looking at him. Ryoma should have his hair slicked more often, Keigo thinks unconsciously. He looks older, but more composed, his angled cheeks accentuated due to the lack of stray hairs that usually hides the boy's cheeks. He shakes himself out of it.
"Like you said," Keigo says with a resigned sigh, "You don't like them. No one is going to mourn for it." He inserts the keys and the car roars to life. He steers past Nanako and gives her a little bow, which she returns with a smile. He wonders why Ryoma never picked up any manners from her.
"You would."
"I wouldn't. They weren't worth much trouble." Keigo steers the car to head towards the main road. "Go ahead, the smell is starting to give me a headache."
"Huh." But Ryoma keeps them bundled neatly onto his lap, away from Keigo's nose-range. He sneaks a look at it when the traffic light turns red and at Ryoma's face.
"Do you like it then?"
"Hm?" Ryoma gives him a cursory glance before looking back out the windows again.
"The flowers. You're treating them nicely."
"I always treat stuff nicely, monkey king. Stop reading so much into everything."
"You do," Keigo decides with a smirk. He reaches out and flicks Ryoma's head; Ryoma swats the hand away, looking disgruntled. "Most people would express more gratitude, you know."
"You wouldn't give these to most people," Ryoma shoots back, and attempts to poke him. Keigo dodges by snagging the oncoming wrist. Strangely, Ryoma doesn't pull away. They end up intertwining their fingers loosely as Keigo steers with his remaining hand.
"I wouldn't," Keigo agrees, nonchalant, and Ryoma gives him a quick smirk for that.
"Good," he says sweetly, "I would hit you if you did."
"What a monster I'm associating with," Keigo says, but he can't help smile as he turns towards the younger boy again, leaning over just as the light turns from yellow to red. Keigo is grateful for the abundance of red lights today.
Ryoma's own eyes glitter in mirth, and he meets Keigo halfway. His lips are cold from the outside air, and dry, but when he opens his mouth, his tongue is hot and wet against the coolness of Keigo's own lips. Ryoma licks his lips, their tongues sliding against each other smoothly in slow strokes. They establish a lazy rhythm; Ryoma's head swerves, as Keigo's hand comes up to rest on the boy's cheek.
A car honks behind them.
They pull apart, and Keigo looks at the light. He starts off.
"You should bring your driver next time," Ryoma says. Every request he makes always counts like a command, and the annoyance is evident in his words.
"Maybe," Keigo says, feigning disinterest. "If you're good."
"Or I'll take the subway."
"There isn't a station near your university, brat. Try to take some interest in your upcoming future."
"I could walk and leave you to drive around in your car alone."
Keigo rolls his eyes and waves off a hand towards Ryoma's direction. "I'll bring my driver next time," he agrees, "Although. This was your idea, if I recall."
"Yeah," Ryoma says, "But I forgot you're terrible at multitasking."
/
A fluffy and pointless piece, because I haven't written one of those much these days….or for many days and weeks, come to think of it. This was supposed to be about Ryoma graduating but ended up about them bitching inside a car. Oh well.
Reviews are welcome!