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Ashiwara ran his fingers through the container of stones, letting them cascade through his fingers beneath the stream of water. They were smooth and hard and solid, and made pleasing sounds when they rattled against one another. Washing stones was probably the pleasantest chore there was, which was why he didn't mind staying after the Meijin's session to do it.
His arms were submerged almost to the elbows when Ogata slinked into the kitchen and parked his hip against the counter, right by the sink. Ogata folded his arms and didn't say anything, just leaned there like a crooked sentinel and watched Ashiwara work.
Ashiwara nodded at him once, then ignored him as best he could while he finished up. Ogata wasn't talkative, usually, but Ashiwara found his focused silence unnerving. He started to hurry as much as he could, and felt the relief of impending escape when he finally started wiping his hands on one of Touya-san's pretty dishtowels.
That was when Ogata abandoned his perch and approached, taking hold of both Ashiwara's arms in one swift moment. Ashiwara looked up in confusion, then back down at the towel, because he really should put it down someplace, but he couldn't really move his arms without knocking Ogata's hands away, and, anyway, it was wet, and where should he put it? And what did Ogata want? So he looked up again to ask, and opened his mouth to form the question, but Ogata was already there, breathing in the air escaping from Ashiwara's lips, then tasting them.
It was so... slippery, and light, and not at all what Ashiwara would have expected from Ogata, that it took a moment for him to register that it was a kiss. The dishtowel bunched in his fists as he clenched them, and he tried to increase the already-uncomfortable angle of his neck to pull back since Ogata was still holding him by the arms. It didn't quite work, and he stumbled backward a step, almost losing his balance and inadvertently breaking Ogata's hold.
Ogata immediately reached for him again. His hands hovered in midair and then dropped before actually touching Ashiwara, though. Ashiwara stared at him, as if by looking hard enough he would be able to read what was going on in Ogata's mind.
Ogata cleared his throat.
Ashiwara tightened his hold on the dishtowel, stupidly glad to have something, anything to hold on to. "Did you just--? Um."
"Let's try that again," Ogata said, reaching out one hand to cup Ashiwara's jaw and stroke his thumb along Ashiwara's cheek. Ashiwara would have thrown the dishtowel in his face and told him to go to hell, except for the way Ogata's voice sounded thready with need when he added a whispered "Please," and the hot rush of want that shot straight to Ashiwara's gut at the brush of Ogata's lips against his ear.