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It starts, as things often do, innocuously.
“Holy shit, I could just kiss ya right now!” Karasu sighs with relief when Otoya tosses him the small travel sized bottle of hair gel; the problem with hoarding it all is that when they get misplaced, there’s no more product readily available to replace them with, but he’s not about to try and explain that to Karasu again. Not after last time.
Instead he had taken it upon himself a while ago to swipe some from Karasu’s own stash when he wasn’t looking just for situations like these, and maybe it’s the fact that he spent the last hour letting Karasu squirm over the possibility of having finally gone through all the gel inside Blue Lock, but it makes him laugh when Karasu shoots a toothy grin his way and adds, “Y’know, in a straight way.”
Otoya nods sagely, flashes him a thumbs up, and deadpans, “Obviously, babe.”
They both look at each other for a solid five seconds before simultaneously breaking out in a fit of laughter. Duh , he wants to add. Of course in a straight way, because both he and Karasu are straight. Much to Yukimiya’s dismay, they’d stayed up countless nights talking about girls and their past dates and what their type was (until Yukki smacked them both with his pillow and explained that he didn’t care what the subject matter was, it’s inconsiderate to be so loud at 3am when there’s other people in the room and they were being bad roommates), so in a straight way was simply a given.
“You go on ahead, sweetheart, I’ll be down in a sec,” Karasu snickers, running with the joke the same way his hands run the gel through his hair. “Oh, and could you grab me an extra bagel?”
The bunk bed creaks and wobbles as Otoya hops down, an “Anything for you, darling,” slipping out to stifle a yawn as he makes his way down their stratum for breakfast.
By the time Karasu makes it down to breakfast, hair slicked up the way he likes, Otoya is halfway through with his tamagoyaki and rice. A classic compared to Karasu’s preference for an egg scramble and bagel– two if he knows he needs the energy, with a mixture of both cream cheese and blueberry jam on it because ‘it’s good, just trust me, dude’ – their silly joke forgotten in lieu of making room for remembering Karasu’s breakfast order and going over their next game plan.
Yukimiya, Chigiri, Rin, Karasu, Aryu– that’s the order Otoya would rank them in if he had to choose the five hottest players currently in Blue Lock.
One is an actual model, two got extra points for having long hair, one gained points for looking suitably doe-eyed and promptly lost them for his surly personality, and one was Karasu. Not that Otoya was actively looking at Karasu, per se, but there’s only so many times he can quickly avert his eyes in their shared shower room before he ends up catching a peek, especially when both of their bathing schedules seemed to coincide more often than not.
“Yukki and Red Guy, I get it– but Rin, seriously? Over me?”
Karasu looks genuinely baffled, which is a hard look to pull off in the shower when he’s scrubbing shampoo into his hair so intensely the suds are getting everywhere, but he manages. Otoya hums in response and shrugs before he stands back and this time he’s not averting anything; Karasu has nice legs, strong calves and thighs, with a multitude of beauty marks littered across his skin like a sexy connect-the-dots.
His butt rounds out nicely and looks pretty firm, and even without being hard Otoya can tell his dick is a respectable size, definitely a two-hander. Everyone likes abs and Karasu has plenty to spare, and the beauty mark just a few inches above his right nipple feels like a bullseye for someone to suck on. The only thing knocking down points is his ridiculous hairstyle, which–
Looking at him now, hair down like a soaked labrador and taking in the whole picture, okay. Otoya can see it.
“Recalculating, recalculating,” Otoya presses a finger to his temple, voice a tinge robotic for dramatic effect and he ignores Karasu’s snort to concede, “ Fine , you can be the third hottest in Blue Lock.”
“That’s more like it!”
Otoya laughs and he doesn’t think the rankings are all that serious, just something to do one night one while they were bored and couldn’t sleep, but Karasu seems pleased. They move to soak in the tub and he sinks down low, letting the hot water seep into his bones and relax his muscles after a long day.
“You’d be my number three too, by the way,” Karasu says after a long while, arm draped over the ledge of the bath and Otoya notes there’s a beauty mark on his bicep too. “No one can compete with Yukki and Chigiri in the looks department. Bastards.”
He blows bubbles in the water briefly before sitting back, and Otoya expects Karasu to move his arm but he doesn’t. “We still ranked higher than them where it matters, though.”
“Damn right! And if ya keep being my secret weapon, we’ll outrank those guys too.”
Otoya holds up a finger pointed at Karasu, a soft pow leaving his lips as he winks, “Bang! Assassin and ninja style.”
“I set them up–”
“Then I come in for the kill.”
Karasu splashes him, laughs, then launches into a conversation about tactics and how they should approach things going forward, but Otoya is only half listening. After sinking back down into the water, all he can really pay attention to is the cluster of freckles nestled on the side of Karasu’s ribs.
“If you want to, or whatever. I’m not into guys or anything.”
Everyone has been training hard and feeling antsy. It’s only natural, of course, with the U-20 game tomorrow and the fate of Blue Lock resting entirely on the shoulders of guys so green, most of them hadn’t even been kissed yet. Not that Otoya thinks that kissing ability has any bearing on how many goals one can score (otherwise he’d definitely be ranked number one, because there’s no way Rin or Shidou have kissed more people than he has), but still.
It’s what brought them here, to the two of them sitting an arm’s length apart on the edge of Karasu’s bed, talking about collecting kisses like good luck charms on the days before exams back when that was all they had to worry about.
“I’m not either.” Otoya says easily, then shrugs and shifts closer. Karasu does too until their shoulders touch. “But I haven’t kissed anyone in months. My kiss luck’s all dried up, dude.”
“Yeah, same. We need to replenish it before the game, right?”
Karasu has always been the more rational one between the two of them, the idea-man, so if he says it? Otoya can only nod and lean forward.
“Wait, wait– turn the lights off.”
Right. “Good thinking,” he says, shuffling over to do so before padding back to Karasu’s side. His eyes don’t adjust fast enough and he practically lands in his friend’s lap, and Otoya mutters a quick word of apology before he shifts and settles beside him. “I can’t see shit.”
He doesn’t need to see to feel the pads of Karasu’s fingers snaking up his arm, splaying on his shoulder and to the side of his neck. Karasu’s thumb swipes across his throat and he uses it to tilt Otoya’s chin up, whispering, “That’s the whole point, genius,” so close that he can feel it on the side of his mouth, and fuck that’s a good move. Otoya needs to tuck it away for the next time he’s trying to flirt with the cute girls at the conbini line.
When Karasu kisses him, Otoya finds that he can only think of the boy himself. Turning the lights off feels extra silly now because he can’t see what Karasu looks like before he closes his eyes to kiss, and Karasu’s lips are soft but slightly chapped, and he tastes of that cinnamon toothpaste that he likes. There’s no way for him to pretend he’s kissing some cute strawberry girl, but he doesn’t hate it. Karasu tilts his head back further, swipes his tongue across his lower lip, and Otoya’s mouth parts instantly.
“C’mon, thought ya could kiss better than this,” Karasu teases before he coaxes his tongue into his mouth, and Otoya’s not about to let his reputation be tarnished like that.
One of his hands slides up behind Karasu’s neck, and with just as much speed and precision as he performs on the field, he hooks a leg over to straddle his best friend and sit on his lap. He swallows down the surprised noise Karasu makes in favor of deepening the kiss, spurred on by the way Karasu’s strong hands are at his back and sliding over his thighs, squeezing his ass and sliding up under his shirt. Otoya’s moaning, then, despite his penchant for being quiet while fooling around– and that’s what they were doing, wasn’t it? Fooling around?
No, they were recharging their kiss luck. For U-20, Blue Lock, their futures, whatever .
“I think,” Otoya rasps, breaking the kiss and trying not to think too hard about the way he feels Karasu’s mouth chase after his, or the way he can definitely feel the bulge in Karasu’s sweats and how he doesn’t hate that either. “Our kiss luck’s at full power.”
Karasu nods, mumbling out an all too breathy, “Yeah,” that makes Otoya want to backtrack, maybe they need to charge their luck more, but he finds he doesn’t have to. “Big game, though. We should be safe.”
Otoya is too busy nodding and leaning in to kiss Karasu again to say much else.
Blue Lock wins against U-20, the world knows them more now, and it makes it a lot easier for Otoya to talk to girls when they’re the ones approaching him to begin with, especially with so many football players gathered in one place. It’s not at all why he got into the sport, but certainly one of the better perks of it.
He’s just finished getting a cute girl’s number after their first round of bowling when Karasu sidles up to him, draping one arm around Otoya’s shoulders and peering down at the new contact on his phone.
“Hanako-chan, huh?” Karasu hums as the girl giggles and walks off with a wave at them both, a low whistle at the back of his throat. Otoya very much agrees; she’s pretty, long legs, nice hips. Definitely his type this week.
“She’s cute, right?”
Karasu nods and they both watch as Hanako giggles with her friends near the bowling alley’s entrance before heading out. A little high pitched, but cute. Interested , which is even more important, though maybe a bit too giggly and that usually always means easily attached. But, he’s never been that picky as long as he can revel in the attention for a while.
“Ya gonna call her?”
“Maybe later,” Otoya surprises himself by saying. “We’re playing a second round, right?”
“Actually, we should get outta here. Let’s get some food.”
“Sick. Conbini pitstop?”
The arm around his shoulders drops and Karasu pats his back before heading out and Otoya follows, casting only a brief look toward the rest of their friends before he figures he’ll text them all later to apologize for ditching them without a word, if he remembers. The two of them walk to the 7-Eleven down the block and pick out some sandwiches and drinks, and after a moment of trying to decide what to do next, they eat while they walk toward the station.
“Did you notice the kiss luck worked? We won.” Otoya says around a mouthful of yakisoba bread and Karasu laughs, almost choking on his drink.
“Or maybe we’re just that good.”
Maybe, though Otoya would be lying if he said he hasn’t been reliving that moment a lot lately. Karasu is the first guy he’s kissed and after they’d parted ways that night, he’s sure both of them had to go rub one out before they could settle in for the night.
He’s still not into guys, not really. Maybe just one guy, and only because it was something so new it’s been exciting, and he was still riding the post-victory hype. If Otoya had touched himself to the thought of Karasu’s hands on his first night back home, that was between him and his Ultraman posters.
Karasu tosses his trash in the next trashcan they pass and shoves his hands into his coat pocket before he asks, “Just to be safe though, ya think we should kiss again?”
Otoya slurps his drink through the straw far too loudly and Karasu tries elbowing his side, but he’s too quick in getting away. He snorts and sticks out his tongue, hopping a few steps ahead so he can walk backwards while facing Karasu, his lips puckered out to blow kisses.
“You wanna smooch me, crow-boy?”
“That’s crow- man to you, moron, and I didn’t say that. I’d rather be kissing Hanako-chan.”
His arm shoots out, an accusatory finger pointed right at the other boy. “Bzzt! Stop right there! If anyone’s gonna kiss Hanako-chan, it’s gonna be me!”
Karasu laughs and steers him to the side to make sure he doesn’t trip over a planter on the sidewalk. He tosses his remaining leftovers into the trash once they get to the station and Otoya should have known that his friend was up to something when he sees Karasu pull his phone out and his own phone instantly buzzes, only for it to get snatched out of his hands the moment he tries to check the notification. Otoya watches, too, as Karasu deletes Hanako’s contact instead of sending it to himself.
“There. Now ya don’t have to be a baby about me trying to kiss her,” Karasu shoves the phone back at him and Otoya rolls his eyes in response, the complaint on the tip of his tongue dying when he adds, “Come to my place tomorrow. We’ll hang out.”
“You want me to spend three hours on the train. To hang out.”
“Three and a half.”
“Alright, see you at noon.”
When Karasu said hang out , Otoya expected them to kiss a little. Maybe get a little handsy if his parents weren’t home. He’s not that stupid, he knows what being invited to hang out means when there’s physical attraction there (not that he’s all that attracted to Karasu, honestly, he’s just kind of hot and it’s all Otoya can think about and maybe he needs to reassess his rankings).
Nothing could have prepared Otoya for the reality of finding himself in Karasu’s bed with his pants around his ankles, toes curling, biting down on his fist to keep himself from screaming as he comes down Karasu’s throat.
“Warn a guy before ya do that!” Karasu sputters, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand and trying not to cough, and what the fuck.
Where did Karasu learn to suck dick that way? Has he done this before? Is Karasu gay? Otoya isn’t, he doesn’t think so, but he wouldn’t judge Karasu if he was. They’re still best friends. Best friends who’ve kissed multiple times now and felt each other up and now suck each other off– wait, was Karasu expecting him to reciprocate?
“Sorry,” He murmurs once he can breathe again, running a hand down his face. Karasu has plastic stars on his ceiling and Otoya busies himself counting those. It had caught him off guard, completely different from the girls who had offered to go down on him before. “You were crazy good at that.”
“Thanks,” Karasu preens. “Looked it up online before ya got here.”
“You’re not gay?”
“Nope, don’t think so.”
Otoya hums. He’s quiet for a minute, the post-nut clarity really hitting him hard, as hard as Karasu still is in his own shorts when green eyes land on his lap. “So if you’re not gay, I’m not gay either if I return the favor, right?”
“Right, yup, that’s how it works. Internet said that too.”
He wants to call bullshit on that one, but he’s never seen Karasu scramble so fast to get his pants off before, and it’s kind of cute.
Two days later, it’s Karasu who spends three and a half hours on the train just to get his dick sucked, and to his credit they do kiss a lot then too in between watching movies and talking about their predictions for Blue Lock going forward.
It’s nice, Otoya thinks. There’s no preamble or expectation to take each other on dates, no having to wait a fun but respectable amount of time before making a move, no fuss over whether or not this’ll lead to a relationship or a messy breakup in the end. They’re just two friends who find each other hot enough to kiss and spend a whole previous day texting each other links to porn.
For research purposes, of course.
Karasu’s hand in his hair feels nice, as nice as the heavy weight of his length resting on his tongue feels, as nice as Karasu sounds when Otoya’s eyes flit up to watch his reaction when he hollows out his cheeks and sucks. The first time had been sloppy and he refuses to believe that Karasu hadn’t practiced on a banana or something before going down on him, but it only makes Otoya more determined; he doesn’t want to be bad at this.
He always assumed the thought of having a dick in his mouth would weird him out, but Otoya surpasses even his own expectations there. It’s pretty hot. Karasu makes nice sounds and sure enough, he does need both hands to help stroke him properly, although…
Otoya swallows to clear his throat, filling his lungs with air through his nose, and presses his tongue flat under Karasu’s arousal. His hands let go and move to his hips instead, fingers digging into his thighs to hold Karasu down flat when Otoya takes him all down his throat in one fell swoop.
“Oh, fuck – shit shit shit–”
It’s as good a warning as any and Otoya does his best to try and swallow, but Karasu’s too far down his throat and he feels his eyes sting as he starts to choke. The hand in his hair tightens and helps pull him back. Otoya feels like a mess and he’s sure he must look like one too, yet Karasu is bringing him up anyway for a kiss.
“You don’t have to do that,” Otoya protests, voice sounding hoarse in his own ears. If Karasu cares about where his mouth had just been, he either doesn’t let it show or he’s too caught up in kissing him over and over again to notice.
“That was so hot, Eita,” There’s a growl in his ear, low enough to make him blush. He doesn’t hate hearing his name said that way when it’s Karasu doing it, either. “Didn’t know ya had no gag reflex like that.”
Otoya snorts, and maybe the praise is why he lets Karasu peel the rest of his clothes off. “You know, I’ve been waiting to bring it up naturally since I met you, but…”
“Alright, alright, point taken.” Karasu rolls his eyes and settles between Otoya’s legs, and for a moment green eyes simply meet blue. It’s nice seeing Karasu so earnest. “We can stop, if ya want.”
“Nah.” It’s the easiest decision he’s ever made. One of Otoya’s heels digs into Karasu’s lower back to pull him even closer. “You’re getting me too hyped up to stop now, Tabito.”
So they don’t.
“I missed ya,” Karasu whispers in his ear as he sinks into him, hands on his hips to press his chest to Otoya’s back.
Otoya knows how they got here; they fell into a groove of best friends who kiss and fuck and sometimes whisper sweet things to each other. He doesn’t know how he got here , pressed up against the cool tile of the shower in PXG’s stratum, flushed and trying to keep his voice down.
More accurately, he came to visit with the intention of going over his plays with Karasu since both of their teams played against Ubers, and Karasu has always been the more analytical between the two of them. They’d ran through the practice field, dipped their toes into that familiarity that came naturally from having made it thus far beside each other, and explored the sense of newness that their new teams presented them with.
Then he’d been the one to reach for Karasu’s hand without thinking, and then a sharp, “There’s cameras here, idiot,” later, he was being shoved into the bathroom.
Okay, so maybe Otoya does know how he got here too. He reaches up behind him, hand at the nape of Karasu’s neck to keep him close; he’s learned his friend quite likes it when he pants in his ear, knowing that he’s the one to break through the quiet disposition that Otoya normally employs in intimacy.
“Missed you too, yo.” His fingers flex in Karasu’s hair, a small smile tugging up at the corner of his lips when his words make the other boy laugh.
Karasu shakes his head and angles his hips, one hand sliding down between Otoya’s legs to stroke him in tandem. “You’re so stupid.”
“But you like it!”
“But I like it.”
No prompting is needed for Otoya to lean forward, his cheek against the tile as he takes and takes whatever Karasu gives him. His voice picks up in a demanding flurry of more , and right there , and Tabi Tabi Tabi until he’s coming undone, though he downright whines when Karasu pulls out to come over his lower back.
He sounds like a petulant child, but Otoya doesn’t care. “Why didn’t you come inside?”
“What the hell? Last time ya complained about it all day!”
“Dude, it’s called acting. I was having my tsundere kunoichi moment.”
“Tsundere kunoichi my ass, beg for it clearly next time or take what you get and say thank you.”
Karasu smacks his ass lightly and it’s Otoya’s cue to straighten up, an amused smile melting into another kiss. When they part, he runs a hand down Karasu’s chest, index finger finding the nearest bullseye marked on freckled skin.
“Thank you, Ta~bi~to.” He singsongs, relishing the way it cracks Karasu’s generally composed demeanor into something softer, something he only gets to see in moments like these. Otoya’s finger trails from the beauty mark over to Karasu’s heart instead, feeling it beat under his fingertips as he mumbles a soft bang! under his breath.
“So stupid,” Karasu repeats. He shakes his head but they kiss again anyway, get dressed, then kiss some more. They kiss long enough to last them until the next time they can sneak away to visit, long enough to lessen the blow that having to be away from each other has when Karasu walks him back to FC Barcha’s stratum.
September is Otoya’s favorite month to visit Paris. He’s tried them all after three years, and while Summer has touristy charm and the sights of Paris in full Christmas swing are unmatched, there’s a certain buzz in the air during fashion week.
Not that he attends anymore. It was fun the first few times, when the novelty was fresh, but now it’s far more entertaining to watch everyone’s outfits from Karasu’s apartment window, a mug of extra sweet hot chocolate warming his hands.
“Any good ones today?” Karasu’s arms wrap around him from behind, his skin still shower-warm. Lips trail along the column of his neck, ghosting over marks he’d left not too long ago, and Otoya tilts his head with a hum.
He rests his weight on Karasu and holds up his mug toward him; the scrunch of his nose doesn’t surprise him, but Otoya still has to try every time. “Someone walked in wearing vintage Chanel, but it looked fake even from up here.”
“That’s embarrassing as hell,” he snickers, planting another kiss on Otoya’s skin before he pries himself away. “Go take a shower and get dressed before you catch a cold, baby.”
Otoya whines, because that means he’ll miss any potential fashion disasters happening in real time, but Karasu promises to keep his hot chocolate warm and to yell for him if anyone shows up in something truly hideous, so he concedes after collecting a few more kisses as his bribe.
The last three years have been a curious thing and the evidence of it is in the bed sheets that he helped Karasu pick out. It’s in the way he has his own closet space at Karasu’s just like how Karasu has half of his things in Spain. It’s in their matching toothbrushes, the drawers they’ve allotted specifically for each other, their two hour plane commute every weekend that’s taken as easily as getting on the train had been all those years ago.
They’ve built something here that Otoya never thought he would have without it being a pain in the ass to deal with any potential fallout, but it hasn’t been like that with Karasu at all. He should probably tell him that sometime the next time they exchange I love you s.
He slips on one of Karasu’s oversized sweaters and a pair of boxers (also Karasu’s, probably) after his shower and when he comes back out, Karasu is perched up on a chair by the window, watching dutifully for any walking fashion disasters just like he had promised. A smile tugs up at his features and Otoya sets the mug on the ground before he slides into Karasu’s lap.
“Don’t start whining, Eita, when ya go to drink that and it’s cold. I did my part keeping it warm.”
Otoya shoots him a sheepish look before waving it off, fingers then coming up to gently ease the tension between Karasu’s brows. “Hey, Tabito?”
“Yeah?”
Deja vu strikes him when Karasu’s hands are on his back again, under his sweater, and Otoya presses his temple to Karasu’s so he can whisper his most well-kept secret.
“I think I might be bi.”
Karasu chuckles, the kind of laugh he always has when Otoya has just told him something that he already knew, but he’s humoring him anyway, “How do ya reckon?”
“Well, I think you’re definitely number one now in terms of hotness, just overall. And I don’t know how to break the news… but I think we’ve been dating for three years.”
“Huh. I think I might be bi too, then.”
Otoya isn’t sure what he expected. He doesn’t feel any different after saying it out loud or hearing Karasu share the sentiment, but he supposes the act of just being able to say it is nice. Satisfying. He feels lucky more than anything to have been able to explore on his own time, with his best friend, without risk of judgment or pressure.
Even if it’s absolutely ridiculous for it to have taken them this long to actually talk about it.
“Then take me on a proper date already.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take ya to the Eiffel Tower or something. Most romantic place in the world.”
Now it’s Otoya’s turn to laugh, hands gently combing through dark hair; they’ve been to the Eiffel Tower more times than he can count, and that has long since lost its novelty too. He really has made a home here beside Karasu. “Will you take me somewhere cooler after, once we get the perfect selfies to announce our budding new relationship?”
“Obviously.”
“It’s a date, then.”