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Kojiro’s first mistake was not taking the beef seriously and remembering that Kaoru only bet when it was important.
His second mistake was not remembering that Kaoru only really bet when he knew he would win.
And so one moment he’s blasting across the finish line all of a foot behind Kaoru, and the next Kaoru is pulling a Carla tablet out of nowhere and bringing up his schedule, going, “So I’ll be over tomorrow night and we can go over specifics, yes?” and forwarding the information to Kojiro because he knows he’ll never remember.
All Kojiro can do is wipe the sweat away and nod along and wonder what the hell he’s even talking about.
-x-x-x-x-x-
“Okay, I have a William Fèvre chardonnay and...a mystery bottle where the label fell off. It’s a white, at least,” Kojiro says, squinting at the bottles in his hand.
“Whatever,” Kaoru says, eyes on the tablet in front of him. Fine, then - he’ll get the mystery bottle. Kojiro sits at the bar next to him and sets the glasses down, pouring them each a half glass. Damnit, he realizes after a sip, this was something expensive. Oh well, better than wasting it as a cooking wine, he supposes.
“So what exactly am I supposed to be doing?” he finally asks, when Kaoru still doesn’t look up.
“You’re not busy the weekend of the 26th.” It’s a statement, not a question, but Kojiro pulls out his phone and taps away to look at his schedule anyways.
“I have the -”
“The meeting with your cheese people is the weekend before.”
“It would be nice if I could answer questions myself, you know.”
“Which is why I didn’t ask a question.”
Kojiro sighs as he confirms that yes, the cheese conference is the week prior and that particular weekend is free. He looks up at Kaoru who, oddly, is still not looking at him. “Fine, Picky. What do you need me for? And drink your wine, it’s better than you deserve.”
Finally, Kaoru sets the tablet down, takes a sip from his glass and makes an appreciative sound. He’s still not looking at Kojiro, though. After a full minute of silence he finally says, “There’s a publishing conference that weekend. My mentor thinks that there are several companies who might take on my work and offer me a book deal.”
Warmth spreads through Kojiro, only partly because of the wine. He’s - proud, is what he is. Kaoru has worked himself ragged through innumerable obstacles, and is very good at what he does. He deserves all the accolades. “So what’s the issue?”
Kaoru lifts a hand to his mouth, absently bites at a fingernail. Kojiro tugs at a loose lock of hair and gets a glare in response, but the hand goes down. It took a lot of hair pulling and hitting with rolled up papers to get Kaoru to stop biting his nails in middle school, and it’s a habit that only shows up when he gets really anxious now. Kojiro knocks his knee against the other man’s, says in a quieter voice, “Kaoru.”
A tired sigh. “All the publishing companies - they’ve been in operation for...decades. A century or more, some of them. They’re very. Traditional. Didn’t think that Kon-sama should have taken me on at all.”
Kojiro bites his lip. Kaoru’s main struggle in his career hasn’t been about his talent or even a lack of customers. It’s been about how he hasn’t been able to rise in the ranks as he should, because of grumpy old men who still think omegas should be barefoot and raising children in the kitchen. Kaoru has always had his own mind and never let that stop his ambition, but it’s hard when it’s you against an entire culture.
“Kon-sama thinks I would have a better chance if I had an alpha with me, to speak on my behalf.” Kaoru finally looks over at Kojiro, a mixture of anger and pleading in his face. “Please.”
“I’m not going to pretend to be your, your keeper. That’s ridiculous. Why can’t you just show them your work? Who cares who it comes from, as long as it’s good?”
“This isn’t about the art, Kojiro. It’s politics, more than anything else. They want to know that anyone who has their logo on their publications is above reproach so it doesn’t reflect badly on them. And a mouthy omega would do that,” he says bitterly, like he's quoting someone.
Kojiro’s lips thin as he crosses his arms. He doesn’t like this. He’s Kaoru’s friend, not his alpha. Not like that. And certainly not his owner, or whatever the hell these stick-up-the-ass publishers expect. “I don’t like this,” he says out loud. “Knowing that’s how they treat you, it’s just -”
“Listen, you lost the beef, this is what I want. Or are you going back on your word?” Kaoru asks pointedly.
Kojiro glares, sighs, finishes the dregs of his glass. “Fine, whatever. Just tell me what to do,” he says grumpily. There’s a voice that pipes up in the back of Kojiro’s head, the same one that always does at times like this. It’s your fault he doesn’t have an alpha, you know. If you had just controlled yourself, if you had just paid more attention…
Kaoru smiles, ignorant to the lecture going on inside Kojiro’s head. “Thank you.”
Trying to smile, Kojiro gives up and drinks more wine.
-x-x-x-x-x-
“No.”
“You need to look professional -”
“I have plenty of professional clothes. I have suits. I have a tuxedo!”
Kaoru rubs his forehead. “Stop being purposefully obtuse. Everyone will be in traditional clothes, and that includes you. Even if you’re only there as my alpha.”
Looking at the rows of embroidered kimono and haori, racks of hakama pants and a shop owner who is already salivating at the sale he knows he’s going to make, Kojiro heaves a heavy sigh. This is...Kaoru’s thing. Kojiro had to dress up for certain school events and festivals growing up - it was all right when he was young and lean, but now? In order to get anything big enough to fit his shoulders, it ends up flapping around like a blanket everywhere else.
When he says as much to Kaoru, he’s just met with rolling eyes. “That’s what tailors are for, you nitwit. I know you tend to get your shirts from the same place that circus tents are made, but real clothing is made to fit the person.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my shirts, they’re just shirts,” Kojiro mutters as he crosses his arms. It’s true that some of his shirts are...colorful, but today he’s just wearing a neutral green t-shirt.
“Mmm, yes. And today we have gone the ‘shirt or paint’ route, as everyone that looks at you gets to decide whether you’re actually wearing a shirt three sizes too small, or you just painted yourself up.” Kaoru looks Kojiro over with a critical eye. “I can honestly say I’m not sure myself.”
Kojiro wants to squirm. The way Kaoru looks at him, the measuring...it’s uncomfortable, in some undefinable way. Before he can really examine the feeling, the shop owner is whisking him away into a back room, brandishing a knotted measuring rope like a whip, and telling him to take his clothes off.
What feels like every bit of him is measured, the owner and Kaoru start to argue over fabric, holding swatches of this or that up against Kojiro’s face and body as he stands there sweating in his t-shirt and underwear - it’s a small shop and a hot day.
Finally they come up with an outfit, pants and kimono of lustrous black and a coat of such a deep green it almost shimmers. Kojiro lets himself be dressed up like a paper doll, tugged this way and that.
It’s warm enough that Kaoru has clipped his hair up, and it swings from side to side as he tilts his head and inspects Kojiro. He and the shop owner are talking but Kojiro doesn’t notice, his eyes are caught on the silvery white scar of a healed over bond mark on Kaoru’s neck, the one that’s almost always covered by his loose ponytail.
It’s not the deep red of a healthy bond bite, the scarring says that Kaoru’s alpha is gone. Dead or divorced, leaving Kaoru scarred, alone. Abandoned. Used. Ruined.
And of course, it’s all Kojiro’s fault. He looks away, feeling guilty as always. The guilt lingers, making him nod along docilely to everything Kaoru suggests, even the stupid shoes. They finally leave, bags in hand and an appointment to pick up the tailored items the next day.
“All right, what’s wrong?” Kaoru finally says, knocking a bag against Kojiro’s leg. “You’re too quiet.”
“It’s - nothing. I’m fine. I just hate all of this, this dressing up like something I’m not. Like an actor in a play.”
Kaoru shrugs, doesn’t look at Kojiro. “It is acting,” he says finally. “You need to help - sell me. Be my public representative. My alpha.” Kojiro listens but doesn’t hear any real anger or resentment, just tiredness.
“And you’re okay with that being. Me.”
A quick, brilliant smile. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else.”
Kojiro tries to smile back, but doesn’t know how much he succeeds.
-x-x-x-x-x-
Kojiro dreams.
He’s just turned sixteen, a decade younger than he is now. Leaner, all oversize hands and feet and ropy adolescent muscle. His hands were big enough to fit around Kaoru’s hips, though, sharp-edged wings of bone covered in pale skin.
Kaoru is all he can think about, all he can smell, all he can taste. His world is Kaoru, and nothing hurts.
They were supposed to be working on a civics project - Kaoru said he wasn’t feeling well but came over anyways as the project was due the next day. He’d paced the length of Kojiro’s room over and over, twisting his hands together, rolling his shoulders. Calm down, it’s not that important of a project, Kojiro had said.
It’s not that, I just. I can’t settle. I feel weird. Kaoru worried at his lip ring until his mouth was red, and for some reason Kojiro couldn’t take his eyes away.
Just - just sit down, you’re stressing me out. Kojiro grabbed Kaoru’s hand and pulled him down, but he slipped, half-falling into Kojiro’s lap. Kojiro didn’t let go of him - couldn’t let go, at that. Instead he just pulled Kaoru closer, closer, until the other boy was straddling him, pressed up close against him.
He smelled - so good. Had he always smelled that good? Kojiro nosed just behind his jaw, where the skin is soft and blood thrums right below the surface, where pink hair that smells like sage and soap started to grow. Kaoru was so warm, like he had a fever. Maybe if he got close enough Kojiro could take that heat into himself, cool him down.
Kojiro really hadn’t been paying attention to what Kaoru was doing, suddenly realizing that there are hands pulling his shirt off. Kaoru’s eyes were wide, pupils blown and drugged-looking. His mouth was hanging open, red and wet, and Kojiro was so much closer now and it’s so easy to just lean forward and taste.
He loses time then, can’t remember much other than hands and heated skin. They're somehow on the bed, clothes having vanished at some point. Kaoru was perched on his thighs - his thighs are wet. From Kaoru? Why would Kaoru be wet?
Kojiro loses more time. Now Kaoru was below him, eyes closed and mouth open, pink tongue flickering out to wet those red, red lips. Kojiro was sinking into wet heat, like getting into a hot spring except it’s Kaoru’s body. He could feel the other boy shaking - from the inside. He was shaking too, body doing things without his permission. Like how he shoved forward again, again, as Kaoru made punched out sounds of - something. Pleasure, pain, everything is just feeling.
He’s - he’s stuck, Kojiro can't pull out, and for a minute he panics. Panics for a minute until his body says no this is where we should be. And so Kojiro gathered the other boy to him close, close, and his pale neck was there and Kojiro is still at the mercy of his instincts and so he can’t stop himself from biting.
It’s Kaoru’s cry at that which drew the attention of Kojiro’s parents from downstairs. After that it’s all confusion - ‘early heat’ they said, and ‘triggered rut’, and everyone just sounded so upset, so disappointed, and Kojiro was still stuck inside Kaoru and didn’t understand why.
After an uncomfortable while they’re able to separate. Everything was awkward but all right, until Kojiro’s mother saw Kaoru’s throat, saw the dark mark bitten there. They’re too young, they say into the hushed silence. Too fast, it was instinct - they’ll fix this.
Kojiro wakes. He doesn’t want to remember the aftermath, but his mind plays it like a movie.
Kaoru had been whisked away to an omega facility, Kojiro was taken to an alpha doctor. They explained to him that one of them accidentally triggered the other into presenting - something rare, something unfortunate. Because now Kaoru is claimed, but he’s too young. Kojiro is too young.
It doesn’t matter that they’ve been best friends for years, that Kojiro has been half in love with Kaoru for almost as long. What Kojiro did is - wrong, is just not done. Even though they didn’t choose it, even though it was unyielding instinct. Even though no one asked them after how they felt. And so they’re kept separate for six months, until the claiming dies on its own, until Kaoru’s neck scars over.
Until he’s marked for the rest of his life, and it’s Kojiro’s fault.
Kojiro turns over in bed, and tries futilely to fall back asleep.
-x-x-x-x-x-
“So am I supposed to be...what? Am I expected to actually know about all the crap you do?”
Kaoru sighs. “No, not at all. You can just be my overly indulgent alpha who lets me have this hobby.”
Frowning, Kojiro looks at the pages and pages of delicate paper in front of them covered in elegant ink - Kaoru is sorting through his work, deciding what to take with him. “It’s not a hobby. It’s your job. One that you’re good at.”
Setting a page covered in flowers and haiku on the ‘keep’ pile, Kaoru keeps sorting. “I’m aware. I’m also aware of how work done by an omega tends to be viewed.”
“You work as hard at all of this as I do at the restaurant.” He doesn’t get why Kaoru is being so self-deprecating here, there’s a reason he got invited to this thing in the first place, and it’s because he’s talented. As much as they like to needle each other, it’s all in jest - he knows how good Kaoru is.
“Kojiro…” Kaoru sounds exasperated, and he finally looks up at Kojiro with frustrated golden eyes. “You get that you’re strange, right?”
Another frown. “I’ve been trying to be nice, don’t you start insulting me -”
“I’m not. I’m just…” Kaoru rubs his forehead. “The vast majority of alphas don’t think like you, all right? I know you’re weirdly isolated, you spend all your time with people at S or with me, but you have to know that most alphas still think of omegas as - less. Not even up to beta par, just. Less.”
“Which is bullshit -”
“You can’t act like it’s bullshit.” Kaoru is frustrated, and Kojiro hates himself for how he likes how there’s color high in his pale cheeks, how his eyes flash. There’s a reason he likes picking at him, after all. He tries to focus: “You can’t, Kojiro. Because no one is ever going to offer me a contract if they think that I’m a bad omega.”
“You can’t be a bad omega! It’s just - it’s your goddamn dynamic, you can’t be bad at it.”
“I can in their eyes. Just - please. Kojiro. For me?”
Magic, terrible words. Because whether Kaoru knows it or not, Kojiro would do absolutely anything for him, even being a dick of an alpha. “Fine. I’ll be whatever traditionalist asshole you want me to be, if it’ll get you what you want.”
“Thank you. God.” Kaoru mutters something to himself, Kojiro is pretty sure he hears the phrase like pulling teeth and rolls his eyes. “Now come look at these and tell me which ones you would pick, if we're pretending you have money and taste.”
-x-x-x-x-x-
“I look like an idiot.”
“Always. But not because of the outfit, for once.”
Kojiro picks at the hem of his yukata, feeling uncomfortable. Apparently they were expected to look presentable all weekend, not just the Saturday night conference. Kaoru handed him a bag, said it had all the clothing he would need for the weekend and he could add whatever toiletries he needed. Now they’re facing a two hour flight and Kojiro is wearing goddamn tabi and sandals.
They’re going to Osaka, which is a relief. Kojiro regularly has to go to the mainland to meet with suppliers and producers, many of them are in Kyoto - it’s cheapest for him to fly to Osaka and then rent a car to drive up. He’s familiar with the city and many of its hotels, unlike Kaoru. Kaoru had done all his training north in Tokyo, even spending a summer in Hokkaido to learn about Ainu patterns.
Kojiro lets Kaoru wrap narrow fingers around his wrist on the flight without thinking about it much - Kaoru has always been a nervous flier, and the flight prohibits AIs so he had to shut Carla down. Kojiro distracts him by asking about their itinerary.
“We’re on our own tonight. Tomorrow there are demonstrations and workshops in the morning, and then the conference itself during the afternoon. Then the formal dinner.”
“Dinner?”
“Yes. I hope with all that Italian food you haven’t forgotten how to use chopsticks.”
“Bold words from a man who whined to me about making carbonara for a week.”
Kaoru huffs. “Only because you promised to do so and then seemingly forgot about it.”
“Uh huh. Someday you’ll admit you like my food best.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Kojiro grins: “So it’s some other restaurant you’re at four nights a week?” They bicker quietly for the rest of the flight, Kaoru forgetting to be nervous about their descent.
They get a taxi to the hotel, and Kojiro unfortunately doesn’t pay much attention when they’re checking in because it’s a surprise to him when he opens up the door to the room and is faced with a single bed.
I’m his alpha this weekend, he tells himself, and sets his bag down on a chair. He and Kaoru have shared sleeping space innumerable times - falling asleep together on the couch after watching a movie, Kaoru falling asleep at Kojiro’s bar or Kojiro conking out on one of Kaoru’s chairs in his office when they wait for the other to finish up with work. Sleeping in cars, on trains, in taxis, knowing the other would wake them up in time.
Not beds, though. Not since they were - young.
“If it bothers you, I can always take the couch,” Kaoru says, because he’s always been too damn perceptive of Kojiro’s body language.
“Of course not. It’s fine, it’s a huge bed.” It is, at that. King size and with a hundred pillows. Kaoru and his pickiness should be happy, Kojiro thinks.
“Mmm,” Kaoru says neutrally, before saying that they should get some dinner. It is indeed late, the sun having gone down some time ago.
They eat, Kojiro making quiet, pointed comments about the quality of food in order to get Kaoru to laugh and wipe the serious, anxious look from his face. It’s not much, but it’s what he can do. He drinks more sake than he should, movements loose and expansive. By the time they go upstairs, Kojiro is walking the delicate tightrope between tipsy and drunk.
“I’m going to shower,” Kaoru says, and Kojiro nods, flopped out on the bed with his eyes closed. It feels like just a second later that his shoulder is being shaken and he opens bleary eyes to Kaoru with damp hair.
“Go shower, I’m not sharing a bed with a brewery.”
Kojiro gets up, makes his way to the admittedly very nice bathroom with bleary eyes. It’s full of humidity and smells like Kaoru’s shampoo. He showers quickly, the water both making him sleepy and sobering him up. By the time he exits in a cloud of steam, he’s exhausted but clear-eyed.
The room is dark, Kaoru a lump under the blankets on one side of the bed. Kojiro quietly sets his things down, slips into bed quietly.
“I set the alarm,” Kaoru says sleepily from the other side of the bed, just a few feet away.
“Just wake me up when you get up,” Kojiro says. He’d expected to be more anxious but he’s just too tired. He blinks at Kaoru’s blanket-covered shoulder a few times before slipping easily into sleep.
-x-x-x-x-x-
When Kojiro wakes in the morning he’s - comfortable. More comfortable than he can recall being in recent memory. He shifts his hips with a sigh, tightening his arm around the person in front of him and burying his face deeper in sweet smelling hair.
- Wait.
He blinks reluctant eyes open. The room is still dark, the view out of the windows shows false dawn just starting to lighten the sky over Osaka Bay. Sometime in the night one or both of them had shifted, and he’s wrapped around Kaoru, knees tucked up behind the other man’s and a firm arm wrapped around his stomach. Clearly Kojiro’s unconscious body did what it felt like doing, propriety be damned.
Carefully Kojiro backs off, pulling his arm away slowly. Kaoru is holding onto his wrist pretty tightly, but he gets it away after a few minutes of delicate prodding. He keeps backing up until he’s on his side of the large bed, the sheets cold under him. Kojiro turns to face the wall, firmly closing his eyes and not thinking about how right it had felt with Kaoru in his arms.
He’s doing a favor for a friend, that’s all. A friend who has made it clear he had no interest in him, so. That’s that.
-x-x-x-x-x-
Kojiro awakens a second time, this time with sun shining into his eyes and the scent of coffee in his nose. He’s out of bed and stumbling towards the sweet, sweet source of caffeine before his eyes are really open.
“Where’d all this come from?” he says in a gravelly voice, once he’s managed to pry his eyes open enough to see the steaming French press in front of him. It’s on the balcony table, Kaoru sitting in the other chair with a steaming mug of tea in his hands.
“I knew you’d be insufferable without your precious coffee, so I got room service,” Kaoru says serenely. “They didn’t have espresso, but you’d bitch about how it wasn’t pulled right anyways.”
Kojiro doesn’t rise to the bait, ignoring the comment in favor of pouring himself a cup and settling back in the other chair. The hotel really does have a spectacular view, looking out over the bay with Awaji Island just barely visible on the horizon. He looks over at Kaoru, who has his eyes closed and a faint smile on his lips, hair blowing slightly in the breeze. “You seem in a good mood.”
“I don’t know what these mattresses are made of, but they’re incredibly comfortable. I haven’t slept that well in years, it feels like.”
“Same,” Kojiro says, before remembering that it was probably more from snuggling up to Kaoru than anything else. He takes a gulp of coffee, promptly burning his tongue. “What’s the schedule for today?”
“I ordered some breakfast up which should be coming soon - stop giving me that look, it’s all being written off as a business expense. Then touring the halls and seeing what’s available, I’m looking for a new ink supplier, that’s my primary goal. Lunch and getting changed, then setting up in the convention hall.”
Then the real fun starts, Kojiro mentally fills in from there. The food shows up and they eat in companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Kaoru checks the time on the Carla bracelet wrapped around his wrist and announces that they need to get ready.
“You tell me what I’m wearing, you’re the one that packed it,” Kojiro says wryly, met with rolled eyes and a sigh. Kaoru lays out his outfit before getting dressed himself. They don’t match, exactly, but there’s something of a commonality to the cut and the colors. Like they really are a couple, one that shops at the same store.
Kaoru spends a futile few minutes trying to get Kojiro’s unruly wavy hair under control, and Kojiro watches him work in the mirror behind him. They look - good, especially together. Like maybe they were really a bonded couple. Kojiro is used to being free and single, likes it, even - but he still swallows past a lump in his throat.
“So is there anything specific I should do?” Kojiro asks quietly as they ride the elevator down to where the convention is taking place.
Kaoru shrugs. “Not really, not now. I mean, stick close to me, but this is a lot of just business for me, suppliers and such. I’m sure you’ve done much the same at your own meetings.”
It is much the same - and yet it’s not.
Unless they already know Kaoru, everyone they talk to speaks to Kojiro first. He gets very good at putting a blank, confused look on his face before directing them to speak to the person who actually knows anything. Kaoru is no shrinking violet either - he’s tall and muscular, well-spoken, obviously knows what he’s talking about and easily commands attention. But one sniff of pheromones and it’s like none of it matters.
Kojiro rants about this for most of lunch. After a few sentences Kaoru removes the wine and gives him sparking water instead. Kojiro sneers. “I’m not drunk, Kaoru, I’m angry.”
“I’m aware,” he replies calmly. “I’m just not adding fuel to the fire.” He sighs, setting his water glass down. “This is...how it works, for me. It actually went much faster and smoother this year, I normally have to wait for them to stop speaking to every other alpha in sight before they deign to speak with me.”
“It doesn’t seem like you have these problems at home,” Kojiro says with narrowed eyes, wondering if Kaoru does have these problems. And who he might need to beat up.
“Oh for pity’s sake, get that look off of your face, you animal. We’re adults, you’re not allowed to brawl with anyone who ticks you off. And no, I don’t as much at home because home is small. Everyone knows me and my family and the work that I do. I’ve proved myself enough.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” Kojiro grumbles. He stabs at a tomato on his plate, looking up to see Kaoru staring at him with some unidentifiable expression on his face. “What?”
“Never change, Kojiro.”
“Hmph. Eat your salad.”
-x-x-x-x-x-
Upstairs, Kojiro naps while Kaoru bustles around getting this and that ready. A pillow hits Kojiro in the face, followed by instructions to go shower and change.
He needs help into the outfit, Kaoru being picky enough to want his obi tied just so. Kaoru, on the other hand, is able to put himself together in mere minutes, including doing his hair up and packing everything for them to take down.
“Practice,” he says in response to Kojiro’s look. “Like how you can plate up a perfect omelette when you’re half asleep. It’s my job, this is what I do.” Downstairs they have a table that everything gets set up at. There are racks of delicate illustrations on handmade paper, unfurled scrolls, a few screens with video of his large-scale performances and installations and AI work.
Kojiro doesn’t see why anyone wouldn’t want to work with Kaoru.
In reality, though, it’s a different story. Kojiro is under instructions to be a loving, doting alpha, one who indulges his omega’s little hobby.
(Skateboarding is a hobby. This is your fucking career, Kaoru.
I am well aware. Just bite your tongue and act as if you like me.)
Just as Kaoru predicted, everyone talks to Kojiro. He gets good at hyping Kaoru up, at acting like he doesn’t have two braincells of his own to rub together but Kaoru keeps everything on track. It helps if he can get them to watch the performances - Kaoru is mesmerizing with a ten-foot brush in his hands, long sleeves tied back with ropes close to his body. It’s as much about the dance of it as it is the resultant calligraphy, and after they watch Kaoru is very good at tilting his head bashfully and smiling and pretending they aren’t undressing him with their eyes.
Kojiro’s hands hurt from clenching his fists so much.
It’s one grey-haired male alpha after another - no female alphas, and if they have an omega with them it’s always a silent younger woman with her head down. Kojiro has never felt so out of place.
There’s a few that aren’t bad. A man in his forties who is interested in Kaoru’s bird-adorned scrolls in particular. There aren’t many of them - Kojiro has heard the whining about the number of colors he has to use - but they’re beautiful and striking. The publisher is interested enough in them that he and Kaoru have a long conversation about species and ink types, Kojiro loses track of the intricacies and just listens for any reason he might need to step in.
There’s another man that sticks around, though Kojiro doesn’t care for him at all. He’s one of the very few to address Kaoru off the bat, though there’s a slight air of condescension to all of it, like he’s slumming just by talking to him. He’s somehow both patronizing and fawning at the same time, and he makes Kojiro’s skin crawl. Finally Kojiro steps close, sliding a proprietary hand around Kaoru’s waist before asking politely for the man’s card and saying they’ll get back to him.
As soon as he’s gone, the card goes in the trash. It makes Kaoru smile, at least.
When evening closes in they pack everything up and load it on a cart that will be brought up to their room. They go to dinner in a restaurant with everyone else at the convention - conversation is stilted, as a result. Kojiro and Kaoru have shared hundreds of meals together at this point, but none as awkward as this. Kojiro is terrified of saying something that will make Kaoru look bad, and Kaoru is just - quiet. Kojiro can see his exhaustion behind his glasses, but Kaoru has always been good at hiding that kind of thing. To everyone but Kojiro, at least.
After dinner comes drinks. Kojiro assumes the night is just about over, but Kaoru seems to get tenser and tenser.
“What’s the problem?” Kojiro asks. He’d normally be making fun, trying to get Kaoru to laugh, but he’s fairly sure that if he touched his arm right now he’d ring like glass.
“This is the socializing. The politicking. What I’m not good at,” Kaoru says, eyes bright behind his glasses and flicking around the room. He looks an inch away from biting his nails so Kojiro tugs his fan out from where it’s been tucked in his obi and presses it into Kaoru’s hand. Kaoru bumps against his shoulder in thanks, flicking the fan out to cover his lower face for a moment and disguise his sigh.
“Stay here, I’ll get us drinks.” Kojiro gets then both white wine, getting the best they have once he’s told it’s an open bar.
When he gets back to Kaoru, it’s not a pleasant situation. An arrogant-looking alpha a few decades older than them seems to be trying to back Kaoru up against a wall, except Kaoru is taller, broader, and not willingly moving anywhere. Kojiro hands a glass to Kaoru before turning his attention to the alpha. “Can I help you?” he asks with a smile that’s more of a baring of teeth.
The alpha looks up at him, sniffs, and meanders away. Kojiro glares after him until he disappears into the crowd. “You should complain to someone.”
“About what? He didn’t technically do anything inappropriate.”
“He looked like he was an inch away from humping your leg! Inappropriate, my ass.”
Kaoru smiles before taking a sip of wine, but it’s something that twists his lips. “Well, enjoy the rest of the night,” he says nonsensically.
Kojiro gets what he means as the evening goes on. The alphas all stalk and posture around each other, trading barbs about whose company is bigger, who made more last quarter. The writers have their noses in the air about whose books did better, who had more performance attendees.
They circulate through the room - they have to, as anyone who stays in the same place for too long gets strange looks. Kojiro makes the mistake once of going to get them refills. When he gets back, Kaoru is literally surrounded by three alphas, looking like nothing more than a pack of hyenas.
Kojiro slides an arm around Kaoru’s waist. “Everything all right here?” he says with a smile. He’s done his share of bouncing at bars, knows how to make himself seem taller than his full height, make his shoulders seem as broad as they can be.
“Your omega has a mouth on him,” one of the alphas says. He has a publisher ribbon on his nametag, but he’s not someone that had stopped by their booth.
“He’s a person who is allowed to speak his mind, this isn’t Pre-Equality,” Kojiro says mildly, referring to the time period before omegas started to gain rights.
“Yes, but we all know that some omegas need more...supervision than others. And you should get a handle on yours,” says a man with steel grey hair and a writer’s ribbon.
“Feel free to return to whatever companionship you no doubt had to pay for,” Kojiro snaps back. “I think we need some air.” He stalks away, arm still around Kaoru.
They pause near the doors to outside, a fresh breeze cooling the back of Kojiro’s neck. Kaoru leans in, runs his nose along Kojiro’s jawline. A calming technique Kojiro has seen omegas use on their alphas before, but not Kaoru. Because they’re not bonded. “Stop that,” he grumbles, taking a half step away but reluctant to let go of Kaoru.
“Then stop acting like you need it,” Kaoru murmurs. “You’re making me look bad.”
“Me? And what would have happened if I hadn’t been there?”
Kaoru looks away.
“Exactly.”
“It’s just another hour, can you keep a hold on your temper until then?” Kaoru asks.
“If you can keep your sarcasm to yourself, sure.”
Kaoru rolls his eyes but nods, and they move back out into the room. For a while, it’s all right. They meet up with the publisher from before who liked Kaoru’s birds and have a good conversation with him that ends in exchanging phone numbers and a promise of a meeting sometime soon.
“Hey, is that it then? You got what you wanted?” Kojiro asks, elbowing Kaoru gently.
“I...think so. Hope so. There are still a few other people I am planning on reaching out to, but I think that this might work out,” Kaoru says. His voice is as even as ever, but Kojiro can see the relaxation in his jawline, the loosening of his shoulders.
Kojiro is texting one of his chefs - apparently something caught on fire, but the damage is thankfully minimal - and not paying attention when he feels Kaoru pressing into his side a bit. He pockets his phone, looking up to see the man who had talked to them earlier at their booth, the patronizing one.
One second the man is reaching out and grabbing Kaoru by the arm, the next Kaoru is hitting said arm hard with his fan. The man pulls his arm back, swearing colorfully. “How dare you,” he says, face red with rage. “Hitting an alpha, of my standing? I should call security over you.”
“How dare you, touching someone that is spoken for? You should back off. You don’t get -” Kojiro starts, stepping forward, but is cut off.
“Spoken for? Try again, that’s a scar and not a bond bite. Your omega isn’t yours, which means he’s up for grabs.” The man grabs Kaoru’s arm again.
This time Kojiro gets there first, tearing the man off of Kaoru and shoving him into a wall with his arm twisted painfully behind his back. “I thought I told you to back off,” Kojiro says calmly. When the man makes a noise Kojiro pulls his arm harder, the man’s fingers bent out of position. Kojiro came by his muscles honestly, by years of martial arts. None of that really applies here though, it’s the aforementioned bar bouncing that’s the big help.
“You’re going to leave him alone, yes?” Kojiro shakes him a little when the man doesn’t answer. “Yes?”
“Yes, all right, now get off of me, you lunatic.” The man shakes out his kimono when Kojiro lets him go. “I’m talking to management about you,” he says before flouncing off.
When Kojiro turns around, the room is quiet, eyes fixed on him or the man walking away. Kaoru takes his hand, says quietly that they should go, and guides Kojiro over to the elevators. Conversation picks up as they leave, and it’s two guesses as to who they’re talking about.
The elevator ride is silent, as is the walk to their room. Once they’re inside Kojiro just keeps walking, until he’s on the balcony, outside and looking at the ocean. He’s taken enough deep breaths to clear the rage from his eyes, now he’s just feeling -
Guilty.
He listens to Kaoru moving around the room, taking off his fancy clothes. When he comes out and leans against the railing next to Kojiro, he’s wearing soft pajama pants and a faded t-shirt advertising Kojiro’s restaurant, his hair loose around his shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” Kojiro says finally.
He can feel Kaoru turning to look at him. “For what?” is the incredulous response.
“For acting like them!” Kojiro turns, looking Kaoru in the face and feels even worse when he sees the red marks still on his arm. “I acted like, like I had a right to you the way they did and -”
“You mean you acted the way I asked you to?”
“What?”
Kaoru is smiling, just a bit. “I asked you to be my alpha, and you were. Yes, I might rather have punched him myself, but it certainly would have looked worse for me. Instead the heat goes on to you, and I come out smelling like roses. Thank you, Kojiro. Now stop beating yourself up, you idiot.”
“No, I just - I.” Kojiro doesn’t have the words to explain it, how having Kaoru so close has been messing with his head. “You’ve been - I mean, we’re together all the time. But you’ve been so, so close, and it’s been,” he shakes his head. “It’s been messing with my instincts. Making me feel like I do have a right to you. Like you were mine. And that’s - not right, not what you want.”
Kaoru tilts his head like he always does. His loose hair uncovers his scar, shining white in the moonlight and doesn’t that hit harder than normal. “You’re putting words in my mouth,” he says quietly.
Kojiro feels unsteady, like his board has the shakes and he’s going to fall soon. “What?”
Taking one step closer, then another, Kaoru’s glasses go opaque and then clear again in the moonlight. If Kojiro wasn’t wearing ten layers of clothing, he probably would be able to feel the other man’s body heat. “You’re saying that I don’t want you.”
“You don’t.”
“Says who?”
Kojiro blinks. “Says you. After - after the whole thing, I tried and you pushed me away.”
Kaoru stares at him for a moment, before pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Oh, you idiot. I’d just gotten out of that fucking omega rehab school where they spent half a year telling me what a proper omega was and how I wasn’t one. I came out thinking I was broken and you tried to kiss me and I just - couldn’t handle that right then. I couldn’t handle a hug from my own mother at that point.”
He takes another step closer, and his chest brushes against the heavy silk of Kojiro’s outfit. “Have you really spent the past decade thinking I didn’t want you?” he asks softly.
“I...yes?” Kojiro had backed off immediately at the disgust and fear on Kaoru’s face and never tried again. They had stayed friends, but Kojiro had put his own feelings in a box and shoved them to the back of his mind. He hadn’t expected them to stay so close, hadn’t expected those feelings to never die away.
One long fingered hand threads into Kojiro’s hair, tugs his head down. A soft kiss is pressed just behind the corner of Kojiro’s jaw, and he exhales unsteadily. “That’s a pity,” Kaoru murmurs in his ear, before pressing another kiss to the big tendon in Kojiro’s neck, which right now is tense as a guitar string. “And have you spent all this time wanting me?”
Kojiro doesn’t trust his voice, just nods, one hand coming up to slide around Kaoru’s waist, to press him close. The other rests on a hip, thumb stroking the sliver of skin between shirt and pants.
“Well, we’ve been wasting quite a bit of time, then,” Kaoru says matter of factly, and then he’s kissing Kojiro.
All of Kojiro’s previous memories of kissing Kaoru are hazed in a sea of hormonal fog, just vague recollections of teenage fumblings. This is - different. This Kaoru kisses him slow and sweet, like he doesn’t know he looks like his mouth should be used for far filthier things.
The last of Kojiro’s hesitance fades as he moves a hand up, tilts Kaoru’s head to where he wants it and the kiss gets so much deeper, so much more fierce. Kojiro hasn’t stayed celibate, has slept with his share of men and women over the years. None of them made him feel like - this, though.
Clever hands push the embroidered jacket off of Kojiro’s shoulders, undo his obi and start working on the kimono underneath. Kaoru takes him apart far quicker than he’d put him together earlier that day, and soon Kojiro is down to a tank top and underwear.
“Kaoru - Kaoru stop, we’re outside. It’s not even that late!”
In response Kaoru just guides him over to one of the reclining deck chairs and pushes him down on it before climbing into Kojiro’s lap. “I suppose you should keep it down, then,” he purrs, before stripping off his shirt and leaning forward to kiss Kojiro again.
Kaoru in his mid-twenties is built nothing like Kaoru as a teenager was. He’s all broad shoulders and lean muscle, with a narrow waist that Kojiro’s hands fit around perfectly. He takes his hands away long enough to let Kaoru pull his tank top off, then goes right back to touching, touching the way he’s always wanted to and was never allowed.
“God, your skin is perfect,” he finds himself saying. Kojiro has rough hands from the restaurant, a variety of scars from this and that, skin tan and flecked with freckles from the sun. Kaoru, on the other hand, is like silk under Kojiro’s fingers, everything smooth and pale and even.
They both groan when Kojiro curves his hand around Kaoru’s ass, finds him wet through his pants. Kaoru’s been steadily grinding down into Kojiro’s lap and he knew it was going to end in sex, but somehow it wasn’t quite real until now, until he brings fingers wet with slick to his mouth and sucks them clean.
Kaoru’s eyes are dark with lust, he leans forward and licks the taste of himself out of Kojiro’s mouth before reaching to pull Kojiro’s boxers down. Kojiro is painfully hard, and he winces as Kaoru wraps a hand around him. He grabs Kaoru’s wrist, stops him mid-stroke. “Don’t,” he says in a strained voice. “I’m a breath away from knotting, if you keep that up I -” he lets out a soft whimper as Kaoru squeezes, slowly, with a bit of an evil grin on his face.
The smile fades as Kojiro tugs at the waistband of Kaoru’s sleep pants, and he pulls back for a moment. “Uhm. Don’t - get weird about it, all right?” he says as Kaojiro looks at him in confusion.
“All...right?” is the response, but it’s a lot clearer a few moments later when Kaoru pulls off his pants and underwear and sits back down on Kojiro’s lap. There’s a line of piercings marching up the underside of his cock, little silver balls that shine in the moonlight. Kojiro takes him in hand, strokes a curious thumb up. The texture is odd, hard metal under velvet soft skin, and Kojiro spends a minute or two just exploring a bit, pushing them back and forth.
“Kojiro.” He looks up, and Kaoru looks practically on the verge of tears, lower lip bit between his teeth and color high in his cheeks.
“Too much?” A hesitant nod. Kojiro lets him go and takes him by the hips, pulling him forward. “All right, but someday you’re fucking me with those, I bet it feels incredible.” Kaoru exhales shakily, nodding.
They’re so, so close, but Kojiro is overtaken by a bout of sanity. “I - don’t have a condom. I’m clean, but if -” Kaoru shakes his head.
“I am too. It’s fine,” he says, and then just - sinks down.
Kojiro lets out an inelegant sound that’s quickly swallowed by Kaoru’s mouth. They kiss for long moments until Kaoru pulls back just slightly, rests his forehead against Kojiro’s. “I don’t really - have any leverage,” he says, almost apologetically.
Stroking down Kaoru’s back, Kojiro lets his hands settle on sharp boned hips. It’s easy, so easy to pick him up just a bit, push him back down. Kaoru makes a soft noise, digs his nails into Kojiro’s chest. And so Kojiro does it again, and again. Again, until they have a rhythm, until Kaoru braces his legs on the unsteady arms of the chair and helps a bit. Again, until their bodies are making noise every time their skin slaps together and it’s probably audible from the other balconies but neither of them care at all.
Kojiro can feel it, in his gut, in the base of his cock. He holds Kaoru down, grinds up into him like he’s trying to make them into a single creature. Kaoru is draped over him, biting a mark into Kojiro’s collarbone. “Do it,” he whispers into damp skin. “Come on, knot me,” he says into Kojiro’s mouth before he kisses him hard.
He knots Kaoru so fast it makes him dizzy, unable to do much but clutch at the other man as he comes and comes, breathing rough and unsteady. Kaoru sits back like a prince on his throne, hips making small rolling movements as he steadily strips his own cock with a confident hand. Kojiro puts a hand up, strokes his thumb along Kaoru’s bottom lip. Kaoru turns into the movement, sucks on his thumb for a moment then bites down as he comes, splashing Kojiro’s chest with white.
Kaoru slowly collapses forward, heedless of the mess between their chests. He kisses Kojiro slowly, thoughtfully. Twisting his hips and feeling the pull of the knot, he asks, “How long is it going to last?”
Kojiro is come-drunk and overwhelmed. “Dunno. You’re the only other person I’ve knotted and. Don’t remember most of it.” He frowns, even through the orgasm at the memory.
“Hey now, stop that.” Kaoru’s fingers smooth out the frown lines. “If it was anyone’s fault it was mine, it was my heat that triggered you. Neither of us could help it.”
“Messed you up. Ruined you.”
Kaoru shakes his head fondly. “You nitwit, have you really thought that I was thinking that?” He presses a kiss to slack lips. “You could never ruin me.” He bends his head down, moves Kojiro’s mouth so it’s over the scar. “So how about it? You going to finish what you started back then?”
Pulling back and trying to blink some sense into the world, Kojiro stares at him. “Seriously? Now? You’re sure?”
“We’ve both managed to be idiots for a decade over this,” Kaoru says. “I don’t think either of us is going to get over it anytime soon. Now,” he repositions Kojiro’s head. “Get to biting or I’m going to bite you and it’s just going to hurt a lot and not do anything else.”
Kojiro has to kiss him first, wide lips pressing to silvery scarred skin. He’s not sure when exactly he sinks his teeth in, although when he tastes blood, he can feel Kaoru clamp down around his knot with a gasp, wetting their stomachs more as he comes untouched, twitching against sticky skin.
Pulling back Kojiro licks over the mark, deep red and perfect. He makes a satisfied noise deep in his chest and pulls Kaoru close, tucking his head under Kojiro’s chin.
They fall asleep just like that, the sound of the ocean waves in the distance a soft lullaby.
-x-x-x-x-x-
Kojiro wakes to the sound of birdsong. Loud birdsong - the damned bird is sitting on a chair all of six inches away. He flaps a hand at it to get it to fly away before closing his eyes and intending to go right back to sleep.
Wait.
Bird?
Oh god, they’re still outside. Naked. Kojiro opens his eyes and glances around them - the other balconies are thankfully empty. Kaoru shifts slightly in his lap, murmuring something. Kojiro strokes a comforting hand down his back. A hand that goes lower, lower. Kojiro slipped out of him sometime during the night when his knot shrunk. He touches Kaoru’s entrance, still swollen and soft. A fingertip pressed just inside and a veritable flood of come drips out, slick and body-warm. It’s both disgusting and fascinating, and some deep-rooted alpha instinct raises its head in Kojiro’s hindbrain, telling him he’s bred his mate up properly. Kojiro tells that instinct to shut up and that Kaoru is a man, besides, and isn’t getting bred at all, but the sense of satisfaction remains.
“I’m going to have to shower for an hour,” Kaoru says sleepily.
“You certainly seemed to like it enough last night.”
Kaoru yawns and sits up. He looks down, frowning, and pokes at where his normally flat stomach bulges out just a bit. Turning his glare on Kojiro, he says, “Oh, stop looking so smug. I should make you do all the cleanup.”
Pulling him down into a morning breath-laden kiss, Kojiro asks, “Does that involve shower sex? Because I could get behind that.” He smacks Kaoru’s ass with a hand. “Heh. Behind.”
“You’re an idiot,” Kaoru tells him as he sits up, and then blinkingly takes in their surroundings. “And we’re outside.”
“I’m not the one that couldn’t wait.”
“Yes, because that was a one man production last night.” Kaoru gets up on unsteady legs, before walking inside. “I’m showering. You clean up out here and don’t you dare wrinkle your clothes.”
Looking over at the crumpled silk and satin discarded in the previous night’s fits of passion, Kojiro knows that ship has sailed. He does gather everything up, tossing Kaoru’s clothes onto his bag as he carefully tries to fold up the kimono and accoutrements.
After several fruitless minutes, Kaoru comes up behind him, towel-drying his hair and pressing a kiss to Kojiro’s shoulder. “I’ll sort this out, you go shower.” Kojiro leaves it thankfully in Kaoru’s capable hands, eager to wash off the dried come that’s sticking painfully to skin and hair.
The shower once again smells like Kaoru, but this time it’s a comfort instead of full of longing.
-x-x-x-x-x-
There’s no time for breakfast, Kojiro has to hop out of the shower, into his clothes, and then out the door to catch a taxi. They’d already set up all of Kaoru’s materials to be shipped the day before, so it’s just them and their luggage. It’s not until they’re actually on the plane that they get a chance to catch their breath for a moment.
“So,” Kojiro says, as Kaoru grabs his wrist during some turbulence. He turns his hand around, threads their fingers together.
“So,” Kaoru echoes, looking at their entwined hands.
“This isn’t just a one time thing, is it, because I can’t -” Kojiro says in a rush, before Kaoru cuts him off.
“Did you miss where you put a big mark on my neck, you gorilla? This is for good,” Kaoru says, tone softening as he takes in Kojiro’s expression.
“I know, I just. It happened before and didn’t stick, so.”
“Well, we’re not idiot teenagers any more, which helps.”
“True.” They’re silent for a while.
“Are things going to change?” Kojiro asks eventually.
Kaoru shrugs. “It feels like we’ve been dating without the sex for...god, I don’t even know how long.”
“Yeah.”
“The kids are going to freak out.”
Kojiro winces, thinking of Reki and Langa’s reactions. Of Miya’s. “Oh, man. That...will be something.”
“We should have a dinner.”
“Say what now?”
Kaoru looks out the window, but his fingers are tight around Kojiro’s and there’s a faint pinkness to his cheeks. “People have bonding celebrations all the time. We should use the restaurant, have a big dinner for everyone.”
Kojiro’s mouth opens and then closes. He’s trying to think of something to say other than You’re really serious about this because he knows he is, it’s just - huh. Kaoru is a private person, generally, especially about anything involving his personal life. For him to do this, to be the one to suggest it…
“I love you, you know,” Kojiro says finally.
Kaoru smiles a bit, finally looks away from the window to meet Kojiro’s eyes. “I know. Me too.”
Me too. Now that’s more like the reticent, stick-up-his-ass Kaoru that Kojiro knows and loves. He can’t help but smile and lean over to kiss Kaoru lingeringly, until the intercom comes on.
Fingers tighten painfully around Kojiro’s own as the flight attendant announces their descent into Okinawa, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.