"Birds do it. Bees do it And even educated fleas do it Let's do it. Let's fall in love." --Cole Porter

-- Devil May Care --

Shishido Ryou knows that it's past curfew and he shouldn't be sneaking around campus. He knows that it isn't right to climb into Ohtori's room through the window, that if someone finds him, they'll rat him out. He knows all the right places to walk so no one will find him.

When he gets inside and closes the window, Ohtori isn't in there. He hears music from the kitchen, and he follows the light and the homey scents into the hallway. He finds Ohtori in the kitchen, his back turned to Shishido. He's humming to the music as he cooks. The words sound foreign to Shishido's ears, but the unmistakable flavor carries through--it's jazz.

"Choutaro."

Ohtori turns, smiling so sweetly that Shishido gets nervous and almost swallows his gum. It's like that with Ohtori, more and more every day.

"Shishido-sempai. I hope you're hungry," Ohtori says, his smile mischevious. Shishido can't see what he's making, and when he tries to get close, Ohtori gently nudges him towards the living room. He resigns himself and relaxes into one of the overused armchairs. No one else is in Ohtori's dorm tonight; the relative quiet is a nice change.

"Take your hat off, Shishido-sempai. Relax a little." Ohtori says, standing in the doorway. He's wearing a loose, cream-colored sweater, and Shishido likes the way it makes the brown in his eyes richer. Strains of music mix with his voice, smooth and melodic and mellow.

"What is this crap you're listening to, Choutaro?" Shishido takes off his hat and spins it on his finger. He's nervous, the sweet kind of nervous that makes him want to move his hands.

"Jazz. You don't like American music?" Ohtori asks, sitting on the arm of the chair Shishido is lounging in.

"No." Shishido pouts when he says it, part out of habit and part because he knows Ohtori likes it.

"When the day is through, I suffer no regrets," Ohtori sings, sliding down in front of Shishido. "I know that he who frets loses the night." He touches his fingers to Shishido's knees. "And only a fool thinks he can hold back the dawn. He who is wise never tries to revise what's past and gone." Soft, tentative touches, leaning closer as he sings, his eyes sparkling with a smile.

"You can't sing very well." Shishido lies, pushes him away. He scowls, his cheeks burning. Ohtori's voice makes him more nervous, and the sick-sweet butterfly feeling trickles through each of his limbs in turn. His fingers itch.

"That's how I take and I give; Devil may care." Shishido tries to resist his growing desire to play along, and for a little while it works.

"I've got a feeling," Ohtori continues, pulling Shishido up out of the chair. "It's a feeling I'm concealing." Shishido crosses his arms and turns away. "I don't know why." Ohtori slides up behind Shishido, tilting his head to sing softly against Shishido's neck. "It's just a mental, sentimental, alibi." Shishido twists away from Ohtori's embrace and scowls over his shoulder.

"But I adore you," Ohtori sings, stepping closer. "So strong for you." Shishido's back touches the wall, and he realizes that he's trapped between Ohtori's arms.

"Why keep on stalling?" Ohtori gently turns Shishido's face towards his own. "I'm falling," he sings against Shishido's cheek. "Our love is calling. Why be shy?"

Shishido gasps when he pulls away, licks the taste of chocolate off of his lips. Ohtori's hands are cupping his face, soft, and his own are already snaking up Ohtori's back.

"Choutaro," Shishido whispers, feeling Ohtori's lips against his jaw.

"Let's fall in love," Ohtori sings, thick and deep and rich. Shishido smiles despite himself, catching Ohtori's lips with his own. A sweet slip of tongue, his hands against Ohtori's sides, Ohtori gently yielding to his touch.

Shishido pulls Ohtori close to him. Ohtori's skin tastes good, better than anything. "Let's fall in love," he says. Cheeks flushed, eyes hungry, he doesn't think it's such a bad idea.