It's been a while since I updated. This one was one of the many written for fun, except that unlike all others, it actually came out right. Can you believe that? Yeah. Neither can I.



an AtoRyo oneshot brought to you by Dudly (who's turning seventeen on March 25th!)


Their first kiss had been an accident.

Really. Or at least, they both had decided to call it that after a rather ineffective debate on whose fault it was.

(It was Ryoma that had taunted Atobe about kissing skills, but it was Atobe that should not have taken the bait. It was Atobe that had leant forward, but it was Ryoma who hadn't backed off. It was Ryoma that had breathed out a 'Come on, Monkey King', but it had been Atobe's decision, ultimately. It was Atobe that kissed the boy, but Ryoma that kissed back. They didn't know which one added some tongue work. It was an accident.)


Their second kiss was Fuji's accident.

It was some bizarre and unknown holiday, one they suspected the honey-haired boy might have made up, and the party thrown to celebrate was probably an excuse to wreck some havoc and mess with some completely normal lives.

The drinks were spiked. (Fuji's fault) Even the water, somehow. (Eiji had surely been in on it: he had brought the Evian bottles)

Atobe only drank champagne, which prevented him from being too jolly from the alcohol. However, the Ponta had the heaviest percentage of rum in it. (But not enough to make the brat passed out—either the Inui guy had been enrolled in Fuji's evil mission, or Fuji himself was smarter than Atobe had made him out to be)

Both guys ended up macking on the couch for the rest of the night, logic be damned. Atobe smelled good like expensive perfume, Ryoma smelled good like a breath of freedom in a world of rules and etiquette, and they both remembered what the first accident had tasted like.

(It was all Fuji's fault, and when they woke up, Atobe's muscles sore from the springy couch and Ryoma's head throbbing from the residing hangover, none of them mentioned it)


The third kiss had been Inui's accident.

For old times sake, the tall boy had organized a game of wicked fun with the threat of Inui Juice Version 123972344.

Spin the Bottle. Whoever refused to kiss the person the bottle aimed at would have to drink whatever was in the bottle. The fluorescent brown bottle. (No one had ever guessed such a colour could possibly exist)

Atobe had never cursed his luck at being Inui's roommate so much as he mentally did when he looked up from the stilling bottle to Echizen Ryoma's carefully blank face.

He kissed the now in-college boy gracefully, not even closing his eyes. Ryoma hadn't either, and the visual contact did some things to his mind, things he immediately repressed.

(For the three following days, he thought out the words WRONG and FATE and WANT, until he learnt Inui had rigged the game. That didn't shock him as much as it should have, and again, he thought the word WRONG. Wrong. Wrong. And a bit of want remained against his will.)


The fourth kiss had been blamed on the mistletoe. The fact that Atobe Keigo and Echizen Ryoma stood beneath it was the accident.

(Atobe had put the mistletoe there, sure, but couldn't have foreseen a sharp boy with catlike eyes walking by his bedroom door. After all, he had only put the decorations for show, since he was travelling to Paris for Christmas.)

Their kiss came out as a peck to the lips, sweetened just a bit, barely lasting a moment. (It didn't feel like an accident, not at that point.)

Ryoma never did explain why he was there in the first place.


The fifth kiss was definitely an accident too, except they didn't know who to blame it on. (There had to be a reason, other than 'Your lips feel good against mine' or 'I might be just a tad bit homosexual')

The taste of grape juice had to go off my mouth, Atobe offered.

Ryoma didn't mention his lips were even riper with Ponta than Atobe's were. His heart skipped a beat when Atobe shrugged off his expensive jacket to wrap it around his shivering form.

(An hour later, the jacket was taken off and thrown on the floor of the rich boy's bedroom, soon followed by every single item of clothing they had on them)

Dare. Alcohol. Threat. Ponta. The excuses from before plagued Ryoma's mind as he planted a trail of kisses down Atobe's neck.

Insanity. Hormones. The burgers they had for dinner. Potential excuses that felt immensely stupid to Atobe's ears as he intertwined his shaking fingers with Ryoma's.

"Come on, Monkey King."

They'd think about it, come morning.

-- end

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