A/N : This was actually written a few (?) weeks ago, but for some reason I never got around to posting it. Until now, that is. It's basically another fluffy Shinjiro x Akihiko ficcie, because we all know that Aki's the gayest gay in the history of ever. He is so gay for Shinji it's not even funny. COUGHMitsuru does not even have a chanceCOUGH. Yes, as you can tell plain as day, I despise Aki x Mitsuru. Gots a problem with that? Let's go. :D
P.S. Any flames I receive will make me laugh. So go ahead if you must, amuse me.
Disclaimer: I own a cardboard box, and that is all. Don't ask me how I got internet connection.
The plastic jar sat on the table, the object of desire for both of them. The pale-haired boxer clinked his metallic spoon against the side of the table impatiently, silver orbs squinting faintly and searching in the near darkness as he waited to see if his room mate would dare to make the first move. Upon noticing this, Shinjiro turned his head slight, a curtain of disheveled hair partially obscuring his pale features as he gazed back at him wordlessly. Absently, he noted that for once that blasted hat he always wore was gone; He looks nice, Akihiko couldn't help but think, causing a faint blush to color his porcelain-smooth face. Shit. Why am I blushing?
Akihiko couldn't help but shiver and bite at his bottom lip as he felt that intense amber-eyed gaze rove over his exposed form for a moment -– he was only wearing a loose fitting nightshirt and a pair of silken blue boxers. Averting his gaze to the linoleum floor uncertainly, he glanced back up a second later when he felt him raise those dark, sienna-hued eyes at long last, letting out a breath of air that he hadn't even been aware of holding.
Well, that was weird, Akihiko thought perplexedly. Weird, but not bad weird. Just . . . weird.
As if sensing his oh so intelligent inner monologue, Shinji made a lazy gesture with his knife and wonder bread; he smirked in that trade mark way of his that instantly managed to erase any and every uncertainty beginning to bubble to the surface of Akihiko's psyche -- perhaps, he had only imagined the whole thing? -- it immediately occurred to him that Shinji would not move until he did.
Sigh. This had been going on for ten minutes. It had started out innocently enough. He was just being polite, and letting him take the jar first, but he had refused, insisting that he should be first. It had all gone downhill from there. The kitchen was completely silent. It was late, but the midnight cravings had struck mercilessly, causing his stomach to grumble noisily every other second or so, and it just so happened that these two required the exact same thing to sate their needs.
That damn jar.
His stomach rumbled in agony yet again, deprived of its one true desire.
"Oh, fuck," he muttered, and lunged for it. Shinji grabbed for it at the same time, and the two fell to the ground, battling over the plastic container. "You said I could have it first!" Akihiko cried rather childishly, and Shinji twisted out of his grasp, holding the jar over his head, just out of reach.
"No, no, as I recall you're the one who said I could go first," Shinji taunted rather cockily. His dark brown eyes glittered with triumph as he took a step back to enjoy his prize in solitude. "Either way, it's all mine now. You had your chance."
"Oh no you don't!" Aki jumped for the jar, missed, and came down on Shinji's foot. He instantly released the jar, giving Aki leeway to snatch it up before it hit the ground. He set out to the tedious task of unscrewing the lid determinedly, digging his spoon into the soft and creamy smooth substance contentedly. "Delicious," he said with a grin, and as he raised the spoon to his mouth. He licked the spoon clean of the peanut butter, and Shinji watched him with a raised cinnamon eyebrow all the while.
"I bet." Shinji smirked as he casually smacked it so that most of the peanut butter ended up on his face.
"Hey!" Aki swiped at his nose, and got a fair portion off. He inspected the lump of peanut butter on his lily-white fingertip for only a second before promptly hurling it at the brunet punk. It stuck to the middle of his forehead, and the look on his face was absolutely priceless as he proceeded to glower on the spot, the tips of his ears turning a dusky shade of pink due to his irritation. Impatience and anger simmered beneath his normally guarded, coffee-brown gaze, his pale lips pursuing into a thin, angry line of blatant irritation –- aimed totally and wholly at him.
It dawned on Aki that he should be afraid for his life. Very, very afraid from the fixed glare Shinji was giving him, and the fact that he was still clutching the plastic jar against his chest like a child who hadn't just snuck a cookie, but stolen the whole damn cookie jar. But for some reason, none of those things brought him to care and honestly, he didn't really give a fuck.
In a moment of uncharacteristic daring, Akihiko smiled innocently before cleaning off a second spoonful. Except this time he was careful to go slower, finishing off the last of the brown substance with perfectly executed tongue moments and deliberate, tantalizing licks.
Laughingly, he said, "Bet you wish you were the peanut butter," but when he finally chanced another glance in his best friend's direction, words seemed to fail him as he trailed off into a dumb stupor; he was drawn in, ensnared by those darkened pools of russet which were beginning to flicker between dark brown and sienna swirls, and suddenly, he was unable to look away.
Akihiko's eyes widened. Oh shit.
He wasted no time in getting to his feet and bolting for the door in a headlong rush, jar and spoon still in hand as he made his getaway to freedom. Or tried to, at least. He didn't get that far as Shinji gained his wits about him and began to run after him. Moments later he tackled him about the ankles, bringing him crashing down on the carpeted hallway, half in, half out of the kitchen.
Shinji breathed in his ear, making him tense underneath his weight.
"Surrender?" he drawled out huskily, tracing along the contours of his face with calloused fingertips before moving to cup his cheek.
Akihiko's face had turned a deep cherry red by this point as he managed to stammer out, "I -- I surrender," before attempting to press the jar against Shinji's chest and willingly give up the peanut butter without a fight.
The punk rolled his eyes, but Aki couldn't help but notice that his tone of voice did not match his seemingly condescending air as he continued speaking. "I didn't mean that, dumbass. Sheesh, you're so fucking stupid sometimes . . ." Akihiko blanched outright and gaped mutely as he watched his assailant toss the container carelessly against the wall, the large thumping sound it made as plastic connected with plaster barely registering in his mind as a pair of lips descended on his.
Who needed peanut butter anyway?