Summary: Kougami is about to find out why Ginoza hates cigarette smoking. AU!KouGino
Disclaimer: Until China stops hogging every f'cking island in the South China Sea. Kidding.
Edit: Ugh. So many corrections. Anyway, enjoy.
Charisma, Kougami notes, is something Ginoza doesn't have. Pity, Ginoza's voice swells in a rich baritone, dies in a thick of throaty radiance and yet—
And yet. It doesn't bother Kougami nowadays. He sings for the thrill, the adrenaline that rushes from his chest to the tips of his fingers as he clutches the microphone in a seeming death grip, the lights and the stage his kingdom. The waft of sweat and intoxication lingers in the haunt for some time and he is somehow amused as bodies grind in rhythm with the beat, every boom from the drum a shrill cry for a more explosive performance. Of course, he delivers and sways his hips, rocking and at his final breath, his tone hitches and the crowd goes wild.
He throws Ginoza a sidelong glance but the latter settles for a huff and proceeds to leave through the backdoor. He wonders why Gino is capable only of those minute gestures that cannot even account for a decent response – it has become his vice to pry more out of those lips in the stead of those weary grunts and sighs; It is possible, Kougami thinks, and he likes to see a smile grace those imperturbable features of his flatmate once in a while. With a cigarette dangling off his lips, he skews his tie further, giving his attire a raggedy edge, as he doggedly follows Gino's footsteps.
"What is it?" Gino asks but he does not look. He strides in full, across the darkness and musky air of the inconsequential alleyway leading to their shared apartment.
Kougami shrugs, non-committal as he drags another whiff at the cancer stick, "Nothing much. Does it really bother you that I follow you like this?"
"Don't tell me you left your keys again." Gino rakes his slender fingers into the mop of his hair slightly, the moonlight illuminating each gossamer strand, before tipping his head back to look into the midnight-glazed horizon. He breaths smoothly, shallowly, "Stay away. You reek of smoke."
Kougami takes no offense and chuckles instead. "I won't rub my smell off on you, I swear."
His pace is faster and somehow, Kougami believes that Gino is purposely distancing himself again. "You and your promises."
"Look here." Kougami crushes the dying embers of the cancer stick under his foot and Gino is still unimpressed as he pushed his glasses up, the tension in the corners of his mouth an unpleasant sight. "I won't smoke when you're around anymore, alright?"
"That's not my point, Kougami." The annoyance never dies, and Ginoza crosses his arms stiffly against his chest. "It's cold. Let's get going."
"Since it's cold," Kougami trails off, a presumptuous smile playing on his face, "can we kiss?"
Gino winces and a faint trail of red settles in his cheeks. "What kind of reasoning is that?"
Kougami feigns hurt as he drapes an arm over stiff shoulders. "So I guess that's a no."
"You," Gino contemplates giving Kougami the leeway but he says it anyway. "The aftertaste from when you smoke, I don't like it."
"I won't next time, so can we?" The shift from stubbornness to plain resignation is obvious and Kougami knows that he has won.
It is a swift encounter with their tongues exploring the depths of both their wet caverns, teeth clashing from the ecstasy-induced yearning, pants escaping as they part. Kougami reflects as he licks of the string of saliva, their only remaining connection, that Ginoza tastes sweet and it is simply addictive – much more than his habitual nicotine.
A/N: Well, my next project will be a Kougami/Kagari pairing. Yes. I am attempting to pair Kougami with everyone (including the droids, hah! I just made my nose bleed.) but I'm far too immature and lazy to write about Makishima and Masaoka right now. Hmph. I am not even sorry.