Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Allen was having a good day. Well, the goodness of it was relative. If he managed to filter out Kanda’s snide, impressively nihilistic comments to the customers he was meant to be serving and instead focused on the melodic alt rock playing quietly over the speakers in the comfortable cafe he’d all but made his personal office, Allen found it was the perfectly relaxing background noise he needed in order to focus on his essay. The cafe itself was practically designed for these sorts of setups - all around were mismatched dining and lounge sets, perfect for a few hours of study or a tabletop game over coffee. The empty burlap sacks they had pinned to the ceiling, printed with various coffees and origins, softened the entire look of the place and the gentle elephant grey of the walls gave it a sense of coziness that Allen much preferred to the stark whiteness of the campus library, and the uninspiring mess of his room.

The music was usually something lowkey and easy to ignore, as Allen almost always did, but for every song that had come on since his arrival about an hour ago he’d perked up when a beat or line caught his ear with the thought that whoever had put the playlist together had done a really quite remarkable job. It was melodic enough to enjoy, and a solid beat carried through each song to propel his momentum of productivity.

So it was a good day, yeah, but he just figured productive fit so much better.

Allen had already managed to get an outline going for the essay, and had started working on his analysis of how emerging genres were indicative of the needs of a society in the first paragraph when someone fell into the deep, comfortable sofa right beside him. So close beside him, in fact, that before he could catch himself Allen tilted and fell and almost dropped his laptop on them. Them, who didn’t actually do anything about this but give a low chuckle and place an arm casually across the back of the chair behind Allen so it almost appeared as if they could be, god forbid, cuddling. Because Allen new exactly who they was.

“Tyki,” he muttered as he righted himself without looking up to see the shiteating grin the man was undoubtedly wearing. His tone was admittedly more a warning than a greeting, but he was absolutely certain at this point that it would do nothing but encourage him. In fact, Allen was almost certain that his irritation was more fuel to Tyki than coffee had ever been - and it wasn’t like he was allowed to actually place an order at True Neutral anyway. Not one that Kanda would bother to make.

“If I’d known you’d be falling into my arms today I’d have brought roses,” he remarked, as frustratingly suave as ever and completely immune to the distance Allen tried to force between them by scooting along to the end of the couch. Tyki simply followed without a beat and all Allen could do was lean his head away and stare with dead eyes at the leg of a nearby chair, one side pressed against the arm of the sofa and his other pressed against Tyki’s invasive presence. He sighed. Tyki looked at the screen of his laptop and did what he did every time he came to True Neutral with the intent of 'courting’ Allen - his words, they could only be his words - and read aloud, “The Emergence of Homoeroticism as a Subgenre. Huh. You’re interested in homoeroticism?”

Allen could hear the perverse intent behind the question and didn’t bother answering, but wholly gave up on staring at the chair leg as an avoidance tactic. His day could still be productive. Surely. Maybe. He turned his eyes back to the laptop on his knees and continued plucking away at the essay, word by word. If anything, Tyki had at least gotten him used to writing with an audience.

Not that Allen expected it to, but his lack of response didn’t stop Tyki from continuing in a voice he certainly intended to be distracting, “I guess we have some shared interests after all.” (And it was, it was very distracting. Allen had simply gotten rather good at overcoming distractions of this particular calibre.)

There was a long, dry, wordless groan from behind the counter and Allen hid the twitch of his amused grin before Kanda stated, as bitter as the coffee beans he was grinding, “You know what else you assholes have in common?” and continued before Tyki could open his mouth with a witty and probably sexual comment, “You’re both made of the same meat and teeth, and when you die you’re just gonna be that much more similar.”

“How so?” Allen didn’t stop himself from encouraging this tangent, the amused grin teasing the corners of his lips while he continued typing.

“You’ll be dirt,” Kanda spat sourly, and there came the aggressive sound of him wrenching a portafilter into place.

“Hey Kanda,” Tyki called nonchalantly, his arm still a casual weight behind Allen’s shoulders, “are you gonna serve that guy you wanna hatefuck when he comes in today, or are you gonna spit in his cup again?”

Allen choked back a laugh and clapped his hand to his mouth when he looked up and saw that Link, the pretentious blond tweed-and-valise history graduate, was actually walking towards the counter with an expression of confused and mildly frustrated disinterest on his face. Allen shot a frantically demanding glance to Tyki, who only arched his brows at him with a devilish smirk playing at the corners of his lips, and Allen looked back down at his computer with wide eyes and bitten lips, still not sure if he was going to sputter out a laugh or elbow Tyki in the ribs.

Kanda just sneered at Tyki, “The inevitability of death is gonna hatefuck us all one day, but I hope it gets you first,” and turned to address the blond with a waspish demand of, “The fuck do you want?”

Quietly, taken aback with wonder, Tyki shook his head and murmured, “He just has such a way with words.”

Allen snorted a laugh and suggested, “If you like him so much, why don't you go drape yourself all over him instead?”

“Oh, no,” Tyki laughed and pressed himself closer against Allen’s side, “he’s far too aggressive. I much prefer someone who I can…” he trailed off for dramatic effect and Allen felt him dip his head close, had to force back a shiver when he murmured low and gravely and far too close to Allen’s ear, “aggress.”

“Aggress,” Allen repeated nonchalantly and forced himself to type the next word of his essay, mostly surprised that his voice didn’t carry any kind of tremor. “You think you can aggress me?” he asked, not even bothering to make it sound like a taunt.

“I think it’s fun to try,” Tyki retorted, and Allen made the mistake of turning his head to see that stupidly charming grin he was wearing, roguish and confident. It almost made him want to… be aggressed. Whatever that meant in this context. Maybe he’d write it down for later. Before Allen could say anything incriminating, or actually like. Come up with a real comeback, Tyki was leaning back on the sofa and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table while he commented with such grandiose nonchalance that Allen instinctively knew to be skeptical, “The playlist is pretty good today, huh?”

Which… well. He wasn’t wrong. Allen couldn’t help the way his eyes narrowed at the document in front of him and the next sentence of the essay fell heavily from under his fingers, suspicion driving his hands to jab at the keyboard. He tuned in to the music, tried to figure out if he knew the song.

After a short moment he decided he didn’t, but that didn’t mean much of anything. It… sounded like a song he’d like. But then, he considered, they all had. Refusing to give in so easily to whatever Tyki was trying to pull, he allowed ambivalently, “It’s alright.”

“I could give you a copy, if you like,” he offered easily and stretched down to pick up Allen’s mug from the coffee table, and took a sip before holding it for Allen to take.

Slowly he accepted the mug, the arm pressed up against Tyki’s side resting stationary on the keyboard. His eyes scanned suspicious confusion over Tyki’s slight smile, his subdued confidence. At length Allen asked, “Why?” and dragged the word out in his suspicion, still not entirely certain what Tyki was getting at.

“Well,” he huffed and glanced away, not at all abashed, “I put it together with you in mind. Figured it might be something you’d like.”

That was. God, Allen could have kicked himself for feeling so easy but that was actually really… endearing. It was nice. It was a good playlist and he’d loved every song on it and it wasn’t distracting in the least. He didn’t really have any idea how he’d done it, but Tyki had actually really nailed that. So, uh. “Um,” he said to fill the silence that - it wasn’t even awkward or uncomfortable or. Like, the song that was playing even bridged the lack of words between them in a way that almost felt companionable. Almost. “That’s-” he started to say, not entirely sure what he was going to follow up with, but before he could Tyki’s eyes were back on him and he was giving that small victorious smirk that Allen thought looked far too good on him and-

Okay so they’d been playing this game for about a month and Tyki had yet to do something that Allen actually hated. Or like. Particularly disliked. He wasn’t bad at all, just. Annoying. And insistent. But even that had its own obnoxious charm. So he’d never had a reason not to respond to Tyki’s advances, more than plain stubbornness and a certain amusement for Tyki’s playful interference. Maybe the shadow of a doubt that Tyki was only doing it for his own amusement, but that was quite confidently squashed by this latest attempt at courting.

And then the entire moment kind of fell apart, because the song cut off halfway through the chorus and was replaced with the intro to The Police’s Don’t Stand So Close To Me. Tyki’s smile dropped into a confused frown and he turned his head to glance over to where Kanda was messing with the music. Allen peered around Tyki to watch him hold his phone up like a threat and bite out, “How’s this for good music taste you fucking predator. Leave the kid alone.”

Allen tried - he really really tried not to find it funny, but. A short laugh sputtered past his lips before he managed to mask it with a cough, bringing his fist up to stifle his grin. “It’s, um,” he tried, and had to stop to cover another laugh before he could admit, “it’s a good playlist.”

Tyki arched an unimpressed eyebrow and Allen smoothed out his fist to cover his amused grin, his thumb under his chin and his elbow resting on the wrist of his other arm. The older man rolled his eyes at Allen’s almost-shameless amusement but a smile teased the edge of his poker face. “Alright,” he announced loudly, turning his head and gesturing to Kanda that he’d made his point, “I get it. Can you stop?” but Kanda only gave him a level look until Allen glanced over at him and nodded enough, biting his lips to keep his amusement under wraps.

With a weighty sigh the song cut off and he turned it back to a quiet, almost sensual jazz number that much better fitted the mood of whatever had been playing before. Allen let Tyki see the corner of his smile, more genuine appreciation than amusement. He admitted, voice quiet with sincerity, “It is a good playlist,” and decided to add, “thank you,” onto that just to see Tyki’s eyes dart away on an abashed laugh, still pretending to be cocky.

“Well,” he reasoned with a light shrug and a roguish grin, “I’m good at what I do,” and it took Allen a moment to remember that ‘what he did’ was a postgrad honours in music. And… was he working on recording an EP? God Allen actually felt bad for realising that he obviously hadn’t been paying as much attention back to Tyki as he probably deserved, for all that he’d been lavishing it on Allen. But… yeah, he’d have to be pretty good to be able to keep up with his coursework and still have the time to write music and make playlists and harass Allen for an hour or two every few days. His eyes softened though, or maybe they sharpened - it was almost strange, the nuance to his expressions, and Allen found he quite enjoyed discerning the subtle differences in them. His grin narrowed into something between a smirk and an expression of genuine fondness when he added, voice dipping into something deeper, “And you’re fun to compose for.”

“Easy?” Allen guessed with half a laugh, averted his eyes and sipped the coffee Tyki had passed him.

“Not at all,” Tyki corrected, his smile stretching to fit the amusement in his voice. “Quite difficult, actually.” Allen snorted a laugh and turned his eyes to the laptop, handed the coffee back to Tyki because fucking Kanda still had up that sign on the counter with a picture of Tyki’s face, bold text reading ‘DO NOT SERVE THIS PREDATOR’ and somewhere deep in his sardonic head seemed to think it was funny to actually follow through with it and refuse to make Tyki’s coffee whenever he came in. But Tyki accepted Allen’s vanilla latte without question and let him free his hands to continue chipping away at his essay, one phrase at a time. “When you’re writing you want something relaxed,” Tyki hummed, “with a bit of beat to give you a momentum, but not so much that it’s distracting.”

“That so?” Allen asked, smile twitching at his lips as he typed.

“Mmhm,” Tyki affirmed and sipped at the coffee, eyes moving lax and unconcerned between the laptop screen, Allen’s darting fingers and his face. “Variety is the hardest thing you ask for,” he stated with conviction and grinned when Allen cast him a quick glance of interest, fingers never really stopping their movement. He hummed and nodded and took another drink from the coffee before holding it back out to Allen while he observed, “Even if you’re not paying attention to the music, you notice when the same band plays twice consecutively, or too often in a playlist. Makes it hard.”

Allen bit back his smile, for some absurd reason flattered that Tyki seemed to know this detail that he hadn’t even consciously recognised in himself. And yet, as he paused in his typing to take the coffee Tyki was holding out patiently, Allen realised that he was absolutely correct. “You’re awfully observant,” he commented when he handed the cup back, and Tyki accepted it with a laugh while he leaned forwards to place it on the table for him.

“I’m awfully observant of you,” Tyki countered with an easy smile and it sounded a lot less creepy than it probably could have under the circumstances.

“You realise how that sounds, right?” Allen commented regardless, mostly just because he could. Tyki gave him an unimpressed look and didn’t bother to remark that they did, in the scheme of things, spend an awful lot of time together, and that at least half that time was them listening to music in silence while Tyki drank Allen’s coffee and watched him write. But Allen just laughed lightly and went back to his essay, finishing up a sentence and entering a period with some small amount of ceremony before starting a new paragraph.

They lapsed into that silence for a moment and Allen tapped his fingers over the keyboard in time with his thoughts and the music, trying to figure out what to write next. The song ended and his hands stilled, head cocked as he chewed at the inside of his cheek. Tyki leaned closer for a moment, scanning over his notes for the new paragraph as the next song started, and gave a considering hum. At length he murmured, voice low with the suggestion, “Take that point of the platform shifting more to electronic media, and bring it around to the online communities of content creators and consumers. Then you can start breaking it down into genres and subgenres in the next paragraph.”

Allen made a small sound of understanding and his fingers went back to tapping out the tempo of the song for a few bars before he started typing again, his brow pinching with his focus as he rushed to get the words onto the document before they flitted out of his head. “Thank...” he murmured slowly, rushing into the next sentence, “you.”

“Welcome,” Tyki laughed gently and Allen hardly took notice when he lifted the hand from behind his shoulders and brushed his fingers through the tips of Allen’s brushed-back hair. It wasn’t exactly distracting when the gentle touches grew bolder - if bold was the word to describe it. Tyki seemed pleasantly engaged in twining the locks across his fingers, Allen’s hair so soft it slipped easily through his loose hold, and Allen himself was too engaged in the essay to particularly care what Tyki was doing.

He hesitated over the next sentence, fingers tapping and head cocked to the side while he considered how to phrase the thought resounding through his mind. Sucked in a full breath that he held for a few seconds before letting it all out slowly. Tyki’s fingers delved deeper into his hair, brushing gently over the roots so Allen’s head tilted further, eyes drooping to absentminded comfort while he stared at the document. Scanning over the few sentences of preamble to the paragraph he groaned breathily to no one in particular, “But what’s the point?” and his narrow-eyed stare morphed into a challenging scowl. Tyki huffed a laugh and trailed his fingers from Allen’s hairline to the short-shaved hair above the nape of his neck, the gesture relaxing and somehow not at all distracting.

And still, the next sentence refused to be written. Tyki was content to sit there and play with his hair, tucked up too close against Allen’s side, and Allen felt a deep sigh building up inside him. Not bothering to put up a fight, Allen huffed it all out and let his head drop that last inch until he was, for all intents and purposes, leaning on Tyki’s shoulder.

“When’s this due?” he asked, voice a low murmur while he reached between Allen’s unmoving hands to scroll down the document with the trackpad, scanning over the mess of Allen’s planning.

“Couple of days,” Allen muttered, eyes heavy with Tyki’s fingers resting in his hair.

Tyki hummed in response, returned the page to where Allen had left it and turned to call out, “Kanda,” and caught the irritable barista’s attention. Allen watched, uninterested, as he made a cyclic gesture with his finger, eliciting a bitter glare.

“I’m not your fuckin’ DJ,” Kanda glowered, but went to his phone all the same and skipped whatever was playing.

“Sorry,” Tyki apologised to Allen with a smirk twisting the corners of his mouth while the next song started, “that was my bad. I’ll have to fix it later.”

Allen grunted a questioning sound but lifted his head from Tyki’s shoulder, rolled his shoulders and arched his back a little before pressing his hands into the soft cushion of the couch and lifting himself up from where he’d slowly slumped down over the past hour or so. Then he looked up out across the cafe and blinked a few times, suddenly awake. “Oh,” he realised, then glanced to Tyki’s smirk, his words sinking in. “Oh,” he repeated and shook his head a little at the realisation that the last song had all but lulled him to sleep, “no, that’s uh. Sorry,” he amended and laughed sheepishly, bringing his hands up to rub as his eyes and down his cheeks.

Tyki laughed again and inclined his head vaguely in the direction of Allen’s laptop. “Sounds like you left this one a bit late,” he smirked and Allen scrubbed abashedly at the short hair at the back of his head.

“A bit,” he admitted with a shrewd laugh and read back over what he’d just written, then the paragraph he’d already declared finished. He clicked in and edited a few bits and pieces, rearranged an awkward sentence break and settled back in where he’d left off.

“So beansprout,” Kanda called from the counter before Allen could actually write anything, and when he glanced up with an annoyed scowl he found Kanda leaning his elbows on the polished wood surface of the counter, a coffee cradled between his hands and a savage smirk on his face. “Think you’ll finish your sad gay porn today, or are you gonna go home and cry yourself to sleep first?”

Without missing a beat Allen answered bland as anything, his expression smoothing into a smile of blissful pleasantry, “I think I’ll finish it. Want me to link you when it’s done?” he offered, his eyes narrowing into something deadly. “So you can live vicariously through my writing. You know,” he shrugged easily, “considering you’ll never find anyone to love you.”

“Wow,” Tyki remarked, lifting his hands away from Allen as though afraid he’d get bitten. “Jesus christ.”

Allen cast his perfect smile to Tyki, eyes slipping closed, and Kanda muttered from the counter, “Go have a fukkin’ wank,” while Allen turned nonchalantly back to his essay.

He pinned the essay with a look that said it was next in the firing line, and Tyki seemed relieved enough about having been skipped over to lay his arm back around Allen’s shoulders. Determined, like it was some sadistic kind of incentive, Allen stated firmly, “I’m not going to wank til it’s done.”

Tyki blinked at him, opened his mouth, closed it again and looked away. Eventually he managed to announce, “I feel like there’s a number of things I could say to that, and yet. I find I’m,” he blinked at Allen again, “too shocked. To think of one.”

“For everyone’s information,” Allen continued with a determined scowl as though he hadn’t heard him, already setting in to pick up that sentence he’d been tempted to fall asleep on, “I refuse to abstain, this night or any other.”

Tyki turned his head away while Allen’s fingers struck out against the keyboard like he was waging war. He seemed to need a moment to ground himself in the reality of what he’d just heard, and once he had he commented almost guiltily, “Well. I’ll certainly be remembering that later.”

“Pervert,” Allen muttered through his thoughts, not hesitating over the end of that sentence and the start of the next, incentive burning fire in his veins so he managed to smash out the rest of that paragraph like a man possessed.

Tyki made a sound of offended disagreement and denounced, “I’m not the one who brought up wanking, or abstinence or. A lack thereof,” he said drily, his hand idly going back to Allen’s hair.

Just as dry, Allen asked, “Would you like me to send the sad gay porn to you, too?” and Tyki was silent for a moment such that Allen believed he needed a second to determine if he was being serious or not.

At length, he settled on saying, “The hope is that I won’t need to live as vicariously as Kanda.”

Allen snorted a laugh and finished up the leading sentence of his third paragraph before he paused to tap his fingers across the keyboard, considering where exactly he needed to take the subject of subgenre so he could link it back to his initial paragraph concerning… what was it again? He scrolled up, scanned over it and picked up a few more typos. After letting himself get momentarily distracted with that, Allen went back to reading through and formulating an argument. At the end of the paragraph he found he didn’t actually have one yet, just a. Formless thought of an idea that he couldn’t quite figure out, and decided to read the next paragraph too in the hopes that it would help define whatever undefinable thing he was trying to put into words.

More mistakes and typos jumped out at him and Allen rushed in to fix them every time they did, not really conscious of Tyki watching him work at this point and hardly aware of the hand brushing gently through his hair. It was grounding, he supposed, in a measurement of time that music didn’t really carry. How long did a song last? How long was a piece of string? But Tyki’s movements kept momentum with the music, if not the four-four beat. A stroke lasted a bar or two, and Tyki’s body was far less stressful to keep an eye on than a clock. All that ticking, and seconds going by too quickly. But this was slow and relaxing and Allen couldn’t deny that he melted into the casual intimacy of it.

But as nice as it was, it wasn’t putting the right kinds of ideas in his head and Allen was admittedly a little stuck with this. At length he sighed, eyes on the hardly-started sentence of his culminating paragraph and stated, “Well, that short burst of motivation was good while it lasted.”

“So you’re going to abstain?” Tyki asked teasingly and Allen tried not to shiver when he slid his hand from the back of Allen’s head to his neck while he stretched down to the coffee table at their feet to pick up the mug and hand it to Allen.

“Of course I’m not going to abstain,” he muttered sourly, sending the essay a narrow glare. He pulled his hands away from the keyboard to cradle the cup and bring it to his lips and tried valiantly to ignore the interest Tyki’s fingers had taken in the short buzz at his nape, shaved around the back of his head beneath the bulk of his hair. “It’ll get done,” he continued staunchly to distract himself from the way Tyki’s gentle, explorative touches were rolling small shudders down his spine, “it just doesn’t want to get done,” he muttered a complaint and resisted the urge to roll his head forward to bare his neck for Tyki’s hands. Instead he drank down the rest of the coffee and only when it was done did he realise that he’d kind of forgotten that left none for Tyki. “Oh,” he remarked and glanced down at it, then up at Tyki with a tentatively bashful grin before offering, “I’ll get another.”

Tyki’s hand slipped down his neck and held his shoulder when he tried to lean forwards to put the laptop on the coffee table and stand up. “I’ll get it,” he insisted and Allen snickered a laugh.

“As charming as the gesture is,” he cast his grin to the sign still sitting at the counter while he cleared his lap and stood, brushing off Tyki’s hand, “Kanda isn’t going to serve you.”

Tyki seemed to consider arguing that for a short moment before he relented with a sigh. It didn’t stop him from twisting to free up his back pocket so he could pull out his wallet and offer his card with a grin. “Surely there’s a way to cheat the system,” he insisted slyly, and Allen accepted it from him with a laugh. He wasn’t about to turn down free coffee, after all.

“Can I get you anything?” he offered with a smirk, flipping the card between his fingers.

Tyki grinned up at him and murmured, “A cold brew latte, if you like.”

Allen stepped around the coffee table and made for the counter, retorting over his shoulder, “I like,” with a coquettish smile.

Kanda, when he arrived at the counter, seemed less amused. “I refuse to make that creep a coldbrew anything, on moral grounds.”

“You’re not, Kanda,” Allen retorted primly and held out Tyki’s card with a sweet smile, “you’re making me one. And a vanilla latte, please.”

Kanda grimaced and demanded, “Not that I care what dumb stupid mistakes you make in your pointless life, but can’t you smell the boner just oozing off him?”

“I can,” Allen admitted, lips curling into a savage grin, and Kanda’s expression made it seem as though he’d just thrown up a little in his mouth, “and I want to play a bit of cat and mouse.”

“Is that what they call it these days,” Kanda muttered under his breath but punched Allen’s order into the register, then snatched Tyki’s card from his waiting hand.

Allen scoffed and rested his elbows on the counter, hip cocked half because it was comfortable and half because he was a hundred million percent certain that Tyki was staring at his ass, and commented drily, “Do I seem easy, or do I seem like the girl you want to beg so she’ll step on your dick?”

Kanda gave him a long, long look before he dropped the card back on the counter and turned all his attention to making the coffees, only saying, “You had some really fucked up influences in your childhood, sprout.”

“Where’s Alma?” he asked rather than even try to deny that.

“Inching closer to death,” Kanda muttered sourly and dug out the cold brew and a fresh cup that he filled with ice cubes, “and leaving me to pick up the slack,” he gritted with a petty scowl to the register that Alma was usually leaning over to chat with customers.

“So…” Allen dragged out, arching his brows, “he’s sick?” Kanda shrugged wordlessly and Allen took that as a yes, or something. “Must be hard,” he mused, mocking mournfulness on Kanda’s behalf, “not having anyone to buffer that horrid personality of yours.”

“Least I don’t hide it behind a pretty smile,” he sneered while he poured the milk into Tyki’s cold brew, and Allen ducked his head with a snicker.

“You can’t call me out,” he insisted, laughing with genuine amusement before reiterating, “You can’t call me out. Not when you’re an absolute cunt of a person and don’t even try to pretend otherwise.” The moment the words were out of his mouth Allen’s eyes went wide and he clapped a hand to his mouth, watching Kanda for his reaction. He didn’t look offended, really. Or, any more than usual. Just kind of arched a brow at Allen and placed Tyki’s cold brew on the counter. “I didn’t mean that,” Allen stated for the record, “but I am going to write it down, so you’ll probably see it in the sad gay porn I’m going to send you.”

“I’m not going to read it,” Kanda stated blandly, and Allen counted it as a mark of catlike (bitchy) fondness that it almost sounded like an ‘I forgive you’. Almost.

“You are,” Allen corrected with a smirk, “and you’re going to hate yourself.”

“Get your weird fujoshi fetish hands off my counter,” he glowered and set the vanilla latte in front of Allen with the cold brew.

“I could be wrong, but isn’t fujoshi a girls-only blanket term?” Tyki’s voice came from behind Allen and a moment later he felt Tyki’s fingers gently roll up the line of his spine to sit between his shoulders - an interesting stake of ownership, considering he didn’t actually own anything here.

“If it was a blanket term,” Allen reasoned while he reached for Tyki’s coffee and held it up for him, glancing up beside him to where Tyki was standing, “wouldn’t we be included in it?”

Kanda snorted what might have been a laugh and derisively remarked, “We,” while Tyki accepted his coffee from Allen.

“Surely there’s a word for a male fujoshi, is all I’m saying,” Tyki reasoned and his hand drifted a bit lower on Allen’s back.

“Gay,” Kanda interjected firmly, “the word you’re looking for is ‘gay’. Now piss off and let me do my fucking job.”

“I would, but,” Allen asked with a sly glance over his shoulder to the person waiting impatiently for him to finish shitstirring, “I thought you were a barista. Do you actually get paid to antagonise people until they hate you as much as you hate yourself?”

“Okay,” Tyki intervened before Allen could get himself punched in the face, a hand on his shoulder guiding him up and away from the counter, “do you think Kanda’s had enough for one day? I think he’s had enough for one day.” Allen snickered a laugh and swiped his coffee off the counter, blew a kiss to the angry barista but let Tyki pull him out of the way. Kanda flipped him off and Tyki demanded, “Honestly why am I the one who’s banned here? All you do is stir him up.”

Allen laughed and held up his coffee like proof, reasoned, “Yeah, but he genuinely likes me or he wouldn’t give me marshmallows with every coffee.” Because, honestly? Kanda was just the kind of asshole who would call your pipe dream for what it was and grudgingly tag along for the ride regardless. Tyki’s face said it still didn’t quite add up and Allen cracked a grin into his coffee while he continued, “Whereas he genuinely believes you have impure intentions.”

“I do,” Tyki admitted, still looking quite thoroughly confused. “I don’t see the problem. Honestly I’m more surprised that you’re actually going along with it.”

Allen snorted a laugh and slipped in between the coffee table and lounge of their setup and sat carefully to avoid spilling his coffee. When Tyki settled in against him this time he did so without trying to tip Allen into his lap, but he didn’t even bother to be sly about pressing his thigh up against Allen’s and resting his arm along the back of the couch behind his shoulders. “‘Going along with it’,” he observed drily and paused to savour another sip of his latte, “almost implies that I’m just passively letting things happen.”

“Are you not?” Tyki remarked, his expression filled with amusement and intrigue.

Allen arched a scathing brow and asked in return, “Are you in my pants?”

“Am I?” Tyki retorted, amusement tipping the scales. Allen scoffed a laugh and took another drink before stretching down to exchange the cup for his laptop. Tyki leaned closer and brought his fingers up to run through Allen’s hair, asked, “Thought it was a good playlist?”

Allen laughed outright and shook his head, reading over the last few paragraphs while he reiterated, “It is a good playlist.”

“So…” Tyki trailed expectantly, waiting for Allen to finish that already quite eloquent statement.

He arched his brows and glanced at Tyki, then aside as though looking into a camera. “So…” he mocked Tyki’s speech, “try harder,” and went back to reading through his essay.

Tyki breathed a laugh one part pained and a hundred parts enamoured, and relaxed back into the chair to stare at the burlap sacks tacked to the ceiling with breathless incredulity. In a whisper, he repeated, “Try harder,” and Allen felt a smirk curling onto his lips.

He let Tyki recline like that, didn’t push his arm away or make as though to stop his fingers from playing absently with his hair, and after a short moment it was apparent that he’d moved past his little rejection boner and had sunk into thought. One of his fingers tapped lightly in Allen’s hair to the beat of whatever song was playing before he stilled again, made a sound of unhappy consideration and sat forwards.

“Can I borrow your notebook?” he asked suddenly, and Allen glanced away from whatever fleeting sentence he’d been about to type to give Tyki a look. “And a pen,” he added, his hand trailing down to the bare skin at the base of Allen’s neck while he turned to call, “Hey Kanda, change the song?”

“Don’t change the song,” Allen called right after him, stretching down to pick up his notebook and pen for Tyki, flipping to a new page. With a smirk he reasoned to Tyki’s confused glance, “I like this one.”

“Tragic,” Tyki murmured, accepting the notebook slowly with a small grin teasing his mouth. “I don’t write like this.”

Allen dipped his head and glanced away, a laugh falling past his lips. “You’re writing a song?”

Tyki only grinned and reached into his pocket for his own phone, unravelled the earphones and put one in. “Could be,” he teased and unlocked the screen, started scrolling through the music app he already had open.

Allen watched half curious while Tyki selected a playlist titled compo ref: jazz/R&B?/alt and briefly saw songs like Redbone, Black Mambo and Herman’s Habit. “Is that from La La Land?” he asked, amused, and selected City of Stars from the tracklist. “I didn’t take you for the type,” he grinned at Tyki.

“That movie is a work of art,” Tyki said staunchly, “and I’d be more than happy to watch it with you so I can obnoxiously point out the artistic intricacy of the entire OST.”

Allen laughed and turned his eyes back to the essay, thoughts flitting over that sentence which had escaped him, and remarked with no small amount of fondness, “You really are a music nerd, aren’t you?”

“I can’t understand how you’re surprised by the fact I like La La Land,” Tyki remarked with a grin while he exited the song page and went back to scrolling through the tracklist, letting the jazz tune play through. “How out of character, for me ,” he selected Mistakes by Lake Street Dive, “to like a movie about loving music.”

“I was thinking rom-com,” Allen laughed but Tyki only dragged his fingers gently through his soft white hair as answer, his eyes locked on the empty page of the book while he tapped his pen against the paper. Allen cast a short glance to his face and probably shouldn’t have been surprised that concentration was such a good look on him, but felt his own smile go soft at the edges when he turned his attention back to his essay.

At some point Tyki put the other earbud in and started scrawling haphazard notes in the margin of an otherwise empty page, and Allen found himself paying half a mind of attention while he worked on his own project. From his cursory, curious glances he couldn’t much decipher what exactly Tyki was doing but it seemed important to the composition process.

The Revivalists Wish I Knew You, more jazz? always more jazz Elton John, piano guitar percussion trumpet? I dont have a trumpet one of those shakey rice eggs MANCALA Lake st dive - soul and jazz?? bit of femme fatale, well i’ll be god damned KURT VILE of course theres never too much kurt vile major key obv hmm E?? E major less jazz actually fuck you kurt vile stop changing my intentions less soul no keep the soul elements fall in love with you oh fall in love with you i must love or lust why is kendrick in this playlist fuck why not both i’ll consume every part of you to indulge satisfy indulge my lovelust okay so no jazz i guess i can deal with that who am i kidding there’s almost certainly going to be jazz. Just a bit. A tiny jazz

Allen stopped trying to understand where he was going with the chicken scratch train-of-thought notes and turned his attention back to the essay. In the studious silence between them he managed to all but wrap up his culminating argument, and almost jumped when Tyki asked out of the blue, “Do you like this?” and gestured to the air as though encompassing the relaxing air of the cafe.

“Hm?” Allen hummed, casting his attention to the ambience and realising Tyki was talking about whatever song was playing. He cocked his head a little, listening in, and admitted, “This is. Yeah, this is really good actually. Um,” he paused and listened for a few more seconds. “This is probably one of the best on the playlist.”

“Okay good,” Tyki seemed to relax and melt into the backrest of the couch and looked down at the notebook proudly, “I have a song for this.”

“A song…” Allen hesitated to say, “for this song?”

Tyki waved it off and trailed his fingers through Allen’s hair, where they’d sat for the past twenty or so minutes while he corrected, “No, or- well, kind of. For you, from this,” he gestured to the music again and Allen thought he understood.

“So, like. Inspired by this?” he pressed and Tyki nodded, looked back down at the page and tapped a complex rhythm with the pen.

“I may need to borrow a drum,” he mused, then pursed his lips. “I won’t need to borrow a drum. There will be drums. I can make a drum.”

“You’re going to make a drum?” Allen repeated, amused.

“Can’t be assed going back to the music faculty to record,” he reasoned with an easy shrug, “and if I just figure it out myself I can have it done by tomorrow-ish.”

“Tomorrow-ish,” Allen remarked with surprise colouring his tone. “I thought songs took,” he started, then paused when he realised he didn’t actually know how long it took to write and record a song.

Tyki hummed consideringly, eyes still on the notebook while he tapped his pen. “Well, I’ve got the song,” he murmured and and scrawled a string of letters along the first line, “and it’ll be easy enough to record. Mastering it will take,” he shrugged, “a few hours?”

“Oh,” Allen said, not entirely sure what he’d been expecting, but Tyki caught him with a reprimanding look and cast a sly, cocky grin.

“I can see you lowering your expectations from here,” he observed, “and would ask you not to do that. I’m very good.”

And Allen didn’t exactly have any proof of that - he’d never actually heard Tyki’s music, didn’t think he slipped his own songs into any of the playlists he periodically made for True Neutral. If he had, Allen hadn’t noticed. The part of his mind which had adopted Kanda’s unreasonably negative influence made some snide comment about how that much cockiness couldn’t possibly be backed up anything, but honestly Allen found he was more intrigued than skeptical. So he threw Tyki’s smirk back at him and said, “I guess you’ll just have to prove it.”

“Guess I will,” Tyki agreed with his hand tangled in Allen’s hair. His eyes shifted away from Allen’s and he smiled, probably at the sight of his dark fingers nestled amongst the white strands. Quietly, his lips curled in that grin, he stated, “It’s alarming how much I want to kiss you right now.”

“Should I be alarmed?” Allen responded, his words tasting like indulgent laughter.

“What you should do,” Tyki advised, eyes playful, “is tell me if I’ll get away with trying.”

Allen certainly felt it when Tyki’s hand drifted to cup the back of his neck, but rather than give him the satisfaction of letting him see it Allen teased, “Isn’t it customary to serenade first, and beg affections after?”

“I hear a lot of words,” Tyki pointed out, “and none of them are ‘no’.” He tilted his head closer, that amused smirk playing at the corner of his lips and his hand on Allen’s neck pulled them closer slowly enough for Allen to do whatever he wanted. Place a staying hand on Tyki’s chest, lean in to close the distance, Allen was half of a mind that Tyki would have taken an actual headbutt as an acceptable response.

But he didn’t headbutt Tyki. He let their breaths fall together, let Tyki’s eyes slip closed, let their lips part. “No,” he whispered, the word brushing past Tyki’s mouth.

Tyki halted there, completely still, and Allen felt his breath against his cheek like a sigh. “No,” he repeated, and from the barely-there brush of his lips against Allen’s he could almost taste Tyki’s deprecating smile. A moment later, accompanied with another one of those feather-light sighs, Tyki leaned his brow against Allen’s and angled his lips away. “Played,” he said, and sounded mostly amused by the fact.

“Like a fiddle,” Allen agreed with a grin and brought a hand up to trace the line of Tyki’s fine jaw, his cheek, brushed his thumb across his temple and curled his fingers around Tyki’s ear. Allen felt the forced-back tremor of response to his gentle touch, smirked when Tyki’s head tilted to betray the temptation to kiss Allen regardless. He didn’t though, he didn’t. Just stayed there for a moment with his eyes closed, breathing in how close he’d gotten, and pulled away once he’d managed to fix a smirk to his lips. Allen let his smile turn gentle, trailed his touch down the line of Tyki’s jaw and rested the man’s chin atop his fingertips. “Earn it,” he commanded, teasing, eyes on the playful determination setting into his expression.

“Care if I aim high?” Tyki pressed with a smile, slow and so quietly confident compared to the cockiness he’d been smirking before.

Allen’s grin twitched with sincerity when he dropped his fingers from Tyki’s chin and turned most of his attention back to the essay, only a conclusion and introduction to go. “I think I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

Chapter Text

“Hey shorty, did you end up having to abstain last night?”

“Kanda,” Allen scolded mockingly while he stepped through the clutter of chairs and tables towards the counter, “your interest in my sexual activity is beginning to concern me. You're not in love with me, are you?”

He actually laughed at that - kind of offensive really, but at least he wasn’t like. Sticking Allen’s hand in a coffee grinder or something. “Right, I’m harbouring feelings for a guy who intentionally leads others on because he thinks it’s funny,” he commented snidely while he entered Allen’s usual order into the register and set about making his coffee without prompting.

“It is funny,” Allen insisted with a grin, paying. “Are you not amused?”

Kanda rolled his eyes with a sour look and wrenched the portafilter into place, starting the drip on Allen’s vanilla latte. “I’m not amused when you start making out with him in my cafe.”

Allen held up a finger. “Not your cafe,” he stated, “and,” he continued, “we almost made out. I didn’t actually let him kiss me.”

“No offence,” Kanda lied, “but the guy’s obviously in love with you, and you’ve been playing him for a month. How do you sleep at night?” he demanded and leaned his hip against the counter while he steamed the milk, raising a scathing brow at Allen’s easy smile.

“Spread out across the entire bed,” Allen sighed happily and leaned his elbows on the counter, cupped his chin in his hands and said dreamily, “with glow-in-the-dark stars above me and the fan on two. Cotton sheets strewn everywhere. Completely naked.”

Kanda snorted a derisive laugh and pulled Allen’s coffee from under the finished stream, tamped the milk jug on the counter and began pouring it into the mug. “I guess you’re happy with how your emotional unavailability sentences you to a life of unfulfilling loneliness then.”

Allen only smirked and said, “A queen mattress, all for me,” before accepting his coffee and pushing up from the counter, sauntering over to his usual lounge. Unpacking his laptop from the bag he had slung over his shoulder, Allen opened it to the essay he’d fallen asleep at last night. So, in answer to Kanda’s ‘good morning’, yes he technically had abstained. If abstinence referred to the incompletion of his essay. Because for all that yesterday had seen him smash out the whole body of the assignment, when Tyki had left to go work on his homework and assessment and the song he was supposedly writing for Allen, most of that productivity had left him.

Kanda had deemed enough of the playlist once Tyki had left and put on he and Alma’s usual mix of Mother Mother and The Punch Brothers and it was good and he enjoyed it, but it kind of jarred him out of his working mindset and he couldn’t quite get back in. So like, three words of the conclusion got written and deleted and rewritten five times before Allen decided to give up for the day and head home. And it was when he’d arrived that he realised he should have actually gotten Tyki to give him that playlist because he’d heard all his own music a hundred times already.

Then it was just thinking about Tyki and his fingers in Allen’s hair, his hand on his back, lips curled into a smile over the lip of their shared coffee and Allen didn’t actually notice when his ‘study you fuck’ playlist ended and ‘get it gurl’ started, but Rhianna was playing and his hand was in his pants and it was just a habitual response, right? Fingers curled around his dick, jerking to R&B and what it felt like to have Tyki’s body pressed so close against his that he could smell him, could feel his heat. Couldn’t stop thinking about his hand in Allen’s hair, down his back, on his ass, pulling him closer, lips breathing hot an inch away from Allen’s-

And yeah okay so abstinence was a loose term that Allen used to refer to the incompletion of his essay and not actually, like. Abstaining.

The whole thing had kind of fallen apart when Feels Good had come on while he lay spent in the afterglow actually listening to the music, and spooked himself with how closely it hit to whatever Tyki might actually want with him. So he’d quickly skipped the song and cleaned himself up, pulled his sheets over himself and rolled over to fall asleep with the intention of never thinking about it ever again. Because, like. Why would he? It was fun, right? Tyki was having fun with him, Allen was having fun with that and he definitely shouldn’t get entrenched with… affection. And they’d circumvented the whole coffee thing, so that stupid song didn’t even apply anymore.

Or, wouldn’t have. Shouldn’t? Didn’t. Not until Tyki fell into the couch beside him with as much graceless ceremony as he always did, reached down to pick up Allen’s coffee from the table in front of them and took a sip while he read over Allen’s shoulder. “‘...Just as statistically popular fiction of the past ten years has involved dystopic elements, so does every genre and subgenre of note in fiction work indicatively towards revealing the concerns and needs of a culture or society at any given-’,” he cut off to pull in a breath and instruct, “I think you have too many adjectives, you definitely don’t need to use indicatively there. And cut the s on towards.” Allen arched his eyebrows at Tyki, both in remark of his lack of greeting and his audacity to try edit his essay. He just shrugged, unconcerned, and reasoned, “It is technically correct but most people don’t use the s. Just saying.” He brought the cup back to his lips and Allen rolled his eyes a little while he fixed it, and it was only then that Tyki turned to face him with an easy grin. “Good morning, by the way. Did you end up abstaining after all?”

Distracted by finishing the introduction of his essay, Allen probably would have questioned why every encounter this morning had started that way, but instead he just murmured, “Define ‘abstain’,” and accepted the coffee Tyki passed him without looking up, one hand still working at the keyboard.

Tyki’s quiet laugh huffed past Allen’s cheek and he tried not to let it get to him when he heard the low, teasing pitch of Tyki’s amusement as he answered, “Uhm, intentionally withholding from auroerotic… stimulation?”

“Auto erotic,” Allen repeated with a laugh, finishing up his introduction and reading it over with a sense of accomplishment.

“In this case,” Tyki nodded, “yes. Unless…” he narrowed his eyes, “just regular erotic?”

Allen snorted and scrolled through the essay to the conclusion, which was still only a couple of sentences long. “Now, Tyki,” he scolded, lips curled in amusement while he sipped his coffee, “surely you haven’t been courting me this whole time without knowing if my habitual stimulation was autoerotic or… otherwise.”

“I abhor asking if someone is single or not,” Tyki stated with conviction. “It’s not very polite - it’s almost crass.”

“No you’re right,” Allen agreed, “hitting on someone without knowing if they're available is far more charming.”

Tyki snorted a laugh and lay his arm across the back of Allen’s chair, where he’d decided it belonged. “Asking if you’re taken immediately closes off the opportunity for forming any other kind of relationship,” he reasoned, and tacked on the end like an afterthought, “and gives you the opportunity to turn me down.” Allen ducked his head on a laugh and drank another mouthful of coffee before handing the mug over for Tyki to take. “And anyway,” he shrugged with a roguish grin, “we’re talking about it now, aren't we?”

“About the nature of my erotic stimulation?” he asked and snickered when Tyki nodded happily and took the cup, leaning forwards to put it on the table for him. Without a blink, his poker face hardened from years of writing porn in cafes and on buses, Allen stated with a simple smile, “I jerked off last night while thinking about the ways I imagine you’d fuck me, given the chance.”

Tyki was silent for a long moment before he leaned back down to pick up the coffee and take a long drink. Eventually he said, voice forced steady and nonchalant, “I can’t tell if that’s a joke.”

“It is,” Allen hummed noncommittally and began finishing the abandoned conclusion. “Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

Tyki looked like he wanted to say something, but instead just closed his eyes with exasperated disbelief and said, “Okay,” like it was a question.

“Weren’t you writing a song?” Allen asked with a smirk directed at his essay. “How’d that go?”

“It went,” Tyki answered simply, but Allen could hear the smug amusement in his voice. “Pretty well, if I do say so myself.”

“You can say all you like,” Allen’s grin didn’t slip. “I’d prefer to keep an unbiased ear when I hear it.”

Tyki made a sound of wounded offense and pulled away so he could turn to face Allen properly, one leg folded up on the couch between them. “No,” he refuted, “no. That’s. You’re going about this completely wrong.”

“I’m sorry?” Allen glanced at Tyki so he could arch a scathing brow at him.

“Yep,” Tyki nodded and gestured to Allen’s face. “You need to change… all that.”

“All this?” Allen pointed at himself and couldn’t help the way his lips twitched with amusement.

“No,” Tyki refuted, but paused before correcting, “yes. But not in a bad way, just in an attitude way.”

“So I have to change my attitude?” He was definitely grinning now and Tyki rolled his eyes.

“Yes. For starters you have to stop being vindictively obtuse.”

“Is that what this is?” Allen asked, cocking his head to make the question as vindictively obtuse as possible, just for the hell of it.

Tyki ducked his head to hide his laugh and when he looked up he’d managed to bite back his amusement enough to explain, “This isn’t a song I just… wrote , it’s not a song that just. Exists, for no real reason.” Allen grinned without saying a word and let Tyki reach out to brush a stray lock of hair from his face, watching his affectionate smile twitch and grow. “It’s for you,” he stressed, fingers resting in the hair behind Allen’s ear, “it exists for you. So you’ve gotta go in thinking that.” Allen dipped his head in a nod and Tyki grinned, his fingers stroking back to weave into Allen’s hair.

“Will I like it?” he asked with that small grin, tilting his head as invitation for Tyki to continue.

It wasn’t really cockiness so much as an assured confidence in Tyki’s voice when he said, smirking, “I can’t imagine a single reason why you wouldn’t.” His smile gentled and his fingers trailed down the back of Allen’s neck to play with the collar of his shirt, eyes drifting from Allen’s face to watch his dark fingers play against Allen’s white skin. “You said you wanted to be unbiased, but the point is to be biased. Good music isn’t good because it sounds good.” His breath caught on a quiet laugh and Allen found he couldn’t look away from the way honesty and saying something he meant made his eyes dark, intensely captivating despite that they weren’t at all on Allen’s face. “It’s not something you hear,” he murmured, lips curling with his smile, “it’s the intent of the song, the feeling.” His eyes darted up to catch Allen’s, fingers warm and still at the nape of his neck. “Going in without any expectations is going in asking to be disappointed,” he said and Allen thought he might understand what Tyki had meant yesterday about his alarming desire to kiss and be kissed. Right then Allen wanted little more than to press his lips to Tyki’s, taste the understated passion, the adoration traced into his words. Quietly, without any intention of applause, Tyki stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “If you’re just listening to the sounds, you’re not really listening at all.”

Allen pulled in a quiet breath and was glad to find it grounded him a little. With a small smile, only the slightest bit teasing, he said, “I guess you’ll just have to show me.”

Tyki’s smooth grin was coy, smug, eager. His fingers trailed quick and light up Allen’s neck, thumb flicking the lightest tease along his jaw. “Finish your essay first,” he said, and Allen followed the short look he shot to the laptop on Allen’s thighs.

He heaved a short sigh and muttered, fingers already going to finish the trailed-off sentence, “I don’t want to.”

Tyki gave a quiet chuckle at that and Allen felt the way his shoulders shook lightly with it, quietly relished the way he turned to drop his knee from the space between them and slide obnoxiously closer to Allen’s side. “What’ve you got left, two sentences?” he teased, “If abstinence doesn’t work maybe plain curiosity will.”

Allen rolled his eyes at the dig and drummed his fingers across the keyboard to the beat of whatever song was playing over the speakers - Punch Brothers, he was pretty sure. Alma was generally the one to play them. Not that it wasn’t Kanda’s taste, but Allen could tell the bitter barista was missing his sweet sunshine counterpart. Keep us singin’ my oh my, what a wonderful day. Allen deleted the ‘k’ he’d accidentally typed. Stared at the blank space it left. Sighed. “I hate writing.”

Tyki laughed again, ducking to cover his mouth when he found it far funnier than he was meant to. “You’re an author,” he remarked and Allen cracked a smile at that.

“I dare you,” he said slowly, struggling to hide the amusement in his voice while he caught the tail end of an absent thought and darted out to pin it down into the document, “to find one author,” he flowed smoothly into the next sentence and got stuck halfway through, “who actually enjoys what they do.”

Tyki gestured to the essay and remarked, “If it’s so horrible, would you like me to-”

“No,” Allen snapped reflexively, “no. There is a very specific way I need these sentences to sound,” he reasoned, scowling, “and so help me if you feed me one word I will break your fingers.” The moment the words left his mouth he winced and tilted his head to look imploringly at Tyki, who had his eyebrows arched in bland remark. “That was,” he started. “I mean. That’s...” Tyki’s lip twitched, betraying his amusement, and Allen huffed a heavy sigh. “I’ve got this,” he stressed and looked back at the document, slumping down a little in his seat.

Tyki breathed a quiet laugh and reached down to pick up their coffee from the table. He tucked his arm behind Allen’s shoulders while he took a sip and held it out for him, commenting with a small grin, “I understand completely.”

Allen easily accepted the moment’s respite from the blank coldhearted stare of his tauntingly almost-completed essay. The respite quickly turned into a distraction when he glanced over at the counter before sighing forlornly and sipping from the mug in his hands. “I miss Alma,” he mourned, watching Kanda sourly punch in the order for a cute customer with a sweet smile and incredible rainbow suspenders. “Kanda’s just…” he shook his head sadly, “no fun.”

“Kanda’s plenty fun,” Tyki countered with a devious grin. “Have you ever tried to give him a compliment?”

Allen sputtered a laugh and shook his head vehemently, admitting firmly, “No, I have not. Nor do I ever intend to try.”

“Well,” Tyki took the mug from Allen’s easy grip to dip his head for another sip, “if you’re looking for fun…”

“I mean,” Allen hummed, tilting his head while he watched Kanda punch the price into the eftpos with far more aggression than was strictly necessary, “sometimes I like to order a coffee without being faced with my own mortality, you know?”

Perfect timing, it seemed, for Kanda’s muttered, “Yeah we’re all gonna die anyway, why not just skip the middle man and inject pure sugar syrup into our bloodstreams, hope for the best?” to reach them in the lull of their conversation.

“Yeah,” Tyki sighed and sipped their coffee like he wished he was taking a drag from a cigarette, “I get what you mean.”

Allen squinted. “Do you think he’s stressed?” After a brief moment’s consideration he allowed, “Or is that just. That could just be him being normal, right?”

“He looks a little stressed,” Tyki allowed and pressed the coffee back into Allen’s hands. “Poor guy.”

“I swear to whatever gods you pray to,” Kanda was gritting while he dipped down to pull cold brew from the kicker and began filtering it into a plastic takeaway cup, “I’m this close to banning all three of you. See that sign?” he nodded to the warning sign with Tyki’s photo. “Do you want to end up like that?” Without waiting for the cute blue-haired customer to respond Kanda snapped, “No,” while he pumped syrup into their coffee. “So you, Kimmy and Ray had better stop fucking with me.”

Blandly, Tyki amended his comment. “Actually, I’m finding sympathy to be a difficult response.”

Allen nodded in easy understanding and complete, wholehearted agreement. “I can see why,” he observed and drank from the cup. “New guy,” he remarked suddenly when a grizzled man with grey pirate-hair and paint-flecked glasses came in from the back room. “Old guy,” he amended to the well-worn creases bracketing his mouth, the deep crow's feet behind the lenses of his glasses. They looked almost certainly as though they’d come from a long life of smiling - or, at least like… fifty-ish years, Allen supposed.

“I like the moustache,” Tyki commented in the same way he’d said I like the tweed to Link yesterday. That is, not quite sarcastically but almost certainly not truthfully. Like long ago someone had told him to ‘say something nice or don’t say anything at all’ and he’d just kind of vindictively been taking it the wrong way ever since.

Biting back his smile, Allen remarked, “I’m actually a fan. It really pulls the look together.” He took another sip of coffee and let the silence simmer for a moment before adding, “Just needs a parrot.”

Allen was glad he was the one holding the mug. He had a feeling Tyki would have just spat the coffee everywhere. “Wait,” he reasoned between stifled bouts of laughter, “wait, isn’t he - isn’t he the owner of this place?”

Allen straightened, surprised, and demanded, “What, really?” while he narrowed his eyes to squint at the man talking familiar and fond with a grouchy-looking Kanda as he set himself up at the register, a tea towel thrown over his shoulder. “So… he’s Kanda’s dad, right?”

“The artist,” Tyki nodded, deeply considering that. Allen glanced at him and after a moment Tyki looked back to meet him. “Bob Ross?” he asked, not at all a question.

Bringing up his hand in a halfhearted attempt to mask his quiet laughter, Allen nodded and agreed, “Bob Ross.”

“Finish your essay,” Tyki bluntly called an end to the distraction and reached out to pull the coffee from Allen’s hands even as he brought it up to drink.

“Seriously?” Allen scowled incredulously, eyes on the stolen coffee that Tyki brought to his own lips before stretching down to put it on the table at their feet.

“Stop distracting yourself,” was all Tyki said and gestured pointedly to the laptop.

Allen huffed an annoyed sigh, hating that he was right, and read over the conclusion. It all read well, flowed well, said some stuff. Then it cut short. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what the next word could be and it sucked. He was so close. Heaving a long, frustrated groan, Allen dropped his head back against Tyki’s arm. “I hate this,” he muttered to one of the burlap sacks pinned to the ceiling.

“You know what you’d hate more?” Tyki countered blandly.

“Knowing I got this far and couldn’t pull two lousy sentences out of my ass?” Allen groused, but when he rolled his head to glance at Tyki he was only giving a smug, distant smile.

“Knowing that I wrote a song for you and you never got to hear it because you were too lazy to pull two sentences out of your ass,” he corrected.

Allen blinked at him. Pretended he wasn’t thinking about how nice it felt to rest against Tyki’s side, on his arm. Pretended he didn’t want to turn and tuck his face against Tyki’s shoulder and close his eyes, breathe in the faint musk of Tyki’s cologne and warm summer skin and just. Sleep. “Tragic,” he said, and it came out probably less sarcastic than he’d intended.

“It would be,” Tyki agreed with a grin, “so…” He jostled his shoulder lightly, urging Allen to sit up and figure those sentences out. “Put that pretty head of yours to work.” Allen heaved himself to sit up with a weary sigh and opened his mouth, about to make some bitter comment, but was silenced by Tyki’s warm voice low beside his ear, rich tones rolling shudders across Allen’s skin. “Do it for me?”

Not quite sure of what to say for once, Allen muttered, “When you put it like that…” and found it startlingly easy to figure out those two lousy sentences. It took a couple of minutes and they weren’t nearly as climactic as he’d have liked, but that was usually how these things went. Still, there was nothing quite like the sweet sensation of dunking that last period into place.

“Do you have to email it?” Tyki asked, leaning forwards to rest his elbows on his knees and glancing over his shoulder to look at Allen.

He shrugged ambivalently with a sound of vague contradiction before answering simply, “Hard copy. I’ll be going to that class this afternoon, so I’ll stop by the library after this.”

“Speaking of,” Tyki commented, pushing himself to stand and turning to hold a completely unnecessary hand out for Allen, “why aren’t you in the library? Seems like a better environment for,” he gestured vaguely to Allen and his laptop and the comfortable couch he’d all but claimed as his own, “all that.”

Allen shrugged again and closed his laptop, placed it on the seat Tyki had just vacated and accepted his completely unnecessary hand. “Sure, I could,” he allowed as he stood, and felt it was somehow important that Tyki didn’t try to keep hold of his hand - that he dropped it politely and stood aside without ceremony, making a brief, unconscious gesture for Allen to walk ahead of him through the narrow paths between the eclectic dining and lounge sets that made up the cafe. “But it’s too quiet to focus in the library, and I’d have to walk like. At least fifty feet to get coffee.”

“Ten times further than necessary,” Tyki agreed with an amused grin. At the counter, he leaned a hand on the benchtop and shot the cafe owner a charming grin, one hand coming to rest lightly at the small of Allen’s back. “Do you take requests?” he asked smoothly, and Bob Ross gave a smile filled with such deep, endless warmth that Allen considered he might have liked to be adopted, if it didn’t mean he’d end up as Kanda’s brother or something.

He opened his mouth with something that looked very much like approval, his dark eyes twinkling warmly, but Kanda interrupted before a single word passed his lips by planting a full mug on the counter between them with a loud clatter. “Skim latte,” he called out to the cafe before lowering a glare at Tyki and biting out coldly, “No. We don’t.”

Bob Ross sighed wearily and brought a hand up to rub at his brow, tiredly reprimanding, “Yuu…”

“You said we get one veto,” Kanda turned his sour glare to his father-boss. “This is me,” he pointed again at the sign with Tyki’s face, “exerting my veto.”

Shaking his head disparagingly, Bob Ross tried to reason, “A veto for serving customers, Yuu. Taking requests is-”

“A privilege,” Kanda glowered coldly, “and not a right.”

With bland disappointment, Tyki commented, “Alma would never do this to me.”

Without giving an inch Kanda retorted, “Alma’s dead.”

Weakly from the back room they heard a clogged-up voice warble, “Quit telling everyone I’m dead.”

All four of their heads whipped around to the entrance, half expecting a shadowy-pale specter of Alma to appear in the doorway - snotty nose and eyebags and all.

Alarmed, Allen demanded, “Why are they still here?”

Kanda only rolled his eyes and answered bitingly, like it was meant to be obvious, “Because they live here?”

Confused, Tyki pressed, “What, they live in the cafe?”

Jaw tight, Kanda levelled his glare at Tyki and planted his hands on his hips, matching him without flinching. “I’m not endorsing your gross seduction of prepubescent boys, so can you stop blocking the counter and let me do my job?”

Frustrated more with the way Kanda seemed intent to circle back to that point in particular than pretty much anything else that was going on, Allen demanded in a firm voice that came out a touch louder than he’d intended, “Do I need to explain the definition of pedophilia to you?” A resounding silence from the crowd, and Allen glanced shortly over his shoulder to see both the couple seated at one of the tables and the two customers waiting somewhat patiently behind them to order were all just. Working very hard to look like they hadn’t heard that.

After a few beats of silence, filled only by the Mother Mother track playing over the speakers, Tyki brushed his hand lightly up Allen’s spine to rest between his shoulders. He turned that charming grin of his to Kanda and entreated, “If I say please…?”

Allen wasn’t quite sure how Kanda’s expression managed to turn even more sour, but he sure managed it. And then retorted, “I’m not putting your shitty song on. If I wanted brain cancer I’d stick my head in a microwave.”

Another bout of heavy silence, but at least they could hear the quiet murmur of the customers doing their own thing and not, like. Listening for any more questionable allusions to perverse sexual attractions. Tyki didn’t seem at all the type to take a comment from Kanda personally, though, and Allen was strongly of the belief that it was all dramatic effect. Tyki’s next words really only served to prove him right. “Why is everyone so mean today?” he asked and Allen dipped his head to snort a quiet, unimpressed laugh. “No, seriously,” Tyki insisted, not sounding serious at all, “I’ve already had you threaten to break my fingers,” he reminded Allen, shooting him a short, accusatory look that was completely undercut by the way he couldn’t quite bite back his own amusement.

Kanda, however, wasn’t quite so amused. “Ever think it might be because you’re an asshole?”

“I mean,” Tyki reasoned, blinking, “I had, but. I dismissed the idea under grounds of it being absolutely ridiculous.”

Allen, slightly more composed, arched a brow and stated, “I’d suggest you reconsider.”

Squinting with absolute confusion, Tyki looked down at Allen and asked incredulously, “Who’s side are you on?”

Feigning surprise, Allen responded simply, “There are sides?”

“There are sides,” Tyki confirmed vehemently, and in the same breath shook his head and pushed away from the counter, saying, “No, it’s fine, never mind. We can go to the music faculty and listen to it, I can make this work without Kanda’s inhospitality,” he stressed, narrowing his eyes at the barista, whose only response was to flip him off.

“Yuu,” Bob Ross scolded, appalled, but Tyki only laughed and pushed away from the counter, stepping aside to let the queue move along.

Allen followed him, still more amused than anything, and grinned when Tyki suggested, “So… music faculty? The studios have better quality than your average surround system anyway,” he reasoned with an easy shrug.

“Sounds wonderful,” Allen allowed, then ducked his head to laugh at himself while they made their way back to the lounge set.

“It does sound wonderful,” Tyki agreed with an amused quirk to his lips, catching the point of Allen’s laughter. “That’s the point.” Allen began packing his laptop back into his bag and Tyki picked up their coffee from the table, took a sip before holding it out for Allen to drink the rest. “Midday on a Thursday,” he cocked his head as he considered. “There’s bound to be an empty room.”

Allen stilled, the coffee halfway to his lips. “Oh,” he remarked, blinking. “Um. You mean…” Tyki was casting him a questioning look, a small smile on his lips, and the way Allen’s stomach dropped out honestly felt horrible. “...right now?” he finished, lowering the coffee and keeping himself completely still.

Tyki’s expression slipped into a confused frown, and Allen could already feel his shoulders curling under the disappointment that Tyki hadn’t even gotten to yet. “Well,” he said blandly, “yeah? I mean,” he glanced away, around the shop, as though looking for a reason why that wouldn’t be fine. “Is that not…”

“I have a class in twenty minutes,” Allen said, and winced at how that sounded. “On. On the other side of- like, it’ll take me about-”

“Ten minutes to get there, and you have to stop by the library,” Tyki recounted almost mechanically, and his eyes hadn’t quite found their way back to Allen’s. “Yeah,” he sighed again, but it didn’t… It wasn’t a sympathetic sound at all - and Allen never expected him to be sympathetic, but the sympathy was replaced with, well. That really resigned kind of disappointment that liked to curl its fist around his lungs.

“Wait, that’s,” he stumbled over his words, dropping the strap of his bag and reaching out, letting his hand hesitate uncertainly between them. “I don’t…” he started, and bit at the inside of his cheek while he tried desperately to think of some sort of compromise before Tyki could shake his head and sigh and mutter something like ‘it’s fine, forget it,’ because Allen wanted to hear that song, he. “I don’t get out til seven,” he told him, eyebrows pinched together, and he found his hand was clinging to Tyki’s shirt somewhere above his hip. Pleading. “I have four back-to-back classes, so…”

Tyki glanced at his hand, then at Allen himself. Allen could see the hesitation, the reluctance, and his fingers tightened in the light cotton of Tyki’s button-up. Tyki glanced away again, sighed again, but this time it sounded something like defeat. “I have a comp seminar from seven to nine-thirty,” he muttered and lifted his hand to scrape his fingers through his hair.

Allen’s hand loosened in Tyki’s shirt, his own eyes darting away. “I,” he cleared he throat, dropping his hand, “There’s a night workshop from nine til ten. It goes for another week, but,” he shrugged helplessly, “the rest are booked. I got one of the last slots.” It… It didn’t feel right. Not at all. How about tomorrow? He couldn’t ask that. He couldn’t. That was… Tyki had already waited a month. Allen couldn’t let himself be that selfish. He couldn’t ask him to stay after making no effort to keep him around. But he had that feeling - that if it didn’t work out, it just. Wouldn’t. The thought twisted uncomfortably in his stomach and his mind flashed to the song he’d skipped over last night, unable to let himself hear it.

It’s like taking sips from your cup of coffee, smoking a cigarette after dinnertime. All in all, it will be fine.

Allen swallowed against the dread, the strange sense of inevitable loss that tingled numbly in his fingertips. He’d waited too long. He’d gotten too scared and waited too long and - just letting Tyki stick around with his insistent affection wasn’t an indulgence, like he’d convinced himself it was. God, was he just so terrified of commitment that he treated the idea of someone actually genuinely liking him as a joke?

It wasn’t, it wasn’t - and as lighthearted as Tyki was about it and as stupid as Allen was for playing it like it was a game- ugh he hated when Kanda was right. How did he sleep at night? In a deep, deep state of denial, apparently.

Tyki’s face made it look like there wasn’t much for it, and the sigh Allen could see building in his chest seemed to say the same. His eyes flickered away, wishing he could find something to say so he could stop that helpless sensation of sand slipping through his fingers.

When the sigh came it… wasn’t quite what Allen expected, somehow. He’d been anticipating something long and weary and defeated. The breath that puffed through Tyki’s lips was short, and almost sounded annoyed. “God,” he muttered, and Allen glanced up - more out of confusion than any kind of misguided hope. Tyki’s head was angled back and his eyes were pinned to the soft panelling of burlap sacks on the ceiling, shaking his head minutely. “I’m an idiot.” His eyes darted down to catch Allen’s and he stressed, “This isn’t even a problem.” Allen frowned a little at that, his confusion deepening, and cocked his head. The unstoppable stream of sand seemed to be slowing, and he clenched his fingers quietly in the sudden, ridiculous hope that it might not be a lost opportunity after all. Tyki held his hand out as though to point out something glaringly obvious while he explained, “I’ve broken into the music faculty plenty of times to master a song like two hours before it’s due.”

Allen stared for a moment, taking that in with a blank face and slightly parted lips. He blinked. “Oh my god.”

“I mean,” Tyki shrugged somewhat abashedly, and grinned at Allen, “if you’d like to come on a midnight tryst…”

“Oh my god,” Allen repeated, a relieved laugh bubbling over into his voice. Shook his head a little, disbelieving. “Nice use of the word ‘tryst’.”

“I try,” Tyki grinned. Allen arched his eyebrows expectantly and Tyki shook his head, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Not doing it,” he refuted and Allen snorted a laugh but let it go with a shrug. “Where’s the workshop happening?” Tyki asked, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his phone. “I’ll meet you.”

Allen glanced at his watch, bit his lip at the elapsing minutes, and reached out to pluck Tyki’s phone from his hand. “I’ve got to run,” he said, eyes on his fingers while he struggled to find the phonebook on the unfamiliar homescreen, “but just. Text me,” he instructed, typing his number in and saving the contact, dropping himself a text with practiced ease. He pressed the phone back into Tyki’s hand and glanced up, letting his always-cool fingers linger on Tyki’s warm palm for a beat too long. Eyes on Tyki’s, he grinned and reached down to sling his bag over his shoulder. “Can’t wait to hear it,” he said, warm and sincere with the slightest hint of that tease.

Bringing the cup to his lips, Allen tilted his head back and drank what was left before turning to go, stopping only to place the empty mug on the table. It was a different kind of something than what he was used to, feeling Tyki’s eyes on him as he left. He was used to having eyes on him. He wasn’t used to caring whose they were.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t long after he’d left the cafe that Allen got the first text. His phone vibrated in his back pocket as he was pushing through the door to the library. He didn’t really have the time to stop - had to rush through connecting to the shitty printing system the university used, and then fuck around with figuring out how to make the printer eat his quarter so would give him his five pages of assignment. It took longer than he’d hoped, and he ended up half-jogging across campus with his bag strap clutched in one hand and assignment getting lightly creased in his other.

Falling into his seat towards the back of the classroom in a huff, Allen sprawled his legs out beneath the chair front and dropped his bag into the space beside him. Jaeger entered the lecture room while Allen was catching himself - not quite out of breath, but huffing from the rush he’d been in to make it on time. He pushed himself to sit up while Jaeger arranged his slides, and only remembered Tyki’s text when he felt his phone vibrate with another while he was digging around in his bag for a pen and notebook.

Biting back his smile, Allen worked his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen from beneath the edge of the tiny lecture theatre desk.

xxxx-xxx-xxx: send nudes

Grinning at his own text drop, Allen pulled the notification down and had to hold himself back from laughing at Tyki’s follow-up messages.

xxxx-xxx-xxx: how did you end up with four back to back classes tho
xxxx-xxx-xxx: no offence, u dont seem very dux-minded

What a way to put it. Allen glanced up and saw Jaeger was only just going through the… what the Contents slide? Boring and unnecessary. Yeah, not very dux-minded. Whatever. Quickly, keeping his phone below the edge of the desk, Allen opened the messages properly and typed out a short reply.

Lily Allen: long story involving a teachers desk a TA and something about tenure

While he waited for Tyki’s response he took a moment to save his number. His reply, when it came, was short and eloquent.

bassfucker: ...wow

Allen grinned and slid his phone flat on the seat between his thighs, tucked his legs under his chair and crossed his ankles. Eyes on where Jaeger was finally starting the class proper, Allen folded his arms at the edge of his desk and leaned forwards. He smirked when he felt Tyki’s questions vibrate insistently beneath his legs, but didn’t look at his phone again for the whole two-hour lecture.

It was only while walking through the building to his next class that Allen cast a cursory glance to Tyki’s new messages.

bassfucker: im curious, youll have to tell me about it sometime
bassfucker: just realised ive got no idea whats involved in a creative writing course

Allen laughed quietly at that, let his steps slow a little as he tapped out a reply.

Lily Allen: omw to short fiction, just had two hours of history of fine arts. analysis of genre next, then modern and classics
Lily Allen: Also took a journalism class to make up credits, its shit

He locked his phone screen and picked up his feet, a small smile sitting on his lips. If Allen was being honest history of fine arts was pretty shit too, but that just meant the worst two hours of his day were over and he could let himself enjoy the rest of his classes. History was pretty much pointless anyway - a lot of the important content was covered in short fiction, and Allen didn’t have much interest in the growth of poetry or visual art or dance, or even in how they all might relate to and influence one another. He didn’t care. But, credits and all that.

He didn’t get another message from Tyki until he was settled in his short fiction class, and he allowed himself the indulgence of glancing at it under his desk again. Not that he was, you know. Dux-minded. But Allen found if he wasn’t paying attention in the class itself then it would be all but hopeless to try catch up on what he’d missed during a lapse in attention. Visual learner, and all that. God, he envied people who could sit and listen to lecture recordings and have that be enough.

bassfucker: Yeah, no one fucks in journalism

Which was obviously not true, considering how much sensational media was composed of who’s fucking who, but Allen was of a mind that Tyki wasn’t thinking about clickbait articles.

Lily Allen: you’d be surprised

They kept on like that for most of the afternoon, lazily exchanging messages between lapses of attention. Allen asked about what Tyki had saved him as and Tyki linked him to It’s Not Fair , which Allen only let himself listen to when his short fiction professor brought up Oscar Wilde, and he ended up having to stifle his laughter into the sleeve of his hoodie. Not that he wasn’t a fan of Oscar Wilde - the opposite, really. He’d done as many essays on him as possible throughout high school and his first semester of undergrad, thoroughly explored the homoromantic undertones (and sometimes overtones) of his stories and poems. Like, he had it covered. His teachers really probably couldn’t tell him shit he didn’t already know.

When Tyki asked about the name Allen had set for him, Allen really only had one explanation.

Lily Allen: you just kinda seem like, given the chance, you’d probably fuck a bass
bassfucker: thats fair

Halfway through his last class, Allen noticed the quiet rattle he could hear was rain falling on the roof. Chin in his hand, he glanced out the window across the room and watched it fall from the heavy grey sky as the sun slowly set. A few minutes before the class ended, Allen got another message from Tyki.

bassfucker: campbell got Fucked Up by the rain ahahaha
bassfucker: [image enclosed]

Allen blinked at the image, taken from the back of a lecture hall similar to the one he was in. Down near the desk at the front, Allen snorted a laugh when he recognised his uncle. His usually-impressive hair was plastered to his head and he had a particularly sour expression that reminded Allen absurdly of a wet cat. Then he frowned.

Lily Allen: wait, neahs your composition prof??

While he packed his books away into his bag he watched the intermittent bubble of Tyki’s typing, trying to remember if Tyki had ever mentioned Neah before this. Or, like. If he even knew that Allen was related to him.

bassfucker: he pushed me to enrol in the conservatory actually ahaha pretty sure he personally granted my scholarship

Allen paused and sat at the desk for a moment longer, tucking his legs in to let his cohort file out around him. Well. It wans’t as though Neah really bothered to keep Allen up to date with his work, or that Allen would really care under any other circumstances, or even that it was particularly important, but…

Lily Allen: i didnt think he even LIKED his students. never imagined hed pick favourites lmao
bassfucker: i am definitely not a favourite ahahaha
bassfucker: if he were a lesser man hed fail me out of spite

Allen somehow wasn’t surprised at all. Not that he knew a lot about Neah’s ethics with regards to teaching, but he had tried to teach Allen piano back when he’d first adopted him out of the Church’s foster care and, like. It had been Neah’s idea originally and Allen had definitely thought it would be fun and then his uncle had indiscriminately proven that nepotism and favouritism weren’t in his repertoire when it came to teaching music. And adding Tyki’s personality into the equation? Yeah, Allen wasn’t surprised.

Lily Allen: yeah, that sounds like him

Brushing off any idea that it might be a thing, Allen picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He walked out of the classroom and found he was following his usual footsteps towards True Neutral before his comatose critical thinking caught up with the fact that it was fucking raining. But, like. What the hell else was he gonna do? Then his phone shook with an alert. Expecting it to be Tyki, Allen glanced at the screen and found an unknown number that he just instinctively recognised as Lavi - not that he’d ever been texted by Lavi, obviously, but. It was just so blatantly him that Allen honestly couldn’t imagine anyone else it might be. Also, what were the chances that Tyki would have immediately shared Allen’s contact details with his best friend and confidant? Too fucking likely.

xxxx-xxx-xxx: so im missing my favourite erotica el ‘omosexual. Hmu babes im sitting on ur favourite sofa being Far Too Straight just aaallll over it

Instinctively, Allen replied.

Oscar Wilde: its fucking raining
xxxx-xxx-xxx: so run ?????

Allen’s feet stopped and he brought his phone closer to his face, all the better to squint at Lavi. How the fuck was Oscar Wilde relevant, and how did Lavi know? Ridiculous. Tyki didn’t even know about Wilde, as far as Allen knew. Theoretically no-one except his professors knew. And, like. Suman. Fuck. Suman. Yeah, what were the chances Lavi knew him too? Because, like. Pretty high. The guy seemed to know everyone, honestly.

Allen glanced up out the doors ahead of him into the dark and the quiet rain, patches of drops highlighted silver under the streetlamps. Looked back down at his phone. Well. It’s not as though he had actually planned to do anything other than exactly what Lavi was telling him to do.

Oscar Wilde: i’ll be there in like five minutes
xxxx-xxx-xxx: thats the spirit!!!!!! whats ur coffee order?? i wanna get it Specifically Wrong

Shaking his head, Allen huffed what might have been a laugh and took a moment to check that his bag was secure and rainproof-ish, and his laptop wasn’t about to fall apart with a little bit of light jostling. He took another half-second to respond to Lavi before sliding his phone into his bag, securing it on his shoulder and darting out in a quick jog, the summer rain warm on his skin and his feet slapping satisfyingly on the wet pavement.

Oscar Wilde: thanks honey ur an angel, was getting sick of being vanilla. surprise me ;)

In all honesty the rain wasn’t even bad. The heaviest of the shower had already passed, leaving little more than a drizzle. It was more refreshing than anything, and when Allen arrived at True Neutral he was huffing a relaxed pant, the light run having woken him up after something like seven hours of classes. Pushing through the door, Allen combed his fingers through his damp hair and rubbed at the sharp buzz above the nape of his neck.

Quickly glancing around, he saw a couple of strung-out looking students working at their laptops with coffee by their sides, Kanda with his elbows planted on the countertop and his eyes blatantly on the phone in his hands, and that shock of bright red hair and a devilish grin that was and could only be Lavi. He glanced up from his own phone at Allen’s arrival and scooted across the sofa with one of the widest, most devilish grins Allen had seen on him yet. Grinning back at him like they were about to pull the biggest prank of the century, Allen slid into the space between the coffee table and the couch and fell to sit on the seat Lavi had made for him.

“Who gave you my number?” Allen asked first, reaching for the steaming coffee sitting plainly on the table. He exchanged the coffee for his bag, slinging it from his shoulder and dropping it carefully on the table while he leaned back.

“Not to throw him further under the bus,” Lavi snickered, “but, Suman. Like three months ago. You asked for hazelnut, right?” he nodded to the coffee in Allen’s hands.

Allen shrugged ambivalently. He hadn’t asked for anything, particularly. “Why have you had my number for three months?” he squinted at Lavi. “Why are you breaking the silence and texting me now?”

“I like to have everyone’s numbers,” Lavi reasoned with a grin, “to invite them to parties and shit. But I usually tell you about them in person, so,” he shrugged.

Allen sipped the coffee and didn’t let up his narrow-eyed look. “Why did Suman give you my number?”

Lavi laughed and shrugged again, grandiose. “I asked him for it? He’s very helpful.”

Allen made a sound of agreement and inclined his head to that. “Yeah, he really is actually. He’ll make a good teacher.”

“Not by giving out his students’ phone numbers, of course.” Lavi pinned Allen with a sly look. “Or… by sleeping with them?”

Allen’s lips twitched with a laugh and he reasoned, “To be fair, he was very against it from the start. I’m just very,” he paused on the word, a sharp grin sliding onto his expression, “persuasive.”

“Yeah,” Lavi laughed, “and you also had no intentions of actually ruining his career, so you’re  practically a keeper.”

“I mean,” Allen’s grin turned wry, “obviously not.” He gestured vaguely around them, encapsulating all of True Neutral in the small movement, “No offence, but do you think I’d be sitting here drinking coffee every day when I could be out getting one of the best lays I’ve ever had?”

“And yet,” Lavi held up a finger, “that’s exactly what you’re doing.” Allen arched his brows and sipped his coffee. The hazelnut was quickly growing on him. “Tyki,” Lavi supplied with the smallest eye roll, “obviously.”

“I genuinely don’t think this conversation has passed the Bechdel Test yet,” Allen remarked simply, not particularly wanting to go further down this road.

“Listen, Becky,” Lavi planted his elbow on the backrest of the couch and propped his cheek on his hand, “I am here as the incriminating little bitch I am in order to help my best friend.”

“Not me,” Allen clarified immediately, and Lavi rolled his eyes.

“I love ya, boo,” he reached out and Allen winced while he ruffled his hair, “but I am talking about Tyki, yes.”

“Does he need help?” Allen arched a skeptical brow.

Lavi’s face pinched in a kinda-sorta expression and he tilted his head from side to side. “Eehhh,” he allowed at length, “not really. But I definitely don’t think you’re getting a good read on him.” Allen frowned. “Like,” Lavi shrugged a little, “exceptions don't… really know when they’re exceptions, right?”

“I guess?” Allen offered, not supplying more than that.

“Weeeelll,” he dragged out and glanced around the cafe, “he’s not, like. A patient guy,” Lavi admitted and glanced back to Allen’s politely intrigued expression. “So this is all kinda weird, honestly.”

“He was half a second away from dropping it all today,” Allen admitted, and he thought he might know what Lavi meant. Tyki was not, by nature, a patient man. Allen figured he’d sort of known that all along. Part of the game, really. How long could he keep a guy like Tyki interested? God, he hated himself sometimes.

“Yeah,” Lavi gave a small grin, “he told me. But you’re like,” he shrugged again, “his muse, or something,” he snorted a laugh. “Not that lame though. He wants to write when he’s around you.” His smile seemed to go gentle around the edges and Allen found he didn’t have anything to do with his hands. He flicked his thumbnail against the ceramic of the mug’s handle, listening to the quiet ting it made. “Not to scare you off or anything,” Lavi said, and Allen hoped desperately that his next words wouldn’t bring that vague feeling of being overcome bubbling up. “Like, he’s written thousands of songs. But I reckon a solid two dozen are about you.” God, that. That was… No, he could deal with that. Two dozen? Fuck. Maybe he couldn’t. That was a lot. Allen blinked and didn’t say anything. “I mean, maybe one or two will ever actually turn into something, y’know? But that’s not really the point.”

No, the point was that they’d been written regardless. The point was that Allen inspired Tyki, that Tyki liked him, that he gave Tyki something to write about. “He wrote one for me last night,” Allen said, and figured he should stop being surprised by Lavi’s knowing grins.

“I was there,” Lavi admitted, and Allen was filled with the urge to groan and drop his face into his hands, “and I’m not saying you’re obliged to love it, but. I genuinely don’t think you’ll have a choice.”

Allen sighed a little, his shoulders drooping. He’d asked for this. He’d literally told Tyki to try harder. What was he doing? “What am I doing?” he asked, because he honestly didn’t have anything approaching an answer.

Lavi snorted a laugh, too clever to misinterpret Allen’s reaction. “Same thing you’ve always done,” he said easily, and Allen glanced up with a questioning look. “Whatever the fuck you want.” Allen glanced away, not quite agreeing but unable to put his disagreement into thoughts or words or. Anything. He had… really fucked up with Suman. And that hadn’t even been a thing - that was them fucking around because Allen had thought it’d be fun. He didn’t think he had the liberty to do that, here. He didn’t think he wanted to. When it came to Lavi, Allen supposed he didn’t really need to be able to put that hesitation into words. “Suman was months ago, and he was your TA. You literally can’t fuck this up in any way.”

“I kind of already did,” Allen stressed, forcing himself to relax his grip on the coffee mug and bring it to his lips.

“Yeah,” he could practically hear Lavi rolling his eyes, “cause you kept second-guessing yourself.” Allen shot him a pleading look and Lavi brought his hand up to ruffle his hair again - gentler this time, a little bit ruefully fond. “When have you ever had to think so hard about what you want?”

Allen scoffed an exasperated huff and glanced aside, opened his mouth with the intention of making some scathing, bitter comment. Closed his eyes when he realised he didn’t have one, because Lavi was absolutely one hundred percent correct. “Never have I ever,” he sighed grudgingly, “thought twice about getting what I wanted.”

“Let yourself fall in love for once, loser,” Lavi commented, and Allen rolled his eyes.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he muttered, but allowed himself an unwilling grin when Lavi bumped his shoulder. “Are you ready to ace that test yet?” Allen arched a brow at Lavi and drank from his mug before reaching down to pull his laptop from his bag. “What are you doing here so late? You don’t have classes, do you?”

“I fucked my sleep schedule again,” Lavi grinned, “so I’m here to keep Yuu company.”

“You literally don’t know how to pass the Bechdel, do you?” Allen remarked drily and Lavi laughed while shaking his head in answer.

“I really don’t,” he snickered and Allen decided he might as well just give it up as a lost cause.

He hadn’t written anything fun for two days in deferral to his almost-late essay but as soon as he pulled up a document to work on, it was a matter of having a thousand ideas with no time to write them coming to zero ideas when he had all the time in the world. He drummed his fingers across the keyboard and re-wrote the same three words five times before Lavi decided to interrupt.

“Isn’t that boring?”

Allen blinked and glanced over at him. “Not particularly,” he lied. “A little,” he amended a moment later without being prompted. “I don’t know what to write.”

Lavi leaned over his shoulder to look at the screen and asked, “Well, what are you writing?”

Allen heaved a sigh. Good question. “Stuff,” he muttered.

“That’s plenty helpful,” Lavi mocked and Allen spread his hands in incredulous supplication.

“If I knew what I wanted to say,” he reasoned, “don’t you think I’d just say it?”

After a long moment spent with both of them staring at the document as though hoping it to magically come up with the next word itself, Lavi commented, “I don’t see what I can do to help, honestly.”

“I don’t think I asked you to help.” Maybe he had though. Had he? He didn’t think so. Maybe he had.

“So what does Tyki do here for like three hours every other day?” Lavi asked, and when Allen glanced over he saw Lavi’s brows were pinched with deep, genuine confusion.

“Uh,” Allen stated and looked down at the document, “sit there?” he hazarded. “Antagonise Kanda and try to distract me?”

“Yeah, but,” Lavi gestured a little, “you guys talk, right? I see you talking all the time. How do you write and talk?”

That… was another good question. Allen drummed his fingers across the keyboard again. “Practice, I guess,” he reasoned. Actually thinking more deeply on that for the first time, Allen bit at the inside of his cheek and admitted, “he has a nice voice.”

“To write to?” Lavi pressed, arching his brows.

Allen shrugged abashedly. “I guess,” he allowed ambivalently. Because… yes, but also just to listen to and to talk to and get distracted by. He managed to create some strange balance between being distracting and being helpful, and he could just quietly talk about something while Allen listened with one ear and he wasn’t bothered when he didn’t have all his attention all of the time. He would sit there and read over Allen’s shoulder and throw jokes about what he was writing, and those jokes sometimes made it into the story. He’d offer a word or two where Allen needed them and they weren’t always the ones Allen used but they were somehow always what helped him find the ones that fit.

He’d just sit there and sing sometimes. Quietly hum along to whatever song was playing over the speakers, absently click his fingers. He had a song for everything, and Allen never failed to be impressed and a little bit dismayed with how easily he could connect some short piece of dialogue with the lyrics of a song Allen had never heard of.

And always, always, always, he had some kind of sly comment or unsolicited advice to give on Allen’s scenes. Anything from ‘I’d be willing to show you just how physically impossible that position is’ to ‘I think I need a fucking blood transfusion, thanks’, and for some ridiculous reason Allen, more often than not, took those remarks to heart. Would grudgingly reevaluate a position with Tyki’s Kama Sutra for reference, or just quietly try to outdo himself until Tyki did that thing of his - an arm folded across his stomach with his elbow resting on his wrist, hand shading his mouth while he closed his eyes for a long moment and turned his head to stare at something inarguably boring. Allen always claimed it an absolute victory if he could get Tyki to run out of smartass comments.

“What was even the deal with Suman, honestly?”

Allen blinked away from the untouched document he’d been staring at and glanced over at Lavi. “Sorry?” he frowned, not quite certain where that’d come from.

“Just curious,” Lavi reasoned easily and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. “You guys weren’t, like. Together together, right?”

“Not that I know of,” Allen hummed ambivalently and pinned his gaze up on the tabs above his document, feigning interest in them. “I don’t particularly like commitment and he didn’t particularly like me, so,” he shrugged. “It worked.”

He looked over to see Lavi’s face was stuck on an expression kind of like a smile but just filled with skeptical confusion. “Not… not really,” he countered slowly. “That’s not working, that’s…” he frowned and tried to think of a word before just settling on, “not working. What did you guys do?” he asked, and spoke up exasperated over Allen’s arched brows, “Apart from have sex. Obviously.”

Allen pursed his lips. “Not a whole lot,” he admitted. “We didn’t have many similar interests, and I think he kind of hates that I write erotica.”

“Did he ever read anything you wrote?” Lavi asked, and Allen shrugged.

“Not unless he had to mark it for class,” he said. “It’s not like he graded me any different because of our relationship though,” he reasoned and ignored Lavi’s scoff at ‘relationship’, “so I don’t really care what he likes.” He kind of did, and he could tell Lavi knew it from the sour twist of his lips. He huffed out a short sigh and rolled his eyes to a corner of the soft ceiling of the cafe. “He was so pretentious,” he muttered and Lavi snickered a laugh. “Every time he opened his mouth, it was like - you could care a little less about telling people how much you don’t care about them.”

Laughing, Lavi hissed a whisper under his breath, “Wait wait oh my god watch this.” Speaking at a normal volume, his voice still coloured with laughter, he asked, “what about Link?”

Allen frowned and his eyes flicked to Kanda for half a second before going back to Lavi. “What about him?” he asked, pretty sure he knew what Lavi was trying to do.

“What, when you hear the word ‘pretentious’ you don’t just immediately think tweed and valise?”

Allen stifled a laugh and glanced away, shaking his head. “Yeah,” he admitted, “but he’s not, like. A dick about it.”

“What are you idiots talking about?” Kanda bit out like he’d been cued, and Allen and Lavi glanced at each other for a moment before falling apart into quickly-hushed laughter.

“Like clockwork,” Lavi gasped out between giggles and Allen nodded his head with a hand clamped over his mouth.

Kanda, incensed, snapped, “Quit laughing like schoolgirls, you fucking morons. I saw you looking at me, shorty.”

“We gotta,” Lavi snickered under his breath to Allen, curling up a little to hold his stomach while he laughed, “we gotta do something, right?”

“Do we?” Allen countered, thriving off Kanda’s bitterness.

Lavi rolled his eyes and nudged Allen’s shoulder with his own and stressed, “We dooooo. What, you think either of them are gonna do it themselves?”

Allen shook his head with a wide grin, taunting eyes darting back over to Kanda scowling angrily from the counter. “Not at all,” he stated, smile turning a bit sly. “That’s why it’s so funny.”

“Wow,” Lavi remarked, snorting a laugh and falling back against the couch. “You and Tyki are like two sadistic little peas in one gorgeous ass pod.”

Allen laughed at that, ducked his head and shook his head abashedly. “I don’t need to ask why he doesn’t care about those two,” Allen said, keeping his statement intentionally vague for Kanda. “I’m more confused by why you’re so invested.”

Loftily, Lavi announced, “I consider myself a matchmaker, of sorts. Cupid, if you will.”

Allen snickered into his coffee and commented drily, “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“Well,” Lavi allowed grandly, “couples on the fasttrack don’t generally need my help, see?”

Grinning cheekily, Allen taunted, “Were you helping Tyki from the sidelines too?”

Laughing proudly, self-satisfied, Lavi stated, “I’ve been helping Tyki since long before this was a thing. Boy needs all the help he can get.”

Allen arched a brow in question but Lavi only grinned smugly without offering anything more. A pretty half-hearted effort for an ‘incriminating bitch’, if Allen was honest. He definitely needed to hear all about that, but Lavi seemed resolute. Allen was far to proud to give in to the desire to ask.

Their conversation absently flowed between teasing jibes and easy remarks, Allen pretending to try to write while Lavi thoroughly succeeded in distracting him from that entire possibility. Allen found it surprisingly easy to talk to Lavi. Not that it had ever been difficult, but he honestly didn’t remember having much one-on-one time with him before. There was always Tyki or Kanda or Alma between them, or Link in the cases where Allen had run into him between classes. But he found he liked Lavi’s brand of quirkiness, his unending exuberance and the way he somehow seemed to know everything about everyone. Allen wasn’t entirely sure where he got his sources, or how he seemed to recall every detail in that endless fountain of gossip, but Allen found himself enjoying it nonetheless.

“So, what are you guys gonna do?” Lavi pried while Allen packed away his laptop and the facsimile of productiveness, his hour and a half up.

“Hmm?” Allen hummed nonchalantly, his hands stumbling over the straps. “What,” he glanced over at Lavi’s keen-eyed expression, “Tyki and I?” Lavi gave a look as though to ask who the fuck else he could be talking about, and Allen glanced down at his fingers to fiddle absently with the bag. “I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted.

“What, you don’t have any idea?” Lavi asked, skeptical. Knowing. Allen hated how perceptive he could be.

“I have a few,” he admitted loftily, and stood up to sling his bag over his shoulder. “It’ll do no good to make assumptions, though,” he reasoned and ignored Lavi’s snicker. “I could end up wrong, or I could end up right. Doesn’t matter to the outcome.”

“How prudent,” Lavi enunciated, sassy.

Allen shot him an unimpressed look. “Well,” he grumbled, “why don’t you tell me how it’s going to go?”

“Cause I haven’t got a clue,” he answered easily, giving Allen a lazy smile. Allen rolled his eyes. “No, honestly,” he remarked, his grin turning amused. “There’s any number of ways this could go down. In the dark recording studio,” he teased, and Allen glanced away with an exasperated sigh, “no-one around but the two of you. Y’know, those soundproof rooms certainly have their perks,” he taunted and Allen stepped off with a huff.

“Yeah, well. If we fuck I’ll be sure to let you know. Just so the whole campus will get the bulletin.”

“Please,” Lavi laughed, sprawling across the space Allen had vacated, “Tyki will have me updated, like. A decade before you get around to it.”

Allen turned his back, ducking his head on a laugh. “Let me know how your latest project comes along, Cupid,” he commented drily while he left the cafe. He pushed through the doors before he could hear Lavi’s sarcastic reply, and was faced once more with the threat of a light drizzle. It was fine, though. He’d been caught in worse. Taking a moment under the eaves, Allen tightened his grip on his bag and checked that everything was covered before stepping out into the warm summer rain.

Trekking across the wet pavement towards the fine arts lecture halls, Allen thought on Lavi’s last few comments. He shouldn’t be surprised that Tyki kept Lavi updated on these things - and he wasn’t surprised, in fact. Not after two hours of being unsurprised by how Lavi seemed to know everything about everything. But… it sure was something to think about, right?

What were they going to do?

Allen could imagine, honestly. He could imagine them sneaking through the dark halls of the music faculty, could imagine stifled laughter and quiet taunts. A nameless, beatless song, and Tyki’s hands at Allen’s waist. Inclining his head closer, letting Allen make the last move. Always, always. Giving the invitation and letting Allen accept it.

The song didn’t even matter, somehow. A blank blip on Allen’s otherwise quite clear image of how this evening would go - the only way it could go. Allen’s fingers in Tyki’s thick, silk hair and his plush, sinfully full lips against Allen’s. At least that.

At least.

From the moment Allen sat himself in the workshop he knew it would be a wasted effort. A shame, really. A damn shame. If he’d ditched it he’d have been able to meet up with Tyki that much sooner.

If he weren’t so pitifully distracted by thinking about Tyki, the class might have been worth it.

For the whole hour he was a distracted mess of bitten lips and fiddling fingers, eyes drifting around the class while his frayed attention not taking in a thing. He tapped his pen against his chin, cracked his knuckles before forcing himself to stop. Took to popping the cap of his pen off with his thumb and squishing it back on a moment later, over and over. Looked down at his page, all but devoid of notes. Ridiculous. Allen put down the pen, placed his chin in his hand and stared distractedly at Jaeger, up at the front talking about, uh. Something. Something about recognising poetic devices as they were used instinctively and learning how to apply them consciously - something something something. Allen sighed quietly. He’d never fucking learn how to do that anyway, through any course of action but practice. Trying that hard just felt fake.

Allen snorted a laugh to himself. Trying felt fake. Yeah, not very dux-minded at all.

Like he’d been summoned by the thought (he hadn’t, he absolutely hadn’t. Allen had been thinking about him all through the class, it would have been more of a coincidence had it happened at a point where Allen had actually been paying attention), Allen’s phone alerted him quietly to a message from Tyki.

bassfucker: i dont think u actually told me where ur workshop was happening though how am i meant to wait for u like a sweet and thoughtful boyfriend if i dont know where u are ????

Allen arched his eyebrows incredulously down at his lap, and the small smile twitching at his lips was a bit confused about whether he was meant to be expressing endearment or crass amusement.

Lily Allen: im at MBL lol but??? Crawl before you walk?? Ahahaha

Honestly he didn’t even bother to lock his phone and pretend to go back to paying attention. Pressed for the home screen and scrolled through some apps before he got a banner for Tyki’s response.

bassfucker: listen. Listen. would u hire an actor who half assed the audition???
bassfucker: go hard or go home

Allen stifled his smile with his hand, endearment winning out.

Lily Allen: fair point lmfao

He glanced back up at Jaeger for a moment, chewing his lip while he considered just how much more useful this workshop was going to get for him. Realistically, he’d probably spend what remained of the hour letting himself get distracted by Tyki because he had a very weak will and Tyki was very good at bending it. Not to mention he hadn’t taken in a single damn thing that was being said.

Lily Allen: let me know when you get here lol this workshop is trash
bassfucker: my oh my, are u planning on ditching class, boy?

Allen bit back his amused smile and glanced up around the classroom, trying and probably failing to look like he wasn’t just grinning down at his lap. But no-one seemed to be paying him any particular attention, so. Whatever. It wasn’t like he’d been paying attention the at all before this anyway. Allen slumped back against his chair and tapped his screen to keep it from dimming before typing out a reply, a small smile on his lips.

Allen glanced up at Jaeger and then surreptitiously around the classroom, teeth digging at his cheek in shrewd calculation before he simply shrugged off any concern and began tucking his almost untouched notebook back into his bag. Standing from his seat quietly and without ceremony, he slung the bag over his shoulder and slipped quietly through the tables to the wall so he could step unobtrusively around the class to the door.

Half a glance over his shoulder showed him Jaeger hadn’t reacted and no-one gave a shit, so he tugged open the door and darted out, buffered it with his foot as it closed behind him so it wouldn’t make a sound against the doorframe. He hoisted the bag higher on his shoulder and started down the hallway, his fingers curling tight around his phone with what might have been nerves but probably wasn’t. A kind of excited anticipation that had him picking up his pace a little.

The Modern Languages Building wasn’t particularly large, and there was only one entrance - it wasn’t like Allen had to guess where Tyki would be waiting.

Sure enough when he entered the foyer he could see Tyki through the panelled glass of the double doors, sitting up on the top bar of the fence railing ringing the large stoop of the building with his feet propped below him on the middle rung.

The blue-white glow from his phone was faintly illuminating his hands and face, his expression one of keen focus while he typed away. As Allen neared the doors he caught sight of Tyki’s earphones, saw the way he was bouncing his heel methodically and wondered briefly if he was composing.

He glanced up when Allen pushed open the door, and a grin quickly overtook that small pinch of concencentration that had settled over his expression. The quiet sound of the rain reached Allen’s ears, and Tyki reached up to remove each earphone and sling them around his neck, his eyes only darting away from Allen when he glanced down to pause whatever music he’d had playing.

Crossing the bare concrete stoop, Allen felt a teasing grin slip onto his face when he remarked, “You said five minutes, but that was absolutely closer to ten.”

“Aw,” Tyki crooned, and Allen wondered if he’d somehow believed talking to Tyki over text might have changed him. It hadn’t changed his shithead attitude, or the sly, cocky grin that spread like oil across his face. “Did you miss me that much?” he taunted while he placed a hand onto the railing and pushed himself off to stand, and didn’t make any mention of Mana.

Allen could honestly hear Neah’s voice in his head. I like this one. You should keep him. Neah, of course, probably didn’t like Tyki at all. That was fine. It was the thought that counted.

And still Allen’s first instinct was to say something scathing - teasing, but just the wrong side of sharp. Don’t flatter yourself, or something along those lines . He was glad he took that half-second to reconsider. “I might have,” was what he ended up saying, feeling that taunting grin grow. Tyki tilted his head in a gesture down the stairs in an invitation to set out, his own quiet amusement obvious. “Did you just come from the music building?” Allen asked while he turned his feet towards the stairs and trotted down them, out into the light rain for the third time that evening.

Tyki shook his head as he quickly fell into step beside him, and down on the path they turned left to follow alongside one of the service roads that trailed through the campus. “Nah,” he answered easily, and made a vague gesture across the road, “we were at the Northern Theaters. It was some statewide seminar,” he shrugged easily, “so they needed the room.”

Surprised, and not quite sure why he was, Allen remarked, “Don’t they have limited attendances? People competing for spaces,” he shrugged, and glanced over to catch Tyki’s proud smirk.

“I’m good at what I do,” he stated confidently, and Allen didn’t really have much cause to disbelieve that. If he was good enough for the conservatory and if he was good enough for state seminars and if he was good enough for Neah, Allen couldn’t really imagine where he was meant to be falling short.

“I guess I should be upfront with you,” Allen stated, straight-faced and all the more disbelieving for it. “I’m only using you for your music.”

Tyki snickered a quiet laugh, and Allen couldn’t really help the grin that slipped through his half hearted mask when he caught Tyki’s grin from the corner of his eye, highlighted chiaroscuro by the fluorescent street lamp ahead of them. “Is that so?” he returned, a teasing gleam lighting his eyes in the dark between the lamp and the rain.

Allen nodded, smile sitting small on his lips, and hummed simply, “Mmhm.”

Tyki laughed again, shook his head a little. “Waiting for me to make a name for myself, are you?” he continued Allen’s weak charade with a touch of affected disparagement.

“I plan to live off the money you make selling platinum records,” Allen agreed blandly, not really bothering to hinder the growth of his smile.

“Not to mention,” Tyki nodded solemnly, “my songs will all be about you, so your ego will absolutely thrive.”

“So,” Allen teased, grinning, “maybe we should be practicing for when you’re famous.” Tyki ducked his head in a laugh and Allen brushed up against him, bumped shoulders gently. “What are your influences?” At Tyki’s arched brow he reasoned, “The interviewers would ask.”

Tyki struggled to hold back another laugh, lips twitching with the effort and tilted his head back to glance at the sky. “Ah,” he hummed and it sounded like he was still laughing, “too many?” he guessed and shook his head, glancing down at Allen with a grin quirking his lips. “I don’t know,” he admitted with an abashed shrug. “I’ve been listening to music since before I could remember - grew up on Gorillaz, Metallica, Queen. A bit of Bad Company.”

Allen laughed, surprised, and stated, “Bit of an eclectic taste.”

“Variety,” Tyki grinned and brushed his shoulder against Allen’s, “is the best influence I could have asked for.”

“Should I keep an ear out for heavy metal undertones?” Allen teased and Tyki’s shoulders shook with his laughter, the sound bringing a smile to Allen’s lips.

“No exactly,” Tyki snickered, “no. I’m not sure how familiar you are with their music-”

“Not very,” Allen admitted, but Tyki didn’t take any sort of offence.

“-but the guitar especially has some strong roots in classical music.”

“In classical?” Allen stressed, eyebrows creeping up. “Metallica does?”

“Metallica does,” Tyki confirmed, glanced over to catch Allen’s expression and laughed. “Nothing Else Matters, One and The Unforgiven especially have almost by-the-book classical fingerpicking.” He shrugged lightly. “Add some traditional heavy metal drums, strong vocals and electric guitar for the harmony and you have a Metallica song.”

Allen shook his head and breathed an incredulous laugh. “What, seriously?”

Tyki shrugged again, his grin betraying his amusement. “I’ve been playing classical for,” he tilted his head, thinking, “twenty years. It'd be a tragedy if I couldn’t figure that out.”

“Okay, so…” Allen started, thinking back to what Tyki’s areas of study actually were, “what about jazz?” he asked, hoping he’d gotten it right.

The way Tyki’s face split into a grin told him he had, and also told him a fair amount about just how deep music ran for him. He bounced lightly on his next step, almost skipped, and Allen had to bite back his amused endearment for Tyki’s reaction. “So,” Tyki rubbed his hands together, “what about jazz. I could go on a whole tirade,” he confessed and Allen had to laugh.

“Nice use of the word tirade,” he grinned and Tyki dipped his head in theatrical appreciation.

“I won't bore you with the details - blues happened, soul added a bit of a bop and by the nineteen twenties people were ad libbing songs as they played them, letting music say everything they didn’t have the words for.” The way he spoke, the way his eyes lit up as he talked about it, face falling in and out of shadow as they walked beneath sparse streetlamps - it all served to make Allen’s heart clench in his chest, brought a small, affectionate smile to his lips. There was no hiding the passion Tyki had for this, and there was no lying about how ridiculous it was that Allen really couldn’t see himself doing anything but falling for him. The energy he had, the excitement. The way his lips quirked up at one side because he was trying to talk while smiling and holding back unprompted laughter. God, if Allen couldn’t feel himself falling for him. “There are,” he blew out a weighty huff, “any number of jazz musicians I could point you towards, and they’re all incredible. They make music that feels, you know? That lives and breathes and grows and dies and loves and hurts and the whole message of that - the whole genre, the whole sound.” He caught a breath in his lungs and glanced at Allen, the air around them suddenly calmed from the buzz of Tyki’s excitement. “Just keep going.” His eyes creased in a gentle smile, soft like the words, and he shrugged. “Life goes on, and so do we, and all we have to do is keep creating.”

Allen blinked at him, and felt the raindrops that had caught in his eyelashes shake free and fall. He didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything to say. It was… strange. Like Tyki’s words and breaths and excitement, the simmer and the gentle smile - the bounce in his steps which had suddenly gone slow - it was like it was all a composition, in a way. A feeling. A song. Life goes on.

“But,” Tyki said, glancing away and breaking the silent beat of the music between them, their footsteps tapping on the wet pavement, “if I could listen to one song before I die - death row, last request.” He turned his quiet smile of perfect peace towards the sky. “How To Explain, by The Cat Empire.”

Allen cocked his head, trying to think if the name meant anything to him. “I’ve never heard it,” he confessed, and Tyki turned that smile to him. Eyes dark and soft and alive, and full of something Allen couldn’t quite place. Like exuberance and tranquility and peace and fire all rolled into one.

He lifted a hand, brushed his thumb across the back of Allen’s neck to catch a drop of rain which had fallen through his hair. Smooth, gentle, slow, he trailed his hand down the line of Allen’s neck, to his shoulder. Fingers resting against Allen’s upper arm, tapping a foreign tempo. He was walking closer, his side pressed against Allen’s arm, and when he looked ahead he murmured, low and melodic in a tone somehow familiar, in time with the way his fingers danced over Allen’s sleeve, “How to explain? Something makes me howl and shiver to the core. Outside if it was raining,” he grinned down at Allen, rain caught in his hair, slipping down his nose, “then inside there’d be a storm. We’ve got a pair of hands for climbing, and a pair of knees that spring. A pair of balls for strength, and a pair of lungs that sing.” He stilled for a moment, that warm smile never wavering, and Allen breathed a laugh. “And these simple chords,” Tyki hummed quietly, meaningfully, “that say music is the language of us all.”

Biting his lips, Allen glanced away from the warmth in Tyki’s expression, let himself lean ever so slightly closer against Tyki’s side and tried to pretend the vitality in his quiet song didn’t bring heat to his cheeks. “You’ll have to show me sometime,” he murmured, and silently approved when Tyki’s hand shifted to drop his wrist over his shoulder so his arm draped warm and comfortable behind Allen’s shoulders. Just as it always had.

“You’ll have their whole discography memorised in a month,” Tyki announced, his words coloured with laughter. “I’ve never heard anyone scat like Harry Angus, Felix Riebl is everything I aspire to be and Ollie McGill has the hands of a god.”

“So you’re a fan,” Allen laughed lightly, letting his hand come up to curl his fingers through one of Tyki’s belt loops.

“Mmhhh,” a rough, appreciative sound dragged slowly from low in his throat and the rumble of it sent shudders coursing across Allen’s skin. “The things I would do to the trumpet solo in The Rhythm,” he moaned in a breathy, coarse voice that had Allen imagining stubbled cheeks between his legs and tangled silk hair beneath his hand.

Swallowing back his reaction and rushing to hide the short stumble in his step, asked, “Do you mean while the trumpet solo is playing, or…”

“Both,” Tyki answered staunchly, “definitely both. You might have to change my name in your phone. Here,” he instructed, and used his arm around Allen’s shoulders to urge him off the pavement, onto the grass around the back of the music faculty.

“So,” Allen laughed when Tyki brushed forward to test one of the windows set a little high into the wall, “we’re actually breaking in?”

“Well,” Tyki reasoned reasonably, and moved onto the next when that window didn’t budge, “the doors are locked. But it’s not really breaking in if it’s already-” the window rattled open and he tossed a grin over his shoulder at Allen. “...broken.”

Allen pressed his fingers to his lips to stifle his laughter and Tyki gingerly planted his hands on the ridged window sill. He didn’t really have much inclination to drag his eyes away from the strain and bunch of Tyki’s shoulders as he hoisted himself up and through the opening with something like practiced ease. “When did you do this?” he demanded, laughing when Tyki disappeared into the building.

“Undergrad,” Tyki snorted, “three years ago. No-one checks that the windows are locked anyway, cause they’re never meant to be un locked.”

Allen laughed and stepped closer to the rough brick wall, wondered for a moment if he was tall enough to reach the sill. He had to stretch up onto his toes to hook his fingers over the tracks of the sliding window, and planted his feet on the wall to help him scramble up. Hauling himself through the window, the sill digging harshly into his palms, Allen reached out for Tyki below him and huffed a relieved breath when Tyki stepped forwards with a grin to wrap his arms around Allen’s back and carefully pull hims through.

Arms around Tyki’s neck, Allen fell to stand chest-to-chest with him, his face buried in Tyki’s shoulder to smother his laughter. Tyki’s hands drifted carefully down his back until they were quite blatantly embracing and Allen, with bated breath, made no move to break away. His cheek pressed against Tyki’s chest, he could hear his voice rumble in a deep baritone before his quiet words found their way to Allen. “We keep ending up in these positions and I keep wanting to kiss you for it.”

“All this buildup,” Allen grinned, but didn’t loosen his arms from around Tyki’s neck. “Think it’ll be worth it?”

“I’ve been told I’m an incredible kisser, actually,” Tyki remarked, and Allen imagined he could hear the grin stretching across his face.

“Oh?” Allen laughed, letting his hands slip to the damp shoulders of Tyki’s shirt. “Sources?”

“Lavi,” Tyki said staunchly and pulled back, his hands at Allen’s waist.

Grinning, Allen took half a step away and let his finger slip down Tyki’s arm to brush pointedly against his. “Were you and Lavi like… What, exactly?” he laughed. “I don’t think I get it, even now.”

Tyki ducked his head on a laugh and his warm hand tangled tentatively with Allen’s for a moment before he ditched the hesitation and laced their fingers together. Turning and urging Allen to follow him along the dark hall, both of them obstinately ignoring their joined hands, Tyki admitted abashedly, “Ah, good question actually,” and shot Allen a grin. “We’ve always been kinda romantic-ish but also not, I guess,” he shrugged noncommittally, and Allen supposed noncommittal might be a good way to describe whatever Tyki and Lavi were or are or whatever. “I mean, if we’re both still single when he’s thirty we’ll probably get married.” He shot a smile to Allen, teasing and somehow sheepishly sincere. “Not to be dramatic, but I hope that won’t be the case. Y’know?”

Allen bit back his embarrassed laugh and glanced away, bringing his hand up to cool off the blush in his cheeks while he allowed, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He shot a teasing grin to Tyki. “I haven’t heard the song yet, after all.”

“Oh,” Tyki remarked like he’d remembered something, eyes snapping down to Allen’s, “I hope you don’t mind that I had to used female pronouns.”

Allen sputtered a laugh and ducked his head, steps faltering for a moment before he skipped to catch up with Tyki’s longer strides. “Why?” he asked after a moment, more amused than anything.

Tyki shrugged and Allen caught sight of his grin when he pulled open a door and peeked into the room before stepping back and holding it open for Allen. “Because it’s easier,” he admitted with a shrug. “The sounds are generally rounder - she-her-girl removes a whole aspect of having to factor in sharp words where they don’t fit. And ‘man’ will never have as much to offer towards sensuality as ‘woman’ does. Put the headphones on,” he instructed with a grin and made to close the door behind Allen, “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait,” Allen insisted, suddenly intimidated by the egg-carton-foam walls and the large window set into one of them, “Where are you…?”

Tyki huffed a quiet laugh and stepped forwards, reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Allen’s ear. He dipped his head as though he wanted to press his lips to Allen’s brow but caught himself with a small smile, let his fingers trail down his neck instead. “I’ve got to step into the control room for a moment, to put the song on and turn the mics off.”

Allen, immediately embarrassed at himself, bit at the inside of his cheek and nodded, his eyes darting away.

“Hey,” Tyki murmured, taking half a step closer and smoothing his free hand up Allen’s shoulder so his fingers were interlaced at the back of his neck, “you good?”

“I’m fine,” Allen insisted, trying to sound nonchalant. When Tyki didn’t look convinced he rolled his eyes and said, “I am. Go,” he made a shooing gesture, a small unwilling smile twitching at his lips “impress me.”

Tyki grinned as he stepped away, reaching out to grasp the handle of the open door. “Headphones,” he reminded, pointing over Allen’s shoulder.

Chapter Text

While Allen turned to take stock of the room Tyki closed the door behind him and after a moment spent evaluating the complicated-looking setup of metal stands and cords, he stepped into the middle of the studio to hesitantly pick up one of the large sets of headphones. A flicker of movement caught his eye and he glanced over to see Tyki enter the room behind the window. Honestly of the two of them, Allen felt he’d lucked out in terms of complicated electronic setups. Tyki approached the large mixing board behind the window and grinned at Allen, mouthed something and mimed putting the headphones on.

Put out at having had to be told a third time, Allen lifted them over his ears and settled them on his head. They were a bit big, and sat almost awkwardly, but they were at least comfortable. And when when Tyki grabbed a table top microphone from the desk and murmured into it, “Can you hear me?” Allen almost shuddered from how close he sounded, not a drop of quality lost from his deep, smooth voice.

“Yeah, I can,” he nodded and tried not to let Tyki’s low chuckle get to him.

“I can’t hear you,” he reminded and Allen tried not to be embarrassed for forgetting that a soundproof room was generally, you know. Soundproof. “It’s fine, I don’t need to,” Tyki shot him a teasing grin while he worked at connecting his phone to the sound system. “Your face is like an open book,” he reasoned and laughed at Allen’s narrow-eyed scowl. “So, while I have you here,” he hummed, eyes on his phone while he scrolled through, looking for something, “unable to interrupt or throw things at me,” he shot a teasing glance up at Allen, who arched a scathing brow, “I definitely want to take the chance to metaphorically hold up a boombox-”

“No,” Allen demanded, not caring for a moment that Tyki couldn’t hear him.

“-and blast this outside your window.”

“No,” Allen insisted, eyes wide against Tyki’s devilish grin, and was powerless to stop him from playing Careless Whisper through the headphones. “Nooooooo,” he whined when the saxophone started and he pressed a hand to his mouth, fingers cool against his hot cheeks. His vicious headshake brought Tyki’s laugh into the already-too-sensual mix and he demanded, “Stop!” from behind his embarrassed fingers, pinning Tyki through the glass with a distressed glare.

“Okay!” he laughed, lowering the track’s volume, “okay. You’re right, you got me. I didn’t write that,” and laughed again when Allen spread his hands in an incredulous gesture.

“Who do you think you are,” he huffed, exasperated, “George Michael?”

“Somehow,” Tyki still hadn’t stopped laughing, looking far to amused with himself, “I get the feeling you’re offended by George Michael,” Allen rolled his eyes, “and I honestly can’t imagine what he possibly could have done to upset you.”

“Oh my goood,” Allen groaned, passing his hand over his eyes and trying so so hard to not find his whole thing funny.

“On a more serious note,” Tyki sobered a little, but the little grin still sat at the corners of his lips, “I did write a song for you. And,” he added with another teasing smile, fixing the volume levels while he pulled up whatever he was looking for, “I hope it doesn't offend you as much as Careless Whisper does.”

Allen rolled his eyes again and Tyki murmured quietly, “I’ll be with you in a moment,” before putting the microphone down and starting the song .

There was no instruments at first, and it immediately caught Allen’s attention. Just Tyki’s voice layered over and over itself, singing the lines in a simple, fast cadence.

Though lust only grows like anger and revenge, oh beauty comes and goes, but love stays until the end.

It was… intimate. And honestly Allen was surprised at the cohesiveness of it all. From what Allen knew Tyki didn’t have much by way of professional training in singing, but every loop harmonised in a way that left Allen blinking at the beautiful simplicity of it.

A piano line came in, simple. Just two notes, quick to pick up the momentum Tyki's voice had set. Allen glanced aside when he saw the door to the live room open from the corner of his eye, missing the first few lines of the verse to the distraction of Tyki slipping into the room and pulling the second set of headphones on. He grinned at Allen, face filled with subdued excitement, expectant fondness, and Allen was taken aback by how well that expression sat with the next words he heard in Tyki’s voice.

You’ve the strength of the Greeks, you are God’s masterpiece. You’re every triumph, every victory, I believe in every breath you breathe.

Eyes wide, mesmerised, he watched Tyki instinctively mouth the lines in perfect synchronisation with the song, lips curled in a smile. “Fall in love with you, oh, fall in love with you I must.”

Something swelled in Allen’s chest at that - something big and nameless that felt almost like a sob but so much warmer. It filled him, made him open his mouth to say something, only he'd no idea what would come out. How many times had Tyki sung that line? How many times had he repeated those words over and over to himself just so that they’d be perfect when Allen heard them? His brows bunches at that thought, overcome for a moment, and Tyki’s smile gentled.

He reached a hand out, upturned, and Allen glanced down at it. Hesitated for half a moment before tentatively placing his cool fingers in Tyki’s warm palm.

Allen heard Tyki’s murmured words through the music this time, his voice lower than the recording made it sound, and Allen’s lips parted when Tyki’s hand closed around his. “With a guitar in my hand or a gun in my hand, I’d give it all up for your hand in my hand.”

Honestly Allen missed the next few lines, his heart trembling and growing to twice its size when Tyki slowly lifted their hands and twirled him - not at all in time with the song, but in time with Allen’s hesitation and the breathless laugh that stuttered past his lips when he had Tyki’s arm warm and gentle around his waist, and his back pressed against Tyki’s chest. Fingers trailing down his arm, lifting his free hand so they stood in something like a ballroom stance, and Allen wanted to melt when he felt Tyki’s rocking steps, the smile he pressed against Allen’s temple.

“Young soul. Young love, young blood.”

He was right, he was so right because the song was good, yeah - light and quick and strong enough to feel like a whirlwind, enough to pick him up and sweep him away in a fast tempo firecracker love for all of three minutes - but its wasn’t about the guitar and the piano and the drums, it wasn’t the technicalities and the harmonies. It was the sentiment, the feeling, the honesty. It was Tyki, and it was what he didn’t say in words - what he wouldn’t say. And why would he? Why would he bother with words when he had gestures and playlists and talent enough to be so much more eloquent?

Treasure every beating heart that sets your soul on fire.

Allen’s heart was in his throat, his cold fingers growing warm in Tyki’s hands, and every inch of him wanted to kiss that beautiful, unreasonable man for all he was worth.

Quiet, the music dying down to frame Tyki’s voice in all its beauty, Allen was certain Tyki felt the shudder that rolled down his spine when he murmured behind his ear, low with intoxicating promise, “Love will set your soul on fire.”

The breath he hadn’t realised had been caught in his throat trembled out in an unsteady sigh when Tyki’s arm tightened around his waist in a touch so gentle it made Allen want to cry or scream or maybe just swoon into his embrace. Tyki’s nose was still buried in the short-shaved hair behind Allen’s ear, and when Allen turned his head towards him the slightest degree he closed his eyes against the soft push of Tyki’s lips asking a wordless question. He tilted his head back a little, just as subtle an answer - just as quiet an invitation.

Tyki cocked his head in response and Allen turned to match him, his back still pressed against Tyki’s chest. He opened his eyes a sliver, found Tyki watching him with gold eyes daring to hope, a breathless want, and Allen’s lips curled into a small smile before he closed that bare inch between them.

It was so, so soft and Tyki was so, so warm and Allen was glad to be finally kissing him. Not that he wished he hadn’t waited or that he should have done it sooner but simply happy that he was here now with Tyki’s music coiling warmth around his stomach and his body pressing such a quiet, genuine happiness against Allen’s. Lips moved soft and slow and indulgent and Tyki curled his arms around Allen, hands still held, so every inch of him felt cradled in the spell of adoration that Tyki had woven.

Beyond their attention, a new song started playing through the headphones and Allen had almost enough presence of mind to realise it must be another of Tyki’s. He released the arm wound around Allen’s waist to reach up and tug the headphones down around his neck but Allen didn’t bother with removing his, used the moment to turn in Tyki’s hold and press up into the kiss, firm and insistent. If Tyki could say a hundred things without words then dammit so could he and the first course of action in this war of communications was to tell Tyki just how clear his message was received. Mouth warm and soft against Allen’s, Tyki’s hand came back to sit at Allen’s waist, to brush around to the small of his back and hold him with an insistence to match.

Fingers curled against Tyki’s chest, lips parted so Allen could press in and capture Tyki’s lower lip and sigh at the plush warmth of it. One hand brushed up to trace the stern, elegant link of Tyki’s neck, to curl into the soft stray hairs at his nape that had had fallen from his messy bun. Allen’s fingers stroked down the line of his neck and back up again, and he grinned against Tyki’s lips at the tiny shudder that rolled through him. He followed the curve of Tyki’s head, tangled his fingers in his hair and tilted his head to deepen the kiss while his heart raced to match the tempo of the upbeat song playing in his headphones, lyrics of breathtaking romance for a love that couldn’t be told in any other way playing soundtrack to the way Tyki kissed him back. Breathless and mesmerised and determined to take every indulgence for what it was. Tyki’s arm wound tight around Allen’s waist, pulled him close against his warm body while his lips returned every question Allen asked with a beautiful, insistent fervor.

All too soon lips gave way to teeth and tongues, Tyki’s fingers clenched into the fabric of Allen’s shirt while Allen’s hand curled tight in his hair. Breaths hot and unsteady, Allen bit at Tyki’s soft kiss-swollen lips and he felt Tyki’s quiet groan rumble through his chest where it was pressed close against Allen’s. And - god, when Tyki moved to kiss along the line of his jaw, leave him gasping quiet breathlessness while he gently pushed one of the headphones back from Allen’s ear so he could trail his kissing, biting lips behind Allen’s jaw and down his neck. He clung to Tyki, all but trembling in his hold while he worked tingling pleasure from Allen’s sensitive skin.

A whine built in his throat, high and needy, and when Tyki found a place to set his teeth and suck, tongue tracing a tease across his skin, it fell past Allen’s lips on a gasp. They took stumbling steps, Tyki urging Allen back until his shoulders hit the cool glass of the window and his eyes fluttered against the heady warmth of Tyki pressing up against him, keeping him pinned in the most wonderful of ways.

He was so aware of how Tyki’s hips felt pressed up against his, of the hand that slipped up the back of his shirt and the fingers that clenched desire in Allen’s hair. And his thigh, when Tyki unthinkingly curled his body closer against Allen’s. A quiet moan fell from his lips when Tyki pressed his knee between Allen’s legs and he felt Tyki’s hands tighten momentarily in response. His fingers smoothed up the rivet of Allen’s spine and then back down. Tyki’s lips at his throat, Allen trembled with oversensitive anticipation when that hand trailed around his hip, following the waistline of his pants to thumb at the button of his fly.

And in that moment - that moment of hesitation where Tyki didn’t keep going, where his breath fanned hot and unsteady against Allen’s collarbone and he pulled back an imperceptible fraction like his whole body was asking an unspoken question - Allen realised that was the exact reason he didn’t want Tyki to go further, the same reason why he’d held out from even kissing him for so damn long.

His fingers clenched too tight in Tyki’s shoulders and he squeezed his eyes shut, begged words he never had before in this context. “Wait,” he gasped, voice too unsteady, “waitwaitwait please.”

And Tyki did. Without question, without hesitation, without regard for whatever it was he might have wanted right then he pushed away with a hand against the glass, and the fingers at Allen’s fly immediately went to the safe territory of his hip. His eyes stayed cast low for a moment, breath just as unsteady as Allen’s and mingling in the small space between them. Allen let them both have that, let Tyki catch his breath and only squinted his eyes open when he felt all the tension fall from his shoulders in a shuddering sigh. Allen watched him pull in a deep breath and tilt his head close so their foreheads met. At length, after clearing his throat twice and giving a small nod against Allen’s brow, he murmured, “Okay,” and it sounded almost steady. He sucked in another deep breath and pushed himself to stand straight, still so close to Allen but far enough that cool air could pool between their hot bodies. Far enough that the only true point of contact between them was his hand resting gentle and inoffensive at Allen’s hip. Eyes sliding open, he nodded again and repeated, “Okay,” on a huffing breath, so effectively pulled together that Allen thought he really might swoon. “Is there,” he started and cleared his throat again. “What’s, uh,” he tried again and Allen realised he needed to speak up.

“I’m,” he began and the words tangled in his throat, not at all as fine as Tyki had managed to sound. “Wouldn’t, um. I don’t… What are you- what do you want? Here?” he stumbled over himself, fingers curling against Tyki’s shoulders at the nervous anxiety rolling through him.

Tyki frowned, confused by the question. He tilted his head, seemed to try to puzzle it out for a moment before asking slowly, “...What do you mean?”

“Here here, like,” Allen struggled to express, “not. Not here, but what. What do you want from… this?”

“This,” Tyki repeated slowly and lifted his hand from Allen’s hip to gesture to the bare inches of space between them, “as in this, or,” he glanced away and made a slightly larger gesture to encompass the studio, “this?”

Allen huffed embarrassed nerves and reached up to tug the headphones down around his neck, the music suddenly too distracting. “This as in,” Allen waved his hand to encircle it all - him and Tyki and the space between them and the studio around them and the music still playing quietly from around both their necks, “this, all of this. What’s… what do you want?”

Tyki pulled back further, that confused frown still furrowing his brows. “Well, I. Whatever it is, I guess, I just. Want whatever we’ve got.”

Allen bit his lip and glanced down, not quite able to hold Tyki’s gaze when he asked hesitantly, “What, uh. What is that, though? Exactly?”

Tyki huffed a breathy sigh and didn’t seem to quite know how to answer that for a moment. “It’s, uhm,” he started uncertainly and hazarded, “antagonising angry baristas?” Allen glanced up to see his rueful grin, to watch his expression shift from lost to something between embarrassment and affection. “Taking sips from your cup of coffee,” he offered and Allen huffed in unironic amusement at his own terrified reaction to Rahsaan Patterson the previous night.

More because he was full of nervous energy and had nothing else to say than actually believing Tyki knew what he was talking about, Allen followed on, “Smoking a cigarette after dinnertime?”

Tyki blinked in surprise before his strange expression of nerves, hope and embarrassment cracked into the most dazzlingly happy smile Allen had ever seen from a man who only seemed to know how to be coy, smug or sexy. He laughed, a breathtakingly relieved sound, and Allen's heart was in his throat at the beauty of it. When Tyki tilted his head close and sang, “It’s like making love on Egyptian cotton,” in a voice low and smooth in the cadence of the familiar song, Allen couldn’t help but let his head fall against Tyki’s chest with a laugh to match his. “All in all,” Tyki murmured the words against the crown of Allen’s head, smile buried in his hair, “it will be fine.”

Allen curled his hand into the front of Tyki’s white button up, his smile hidden from him. God, not twenty-four hours ago he’d been so scared of those words. Scared of this? Of Tyki wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pressing his grin into Allen’s hair? “I listened to that last night,” he confessed and huffed a quiet laugh, shook his head the slightest bit. Ruefully he admitted, “Couldn’t even finish it.”

Tyki’s shoulders shook with a quiet laugh and Allen felt him turn his head so his cheek was pressed against Allen’s hair before he hummed teasingly, “A bit close to home?”

“A bit,” Allen laughed and took half a step closer so he could loop his arms around Tyki’s waist and lean into his warmth, a smile dancing at the corner of his lips. After a short moment he hummed and tilted his head so he rested in the crook of Tyki’s neck. He paused like that for a moment, marvelling at it. Taking in the warmth of his skin, the faint smell of his cologne and the unavoidable sweat that came from the cloying summer heat. It was so… nice. Just. Just holding him and being held. Tyki’s arms were a warm weight around his shoulders, his hand resting gently at the small of Allen’s back.

Tentative, Allen turned his head and pressed a kiss to the underside of Tyki’s jaw. He let his lips linger there for a moment, let his eyes slip closed at the comfortable closeness. “I always rush into sex,” he hummed against Tyki’s jaw without any kind of segue. After a moment he pressed a kiss to the skin below Tyki’s ear and clarified, “When I don’t really care about the outcome.”

“I’d never hold that against you,” Tyki murmured and he sounded amused, kind of missing the point. It was endearing nonetheless, and made Allen smile.

“I know,” he pressed his grin against Tyki’s cheek and let them stay like that for a while. “I think,” he mused, “I told you once. To see if it would scare you off.” He huffed and he felt Tyki’s shoulders shake with a silent chuckle.

“What,” he remarked, “that you sleep around?” His laugh this time was low and quiet and warm and Allen could see himself falling in love with it. “My only issue would be if you still were.”

Allen pulled in a happy breath and shook his head against Tyki’s, his voice ambivalent when he said, “I took a break out of spite after a member of staff caught me messing around with that TA. Had to rearrange my entire schedule so he wouldn’t get fired,” he rolled his eyes and Tyki laughed again, genuinely amused by that. “It was really annoying,” Allen griped and pulled away to lean back against the glass, tugging Tyki’s shirt to make him follow. “But that’s not what I’m trying to say,” he amended when he had Tyki’s elbow by his head, caging him in.

“Oh?” Tyki hummed, his thumb drawing tiny circles at Allen's hip.

“Mmh,” Allen nodded, eyes on the sharp line of Tyki’s cheekbone. “I never can make it mean anything,” he admitted, reaching a hand up to trace his fingertips along the dip of Tyki’s collarbone through open collar of his shirt, “even when I want to.” Tyki cocked his head with a small questioning sound and Allen dropped his hand, glanced away with a reluctant huff. “Not that I don’t wanna fuck you,” he sighed, “but if we do, chances are I won’t be sticking around for breakfast.”

“Obviously you’ve never tried one of my omelettes,” Tyki reasoned with a grin and Allen ducked his head on a laugh. Tyki’s hand left his hip and cupped Allen’s cheek, lifting his head until he had little choice but to meet his gaze. “You seem to have forgotten,” he murmured, a smile teasing the corners of his lips, “that I worked for a month just to get you to kiss me.” Amusement tugged at the corner of Allen’s mouth and he had to hold back from rolling his eyes. Tyki leaned in and pressed a kiss to that corner of his lips, soft and so fucking gentle Allen wanted to scream. “Having it mean something is the opposite of a deal breaker,” he grinned, close and teasing.

Allen heaved a long, whining groan in lieu of a sob and curled his arms around Tyki’s neck, leaned up into him. “Why are you so sweet?” he demanded, scowling with sour frustration. “You’re just making me want to fuck you now.”

Tyki laughed at that and wound his arm around Allen’s waist, pulling him close. “Well, you can’t pull that now,” he chuckled against Allen’s ear. “I’m not going to risk letting you fall out of love with me before you’ve had a chance to fall in.”

“What about tomorrow?” Allen insisted, voice muffled against Tyki’s shoulder.

His hand stroked up Allen’s back and he reasoned, voice coloured with amusement, “Guess we’ll just have to see how we feel when tomorrow comes around.” So slow and so, so gentle, Tyki pressed Allen back against the window behind him and lined the softest kisses along his jaw until Allen was sighing into it and melting, tilting his head back to bare his neck to Tyki’s touches. His words warm where they were pressed against Allen’s throat, Tyki murmured, “Although, I have to say…” and trailed off until Allen offered up a breathless sound of question, his fingers bunched in Tyki’s collar. “You’ve made it quite clear you lack any self control,” he said and Allen almost trembled at the heat in his voice, the taunting promise. He was still so wound up,  still biting his lips at the thought of how Tyki had pressed his knee between his legs. Of how he’d kissed him, hot and demanding and so stupidly gentle. “Maybe,” Tyki continued, and it was definitely a taunt. Allen’s breath caught when he felt Tyki’s grin pressed against his throat, the fingers that slipped beneath the back of his shirt to trace the skin above his waistband, “I could give you something to think about.”

“Maybe you could,” Allen mocked, lips twisting into a grin while he released his hold on Tyki’s collar and trailed his hands up into his thick hair.

"Well,” Tyki grinned, and Allen could feel his amusement in the way every line of his body curled towards him, “in that case.” The hand on Allen’s hip trailed up his stomach, chest, neck until Tyki’s fingers were dragging through his hair and his grin had inched closer to Allen’s. “If we were to fuck,” he murmured, slow and teasing, “in this studio,” he pressed his lips to a corner of Allen’s mouth, then to the other before finally sinking into a kiss. Allen’s eyes fell closed, breath shuddering, and his lips parted on a quiet sigh when Tyki’s tongue traced soft and entreating against them. Rather than deepen it, Tyki pulled away to skate his lips along Allen’s jaw so he could nip at his earlobe and pull a small gasp from his lips. A quiet sound caught in Allen’s throat when Tyki soothed the bite with the slightest brush of his tongue and Allen had almost forgotten what he was talking about when he murmured, “Would you like to know how I’d do it?”

After a beat too long, struggling to suck air into his lungs, Allen tried to catch sarcastic amusement in his voice when he responded, voice lower than he’d intended, “Please, enlighten me.” His taunting words played counter to the way his back arched into Tyki’s touch when he trailed his hand up Allen’s spine beneath his shirt, and he could feel the grin Tyki pressed against his neck below his ear.

He gave an amused hum and Allen shuddered against him, let himself melt back against the window when Tyki bit down below the corner of his jaw and sucked lightly. Tyki followed him, pressed in against him and moved slowly, indulgently down Allen’s neck. “If I’ve read you correctly,” he murmured against the side of Allen’s throat and paused to laugh at his choice of words, “I’d say you’re not against some manhandling. You like it rough,” he growled and a breath caught in Allen’s throat at the slide of Tyki’s teeth against his throat, the way his hand tightened in his hair the slightest bit, his short fingernails digging into Allen’s back. “Am I right?” he murmured, voice deep and intoxicatingly smooth.

That trapped breath shuddered past Allen’s lips and dipped into a quiet moan when Tyki bit down on the skin above his collarbone. The hand in his hair tightened into a fist, tugging his head back to bare his throat, and Allen’s fingers curled against the back of Tyki’s head, holding him against his throat. “Yes,” he gasped and bit back a choked sound when Tyki rolled his hips, pressed his thigh up between Allen’s. “Yes,” he repeated mindlessly, eyes closed while his legs spread a little so Tyki could press his knee in between them. Trying so, so hard to stop himself from grinding down, to keep himself together with Tyki pressed so close and warm against him. Pinning him, hands tight on him.

“You like it hard,” Tyki murmured, layering kisses up Allen’s neck so he could breath hot into his ear, “you like it so mindlessly fast.” A whine was building itself up in Allen’s throat and all he could do was jerk a nod, the tug of Tyki’s hand in his hair rolling a shudder down his spine. His teeth closing around Allen’s earlobe, he muttered, voice growing low and rough around the edges, “Bet you want me to fuck you so hard against this wall you forget your own name.”

He pressed his hips forward again at that, his leg pressing right up against Allen’s-

“Fuck!” he barked cold blooded terror into Allen’s ear and Allen screeched, jolting sharply in surprise while Tyki’s arms locked around him and wrenched him away from the window. “What the fuck!” Tyki yelled, and by the time Allen managed to unlock enough of his seized-up muscles to turn his head and see what had scared him, he could hear hysterical laughter coming from the headphones around his neck.

“Oh my goooooooood,” he heard faintly from the phones and gaped wide-eyed shock at Lavi just - just right fucking there, on the other side of the glass, red-faced with how hard he was cackling into the tabletop microphone he held in his hand. “You SPOOKED!” he howled, throwing his head back, and Allen realised the way his hands were fisted in Tyki’s hair had likely gone right past any kind of pleasure and was probably downright painful.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Tyki demanded, delayed shock not letting up on his hold on Allen.

“Oh my god,” Lavi sucked in a deep breath to try calm himself, still laughing, and wiped a tear away from the corner of his eye, “I can’t hear a word you’re saying,” he said and it set him off on another round of laughter. Struggling to breathe, he wheezed out, “You look like you’re gonna kill me, this is the funniest shit I’ve ever SEEN!”

“I am gonna kill him,” Tyki breathed, dark and angry.

Breathing deeply to unwind the cold tension in his shoulders, Allen dropped his head onto Tyki’s chest and pleaded, “How did he even know where we were?”

Tyki sighed gustily and muttered, reluctantly loosening his hold on Allen, “I told him, like. Ten hours ago.”

Grudgingly, Allen muttered, “Did he have this planned ten hours ago?” and straightened when Tyki stepped away, his warm hand slipping down Allen’s back.

“Probably not,” he admitted wryly, and Allen didn’t see much point in hesitating this time when Tyki’s fingers traced down his wrist to take his hand. “He’s not very good at planning things out,” he reasoned and tugged the headphones from around his neck, reached to hang them on the stand while he continued, “and usually just does shit without thinking it through.”

Tyki waited for Allen to put his own headphones back where he’d gotten them before he pulled him gently along towards the door, Lavi matching them in the opposite room. He was less gentle with how he wrenched the thick door open, and the glare he shot Lavi from out in the hall was downright cold.

“Now,” Lavi stepped up to the plate before Tyki could say anything, the pacifying way he held his hands up completely undercut by the massive shiteating grin on his face, “I know what you’re gonna say, but I’m here to tell you that a more important moment is happening, like, right now and we’re totally missing it.”

Allen hid his snicker behind his fingers and tightened his hand in Tyki’s for a moment, the unimpressed eyebrow he arched at Lavi just absolutely doing it.

“What,” he bit out, “important moment?” As soon as Lavi opened his mouth Tyki held up a finger to shut him up and warned, “Think carefully before you answer that because if you’re here to tell me that Kanda and Link are-”

“Kanda and Link are walking home together!” Lavi crowed, ecstatic. “Yes! How did you know! Oh man, we’ve gotta go right now. Like, right now. I bet you anything Kanda’s gonna try kiss him.”

Tyki’s expression, which had slowly been growing stormier, suddenly dipped into a frown of serious contemplation. “Anything?” he repeated, and Allen’s brows crept up his forehead.

“Seriously?” he remarked and Tyki glanced over at him, questioning. Holding back laughter, Allen demanded, “You’re actually considering that? You were so mad a second ago.”

“He has a serious gambling problem,” Lavi supplied with a devilish grin. “Something to watch out for.”

“I don’t,” Tyki insisted, but he was the one who was considering going out to stalk a barista and his best friend’s classmate for the ambiguous promise of ‘anything’.

Lavi, walking towards them, patted Tyki’s cheek endearingly as he passed. “You do, bub,” he smiled consolingly, and Allen couldn’t help but laugh.

Tyki twisted quickly to follow, dropping Allen’s hand a moment while he turned only to pick it back up immediately and drag him along while he darted after Lavi, Allen stumbling and laughing behind him. “Wait,” he insisted, “wait, wait. Bets are sacred,” he insisted. “‘Anything’ means anything, right?”

“Sure does,” Lavi agreed, his victorious grin apparent even in his voice and stride.

Allen quickly righted himself, wiggled his hand out of Tyki’s grasp so he could walk straight without having his arm crossed over his front. “What kind of anything?” he asked, amused and intrigued.

“I want the super soft pillow back,” Tyki stated, staunch and firm.

“Nope,” Lavi vetoed, popping the ‘p’, and turned to walk backwards so both Tyki and Allen could see his comically incredulous expression. “You can’t bet back something that I won off you in a bet, that’s like. Betting laws one-oh-one.”

“Lavi,” Tyki gritted, and Allen couldn’t help laugh, then decided he ought to weave his fingers with Tyki’s as some sort of consolation prize.

“If Kanda kisses Link I get your keytar,” Lavi announced, and there was an audible groan from Tyki.

“Fine,” he bit out, glaring, “if nobody kisses anybody then your record player comes to live at my apartment.”

Lavi hissed as though Tyki had struck him a physical blow but nodded reluctant agreement before stating, his sharp green eye darting to Allen’s face, “Which means there’s still one last possibility left. Allen?”

They stopped under the open window, the carpet a little wet from where the rain had blown in, and Allen grinned sharply. “If Link kisses Kanda, Lavi’s buying my drinks for the party tomorrow.”

Lavi’s eye narrowed in consideration and a slow, appreciative smile spread across his face. “I like you,” he stated, nodding slowly. “You play smart.”

Tyki huffed something between amusement and annoyance and gestured at Lavi, demanding, “Can you put your jacket on the sill already? They’ve probably already fucked in an alley by now.”

Lavi rolled his eyes but started shedding his damp jacket regardless before folding it a couple of times and reaching up to lay it across the harshly ridged tracks of the window runners. “For the record,” he huffed, and grunted quietly with the effort of hoisting himself up, kicking his legs through the window and dropping down the other side, “I think Link would rather die,” he continued once he was outside, voice caught up by the rain, “than fuck anywhere that wasn’t either he or Kanda’s bedroom, behind a locked door. Maybe with the lights off. In missionary,” he was saying while Tyki rolled his eyes at Allen in turn and followed Lavi’s example. “Candles,” Lavi was saying when Allen heard Tyki drop to the grass on the other side, “are optional.”

It wasn’t such a stretch for Allen to reach the sill from this side, but that did kind of imply it was a further drop down. But with Lavi’s jacket cushioning the hard metal getting out was, all in all, a much easier experience than getting in had been. He dropped down easily, none of the awkward clambering from last time, but Tyki was still there to steady him with hands catching his waist when he landed.

“Actually, he’d probably stan against candles,” Lavi was still going while Tyki reached up to grab his jacket from the sill and slide the window closed before handing it back to him. “Fire hazard, you know,” Lavi said while he took it from Tyki and shook it out before pushing his arms through the sleeves.

“Lavi,” Tyki interjected into his rambling with that charming smile that meant he was about to ask for something that someone probably wouldn’t want to give, “can you walk ahead a little?”

Lavi paused and frowned. “Seriously?” he demanded, popping his collar up against the way the rain had grown from a light drizzle to a steady patter. “Why?”

“Because,” Tyki started reluctantly and spread his hands in a small, helpless gesture, “we have to talk about some stuff,” he reasoned and inclined his head towards Allen, “that’s why.”

Allen knew what his reaction would be before Lavi even said anything, the dramatic way he shaped his words absolutely giving him away. “Wow,” he announced, mock-offended, and clutched at his chest. “I see how it is,” he sniffed and turned his head dramatically to the side, taking a couple of unsteady steps back while Tyki sighed. “Now you have a beau, there’s no room for me!” he cried and turned on his heel in the slick grass, stepping off with all the drama he could manage, throwing his arms up into the rain. It was quite impressive, honestly. “Maybe I’ll just LEAVE!”

A grin was dancing around the corners of Tyki’s lips and he called out after him, “A bit further,” and gave him another few paces before allowing, “Okay, thanks. That should do.” Lavi’s dramatised steps immediately slowed to a regular pace and when Tyki glanced down at him expectantly, Allen ducked his head with a laugh. “Shall we?” he offered with a grin, and when Allen nodded through his amusement he brought his arm up to tuck around Allen’s shoulders, pulling him close against Tyki’s warm side while they set off walking at a leisurely pace, following Lavi at a distance.

The silence sat warm and comfortable between them for a few beats, filled with the gentle sound of the rain on the roads and buildings and pavements, and it seemed to Allen that Tyki didn’t quite know where to begin. “I spoke with Lavi earlier,” he hummed to fill the gap, leaving it open for Tyki to pick up or put down or whatever it was he wanted to do.

“I know,” he responded, and sounded amused. “He told me.”

Allen shook his head with a quiet laugh and asked, “Do you two tell each other everything?”

Tyki made a sound of consideration before answering, “I was about to say more or less, but…” he trailed for a moment, “more. Definitely more.”

Allen laughed again and thought back to that conversation, letting the silence fill the spaces between their words comfortably. There was something that Lavi had said, honestly, that had struck Allen as a little odd. Well not odd, particularly, but. Something about helping Tyki the way he was ‘helping’ Kanda and Link. It just… didn’t really sit well, somehow. “There’s something he said, actually,” Allen remarked at length, Tyki still stuck on whatever it was he needed to say. But he made an inquiring hum and Allen continued, “Did he ever… tell you how to do stuff? Like,” he added when he realised how vague and ambiguous a statement that was, “since you’ve been talking to me.” The thought of it all being premeditated was somehow not a great one.

“Like,” Tyki asked, “advice?” He laughed when Allen nodded, and that was probably the most reassuring thing he could have done in that regard. “You mean, did he tell me to sit next to you and do nothing for four weeks?” he reasoned, clearly amused, and Allen grinned at the unlikely thought. “Lavi gives a lot of advice about a lot of things,” Tyki murmured, his arm warm around Allen’s shoulders. He turned his head to grin down at him, and the fluorescent street lamps caught and shone in his dark eyes. “I don’t listen to most of it,” he admitted and Allen laughed, bit his lips and nodded bashfully.

They kept walking for a few long seconds, following the length of the music building. Tyki was the one to break the silence this time, his fingers drumming across Allen’s shoulder once before he announced with consideration, “I think we need to circle back to that question of ‘what are we’.” He glanced down at Allen and grinned abashedly. “We kind of bypassed it the first time.”

Ah. That, yeah. They should talk about it, definitely. Allen… had never really had to before. Considering every time the question had come up in his history he’d managed to answer it with a scathing glance. Yeah, that really summed up what most of his previous relationships had been, honestly. Funny part was that most of them actually stuck around for a while after that ‘conversation’, too. “Well, I mean,” he started, grumbling a little under the weight of his own awkwardness, “exclusive, I guess?” He shrugged beneath Tyki’s arm and shot him a shrewd look. “If I’m not fucking around then no-one is,” he stated staunchly and Tyki breathed a quiet laugh.

“I’d have thought that goes without saying,” he murmured with a grin and Allen half heartedly rolled his eyes.

“So why doesn’t the rest of it?” he muttered, petty and vaguely uncomfortable for some reason he couldn’t quite pinpoint. He’d say a lack of practice, but diving into something new head first was kind of just how he did things. Practice didn’t really have anything to do with it at all.

“Uhm,” Tyki huffed a laugh to soften his words, “closure, I guess? Open communication channels,” he listed, shooting Allen a rueful smile. “So neither of us are misinterpreting the other’s intentions. Just so we’re generally on the same page?” Allen glanced away, shoulders tight with his small embarrassment. “A whole bunch of reasons, honestly,” Tyki said, and when Allen glanced over he honestly just looked endeared. Like Allen not knowing how to deal with someone actually caring about not misinterpreting what he wanted was somehow cute or sweet or. Or maybe Tyki just liked him.

God, Allen just felt like such an idiot sometimes. He huffed a long, tired sigh. “I’m really not good at actual relationships, am I?” he muttered.

Tyki chuckled and brought his hand up to ruffle through Allen’s rain-soaked hair, stroked his fingers back and pressed his smile like a kiss to the top of Allen’s head. “As long as we can agree that this is an actual relationship,” he grinned down at Allen, eyes crinkling a little in the corners, “I’m sure we’ll be able to figure it out from there.”

Allen rolled his eyes but leaned into it when Tyki looped his arm back around his neck, allowed a vague, “Yeah, yeah,” and couldn’t quite stop the small smile that twitched on his lips. “If you’re trying to get a foot in with Neah, dating me is probably the most counterintuitive thing for you to do,” he warned, teasing, and Tyki laughed.

“Less to get a foot in,” he snickered. “I’m absolutely going to rub it in his asshole face. My entire final comp assignment is going to be blatantly about you and he’ll have to listen to it at least fifty times while he’s grading.”

Allen dipped his head to laugh, pressing his fingers to his lips to try stifle the sound, his remark of, “Cruel,” slipping out between giggles.

Tyki hummed smug agreement and they walked in lighthearted silence for a moment. “I think that one will make it onto the EP,” Tyki admitted, musing. “I’ll have to tidy it up, re-record in an actual studio with a real drumkit.”

Allen grinned when he asked, “What, did you download a synth set from the internet?”

Tyki paused and shot a surprised glanced to Allen, his steps faltering for a moment. “That,” he said, stilted, “is… a far better idea than what I actually did.”

“Oh my god,” Allen was already laughing, “what did you do?”

“Lavi, uh,” he stopped and laughed, shaking his head. “Lavi dropped like three saucepans once while I was recording. He just kinda. Stood there and let it happen.” His mouth twisted while he spoke, trying to hold back from laughing and Allen had his fingers pressed to his lips, imagining it clearly. “And then just,” Tyki continued, pausing to snort a short laugh, “just looked up and said, ‘Fuck,’” he mimicked Lavi’s tone, the way he would have said it short and firm and a little bit sad.

“So,” Allen said between giggles, “so, what? You used the sound of Lavi dropping some pots and saying fuck as your drum sample?”

Tyki snickered and shook his head at himself, disparaging when he explained, “It made every kind of sound you can imagine, so I cut it up nice and fine to get individual beats, added some echo and reverb and made a synth set out of it, yeah.”

“Oh my god,” Allen repeated. “That’s… better, somehow,” he laughed. “Would you change much else?” he asked, glancing up at Tyki’s grinning face.

Tyki puffed out a weighty breath and hummed, “Ah, well. If I could, yeah.”

Allen’s brows pinched and he tilted his head, asked, “How do you mean?”

He dragged a rueful hand through his wet hair and reasoned abashedly, “Well I know I’m good, but I also know where my limits are.”

Allen, amused, nudged Tyki with his shoulder and pressed, “And they are…?”

Tyki answered simply, “Anything to do with breathing really long and hard into a metal tube to make sound.” Allen spluttered a laugh and he felt Tyki shrug against his side. “As much as I love brass, I’ve probably fucked my lungs from smoking too much to get any good.”

Allen hummed consideringly before asking, “Couldn’t you ask someone else to play it?”

He dragged out an ambivalent sound and at length admitted, “Yeah, I could ask. I mean,” he allowed, “I can write trumpet music easy enough. I know what I’d want it to sound like. But,” he shrugged again, “no-one would play it.”

Allen frowned, and a small sound of reprimanding disagreement sat in his throat. “I’m sure you’re not giving yourself enough credit,” he scolded, and Tyki threw his head back on a laugh.

“Trust me,” he stressed, his grin sharp, “that has never been an issue.” Allen snickered and dipped his head in acquiescence while Tyki continued, “I don’t mean that to say I don’t write well - obviously I do. But the response would generally be, ‘This is weird, I’m not playing it.’ Which is fair,” he admitted before Allen could say anything. “It is weird. It’s weird because,” he gestured helplessly and huffed out a short laugh, “no-one else has had the exact same influences and experiences. No-one has had the same life as me, no-one in the world IS me.” He glanced down at Allen, his smile turned gentle. “That’s the point of my music, you know? That idea. That’s what I want to write.”

Allen’s brows pinched and he asked slowly, “How… how so, though?” Cocking his head to the side, he tried, “How does that… translate?”

Tyki’s grin was wry, and a touch abashed. “Well,” he huffed a laugh, “call me romantic.”

“I absolutely would,” Allen teased, nudging at Tyki’s side again.

Tyki’s eyes creased dark and amused, and when he continued his voice had the same low, quiet cadence it had carried when he’d been talking about jazz on the walk over from the languages building. Subdued intensity, relaxed honesty. “If you could… follow someone,” he said, lips curled in a small smile, “any random person in the world - invisible, right behind them. Just.” He shrugged simply, “Just see what they do, how they are for a whole day - just one day…” He paused, voice caught in a lull like music ran so deep in him that he wrote songs with the tempo of his voice. “...I don’t think it would be possible to not fall in love with them,” he confessed, and glanced down to catch Allen with that rueful, laughing smile. “Unless,” he amended casually, breaking from the hypnotic measure of his words, “they were, like. Such an asshole,” he grinned, and Allen laughed at him, “and they spent most of that time watching kittens get tortured.” His smile gentled again, in some way Allen couldn’t quite place. “You wouldn’t be able to help yourself,” he murmured almost distantly, slipping back into that lovely cadence. “You,” his eyes darted to Allen and then away again, and he gave in to a breathless laugh, “when you write, you…” He shook his head a little and glanced back down at Allen, held his gaze this time. “You make music, I. I don’t even know if you know you do.”

Allen glanced away from that, caught in an embarrassed laugh. He could feel himself blushing, like Tyki pressing his knee between Allen’s legs was all fine and good but as soon as it came out that he actually paid enough attention to notice something like that, Allen was a fucking virgin. “I. I hadn’t,” Allen admitted, stumbling over his words a little. “I didn’t. I didn’t realise.”

Tyki’s chuckle was warm and came from low in his chest, and his arm tightened briefly around Allen’s shoulders. “The way you hit the keys,” he explained, and Allen glanced up just to catch that mesmerised expression - entranced, “if you’re listening to music. It’s like a… a complex, chaotic percussion that still makes sense to me.” He huffed an abashed laugh and glanced away again, his arm around Allen’s shoulders keeping him close. “You’ll always hit a key harder on a certain beat,” he reasoned, and Allen was fighting the urge to just yell ‘no’ at the top of his lungs. “If you’re not struggling to find words and aren’t in a hurry to get them down you’ll just. Type to the rhythm of the song.”

“Oh my god,” Allen breathed and turned his head to press his face against Tyki’s shoulder. “Don’t,” he begged quietly, quite thoroughly overcome, and he felt Tyki’s laugh rumble through his chest.

“Even when you’re not writing,” Tyki added almost teasingly, treating Allen’s slow and painful death like a victory, “when you’re stuck on words you’ll play your fingers across the keyboard without typing a word.”

God, he did that, didn’t he? He really did that. Fuck. Fucking fuck. How dare Tyki realise that. How dare he pay that much goddamn attention. Allen wanted to scream.

“I don’t,” Tyki murmured, that teasing tone falling away to just leave that - that horrible loveliness. Just. Adoring. He was just so blatantly enamoured of Allen and Allen wanted to scream. “I don’t see how anyone could see that, and not fall in love with it,” he confessed, and Allen was glad his face was pressed against Tyki’s chest so he had the freedom to just completely scrunch up his expression in lieu of yelling incoherently. “And that’s,” he felt Tyki’s rueful shrug and forced himself to straighten his face, pull himself away from Tyki’s rain-drenched shoulder and turn his head so Tyki couldn’t see the way his expression was flitting uncertainly. “That’s it,” he said simply, gently, his arm warm around Allen’s shoulders. “That’s my music.”

Allen laughed, breathless and a little unsteady. “Lavi called me your muse,” he teased, and shot Tyki a glance from the corner of his eye.

“I mean,” Tyki allowed ruefully, “obviously you embody all that. More than, ah,” he paused to laugh and glance away. “More than anyone I’ve met, I guess. It’s inspiring or something,” he huffed, grin teasing the corners of his lips, and Allen let himself relax in against his side.

He was quiet, considering Tyki’s ‘point’ for a long moment, and Tyki let him. Let him think, let him work it out. And he thought about Tyki. A dozen of those things came to mind in an instant and Allen was embarrassed, really, that he hadn’t noticed that he’d noticed so much. That Tyki would always dip his head an inch to drink from a cup of coffee rather than lift it all the way to his lips. The absurdly specific titles he gave his playlists - a habit Allen hadn’t realised he’d picked up. When he tried to talk and smile at the same time and one corner of his mouth always quirked higher than the other.

A tiny smile twitching onto Allen’s face, he commented after a long moment, “You’re incredibly selfish.” He glanced up at Tyki, who was arching a brow with amused indulgence. He didn’t say anything, but the unspoken how so in his expression broke Allen’s smile into a grin. “When you write,” he said, and dipped his head on a silent laugh before correcting himself, “when you compose. You bite your lip when it’s going well.”

Tyki’s steps slowed imperceptibly and Allen matched him, smirking amusement at the light surprise on Tyki’s face. “That makes me selfish, does it?” he asked with that quick charm Allen had come to associate him with.

“Incredibly,” he nodded firmly, the severity somewhat ruined by the grin he couldn’t keep from twitching onto his lips. “Monopolising my attention like that?” Allen shook his head disparagingly. “Unbelievably selfish.”

Hardly bothering to hide his own amusement, Tyki murmured, his feet all but coming to a halt, “And what would a boy like you want with a distraction like that, hmm?”

Allen reached out to catch his forearm, firm and warm under his fingers, and let them stop walking completely. They ended up facing each other a little, Tyki’s feet angled towards Allen’s, and Allen couldn’t decide for a moment if he wanted to slide that hand up Tyki’s arm to tangle in his thick, silky hair or if he wanted to keep it there feeling the solid strength under his fingers. Tilting his face up with a coy smirk, hand tightening briefly around Tyki’s arm, Allen murmured, “I can think of a few things.”

Tyki grinned and inclined his head, didn’t seem to have a witty comment for once. Just had that look on his face like he’d be willing to try out one or two of those things. A hand at Allen’s neck, the other going to his waist so Allen’s grasp slid up his arm to cup his elbow, Tyki dipped down to press those distracting lips of his to Allen’s. It wasn’t shy anymore, or tentative - as much as those kisses in the studio had been tentative. Their lips were slick and warm from the rain, sliding together with delicious ease. Instinctively, a hand resting on Tyki’s chest, Allen lifted up onto his toes and pressed into the kiss. Eyes closed, he opened his mouth just enough to suck Tyki’s lower lip between his teeth. Bit down lightly and pulled back oh, so slow. Smiled into the quiet, breathless groan Tyki sighed out and arched his neck into the way Tyki’s fingers tightened.

“Is this gonna be a thing?” Allen heard Lavi demand, exasperated, and he and Tyki’s kiss devolved into quiet, stifled laughter. Allen dropped his head to Tyki’s shoulder, lowered himself down onto his heels, and turned to shoot a sharp, coy smirk at Lavi from beneath Tyki’s chin. “Cause, like,” he was saying, “that’s all fine and good, but. For the love of Christ can you two just make out and walk at the same time?”

Allen turned his face back against Tyki’s shoulder to muffle his snorted laugh and loved how he could feel Tyki’s words rumble through his chest while he retorted, “You realise how ridiculous you sound, right?”

“Do you realise how ridiculous you’re being?” he could practically hear Lavi rolling his eye. “Like, honeymoon is all well and good for you two lovebirds but we! Are! On! A! Mission! Here!” he announced, clapping his hands at each beat. “Come oooonnn, do you wanna let Kanda and Link fill the only cafe on campus that’s got reasonable open hours with their weirdly aggressive sexual tension?”

Tyki glanced down at Allen with a look like he was repeating the question to him, then back at Lavi. After a beat too long he reasoned, “I mean…”

“Oh my goooodddd,” Lavi groaned, rolling his head back in defeated exasperation, “you suck. Allen?” he asked desperately, pinning Allen with wide eyes.

Biting back his smile, Allen admitted, “I think it’s pretty funny, actually.”

“Yeah, well you would,” Lavi scoffed scathingly. “Come on, comeoncomeoncomeon we’re already soaked, let’s just see what they’re up to. For the record player?” he entreated Tyki.

Tyki seemed to be considering it rather deeply, and Allen honestly found the whole thing too amusing to bother with his own input. “You go ahead,” Tyki instructed at length with his smile slinking into a sly grin, his hand sliding around Allen’s waist to sit at the small of his back. “We’ll catch up in a bit.”

Lavi’s expression was so purely confused he almost looked outraged. Lifting a hand palm-up to gesture accusingly at the two of them, Lavi began to demand, “Why are you so-” but cut himself off with a curious glance at his hand, and then another up at the sky, the rain still falling insistently. “Seriously?” he stressed and shot Tyki an incredulous look. “You’re seriously being all difficult because you want to make out with Allen in the rain?”

Allen pressed his forehead against the shoulder of Tyki’s sodden shirt, face crumpling into quiet laughter that shook his whole frame. He could picture the exact self-assured look of unabashed amusement on Tyki's face when he retorted simply, “You say that like it’s not the most perfect reason to not do something, ever.”

“Fine,” Lavi threw his hands up, scattering drops around him from his fingertips, “okay, you romantic piece of shit. Wrap it up before I get to the corner though,” he warned, turning on his heel to stride away, “because if you don’t, I’ll be coming back to wedge myself in between your beautiful asses.”

Arching a brow, Allen asked just loud enough for Lavi to hear, “Is that meant to be a threat? Cause I gotta say…”

“Don’t tempt me!” Lavi snapped over his shoulder without turning back to look at them and Allen’s fingers curled against Tyki’s chest when he laughed.

“I’d say,” Tyki murmured, trailing his hand up from Allen’s neck so he could tilt his chin up, “we have about a minute til he reaches the corner.”

Allen’s lips curled into a smile, watching the way raindrops caught in Tyki’s hair, on his dark eyelashes, how they clung to the tip of his nose and pooled between his lips. “Guess we’d better make the most of it,” he teased and loved how Tyki’s eyes creased so beautifully at the corners when he smiled.

They met again in a kiss, hot and wet with warm summer rain, and Allen traced his hand up Tyki’s arm, over his shoulder to loop around his neck. The fingers he kept at Allen’s chin slid back into his hair and Allen sighed and melted against him, eyes closed to the rain drumming against their skin. Allen leaned into Tyki’s hand, tilted his head and followed when Tyki urged him slowly lower until their kiss was more two wide grins pressed together. Lower and lower Tyki led him, Allen arching his back around Tyki’s hand until he dropped his head back on a laugh, unable to ignore that Tyki had just dipped him.

Tyki’s grinning lips were at his throat, pressing kisses against his rain-slicked skin, and Allen lifted his outside leg for the hell of it. Trusted Tyki to bear most of his weight and drew that leg up his thigh to his hip until Tyki was laughing and the hand that was cradling Allen’s head slipped down his back, past the arm curled around his waist, and hooked under his ass. In a single smooth movement he straightened and lifted Allen, the firmness of his arms playing all sorts of tunes across Allen’s skin even as he instinctively wrapped his legs around Tyki’s waist.

Arms around Tyki’s neck, laughing at being picked up and exuberant at suddenly being taller than him, Allen lifted one hand to brush away the wet strands of hair that clung to Tyki’s forehead. Hand cupping his cheek, he craned his neck down to Tyki’s upturned face and kissed him with all the insistent, gentle passion that had been burning under his skin since hearing Tyki sing for him. Slow, meaningful, gentle of teeth and soft of tongue but so, so full .

After a long, long moment, having said not half of what he wanted to say, Allen pulled away just far enough for his lips to brush Tyki’s when he murmured, “That’s my song.”

“I’d love to play it sometime,” Tyki murmured back and Allen felt his grin against his lips. “Would you mind showing me how it goes, once more?” he entreated, tilting his head to kiss up under Allen’s jaw.

“I’m sure I would,” Allen breathed and laughed quietly when he caught sight of Lavi walking backwards along the slick pavement, holding up both his middle fingers for them to see clearly. “But maybe when we don’t have anywhere to be,” he amended, grinning.

“It almost sounds,” Tyki murmured against his throat and Allen closed his eyes on an indulgent sigh, legs tightening around Tyki’s waist, “as though you’re implying there’s somewhere we ought to be.”

“Nice use of the word ought,” Allen grinned, fingers sliding up into the mostly-dry underside of Tyki’s messy bun. With a warm, facetiously wistful sigh, Allen dropped his head to press his lips to the side of Tyki’s head, mumbling, “Is it tomorrow yet?”

Tyki laughed into the crook of Allen’s neck and carefully lowered him to his feet, saying, “A couple more hours, at least.”

“You wouldn’t believe how badly I want you to fuck me,” he mourned, and grinned when he felt Tyki smother his quiet groan against his wet skin, the hand that dipped past the small of his back.

“I refuse,” he muttered staunchly, but held Allen tight against him regardless. “I refuse to have sex with you.” Not half a second had passed before he amended, “Until tomorrow,” and Allen was laughing again.

He looped his arms around Tyki’s neck, reached up on his tiptoes and leaned against him, chests pressed together. Tyki’s arms wound around his waist, holding him close, and Allen kind of loved that it could be an embrace without a follow-up. Intimacy without expectation. “If I had a penny for every time I heard that,” he buried his grin below Tyki’s ear, “I’d have about one penny.”

“About?” Tyki laughed, a hand rolling soothingly up Allen’s spine.

“Well,” he allowed, far too amused, “it’s not as though I’ve never been turned down.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Tyki interjected. “You’d be far more humble if you’d had to work for it like the rest of us.”

“But I did always manage to convince them otherwise,” Allen reasoned, and loved how it felt to have Tyki’s laugh shaking around him, his cheek pressed to Allen’s ear. “Should we go, do you think?” he asked, turning his head to catch sight of Lavi nearing the corner.

“In a moment,” Tyki hummed and straightened a little from where he’d curled his head and shoulders down to match Allen. He brought a hand up from the small of Allen’s back and tucked a finger under Allen’s chin, lifted his head so Tyki could lean down and catch him in a simple kiss. Just lips on lips, rain falling around them and their arms holding each other close.

After a long second stretched out to five and ten and twenty, Allen pulled away an inch and murmured with his lips brushing against Tyki’s, “Really, now. You’re just begging Lavi to come back.”

Tyki’s laugh huffed across his cheek and he took half a step back, letting his hand drop from Allen’s chin to catch his hand. “Honestly,” he commented with a sharp grin, “I’m just doing it to fuck with him at this point.”

“How does he deal with you?” Allen rolled his eyes and tugged Tyki’s hand, pulled him to follow the light jog Allen took down the path towards Lavi.

Following half a step behind, Tyki remarked, “If you think the fuckery is one-sided, you’re wrong.” They were quickly closing on Lavi, who glanced back with an expression of amused exasperation and stopped to wait for them.

“What about the rest of it?” Allen taunted, grinning, their feet slapping sharp staccato against the wet pavement.

“Oh, no,” Tyki laughed as they came into earshot of Lavi, their paces slowing, “making out with him was definitely a joint effort.”

“Was not,” Lavi refuted with a sharp grin to match Tyki’s and fell into step beside them while they continued to the corner, Allen and Tyki a touch out of breath from the dash. Lavi leaned around Tyki to share that mischievous smile with Allen and explained, “I was definitely taking advantage of him the whole time. You get it, right?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Allen nodded solemnly. “I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to get him drunk and kiss him for a few hours.”

“He gets it!” Lavi announced to no-one in particular, then turned to Tyki and repeated staunchly, pointing at Allen, “He gets it.”

Tyki, amused, commented drily, “You seem to think I don’t get it.”

“I don’t think you do,” Allen insisted, shaking his head.

“No, really,” Tyki said with a snort. “You’ve no idea how jealous I am, that you’ve both gotten to kiss me and I’ll never get the opportunity.”

“God,” Lavi sighed wistfully, “could you imagine?”

“Two Tykis?” Allen asked in the same tone, and Lavi nodded dreamily.

“Two Tykis,” he agreed.

“Two Tykis,” Tyki commented as the three of them made to round the corner and he jerked them back - one hand in Allen’s, the other fisted in the collar of Lavi’s jacket, “who would both be about to win a record player off one idiot.”

Lavi stifled his surprised yelp but Allen poked his head carefully around the corner of the building, catching sight of the flicker of movement that had caught Tyki’s eye. Damn, but Lavi had plotted this out with uncanny precision. Because there Link and Kanda were, walking towards the three of them, huddled beneath one umbrella.

“I don’t know,” Lavi grinned, peeping around Allen. “This looks pretty promising.”

“Yeah,” Tyki grumbled in an undertone, “but look at them,” he gestured to the careful distance between Kanda and Link’s elbows, hardly having to strain to see over Allen and Lavi’s heads. After a long second spent watching the two of them, Tyki sighed and muttered, “They’re both so awkward.”

“Now, now,” Lavi scolded, “that’s a bit harsh. They’re reserved,” he corrected, only marginally better.

“‘Reserved’ doesn’t win you a keytar,” Tyki reminded drily, and Lavi hummed in weighty consideration.

Allen narrowed his eyes at the distant pair, trying to read the flash of their lips in the dark beneath the umbrella’s shade. Not that he could actually read lips, but like. Lavi had gotten to him. He was curious. “What do you think they’re talking about?” he hummed watching them keenly.

“Nothing at all,” Tyki guessed. “They’re just walking silently through the rain in awkward silence while Tweed keeps a careful two inches between them.”

Snickering, Allen commented, “You have such a low esteem of them, oh my god.”

“They’re boring,” Tyki insisted. “Can you blame me?”

“Naahhh,” Lavi dragged out, “they’re boring, but like. Link’s definitely making weird smalltalk. Kanda can’t stand smalltalk.”

“Why do you want them to get together, again?” Allen muttered, boredom creeping in while he found he absolutely couldn’t blame Tyki for feeling that way.

There was a collective intake of sharp breaths when they saw Link stumble, the careful space between him and Kanda disappearing when he fell against him.

“Oohh,” Lavi breathed, “not so boring now, is it?” he commented when Kanda lost his hold on the umbrella, the wind catching under it before he could right it. Their view was obscured for a moment by the flailing canvas, but when it fell away the two of them were backlit by a streetlamp and they could all too clearly see their silhouettes standing still, caught in a moment’s indecision.

And then Link took half a step forwards, fingers reaching for Kanda’s sleeve while he stretched up to kiss him.

“Fuck,” Tyki spat, suddenly far more interested in what was happening.

“Noooo,” Lavi mourned, distraught, and it took Allen half a moment to understand what that meant.

“Cruisers, thanks,” he smirked, smug as anything. “Raspberry.”

Lavi heaved a long groan - one that twisted up at the end into a question when Link tore himself away from Kanda and stumbled back a few steps. A staying, apologetic hand lifted between them. He pressed it to his lips a moment later, turned on his heel and took off running in the direction of the three of them.

“Shit,” Tyki muttered and caught Allen and Lavi’s collars, tugged them back from the corner and they all flattened against the wet brick wall as Link darted past. “That,” he breathed once Link’s running steps were at a safe distance, “probably could have gone better.”

“He did just kiss Kanda and then run away, right?” Allen squinted after him, then cautiously poked his head around the corner of the building to see Kanda still standing there looking lost and a little bit incredulous. “I didn’t imagine that?”

“You didn’t imagine it,” Lavi confirmed, sounding just as flummoxed as Kanda looked. “You did not… imagine that. I think I might have to intervene.”

“Please,” Tyki laughed. “Please intervene. Please.”

“Since when are you so invested?” Allen snickered and glanced over his shoulder at Tyki.

Grinning, he reasoned, “Lavi meddling in other people’s affairs is probably one of the most entertaining things.”

“If I can get Dink to come to the party…” Lavi hummed, trailing into thought. “I mean, Kanda lives with me, so. No issues getting him to turn up.”

Tyki laughed again, bit back only when he remembered Kanda wasn’t too far away. “What, Tweed at a party?” he snorted. “Yeah, good luck.”

Lavi rounded on him, a sly grin on his face. “Think I can’t do it?”

“I bet you can’t do it,” Tyki countered, narrow eyes matching his sharp smile. “I still want that record player.”

“I still want that keytar,” Lavi stated, and both of them cut expectant looks to Allen.

“No thanks,” he scoffed, raising his hands in supplication. “I’ll cut my losses at getting wasted out of Lavi’s pocket.”

“God,” Lavi breathed, shaking his head. “You’re so reasonable. Keep him,” he demanded of Tyki, levelling him with a weighty scowl. “You need someone to deal with your terrible gambling problem.”

Tyki rolled his eyes and began to refute, “I don’t have a gambling-” but was cut off by Lavi talking over him.

“Yeah, sure you don’t. Gotta run, sweets,” he remarked, backing away. “If Kanda catches me back after him I don’t know what I’ll say.”

“Say you were with me, sugar plum” Tyki retorted with a roll of his eyes, the endearment falling from him a touch sarcastically. “Like he’s ever going to ask questions about that.”

Lavi paused in his retreat to consider Tyki with a shrewd glance. “Oddly compelling argument, considering your boyf is right beside you,” he observed teasingly, and turned on his heel to head back down along the music building. “Stay safe, angel dust,” he called, waving a grand, dismissing arm before taking off at a light jog on his way back to his apartment on some sorcerous path which would somehow lead him there quicker than Kanda.

Allen and Tyki were quite suddenly left to themselves, with nowhere to be. But, at the same time, with no-one to intentionally annoy. Tyki glanced down at him, and then over to where Kanda had wrangled the umbrella back into obedience and was trudging away with those annoyed steps of his.

Tyki leaned back against the brick of the building, lax and unconcerned, and lightly tugged at Allen’s hand. Pulled him to stand before him, a small smile dancing at the corners of his lips. Allen’s mouth twitched to mirror him and he trailed a hand slowly up Tyki’s chest while he murmured, “So.” The fingers of their joined hands twined and Tyki tilted his head a little, listening to Allen’s playful words. “What now?”

“So,” Tyki copied him, the smile firming itself on his face when he lifted their hands to press a kiss to Allen’s fingers. “I think I’ve done well being wonderfully, cringingly romantic this whole time.”

“I think that makes two of us,” Allen laughed quietly, reaching up to brush away a beading drop of rain from above Tyki’s eyebrow.

Tyki let their hands fall in a gentle pendulum and they stood quietly for a long moment. Standing close, letting the rain fall. Relishing the proximity. Allen mapped Tyki’s face, gaze trailing across his sharp brows, his sly eyes. The small mole sitting just below the reach of his lashes, almost indistinguishable in the dark. Lips made to be kissed, pulled into a soft smile. A drop of rain beaded in the dip of his cupid’s bow, and when he opened his mouth to speak Allen’s eyes darted up to catch his gaze. “Would you like me to walk you home?” he hummed, reaching to tuck a wet strand of Allen’s hair behind his ear.

Allen smiled, took half a step away. “If you like,” he allowed, almost coy, their joined hands arched between them until Tyki pushed up from the wall with a small, answering smile. “It’s not far,” he reassured, moving slowly in the direction Link had dashed by.

Tyki huffed a quiet laugh - something endeared, that seemed to ask if it would have mattered either way. The way he curled his fingers more securely with Allen’s and easily fell into step beside him, Allen figured he didn’t voice it because the answer was so very obvious.

They walked together in companionable silence for a long minute, hands joined and shoulders bumping. At length, Tyki asked with a teasing lilt, “How’d I do, then?”

Allen glanced up to catch his eyes caught in a grin, amused. Lips curling, Allen commented, “What, we’re grading your first date?” and pulled a laugh from Tyki. “Let’s talk about it,” he allowed, an indulgent taunt.

“Okay,” Tyki agreed, ducking his head, his smile wide. “Let’s.”

Allen held up his thumb, starting the count, and presented, “Was there food, and did I have to pay for it?”

“Ooohh,” Tyki huffed like Allen had wounded him, shaking his head. “Not great,” he stated with a laugh.

“There wasn’t any food,” Allen agreed, “but Lavi did buy me a coffee before my last class, so I’ll give you points for that.”

Tyki laughed and admitted, “I wasn’t directly involved in that. I wasn’t indirectly involved in that.” He snorted and said, “Maybe we should be grading Lavi instead.”

Lifting his index finger for a count of two, Allen proposed, “Were there drinks, and did I have to pay for them?”

“God,” Tyki stressed, taken aback. “How is Lavi beating me at my own date?”

Allen broke off to duck his head on a laugh before adding his middle finger. “Location.”

Tyki huffed, tilted his head back to pin the clouds with an incredulous stare. “Personally,” he defended, “I think breaking into school property is a wonderful bonding exercise.”

“You’re not doing too well here, Mikk,” Allen warned, struggling to hold back his laugh. He lifted a fourth finger and listed, “Conversation.”

“Naturally,” Tyki commented, pinning Allen with a reprimanding look, “I got full marks for that.”

Allen laughed, his steps slowing as they approached his dorm building. “Naturally,” he agreed, teasing. “You’re very… engaging.” They came to a stop at the building’s stoop and Allen turned to face Tyki, a small smile twitching the corner of his lips. “Your conversation, I mean,” he amended, and Tyki laughed.

“Yeah,” he agreed drily, tugging Allen a few steps under the eaves and out of the rain. “My conversation.” He smiled and Allen caught a flash of gold in his eyes, lit by the fluorescent lights above the doorway. Fingers lifted to Allen’s cheek, brushed back into his wet hair. Tyki’s smile gentled when he looked down at Allen, the same expression of tempered adoration he’d worn back outside the music building. “What’s your last criteria?”

Allen’s grin curled into a smirk, expression slipping into an almost victorious smugness. “Did we fuck, and was it incredible?”

Tyki’s lips parted like he wanted to say something, and he glanced away, shaking his head a little. Incredulous. “This is rigged,” he accused, shooting Allen a scolding glance.

“What did you expect from a standardised test?” Allen countered simply, sinking into laughter. “But, you know,” he added, pulling at Tyki’s hand and taking slow steps backwards, “rubric doesn’t reflect your score accurately anyway.”

Tyki followed easily, a grin curling onto his face. “How would you grade me, then?” he asked as Allen’s back hit the door, his hand coming up to press against the glass by Allen’s head.

“With a simple question,” Allen reasoned, coy, and smirked at Tyki’s arched brow. “Did I feel physically ill when Lavi called me your boyfriend?”

Tyki laughed and ducked his head between them, glancing up under his brows to ask, “Did you?”

“I didn’t,” Allen answered simply, tilted his head while he watched Tyki with warm eyes and a small smile. “Ninety-nine points extra credit.”

“Ninety-nine,” Tyki repeated, his voice coloured with amusement and something else when his quick eyes darted down to Allen’s neck - bared, with the way he angled his chin.

“Ninety-nine,” Allen hummed, his fingers playing absently with Tyki’s. “What time would you say it is?” he mused, watching Tyki’s eyes drag appreciatively over him - wet and malleable and more than willing.

“I’d say,” he murmured slowly, working up to meet Allen’s heavy gaze, “about eleven.”

Allen’s lips curled into a small smile and he trailed his fingers up Tyki’s arm, let his eyes fall to watch his hand while he fiddled with the collar of Tyki’s wet shirt. “Do you have an hour to waste?”

He felt Tyki’s long, steadying sigh and glanced up from his fingers to catch him with his eyes closed. As Allen watched, a corner of Tyki’s mouth twitched into a wry grin and he huffed what might have been a laugh. “That perfect grade’s important to me,” he said, eyes slipping open slowly to match Allen’s question with a resolute answer. “I don’t think I’ll get the high distinction by coming up with you tonight,” he confessed, his smile a staunch apology.

Allen didn’t say anything, wasn’t at all sure what he wanted to say. Wanted to insist that wasn’t the case, but found he wasn’t certain that was true. He wanted Tyki to spend the night with him, yeah. He wanted to care that Tyki would spend the night with him. He wanted it to mean something, and for it to continue to mean something into the morning. He wanted it to matter.

Hell, if Tyki could pour his heart into getting Allen to care about him then Allen could have the grace and the self restraint to let ‘not tonight’ mean not tonight.

“You know,” he said, mocking sternness, “I wasn’t joking about what I said earlier.” At Tyki’s amused, questioning look, Allen explained, “Lavi’s party is going to be a perfect opportunity to get you drunk and kiss you for several hours, and I’m definitely going to take advantage of that.”

Tyki laughed and bent down to press a kiss to the corner of Allen’s lips, so sweetly affectionate that Allen could feel himself melting for him. “I think you’ll find the advantage will be mine,” he countered, voice low with a promise.

A short sound slipped past Allen’s lips, the slightest touch of expectant appreciation. “You’d better go,” he cautioned, hand still curled in Tyki’s collar while he stretched up to press a kiss to his soft, rain-slick lips, “Before I drag you upstairs.”

He chuckled against Allen’s mouth and dragged a hand through Allen’s hair to the back of his head, held him close to indulge the kiss for a few seconds more. Lips against Allen’s, so warm and gentle that Allen wished he was standing in front of a bed or a couch or something so Tyki could just lay him down and kiss him until he was a boneless, senseless puddle.

Eyes closed, fingers clenched in Tyki’s collar, Tyki pulled a groan from Allen’s lips when he moved away - quiet and needy and mourning the loss of contact.

“Now, now,” Tyki murmured, low and close and teasing, his mouth moving an inch from Allen’s. “My restraint can only take so much abuse.”

Allen dropped his head back against the glass with a slow sigh, fingers uncurling from Tyki’s collar to rest against his shoulder, the sharp line of his collarbone hard beneath Allen’s palm. “You should go,” he mourned, eyes slipping closed for a moment. “You should go.”

“Do you want to come in with me tomorrow?” Tyki suggested, fingers trailing down the back of Allen’s neck. He opened his eyes a sliver to watch Tyki, catch the small smile on his face and the uncharacteristic warmth of his eyes. “I’ll be going to Lavi’s early,” he explained, and reached up a finger to catch a drop of rain beading at the tip of Allen’s hair. “To help him set up, and have creative control over his playlists.”

“Of course,” Allen teased, grinning. Biting at his lip to hold back his smile, Allen let his eyes follow the line of Tyki’s neck, highlighted white by the fluorescent light on his wet skin. “I’d love to,” he said after a moment, eyes darting up to catch Tyki’s smile.

“Should I come pick you up?” he asked, but Allen was already shaking his head.

“Don’t go out of your way,” he said with a simple shrug. “We can meet somewhere.”

Tyki gave an easy hum of appreciative agreement and he dipped his head closer to Allen’s to tease, “You are very reasonable, aren’t you?” and slip a kiss onto the corner of his lips. “We’ll sort it out tomorrow,” he said and stepped away to let Allen push up from against the door.

“Wait, wait,” he called when Tyki took another step back, and Allen caught his hand. “A couple of things.” At Tyki’s arched brow, Allen asked, glancing up at him, “Do you really own a keytar?” Tyki laughed and shot him a teasing grin, and Allen found that to be a reasonable enough answer. “Okay,” he reasoned, struggling to hold back his own laugh, “was. Was the keytar in the song?”

“Might have been,” Tyki teased, and Allen rolled his eyes with an exasperated grin.

“Alright alright alright,” he allowed and stepped closer to Tyki, wasn’t at all surprised when he quietly hummed OutKast in answer. Pausing to huff a laugh, Allen trailed his fingers up Tyki’s neck and stretched up on his toes to press his smile to his cheek in a kiss, soft and appreciative. Dropping back onto his heels, Allen smiled up at Tyki’s confused expression and said simply, “Thanks.”

Tyki didn’t ask what for, and Allen was glad. That kind of false modesty didn’t suit him. He just caught Allen’s hand in his, brought it to his lips while his eyes creased teasing and genuine. “My pleasure,” he murmured and let their hands swing down between them, stepped back and slipped his fingers past Allen’s.

He turned with a grin and trotted down the stoop, cast a glance over his shoulder with a grin and a small wave, and headed off.

Allen hesitated there, fingers curling into the strap of his bag, and after a few seconds heard Tyki quietly whistle the melody to Hey Ya.

Smile breaking into a wide grin, Allen ducked his head and pressed his fingers to his lips, turned and pulled open the glass door of the dorms.

Chapter Text

When he closed the dorm door behind himself, Allen slumped back against the wood and breathed purposefully for a long moment, eyes closed to his dark, cramped dorm. He dropped his bag from his shoulder, caught the strap in the crook of his arm to lower it to the floor, and didn’t bother looking for somewhere to hang it. Tongue darted out to wet his lips, head tilted back against the door.

Sense memory of Tyki’s fingers in his hair, his mouth at his neck rolled a shudder down Allen’s spine and he pulled in a deep breath, pinched his lip between his teeth. Brought a hand up to rest at the base of his throat.

His fingers were slender and cold and felt nothing at all like Tyki’s.

Allen trailed his hand down, slowly. Fingers caught on the wet collar of his shirt and the press of the cold fabric against his skin made his stomach clench. Down his chest, down his abdomen. A breath slipped past his lips, unsteady, when he curled his fingers into the hem of his shirt. Slipped them up under the fabric. Flinched at the cold touch.

A moment’s hesitation, getting used to the chill. Slowly, gently trailing his hand up beneath his shirt, fingertips skating over soft skin. The quiet sigh that fell from his mouth when he traced his thumb beneath his pectoral turned to a bitten-off groan when he rolled his nipple beneath his fingertips, the tiny bud hardening under his icy touch.

Allen sucked in a steadying breath and forced his eyes open, stilled his hand. Breathed deep and almost steady for a long moment, not moving.

Tyki’s hand by his head, the low cadence of his voice, intoxicating and full of sly promise.

I bet you like it rough.

Teeth closing on his neck, sucking. A fist in his hair, warm hands dragging up his spine, a knee pressed between his legs. He shuffled his feet, shifted his weight. Leaned more heavily against the door. Breaths coming deep, fingers warming slowly against his chest. Heat pooling in the pit of his stomach when he remembered how Tyki smelled , that musk of rain and summer and clean sweat that Allen had breathed in against his neck.

Allen carefully dropped his hand from his chest, kept his heavy gaze somewhere near the ceiling. Caught his thumb on the waistband of his pants, mimicked the way Tyki’s fingers had hesitated over the button of his fly.

Maybe I could give you something to think about.

Spread his fingers down over the swell of his pants, traced the shape of his half-hard dick. A breath caught in his throat and Allen pressed down with the heel of his hand, eyes fluttering shut at the pressure. Lips parted, a formless word slipping from between them. For a brief moment, Allen was really fucking glad he had a singles dorm. Not only for the privacy, but also for the queen sized bed he’d replaced the narrow single with, taking up almost the entire available floor space.

Allen eyed that bed, messy with tangled sheets and too many pillows and coursework papers scattered around the foot. He massaged his hand down, heavy on his dick, and let his head fall back against the door with a quiet groan, eyes falling closed.

Yeah, he reflected while he moved his hand away from his erection and curled his fingers into the hem of his wet shirt, working it over his head. Yeah, he was glad he didn’t have a roommate.

He was already taking steps to the bed while he worked at his fly, toeing off his shoes as he went. His socks were next, and Allen twisted to fall on his back onto the mattress, thumbs hooked into the waist of his pants. He worked them down his hips, paused to squeeze his dick through his underwear, and didn’t get much further with unclothing himself than that. He dropped his head back into the soft pillows with a breathy groan and worked his hips up against his hand, bare heels digging into the mattress.

Toes curled as he dragged his hand down to the base, the barrier of his underwear at the same time frustrating and so fucking good. God, Tyki would feel him up like this, wouldn’t he. Perverse, hand down Allen’s pants, touching what he wanted to touch. He’d grope Allen’s cock, press that sharp smirk of his against Allen’s neck.

A whine built in Allen’s throat, a needful, choked-off sound, and he could imagine the cadence of Tyki’s laugh pressed against his back. Low, taunting. He tightened his hand in a teasing gesture, pressed his hips up into the touch.

“God,” he breathed, choked, eyes squeezed shut. God, god, oh god, Tyki. He was in Allen’s head, under his skin, and Allen was already just so fucking hooked on him. Wanted to kiss him, wanted to bite his soft lips and curl his fist into his thick hair, wanted Tyki’s hand between his legs working slow and hard on Allen’s arousal.

“Ty-” he tried out, bit off the rest of his name. Cheeks flushed with a headspin of embarrassment, his hand tightened reflexively - a flutter of pressure while he lay an arm across his face so he could smother his quiet groan into the crook of his elbow.

Come on, boy.

Allen stifled a whimper and twisted onto his side, lifted his hips and worked his underwear down his thighs with one hand. Rolled further, onto his stomach. Ground his hips down into his hand. Shoulders hunched up around his ears, head resting against his forearm, Allen sucked in a shuddering breath and curled his fingers around his length, worked his hips into his hand with a slow, tentative roll.

Say my name.

An unsteady little moan, and Tyki’s quiet laugh hot behind his ear. He tilted his hips back, spine curled tight like a little slut begging for it.

God, would Tyki spank him?

Allen’s hand fisted in the bedsheets at the thought and his grip tightened around his cock, wrist working a staggering momentum along his length.

Say it say it say it. What, he was ashamed now? Allen’s jaw locked tight against the low groan that threatened at the back of his throat, tightened his hand in a grip verging on punishing.

God, god, he needed him, he needed him, “I need you,” he gasped, whined, face buried in the sheets and- dammit, he hardly had enough hands to make this work. But, god, if anyone knew Allen Walker it was Allen fucking Walker and he knew just how to make it work. Twisted his hand with the quick, hard pumps, his thumb flicking over the head of his already-leaking cock.

Spine curved, hips pressing back in the hope of finding Tyki’s heat, Allen arched his head back with a long, pent-up sigh to breathe, voice caught on hysterical pleasure, “Oohhhhh my god, Tyk-”

He cut off with a short cry, a whining pant, and squeezed his eyes shut while he fucked into his hand.

“Fuck,” he breathed on a quiet, desperate sob, “fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, Ty- nnghfnh!”

One hand fumbling for the lube - somewhere, had he just thrown it somewhere on his bed last night? Christ okay he found it tangled in the sheets on the other side of the bed, fingers curled tight around the bottle. Actually hesitated for an indulgent moment before using that hand to pop open the cap - like, what, he couldn’t stop working his dick for three goddamn seconds?

Rushed, hands unsteady through the trembling swell his need, Allen spread the lube across the fingers of his left hand and paused for a moment. Propped on his elbows, head resting on his arms, breaths hot and humid in the space between his flushed chest and the tangled sheets.

Hips popped, knees spread against the mattress, pants tangled around his thighs. Tyki’s eyes on him, heavy with hungry appreciation. God, he could destroy Allen.

Allen would let him.

Blood shuddering in his veins, breath trembling under how close he could imagine Tyki, how warm his body was, the low cadence of his smooth voice.

Maybe I can give you something to think about.

Allen’s fingers were cold with the lube when he traced them around his entrance, a shiver creeping up his spine. He rolled his fingertips around his hole for a moment, a tease until the chill was gone.

Breath stilted, eyes closed, Allen’s fingers slid easily into his hole. A short moan caught in his throat, and Allen rolled his weight onto one shoulder, his cheek pressed into the sheets. Reached his right hand down, traced around the head of his cock, let his grip slip down his length in a slow stroke while he pressed his slick fingers into his hole.

God, he didn’t even have to prepare himself, really. Sure he hadn’t been fucked in a while, and he was definitely feeling that, but it wasn’t as though he was at a loss simply because he’d taken a break from getting dicked down every few days.

Not to say he was loose - Allen bit back a short whine when he pressed in a third finger, the stretch making him clench down on his hand, grip tightening on his cock at the same time. No, it wasn’t as though he was loose. But if he wanted to feel Tyki’s dick filling him, if he wanted to have Tyki gasping and moaning, draped hot across Allen’s back while he fucked him, if he wanted Tyki’s breaths coming hot and fervent behind his ear, caught on whines stuck in his throat - well, Allen wasn’t going to work too hard on preparation.

Face pressed into his sheets, legs spread for someone who wasn’t even there, Allen’s voice panted out solo pleasure to the empty room. Shamelessly fingering himself, a hand around his cock, Allen’s skin was warm and he could feel a flush spreading down his neck, his chest, pleasure pooling like heat in the pit of his stomach.

“Tyki,” he breathed, eyes squeezed shut against the dark room, and a shudder rocked through his body. “Tyki,” he tried again, and his voice cracked against Allen’s desperation. It was good, it was so good, and Allen was riding the crest of a wave that would have him coming with a grip too tight, a misplaced thrust.

“Tyki,” he choked, edging himself, need filling him until his chest was heaving and he had to curl his fingers in a choking grip around the base of his cock, holding back the cascade of bliss. “Oh fuck,” he gasped, fingertips brushing his prostate with every thrust as he fingerfucked himself. “Fuck,” he sobbed, “fuck Tyki, Tyki, yes!”

It felt wrong somehow. Hollow. Fake. The sound of his own rushed breaths lingering in the air didn’t sound right.

Tyki’s name panted against a blank canvas of silence didn’t sound right.

Allen came with a stifled, choked cry, his hand around his cock and three fingers in his ass. Tyki’s name on his lips despite the mismatched silence of Allen’s dorm room.

Breaths heavy in the comedown, loud. Allen licked his dry lips, sucked in a deep breath and rolled onto his back, kept his eyes closed against the blank ceiling. Gave himself a long moment before reaching blindly for the box of tissues on his nightstand.

The soft paper caught on his slick fingers, and Allen pulled three or four from the box. Wiped his hands clean, and snatched a couple more to clean what he hadn’t managed to catch in his hand from his stomach.

“Fuck,” he heaved a gusty sigh, tossing the wadded up tissues in the vague direction of his wastebasket. Body heavy, relaxed, warm. Satisfied. He blinked heavily up at the ceiling.

It had felt wrong, to hear Tyki’s name called out against a silent background. He didn’t belong to silence. Not at all.

Allen grinned, huffed a quiet laugh and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. How ridiculous of him, to be so infatuated. He pulled his lower lip between his teeth, hardly bothering to help his smile, and lifted his legs so he could work his pants down to his knees and kick them off from there.

He pulled them up so he could rummage through the pockets, and shoved them gracelessly onto the floor once his phone was in his hands. He opened a message, tapped his finger against the side of his phone.

Lily Allen: what if i said i can’t fall asleep???

He locked the screen, drummed his thumbs against the dark glass until it lit up with a message, and then another.

bassfucker: https://www.youtube.com/wa…
bassfucker: rest up, boy. I dont think you plan on getting much sleep tomorrow ahahah

Smooth, and a breath away from cringey. Allen smiled, let the phone fall to rest against his grinning lips for a moment. Rolled over to reach for the charger and plugged it in before opening the video Tyki had sent.

Gentle trumpet and delicate piano wove together, light bass knitting the two melodies together, and Allen fell asleep with a smile on his face and Chet Baker playing from the tinny speaker of his phone - a quiet canvas of relaxed subtlety for him to think that Tyki really might just be someone worth falling in love with.

Chapter Text

Allen knew he’d been asleep an absurdly long time when he jolted instinctively to the sound of his phone chiming with a call. The sun was in the wrong place and he was sticky with I’ve-been-asleep-all-day sweat and his first conscious thought was that summer was just overall too damn much.

Still too bleary, Allen’s hand shot under his pillow, searching blindly for the source of his late awakening. Not finding his phone there, he reached out to fumble at the bedside table. One eye squinted painfully open, Allen sat up sharply when he realised it wasn’t on the nightstand either.

He was already reaching down into the space between the table and the bed before he could consider that he might like to ignore the call and keep sleeping.

Almost missed it from how his uncoordinated hands fumbled around with tangled cords and power outlets, but answered on the last trill without pausing to check the caller ID.

“Hello?” Allen mumbled, groggy, and fell back heavily against his pillows.

“Good morning,” came the smooth, teasing cadence of Tyki’s voice, iconic.

Allen let all the air out of his lungs in a weighty groan, draped an arm across his eyes to block out the too-bright sun and hopefully the sound of Tyki’s laugh. “It’s,” he paused for half a second to think before reasoning scathingly, “Friday.”

“It is,” Tyki agreed, infuriatingly amused, “you’re right.”

Allen heaved a heavy sigh and pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment, lifted his arm to peek at the time before falling back into position. “It isn’t morning,” he admitted.

“You are on a roll today.”

Tyki’s smug amusement was on a roll today.

Allen wanted to die, a little bit. He settled for groaning inarticulately and rolling onto his side, phone balancing on top of his cheek while he stretched his arms up beneath the pillow under his head.

Laughing, Tyki asked, “Did I seriously wake you up?”

A paltry defence, Allen reasoned weakly, “I don’t have class on Friday.”

Not to be deterred from how unreasonably funny he found this, Tyki remarked, “It’s past one in the afternoon.”

“Plenty of people nap at one in the afternoon,” Allen insisted, still laying with an arm over his eyes, his voice rough with sleep.

“Generally,” Tyki laughed, “only if they earned it by being awake for the first half of the day.”

Allen saw fit to retort only with that long, grumbling groan once more.

“Eloquent as always,” Tyki commented facetiously, and Allen could just about picture his sharp, teasing grin. “Anyway,” he began, probably finally getting around to why he’d actually seen fit to wake Allen up with what up until now had seemed only the intention to shitstir him, “I’ll be heading over to Lavi’s at about five, five-thirty. Called to make sure you weren’t in a coma.”

“I was in a coma,” Allen mumbled, hardly taking in whatever Tyki was saying, “and it was great.”

“Yeah, well,” he laughed against Allen’s ear, “sorry for saving your life. I’ll make a point of not doing that in the future.”

“Please and thank you,” Allen muttered, and heaved a great sigh as he brought a hand up to catch his phone and pushed himself to sit. “Why are you so. Chipper. Awake. Why are you awake?” he asked, ignoring that people generally didn’t sleep into the afternoon on weekdays. Or any days, for that matter.

“Because I find happiness in life and enjoy being conscious?” Tyki hazarded, and Allen let his silence speak for his incredulity while he untangled his legs from the sheets and pushed himself to stand. After a long moment Tyki corrected himself, “Because Campbell called me at six this morning and asked for the second draft of my comp assignment by an hour and fifteen minutes ago?”

“Just say midday,” Allen grunted and stretched down to pick up some track pants from the floor. “Economy of words. I don’t want to have to think that hard about what time it is,” he reasoned while he pulled Tyki away from his ear and put him on speakerphone before dropping him onto the bed. Through a jaw-cracking yawn, he asked blearily, “Were you recording that whole time?”

“Since, like. Nine,” Tyki answered, voice tinny from the phone speaker. “The samples don’t have to be polished, but it’s a massive pain in the ass and I only had two pre-recorded.”

“The one from last night?” Allen asked, tugging open a drawer and rifling around for a fresh shirt.

“And one other,” he agreed, “yeah. The rest was all… ideas,” he continued easily, talking while Allen painstakingly pulled himself together. “Half of them aren’t even gonna cut it,” he muttered, and Allen didn’t think he imagined the sourness in his voice. “Campbell just likes to fuck my ass for progress reports.”

Scrubbing at his eyes, Allen ignored any allegations of his uncle fucking anyone’s ass, toed his scattered flipflops upright and slid them on, reached across the bed to scoop up his phone while he asked, “What is the assignment, exactly? An EP, yeah,” he allowed as he turned off speaker and put the phone back to his ear, “but…?”

“Genre hopping, basically,” Tyki hummed ambivalently and explained like he’d read the criteria a hundred times, “I have to demonstrate my ability to compose across a variety of genres while retaining the cohesiveness of a produced album. So,” he reasoned, “I’m marked on storytelling or… overarching themes or melodies or whatever as well as for the individual songs and. Genre variety.”

Allen made a sound of impressed consideration while he dug for his keys in the pocket of yesterday’s pants and asked, “What’ve you got?” before flicking the keys into his palm and tugging open the door with that hand.

“Alt rock,” Tyki listed and Allen smothered another yawn behind his hand, “you heard that last night. A tango.”

Awake enough to react, Allen felt his brow twitch in teasing incredulity and asked in a sly taunt, “Tango?”

“Mmhm,” Tyki hummed agreement, and it sounded like he was grinning. “I dabbled in Spanish guitar for a year or two back when I was learning classical. Never thought I’d write for it,” he admitted, “but. Guess I never had the right song.”

Trotting down the steps at the end of the hall, heading for the dorm canteen, Allen said, “I don’t know how to be subtle about saying I want to hear it, but I definitely want to hear it.”

Tyki laughed again, not a touch self conscious when he allowed, “Maybe when I can be assed to record the violin tracks instead of just substituting with piano.”

Allen laughed and promised, “I’ll hold you to it.” Pushing through the doors, he was met with the quiet murmur of the late lunch crowd, just a few people here and there around the cafeteria who’d been caught in class or were too deeply absorbed in whatever they weren’t meant to be doing to realise that their lunch had gone cold. “So what were you working on today?” he prompted, heading for the pilfered buffet of eggs, sausages, beans and mashed potato.

“Folk,” Tyki hummed while Allen picked up a plate and wedged the phone between his ear and shoulder, freeing up his hand to place a couple pieces of toast on his plate and begin loading them up with a lot of everything. “Country. I wrote up a quick swing-blues-thing as a filler. Want to replace it with a ballad,” he admitted, “but I haven’t got anything to…” he paused for a moment to search for the word before settling on, “ballate about yet.”

“Ballate,” Allen laughed, moving along the buffet to the beverage setup of instant coffee and bagged tea, “is not the verb of ballad.”

“I didn’t think it had a verb,” Tyki reasoned, amused, and after a moment asked, “Does that mean ballate is an actual word?”

Smiling while he spooned the coffee into his cup, Allen answered, “It’s a type of poem, actually. Italian.”

Tyki, voice tilted low with intrigue, murmured, “How’d you come across that?”

“Fine arts,” Allen scoffed, and poured in some hot water from the kettle, added milk and dropped in the spoon with a clatter.

“Good for something after all,” Tyki teased, and Allen laughed as he picked everything up and made for one of the empty tables. “I’d ask what you’ve been up to, but sleeping sounds about the extent of it.”

“More or less,” Allen hummed ambivalently while he seated himself, putting his mug down first and catching his phone before freeing his other hand of the plate.

“More or less,” Tyki repeated with a laugh, and Allen knew better than to think the allusion had gone over his head. “Why don’t you tell me a bit about the more?” he entreated, voice dipping suggestively low in Allen’s ear.

Resting his elbow on the table and curling his fingers around the handle of the coffee cup, Allen responded with, “What can I say?” and directed a teasing grin at the scrambled eggs piled on his toast. “You gave me a lot to think about.”

“Don’t be nasty, boy,” Tyki reprimanded, a chuckle worked into his voice.

“Nasty,” Allen taunted, copying him. “If you want a play-by-play, I could probably write something up for you,” he offered, suggestiveness laced in his tone, and brought the cup to his grinning lips.

“I’d prefer if you showed me,” Tyki countered, and Allen could hear the taunting grin in his voice.

“Yeah, well,” he sighed loftily, lowering the mug back to the table and picking up his fork to absently poke at the eggs, “I’d have preferred if you’d let me show you,” he retorted with an air of offence, “but you had to go and be all… reasonable.”

Tyki’s laugh was light and amused in his ear, and the sound of it dragged a smile to the corners of Allen’s lips. “Forgive me my chivalry.”

“That’s not chivalry,” Allen refuted, teasing, and speared a clump of eggs with his fork. “That’s prudish.”

“I considered it gentlemanly.”

“Would a gentleman leave me alone at a time like that?” he challenged, coy, already knowing the answer. Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. He knew it, and Tyki knew it, and Tyki knew better than anyone how to play around Allen’s word games. It was why he liked him so much, really.

Or, part of it.

“How about I show you tonight,” Tyki fielded, the sly smile evident in his voice, “just how gentlemanly I can be.”

“Is that a euphemism for sex,” Allen said through a grin and a mouthful of scrambled egg, not a touch articulate.

“You’d better hope so, boy,” Tyki said, a laugh laced into his words. “Because otherwise it’s a euphemism for leading you on all night, then walking you home and leaving you to take care of your sexual frustration by yourself. Again.”

“Ooh,” Allen winced, “does your mother know this is the kind of man you’ve become?”

“Joke’s on you,” Tyki returned, “my mother decided she didn’t want me, like. Nine months too late.”

“Aw,” he emphasised and put a tender hand over his heart. “We have so much in common.”

Tyki snorted a laugh and Allen could almost see him shaking his head disparagingly. “Alright,” he laughed, “alright. I’d better go export these files so Campbell doesn’t put my dick in a blender.” Allen snickered a laugh and fumbled his fork into the ketchup. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

Allen hummed ambivalently and delicately plucked his fork out of the sauce. “Probably going to stare at a blank document for four hours.” Probably going to douche better than he had in his entire fucking life, but hey. There were some things you don’t tell the guy who called to make sure you didn’t wank yourself to death.

“Catdick alien porn?” Tyki hazarded with a laugh, and Allen rolled his eyes, unable to help his grin.

“No,” he snickered, licking the sauce from his thumb and forefinger before wiping them off on his sweatpants and picking up the fork again. “The neo-gothic witches and that selkie you have a crush on.”

“Ooh,” Tyki perked up, intrigued. “I like that one. Are you gonna tell me who’s got his skin?”

Allen snorted a derisive, “No,” and speared a sausage with his fork, brought it up to bite off the end. “Maybe he has his skin. Maybe he’s a rogue agent.” He chewed, then swallowed the mouthful. “Maybe you’ll just have to read it your own damn self.”

“Maybe,” Tyki allowed, “if you ever get around to finishing it.”

Allen scowled down at his plate. “Hey,” he scolded. “You can’t call me out, Mikk. You still haven’t exported those files, have you.”

“They’re exporting,” Tyki defended. Lied. Really quite terribly.

Allen laughed. “Yeah,” he said, “sure. Tell that to Neah’s blender.”

“Well,” Tyki sighed gustily, “with the safety of my dick at stake, I can understand your concern.”

Allen sat for a couple long seconds before admitting, “I don’t have a witty comeback to that, that’s. That’s just true.”

“There’s always a thrill to leaving you speechless,” he murmured, and Allen wasn’t quite sure how he managed to make his voice sound like a teasing smirk and sly eyes, but there it was.

Lifting himself up on his elbows, Allen cast his own grin to his plate when he reasoned, “You know, there are more thrilling ways to leave me speechless than banter over the phone.”

“Perhaps there’s something else we can do over the phone,” Tyki suggested, and as much as Allen might have been tempted, he couldn’t take it seriously from the amused grin he could hear distorting Tyki’s attempt at seduction.

“Hah,” he barked, “ha, ha. No, I’m not falling for that again.”

“Again,” Tyki scoffed. “What, you’ve never had phone sex before? I assure you, it’s a touch different than having a lonely wank.”

“I’ve just never been inclined,” Allen shrugged breezily despite Tyki not being able to see him. “What’s the point, if I can’t see you?” he reasoned. Voice dipping quiet, a little bit low, “If I can’t feel you. I want to touch you, Tyki Mikk,” he breathed, words hardly catching on his voice. “I want to be surrounded by your scent and hear what speechlessness sounds like.” He dipped the end of the sausage into the sauce and brought it up to take another bite, the sound of him chewing effectively ruining whatever Tyki thought he might have been building up to. “And there are some things you just can’t do over the phone, you know?”

“And yet,” Allen could practically see his arched brow, “you so quickly steer us into dangerous territory. My, boy,” he remarked, a mockery of offended sensibilities, “what is it you really want?”

Allen snorted a laugh and put his fork down, reached for his coffee and washed down the mouthful of food. “Try it and I’ll hang up,” was his nonchalant warning.

Tyki gave him an amused hum, something teasingly indulgent that told Allen he was feeling a little bit mean. “So,” he said, and Allen could imagine his smirk, “what do I smell like?”

“Cigarettes and summer,” he answered without really having to think about getting embarrassed over it.

Tyki laughed, amused and unsurprised. “Apt,” he said, dry. “I smoke cigarettes and it is, surprisingly enough, summer.”

Allen made a sound of ambivalent consideration and tilted his head to the side, placing his mug back on the table and poking his finger into the sauce. “No,” he said at length, “it’s definitely you. Hot asphalt and clean sweat and-” he cut himself off, paused to consider. “That feeling you get, right before the humidity breaks and it starts raining.”

Tyki’s off-beat of silence seemed surprised. “How long have you been holding onto that?” he tried to tease.

“I haven’t,” Allen answered with another small, unnecessary shrug. “I only realised it just now.”

“Surely you thought about it a bit.”

“I suppose,” he allowed, “in passing. But it’s not something you really should have to think about, right? How would you describe me?” he reasoned, trying to make a point.

Tyki didn’t respond for a moment, a couple of short seconds, and when he did the simplicity was surprising. “Sugar,” was all he said.

“Sugar?”

“Spun sugar,” he emphasised, seeming to fall into the idea, “or vanilla meringue, before it’s put in the oven.”

“Raw meringue?” Allen laughed and stuck his finger in his mouth, licking off the sauce. “I smell like egg whites and sugar?”

Teasing, Tyki rebutted, “You say that as if you’ve never eaten raw meringue and thoroughly enjoyed it, salmonella be damned.”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that allegation,” Allen sniffed. Then he paused, and glanced around at the mostly-empty cafeteria, confused. “I forgot why you called, actually.”

“Uhhm.” It almost sounded as though Tyki had, too. “Probably… to procrastinate. Lavi refused to order Chinese for lunch on principle, so there’s basically nothing to do but email Campbell.”

“And yet,” Allen arched his brows, letting that trail off.

“And yet,” Tyki agreed with a sigh.

“Can you get Lavi to export the files for you?” Allen suggested, bringing his fork up to finish the sausage.

“Hey Lavi,” he heard Tyki call from a distance, as though he’d pulled the phone away from his ear, “wanna press a button?” Allen snickered when he heard a muffled reply, too quiet to make out, and then Tyki was back. “He says he’d rather die than have even second-hand communication with ‘that deranged ass cat demon’.”

Allen nearly choked on his food. “Has he ever even met Neah?” he demanded once he could breathe through his laughter.

“Once,” Tyki answered, “briefly. Never again, was the verdict.”

“Fair,” Allen allowed, “and reasonable.”

“He’s a good judge of character.”

“He’s friends with you,” Allen reminded skeptically.

Tyki’s short silence spoke volumes. At length, he asked, “What does that say about your judge of character?”

Allen twisted his lips, eyebrows up, and shook his head while he sucked a slow, scathing breath through his teeth. “Really want me to answer that?”

Tyki heaved a weighty sigh. “Okay.”

“Look,” Allen said, looking down at his plate and realising that in order to eat anything else on it he’d need to be using a knife - therefore requiring two hands, “not that I have a whole lot to do today, but I do have a couple of things to do today.” Filling his body, and then. Cleansing it. “And as much as I love listening to your beautiful voice and tearing down your massive ego-”

“Both very time-consuming activities, to be fair,” Tyki agreed.

“-my bacon is like. Congealing on the plate, and if I actually see the fat go solid-”

“Don’t want you to lose your appetite,” Tyki commented, smooth and teasing.

“Oh,” Allen laughed, “no. Not likely. But you would just have to live with the knowledge that I ate solid bacon fat.”

“That,” Tyki stated, and then stopped. “Is not knowledge that I want to live with,” he finished.

“Right?” Allen sighed emphatically. “But you should send me a link to that playlist you had the other day in the cafe.” The thought of having to go through his own playlists again made him want to go back to sleep and actually never wake up this time.

“Sure,” Tyki chirped, and Allen grinned at the bounce of excitement in his voice.

“And,” Allen added, dragging the prongs of his fork through the ketchup, “thanks. For last night.”

It was silent for a moment, but when Tyki spoke Allen thought he could feel the warmth of his smile through the phone line. “Any time you want to go breaking into buildings and be serenaded by George Michael-”

“George Michael,” Allen spoke over him, laughing, “had nothing to do with it.” He pinched his grin between his teeth and painted lines of sauce across the bacon with his fork. “Thank you,” he said again, subdued with sincerity. “And I slept really well,” he ducked his head and breathed a laugh, “obviously. So. Thanks for that too. The song,” he felt the need to clarify. “It really helped.”

“You’re welcome, boy,” Tyki murmured, an echo of his sincerity. “See you later. I’ll text you the details.”

“See you,” Allen returned, somewhat meek, a small smile sitting on his lips, something like embarrassment fluttering in his chest. He ended the call, and looked down at his phone for a moment. Huffed the slightest laugh and pushed it onto the table, picked up his knife and cut into the cardboard-like bacon.

Allen arched a brow at Tyki’s button-up-slacks-and-shades combo and asked, an amused grin twitching the corners of his lips, “Funeral, or jazz cat?”

“Both,” Tyki answered without skipping a beat, tugging at the strap looped over his shoulder to pull an honest to god keytar into his hands and play a chord. He dipped his head a little so he could pin Allen with a grin over the frame of the glasses, elaborated, “I’m all about soul,” and smoothly played another cluster of notes.

“Oh,” Allen sighed and glanced around pointedly, “I was waiting for the sexy sax player, actually. He’s the pretty one, right?”

Smoothly, Tyki played one more slow chord before flowing into a light, easy bop and singing as he stepped closer to Allen, voice low and husky in a mimicry of Amy Winehouse, “What kind of… fuckery is this?”

Allen snickered a laugh and reached out to catch his tie and pull him down into a grinning kiss. Even with Allen’s lips on his and a hand at the back of his neck, Tyki continued to play a few slow chords on the keytar until Allen realised he’d transitioned into a completely different song. With an intrigued frown he pulled back to glance down at Tyki’s hands and ask, “What’s that?”

“The only one who could ever reach me,” he sang in answer, looking far too happy with himself as exasperated comprehension overcame Allen, “was the son of a preacher man- ow why?” he laughed when Allen smacked his shoulder and began walking along the sidewalk in the direction of Lavi’s apartment, struggling to bite back his grin.

“Cross may have been ordained,” he called over his shoulder to where he knew Tyki would be jogging to catch up, “but he was only my guardian for a month.”

“I mean,” Tyki reasoned, falling into step at Allen’s elbow, “priests don’t traditionally have sons, so. There aren’t that many songs about them.” He still had the ridiculous instrument in his hands, absently playing notes and chords like an ad libitum song as they walked.

“Maybe you’re not looking hard enough,” Allen teased, casting Tyki a taunting grin.

“Well,” Tyki hummed and played three chords in smooth succession before falling seamlessly into a simple melody, “I did write a song about you. Not about a priest’s son specifically,” he allowed, shooting Allen a quick grin and inserting a flurry of notes that he recognised from the song Tyki had given him before returning to whatever nameless tune he was tapping out, “but I think that you being the son of a priest for a month allows it to fall into that category.”

Allen ducked his head on a laugh and allowed, “I guess that’s fair.” They walked like that for a couple of minutes, Tyki content to compose without intent and Allen content to listen and enjoy it for what it was.

It was… interesting, actually. To listen to that. Before long he was actually paying attention to the music itself, managed to hear the intricacies of a directionless song growing straight from Tyki’s absentminded fingers. He would create a melody, try it out. Some he would discard, quickly meld them into something he decided was more pleasant to play, and those he seemed to like eventually metamorphosed into something new and different. Yet it all wove together almost seamlessly, even the bars Tyki repeated several times over before allowing himself to move on.

After several minutes Allen was struck with the strange realisation that he was the only one who would hear this. This particular tune, this flow of music - as odd as it sounded, coming from the synthesised keys. It wasn’t being recorded at all, and there wasn’t really anyone else around to hear. For a moment it was tragic. Allen liked this song - the strange meandering quality of its progression, the experimental nature of the melody. He wanted to pull his phone from his pocket and record it - keep it, immortalise it, create a version for the world to hear. But almost the moment that thought hit, Allen discarded it.

This wasn’t something that was meant to be captured. It wasn’t meant to stay the same, it wasn’t meant to be known. Every note, as expected as it felt in context, existed only in the instant that it was played. There was no preemptive script, there was no record of its sound. It was momentary, it was fleeting, and it was meant to be that way. It was Tyki, right now, right there, walking beside Allen and composing something new with each step.

Allen glanced aside at him, watched his face for a moment. He wore an easy expression, relaxed, almost smiling. Eyes ahead, so far as Allen could tell from behind the shades. Every now and then he’d glance down at his hands to find a specific note, but rarely did Allen actually hear him slip up.

It was incredible, honestly. The realisation that Allen was the only one who would ever hear this came hand in hand with the realisation that it was Tyki, and it could only be Tyki who played it. No one else had his exact influences, his exact schooling, his exact mind. And it was just… incredible. With a small smile and a consuming swell of adoring appreciation, Allen curled his arm around Tyki’s waist and hooked his fingers into the belt loop at his hip, leaned his head against his shoulder and let him perform for his one-man audience.

They walked in sedentary companionability along the street, and Allen was almost disappointed that the moment had to end. But as they approached the walk-up apartment Lavi shared with Kanda, Tyki let his music trail off into the sound of… No.

That… that wasn’t actually MCR, was it?

Surely not.

Allen glanced a question at Tyki’s face, saw his eyebrows bunched in something like… confused distress. God. God, it really was, wasn’t it.

“Is that…?” Allen began to ask, and Tyki’s lips pressed into a severe line.

“It is,” he said simply, and slung the keytar back over onto his back. The expression on his face as he set off up the stairs to the offending apartment looked as though he was walking out onto the front line.

He shoved open the door, left slightly ajar, and demanded of the empty living area they found themselves in, “What the fuck is this turn of the century hot topic black parade emo shit?”

Allen poked his head in over Tyki’s shoulder, followed him a few steps into the apartment and pushed the door back to rest against its frame. When he glanced back, taking in the unremarkable drab walls of a generic cheap apartment and the grey suede couch Allen remembered passing out on maybe once or twice, Lavi was poking his head in from the hallway looking - well, Allen was about to consider that he was looking far too happy with a greeting like that, but really he probably just knew to identify it as Tyki. So, you know. The expectant grin made sense.

“I was mocking Kanda,” he reasoned happily over the almost-too-loud music, stepping out into the living area, “but he left, and then I remembered how much I enjoy and miss this album.”

Tyki kept that sour expression for another moment before closing his eyes, arching his brows and shrugging into a lax admission. “That’s fair,” he allowed. “It’s a good album.”

“It’s a great album,” Lavi corrected, and Allen trailed along behind Tyki while he made his way comfortably into the apartment. “Did you bring anything?”

With a flourish, Tyki pulled the keytar back around into his hands and played a couple of chords in time with the ‘turn of the century hot topic black parade emo shit’ with some easily-deniable familiarity.

“Oh baby,” Lavi cried, bringing his hand to his mouth while Tyki ducked into the kitchen. “I missed her. I did mean alcohol, but I missed her.”

“Um,” Tyki snorted a laugh and stretched up for a dusty bottle on top of the overhead cupboards, half-filled with amber liquor, and held it up for Lavi to see. “Johnnie Walker Blue, baby,” he taunted.

Lavi’s eyes narrowed and he reached past Allen to snatch the bottle from Tyki’s hand and inspect the label.

“No way you can even pretend that’s yours,” Tyki stated smugly while he turned his back, opening a cupboard for some glasses.

Allen peered at the bottle in Lavi’s hands and shot Tyki a look, arching his brow when he commented, “I can hardly believe it’s meant to be yours.”

Tyki cast Allen an offended glance but before he could say anything Lavi was demanding, “How long has this been in my house without my knowledge?” while he unscrewed the cap and brought the mouth of the bottle to his nose.

“Since…” Tyki hummed as he plucked the bottle from Lavi’s hand and poured a couple shots into each glass, “the last time Sheryl told me to get a real job?”

“Who’s Sheryl?” Allen asked, and accepted the tumbler Tyki passed him.

“Oppressive asshole,” Tyki answered simply, then offered the two glasses in his hand a considering look. “With good taste in alcohol,” he amended and palmed one off to Lavi.

“Cheers to that,” Lavi scoffed and Allen indulged in a wry grin as the three of them tapped their glasses together.

“First course of action,” Tyki announced once they’d each taken a drink of the rich bourbon, “I am changing your fucking playlist.”

Allen snorted a laugh and Lavi shot Tyki a scandalised look as he brushed past him out of the kitchen, heading back out to the living area. “You come into my house,” Lavi remarked, scathingly offended, “you steal my alcohol, you shit on my music. Might as well go have a wank in my shower!” he announced, throwing his hands up helplessly for the drama. “Make yourself at home.”

“This is a fucking college party,” Tyki called from the living area, and Lavi urged Allen along to follow him with a wry smile and a jerk of his chin, “not a cybergoth rave.”

With an endeared roll of his eyes, Allen followed Lavi back out to the main room, savouring a sip of the rich liquor.

“With that being said,” Tyki continued, and Gerard Way’s heartfelt desperation faded out and was replaced after a few moments with the opening chords of probably the only Frankie Vallie song Allen actually knew. “I’ve had this stuck in my head for days,” he said from in front of the sound system, dropping his phone on top of a stacked up pile of vinyls, “and haven’t had a chance to listen to it.”

He turned to grin at Allen, all charming and roguish, and held out his hand the same as he had last night - like an invitation.

Unable to help but roll his eyes once more, Allen didn’t bother to stifle the grin that twitched onto his face and reached out to place his hand in Tyki’s.

“If Kanda was a decade,” Tyki murmured as the vocals came in, eyes heavy with that look like he was about to do something, “he’d be the two thousands. Sadboy grunge punk mall goth.”

“Very Kanda,” Lavi supplied, and when Allen cast a glance back at him he was making off back to the kitchen with a wink and an easy wave.

“But you,” Tyki continued, pulling Allen in close, “are so… sixties.”

Allen ducked his head on a laugh, abashed and embarrassed in a way that really only Tyki had managed to pull from him.

“Like,” he allowed on a laugh and took half a measured pace back, lifted his hand and twirled Allen under his arm before swinging him back in close, “imagine The Penguins performing Earth Angel live,” he suggested, and Allen indulged himself in turning his eyes up to Tyki, full of such teasing romance while he let his hand holding the tumbler of bourbon trail up the front of Tyki’s button-up to sit against his neck. “That’s how sixties you are,” Tyki murmured, hand finding its way to Allen’s waist. “Pardon the way that I stare,” he chimed in seamlessly, “There’s nothing else to compare. You know?” Eyes teasing but touch just so   genuine that Allen couldn’t help but let himself fall into Tyki’s gently rocking steps, “There are no words left to speak.”

“Gay and Lame,” came Lavi’s voice from the kitchen, and Tyki ducked his head down close to Allen’s, his laugh caught in the space between their lips, and the look he cast Allen was just so… full, with all the snap and the keyboard and the trumpets - god, he really loved brass, didn’t he?

“You’re just too good to be true,” Tyki breathed against his lips, “can’t take my eyes off of you.”

“Cute,” Allen inserted with an enamoured smile, and let himself be led into a simple swinging two-step, following Tyki’s indulgent, absentminded lead through the instrumental. Let himself be spun out in gentle turns as they gravitated towards the center of the lounge room.

“And you,” Lavi countered, coming back in from the kitchen with his glass full of… cola, “you sappy romantic post-war ‘I use music to say what I can’t with words’ piece of shit,” clearly directing his statement to Tyki, “are twenties jazz, through and through.”

Incredulity pinched Tyki’s brows into a look of dismay and he asked, stilted, voice almost pleading to be wrong, “Did you just. Mix two hundred dollar bourbon. With cola?”

As though he hadn’t heard him, Lavi continued, “But I’m not talking early Louis Armstrong, I’m talking…” He paused for a moment, humming while he considered, “... Bugle Call Rag being played by, like. A throw-together jazz band in a smoky downtown bar, you know?”

“Very specific,” Allen commented with arched brows, and brought the whiskey to his lips to savour the rich taste.

“Specific and accurate,” Lavi agreed with a grin, “yeah.”

“You’re the reason we don’t have nice things,” Tyki insisted with a sour scowl. “Because you never fucking appreciate them.”

“I can’t actually taste the difference,” Lavi admitted with an unconcerned shrug, and Tyki’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“So where does that leave you?” Allen steered the conversation away from there, twining his fingers with Tyki’s and lifting his hand. He turned beneath the arch and tucked himself against Tyki’s side, his arm around Allen’s shoulders.

Lavi paused for a moment, and his abundantly expressive face told them he was deeply considering it. “It’d have to be…” he trailed slowly, bringing up a finger to tap at his chin, “like. Mid thirties?” He glanced at Tyki, expectant for a verdict. “Great depression ragtag swing, you know? Dipping my toe in rock ‘n’ roll,” he elaborated, and Tyki scoffed.

“Great Depression alright,” he commented, and Lavi shot him figerguns. “I just…” he started, and hummed in vague disagreement. Gave a slight frown and reasoned, “I see where you’re coming from, but there’s not enough… umph.”

“What are you talking about?” Lavi snorted, planting a hand on his hip. “It’s the thirties. There’s plenty of umph.”

Tyki tilted his head like he was deeply considering disagreement before explaining, “No, it needs to be more…” he gestured at all of Lavi with the hand holding his glass, “now. The goal of that entire era was to make people dance, right? But here you are,” he made a wider gesture, encompassing the apartment and the evening spread out ahead of them, “still making people dance.”

“So,” Lavi considered, pursing his lips and glancing around like he was envisioning the party around them, “what, more EDM?”

Tyki made a sound like that didn’t quite fit either and countered helplessly, “You’re too classic for EDM.”

Allen scoffed quietly into his drink and they both glanced down at him with matching looks of expectation. “Uh,” he started eloquently, grin teasing at his lips, “you’re both missing the very obvious answer.” The expectant looks didn’t budge, and Allen laughed again before answering their unasked question. “Twenty-tens electro swing.”

“Goddddddd,” Lavi groaned, long and loud, “that’s so fucking me.”

Tyki was still looking down at Allen, his expression on of charmed appraisal, and he said simply, “Obscure.”

Allen arched a brow, mouth curling into a small smirk, and stated, “I knew Rahsaan Patterson, and you’re surprised now?”

“Yeah, but you also don’t like rap,” Tyki countered, grin matching Allen’s, “so forgive me my skepticism.”

“We should put some Caravan Palace in the party mix,” Lavi threw in, taking over from Tyki at the sound system and fiddling with whoever’s phone was playing the music.

Tyki looked like he’d very much like to argue against that, but after a moment he let it go with a breathy sigh and commented, “Having Caravan Palace on the same playlist as DMX goes against the natural laws of the universe, but sure,” he allowed, “okay.”

“There’s DMX on this playlist?” Allen picked out skeptically, and Lavi seemed to think a reasonable answer would be to just. Start blasting it from the speakers.

“It’s called PUMP . for a reason, baby!” he crowed, dropping the phone carelessly onto the stacked records and whirling around with a wide, sharp grin, punching his fists up into the air. “So let’s get pumped!”

“Oh my god,” Allen tried to groan through his laughter, but couldn’t deny that… Well, rap might not be his thing, and DMX was certainly not his thing, but Lavi’s energy and the anticipation of the heavy beat was infectious.

“Actually,” Tyki announced, darting over to the sound system and picking the phone up from where Lavi had dropped it, “Road Boyz did a song that was pretty electro swing.”

“What’s Road Boyz?” Lavi demanded, eyes narrowing in immediate suspicion. “It’s not one of your gay ass poppy ass weeb ass boy bands, is it?”

“I know you know it’s called Kpop,” was all Tyki said.

“Fuck my ass, Tyki Mikk,” Lavi groaned dramatically, and Allen stifled a snort of laughter. “There’s homosexual, but then there’s gay.”

“I have only ever claimed to be gay,” Tyki reasoned and put the phone down, having made his necessary additions. “Sexuality has nothing to do with it.”

“You!” Lavi announced without pause for segue, pointing directly at Tyki, “Daddy Longlegs. Gotta haul some ice from the freezer.”

“Don’t bother helping or anything,” Tyki rolled his eyes but ducked down to press a warm kiss to Allen’s temple before pulling his arm from around Allen’s shoulders, letting his hand trail and linger on his back for a moment as he brushed past to the kitchen without an argument.

“And you,” Lavi rounded on Allen, “small white marshmallow man who isn’t ten feet taller than me.” Allen arched his brows. “Help me move the table to the middle of the room,” Lavi instructed, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the round glass-top dining table angled into a corner.

Between the three of them it didn’t take long to have drinks chilling in a kitchen sink filled with ice, about ten packets of various crackers and crisps and candy out on the table, a quick scrub of the bathroom and kitchen, and they were each still somehow three drinks in by the time Allen was sitting on the kitchen bench with an open bag of Doritos and a raspberry cruiser, Tyki leaning against the bench beside him periodically stealing his chips while they watched Lavi struggle to reach for the Bailey’s up on top of the cupboard with no small amount of amusement.

“Hey you almost got it that time,” Tyki commented lightly when Lavi’s fingertips brushed the base of the bottle.

“Fuck you, Jack Skellington,” Lavi bit out, and there was a collective intake of breath from the spectators when he tried to jump for it - one that quickly dissolved into laughter when he only managed to bump it further away.

“I offered to help, like. Five minutes ago,” Tyki snickered, and Lavi dropped down onto his heels with an aggravated huff.

“I refuse to be bested by,” he slapped the counter sourly, “gravity.”

Allen laughed into his Doritos and entreated, “C’mon Lavi, use your head. Didn’t Dead Poets Society teach you anything?”

“Other than how to challenge authority and kill myself when my dad doesn’t let me?” Lavi muttered, and Tyki hissed at the low blow.

“And, you know,” Allen continued for him, handing the Doritos over to Tyki and pushing himself to stand up on the counter, head ducked low beneath the ceiling, “how to stand on a fucking table.”

Amidst Tyki’s laughter and Lavi’s distressed groans, Allen stretched to pick up the bottle by the neck and dangled it down in front of Lavi.

“I hate,” he began and snatched the bottle from Allen’s fingers, but never really bothered to follow up on that. “Whatever,” he grumbled. “Fuck you too, Neil Perry.”

“How is it,” Allen laughed while he started passing down the rest of the assorted liquors so they could start up a makeshift bar, “that you remember the name of an obscure character from a movie you probably haven’t seen since senior year,” he paused at the bottle of sake, scanning the label and scrunching his nose in distaste before passing it down, “but you didn’t see getting on the counter as a viable solution to this problem?”

“His intelligence is selective,” Tyki snickered, and the sharp jab Lavi delivered to his shoulder didn’t stop his laughter.

“Yeah, well,” Lavi muttered, “your little sister’s selective, but I still hit that.”

Tyki levelled Lavi a long look, unconcerned. Sipped his bourbon. “Road is fifteen, Lavi.”

“Ew,” Lavi’s face scrunched distaste at the response, reached for the kahlua Allen was holding out for him. “I take it back.”

“Lavi, you strike me as the type,” Allen commented from amidst three different bottles of vodka, “to take a class in women’s studies to try get laid.” The silence from the other two spoke far more than it ought to, and Allen glanced down at them with dismayed incredulity. “Did you really do that?”

Tyki propped his chin in his hand and smiled sweetly up at his friend. “Well, Lavi?” he prompted, clearly already knowing the goddamn answer. “Did you do exactly that not two semesters ago?”

Lavi lifted his hands in some kind of pleading defence and announced, “For the record. I didn’t take women’s studies with the intention of trying to get laid. And I did actually learn a lot in that class.”

“Like what?” Allen snorted, passing down the Smirnoff. “If she breathes she’s a thot?”

“Oh my goddddd,” Lavi groaned defeated frustration, snatching the vodka from Allen’s hand and shooting a glare at his taunting grin. “I hate him,” he whined at Tyki. “Why did you choose him? Of everyone. He’s so mean.”

“I think you’re missing the point, Lavi,” Tyki countered, lifting his drink to hide his grin while Allen dropped down from the counter. “All women are queens.”

“I can’t believe,” Lavi muttered and dropped his head into his hands, “that Tyki Fucking Mikk is trying to lecture me on gender politics.”

“I’m glad someone is,” came a sweet, doll-like voice from the doorway, and Lavi’s mockery of despair disappeared in an instant. Allen laughed at how quickly he shot up to see the slight girl standing in the doorway to the kitchen with her fists planted on her hips, light brown bangs pulled back from her face, reprimanding scowl wavering under threat of her smile.

“Chomesuke!” Lavi cried and launched himself to tackle her in a crushing hug.

“Hey, stupid,” she wound her arms around him, face splitting into a cute grin while she swung him around in a short circle before letting him down. “Goushi and Tokusa got distracted by the snacks,” she said, and Lavi pulled back from her with a dramatic gasp.

“You got Goushi to come?” he demanded, incredulous.

“And Tevak,” she preened. Lavi caught her hand with a loud yell and darted out into the living area, dragging her along behind him.

Allen shot Tyki a glance, grin growing at the sound of Lavi’s exuberance in the next room. “Should we join them?” he suggested, fingers tracing down Tyki’s arm to catch his hand in a gentle grip. Stepping backwards to the doorway, Allen kept his smirk on Tyki and tugged him along. He paused after a couple of steps to let Tyki close the distance between them, stretched up on his tiptoes to press his grin in a kiss against his lips.

It was chaste and indulgent, and when he fell back down onto his heels Tyki was smiling that smile Allen loved, and the corner of his lips twisted up when he murmured, “We should, shouldn’t we,” and let Allen pull him out with a laugh to join the tentative beginnings of the party.

“Alright ladies,” Lavi was announcing as they arrived, turning his infectious grin on the small group, “you know how this goes. Sacrifice your shitty cask wine to the bar, it’s a free-for-all.”

“I think we all know who’s bringing the shitty cask wine,” Tokusa spoke up through a mouthful of chips and hefted a bottle of peach schnapps, “and I think we all know it isn’t me.”

“Oh baby!” Lavi cried and clutched his chest.

“First thing!” Tokusa cut him off, holding the bottle away from Lavi threateningly. “You gotta get Frank Ocean off this fucking playlist,” he pointed into the air as though to call out Super Rich Kids . “This mood is killer, and not the good kind.”

“Told you,” Tyki hummed smugly, and Lavi shot him a sour look before running an analysing glance over Tokusa.

“Kesha stays,” he said staunchly, and Tokusa rolled his eyes.

“Of course Kesha stays,” he said as he held out the schnapps. “She’s a bad bitch.”

People started arriving soon after that, the kitchen countertop cluttered with bottles and the front room pumping with music and drunken conversation and energy . Allen could feel his blood thrumming in his veins, heart pumping with Arctic Monkeys and D.D Dumbo, Kendrick Lamar and Childish Gambino. He hadn’t taken the joint someone was passing around, but he just felt so damn high from it all.

Tyki stuck close by him, his swaying body and shifting feet filling Allen again and again with the itch to dance, to move and drink and kiss his face, press his lips against his neck, curl his legs around Tyki’s waist and stretch up to brush his fingers against the ceiling in the middle of a dancefloor of people. Tyki’s hands under his thighs, his shirt riding up when he stretched his arms up to the plaster, Tyki’s tipsy grin pressed to his chest, his throat, his lips his lips his lips.

Hours drifted by and they didn’t mean a thing - the music never stopped, Tyki never left his side, and there was drink in his hand until the bottle was empty. It was because of that, probably, that they ended up back in the kitchen. It was good - it was good. The main room was good, it was alive, and the kitchen was almost private without being anything like antisocial.

The energy was still there, the music was still there, Tyki was still there and everyone came through once or twice - probably more. Lavi was there sometimes, always flitting in and out and dropping teasing comments as he came and went.

There was a constant stream of traffic, and they probably weren’t kissing quite as much as it seemed. It just… seemed… like a lot.

The way Tyki’s lips on his harnessed every shred of Allen’s awareness, he wasn’t really surprised. Warped perception, and all that.

The one thought that kept coming back to him whenever that awareness of his drunkenness hit - how did I get here with a hint of amusement and a vague idea of the sequence of events.

Fingers under his shirt, teasing along the waistline of his pants. Another drink, and he’d lost count. Didn’t matter. Tyki’s eyes on him, on his face, his smile, his laugh, the coarse touch of evening stubble lining his jaw, shading his cheeks. Lips on Allen’s, impossibly soft. His fingers tangled in the thick silk of Tyki’s hair, his back pressed against the kitchen bench, and Tyki’s rough cheeks were sending shudders across Allen’s skin with his face pressed up under Allen’s jaw, lips and teeth and tongue at his throat.

Allen was… pretty dizzy by the time Link arrived. Just hitting that point where everything was happening all at once and he was only getting snapshots of fleeting focus. Lavi’s laugh resounding through the apartment, Tyki’s hand at his waist, fingers edging under his shirt to trace intoxication against his skin. His lips, every now and then, pressed to Allen’s.

Link was there, and Allen wasn’t entirely sure how or when or how the fuck, but Lavi was there too, and the sharp gleam in his eye when he called Tyki, “Babe!” was enough to have Allen pressing his laughter into Tyki’s shoulder.

He felt Tyki’s full-bodied groan rock through him, heard the way he muttered, “I can’t fucking believe the audacity,” before scrunching his face up in distaste and slinging the keytar over his head. “Fine,” he sighed sourly, holding out the keytar for Lavi to take with a joyous whoop. “Treat her well,” he warned, arm curled possessively around Allen’s waist as though paranoid he might lose him in a bet too. “I’ll know if you don’t.”

“I know, I know,” Lavi sang and immediately ran his fingers up the keys, playing a magnificent scale before giggling giddily and bouncing up on his toes.

Link looked more than lost, glancing between Allen’s laughter, Tyki’s scowl and Lavi’s victorious smirk with no small amount of confusion. “What,” he started to ask, a frown clouding his brow, “just-”

“He,” Lavi interrupted graciously, pointing a dramatic finger at Tyki’s unimpressed face, “just lost a great bet, that’s what.”

Allen snickered and leaned in close against Tyki’s side, stretched up on his toes to press his lips against the shell of his ear and murmur teasingly, “I think you underestimated how much he wants to fuck Kanda.”

“You what?” Link snapped, and after taking a moment to blink at his face Allen realised he was actually, like. Really fucking angry about the whole thing. “You talked me into coming here so you could win a bet?” he seethed, jaw wound tight and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I can’t believe you.”

“Yeah, neither,” Tyki muttered, mostly for Allen’s benefit. “Talking him into coming is only even stakes if I get a chance to talk him out of coming. You practically cheated.”

“Noooooooo,” Lavi was moaning over Allen’s stifled laughter and chanted, “Link Link Howie Dink pleeeeaase! I really am glad you’re here.”

“No shit,” Tyki commented, unheard, his eyes on the keytar.

“I was afraid,” Lavi started, but his pleading expression was already fracturing into forced-back laughter, “it was gonna get,” Allen was already snickering, and Link’s face read quite clearly that he anticipated exactly what Lavi choked out next between hysterical giggles, “rained out!”

“Oh,” Allen cried, trying to sound sympathetic to the blow with a hand on his chest to hold back his laughter, Tyki shaking with his hand covering his mouth beside him.

“I’m leaving,” was Link’s cold announcement, already turning on his heel.

Allen got only a quick, sharp wash of disappointment before Lavi was chasing after him, catching his arm and tugging him back with that big-eyed puppy dog look on his face while he begged in that endearing little whine, “Dink please, no wait please.” It got Link’s attention, in a shrewd, scathing kind of way, but Allen could attest that hesitation in that moment was his first and fatal misstep.

If Lavi tasted blood he’d never let go. “You gotta make it stop,” he was begging. “Kanda’s been salty all day!”

Tyki dipped his head to breathe against Allen’s ear, his smile hidden in the words, “Helped not at all by Lavi’s company, least of all Black Parade.”

“C’mon,” Lavi was still pleading, he and Link ignoring Tyki’s whispered commentary and Allen’s quiet snickers. “He’s not back from work yet but he’ll be here in a bit?” Lavi entreated. “Hang out til he gets here, yeah?”

And with that, he had him. Shoulders slumped in a defeated huff, and damn good timing for it too. Lavi, as easily distractible as he was, found his attention torn away at that moment by a shrill voice rising above the din in the front room.

He shot past Link like a bullet, screeching, “Is that who I think it is?”

Link seethed for a moment, looking lost, and glanced sharply around the kitchen as though looking for some kind of anchor. His eyes almost grudgingly fell on Allen and Tyki, flicked briefly to the hand Tyki had resting at Allen’s waist before darting up to glance between their faces, finally settling on Tyki with something like distaste.

“You…” he started slowly, stilted, as though he didn’t know where to start, “you seriously bet a- whatever that was,” he scowled, “against me coming tonight?”

“A,” Allen listed, holding up a finger, “a keytar. And b,” he added, flipping up a second, and sang smugly, “yes. Yes he did.” Link’s distasteful expression was quickly shifting into one of disgruntled offence, and Allen shrugged blithely, brought his drink to his grinning lips. “It was either that, or Tyki got Lavi’s record player. You know,” he gestured vaguely, “if you didn’t show up.”

Link glanced rapidly between them, disgruntled offence growing when he demanded, “Since when were either of you two involved in this?”

“Hah,” Allen let loose a short laugh, “since Lavi dragged us out to-”

“None,” Tyki announced loudly, clapping a hand over Allen’s mouth, “of that, boy.” He shot a glance down at Allen, eyes narrow and teasing and close when he reasoned, mischievous, “He’s not drunk enough yet.” Hand still around Allen’s mouth, he shot that too-charming I’m-almost-mocking-you grin of his to Link and offered, “Want a drink? You probably need one, right?”

Allen reached up to pull Tyki’s hand away so he could comment, “I don’t know how he talks to that guy sober, To Be Honest,” enunciating his words as though they were capitalised.

“Oh my god,” Tyki breathed, too endeared to be exasperated, and butted his head against Allen’s, pressed a teasing kiss to his cheek, “shut up. You’re so mean when you drink.”

“I’m exactly the same when I drink, thank you,” Allen sniffed, hardly keeping a straight face through his own amusement. “You just feel it more cause you’re a sad drunk,” he taunted, poking a finger against Tyki’s ribs.

“I’m not any kind of drunk,” Tyki defended, pulling away with a look of comical affront. “If anyone here is a sad drunk, I bet it’s Tweed.”

“What?” Link demanded, stiff. “Why?”

“You bet, do you?” Allen countered Tyki, arching a brow.

Tyki’s eyes narrowed at the challenge, lips curling into a grin. “I bet,” he murmured, voice pitched low and a touch too quiet for Link to catch when Tyki tilted his head closer to Allen’s, “the Uber fee for when you’re inevitably begging me to take you home and fuck the sass right out of you.”

“And when do you suppose that’ll be?” Allen teased, tilting his chin up to match Tyki, their faces too close.

“I’d give it,” Tyki hummed, glanced at his watch, “two and a half hours, tops.”

“That’s generous,” Allen commented, unimpressed.

“One and a half,” Tyki bartered, and Allen’s expression slipped into a grin.

“So you have an hour and a half to get him blind,” Allen summarised, still too quiet for Link to quite catch what he was saying, “and see if he cries,” he finished, holding out his hand.

“And if he does,” Tyki finished for him, shaking his hand, “you’re calling the Uber.”

“Clock’s ticking,” Allen taunted, and Tyki seemed confident enough in his ability to get Link drunk that he decided to waste a few of his elapsing seconds by pulling Allen in and catching his smirk in a kiss more teasing challenge than anything else.

He pulled back quickly, planted his hands on Allen’s shoulders and shuffled him out of the way of the makeshift bar they were working from - which was really just a mess of whatever half-empty bottles of cheap spirits the college students could afford to bring to a party. “Let me make you something,” he announced for Link, grinning in response to Allen’s quiet laughter and reaching immediately for the Jameson.

Chapter Text

Tyki held his dubious cocktail out for Link to take, lifted his fucking two hundred dollar fucking business class fucking rich ass delicious ass bourbon with a grin and announced, “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Allen accompanied, tapping the neck of his bottle against the rim of Tyki’s glass.

Link lifted his drink in halfhearted skepticism, and Allen could just see the moment his taste senses made contact with his brain’s security system and everything went on lockdown. His lips twisted up like someone had sliced his mouth with papercuts then stuffed it full of lemons, eyes wide and darting around like his propriety was trying to figure out if it was ever acceptable to spit out a beverage,no matter how disgusting.

“W-what,” Allen gasped through choked up laughter, “what the fuck did you give him?” he demanded, having a vague idea but still kind of needing to hear it out loud before Link died or something. “He looks like he’s having an aneurysm.”

“An Irish cunt,” Tyki said, and brought his fucking Johnny Walker Blue up to his smirking lips while Link gracelessly lost the battle with his gag reflex and spat the vile concoction back into the glass.

“Oh my god,” Allen wheezed through his laughter, desperately trying to reign it in to sound as sincerely bad for poor Link as he felt. You know, considering that was - to the slightest extent - his fault. “What’s wrong with you?” he snickered against Tyki’s shoulder, not really succeeding at all on the looking-sorry-for-Link front.

“Gotta get rid of this Blanc de Blanc somehow,” Tyki muttered, plucking the bottle of toxicity from Allen’s hand and holding it up to squint in scathing disgust. “God, Wisely,” he sighed, “I thought you were better than this. Remind me to tell Lavi he’s not allowed here anymore,” Tyki commented with a glance down at Allen, who was still laughing.

Shaking his head, he straightened himself from Tyki and reached into the kitchen sink, pulled a cruiser from the ice and held it out for Link with a smile verging on sincerely apologetic. “Here,” he offered, “I promise this doesn’t taste like shit.”

“A cooler?” Link asked, skeptical as anything, but reached out to tentatively accept the drink anyway.

“Lavi bought them for me,” Allen said, lips curling into a grin, “since I won a bet last night too-”

Tyki’s hand was back over Allen’s mouth, not a touch subtle about trying to keep him quiet, his quiet, “Shhh,” a warm breath against Allen’s ear, and really Allen didn’t have much sense as to why he wasn’t meant to talk about winning bets and stalking Link and Kanda and okay it did make sense and he probably shouldn’t talk about it but really at that point all Allen was thinking about was Tyki’s warm breath against his ear.

“It’ll do,” Link muttered, beyond the scope of Allen’s attention.

“You do realise,” Tyki was murmuring, too quiet for Link to hear, “that coolers are, like. Point seven standard drinks. Right?”

Allen shot him an insincerely apologetic smile and patted his cheek as pathetic consolation. “I know,” he said, and looked down to tap his drink against Tyki’s in a one-sided toast. “That’s about twenty minutes you lost off your mark,” he smirked, not at all apologetic, and tipped his head back to finish his drink.

“So, uh,” Link said, clearing his throat in a way made almost endearing by his awkwardness, “what do you two, um. Do?”

Tyki glanced from Link to Allen, then back to Link with a sly, teasing grin growing across his face. “Why, Dink,” he announced, affecting surprise, “is this you trying to get to know us?”

Link’s lips twitched his discomfort and he answered stiffly, “I suppose.”

“Well,” Allen said, reaching into the sink for another cruiser, and twisted off the cap while he said simply, “he writes music and I write porn.”

“You do love to sell yourself short like that, don’t you?” Tyki interjected, already gravitating closer to Allen. Like a magnet - like he couldn’t stay away if he tried. “He writes porn, yeah,” he told Link, pointing at Allen, “but the plots he works with is what’s really incredible.”

“Sex sells,” Allen shrugged blithely. “Do you know how many erotica novels get sold every year?”

“No?”Tyki returned with a confused frown. “Why would I know that?”

“Genuinely wondering,” Allen allowed, “because I don’t either. But you can bet it’s a far sight more than supernatural terrorism.”

“Hey Tweed,” Tyki called, and slung an arm around Allen’s shoulders, pulled him in close against his side, “would you read a book about a bunch of witches and wereboars hiding out in the open trying to start a political revolution and also when no one’s busy there’s sex?”

Link looked mildly concerned and very unprepared to answer that question.

“Freaky neo-gothic witch sex in a room full of taxidermied animals,” Tyki added with a grin and Allen jabbed an elbow into his ribs. “Ow?” he said through his laughter.

“That was my twenty second pitch in the elevator with a director,” Allen announced, “and you ruined it with neo-gothic witches fucking in a room full of taxidermied animals.”

Tyki leaned down, pressed his grin against Allen’s cheek and murmured, “See why you shouldn’t lead with ‘I write weird porn and I can’t get off unless dead animals are always involved in some way shape or form’? You undersell yourself and the director can’t wait to get out of the elevator and as far away from you as possible.”

“I don’t,” Allen tried, brows furrowed in distress. “I don’t... That’s… I don’t. I’ve never.”

“You buy it for the freaky smut,” Tyki said, grinning at Link, “and you stick around for the plot.”

“Which… is?” Link asked, hesitant and probably regretting starting this conversation.

Before Tyki could defame him any further, Allen announced, “Urban fantasy! With gang wars and emotional trauma and a big bloodbath when someone sets the city on fire.”

Link’s eyebrows were a little pinched in confused incredulity. “That,” he said slowly, “certainly sounds engaging. I don’t read, but if I di-”

“Wait,” Tyki interrupted, eyes wide with disbelief, “you can’t read?”

Allen sputtered out barely-human laughter while Link struggled to defend himself. “No,” he said between Tyki and Allen’s snickers, “no, I mean- I said I don’t read, not- of course I can, I’m in college for Christ’s sake! Look, would you stop laughing?”

Allen pressed a hand to his own mouth that time, shoulders still shaking with restrained giggles while he tried to explain that he was sorry with his eyes.

“It wasn’t that funny,” Link muttered, shoulders wound tight in his seething pout.

“Oh,” Tyki chuckled almost consolingly, “c’mon, Tweed. Your reaction’s half the fun.”

Link huffed a short, tight sigh but tipped back a long mouthful of his cooler all the same. Stifled a grimace but let his shoulders slump into something more relaxed. “Should I go find Lavi?” he muttered, probably half to himself, but Allen took the invitation to answer anyway.

“Depends,” he said, grin sharp and a thumb hooked into the belt loop at Tyki’s back, fingers trailing low. “Do you really wanna stick around in the kitchen like an antisocial nerd?”

Link’s brows furrowed confusion and Allen relished the quietly amused look Tyki threw him.

“But,” Link was saying, “aren’t you two…” He trailed off at Allen’s arched brow, understanding quickly dawning on his face at Allen’s smirk. “Oh,” His eyes darted to Tyki and then away again, an embarrassed blush creeping up his neck. “Uh. Yeah, I’ll. Go find Lavi,” he stuttered, turning on his heel, “or something.”

“You’re gonna need more than one drink,” Tyki called after him, but Link didn’t slow with the short wave he shot over his shoulder.

“I know where to find the alcohol, thanks.”

Tyki blinked after him, then turned his expression of mild offence down to Allen’s sly grin. “Did you just kick my prize horse out of the bar?” he asked, shocked, and Allen turned to face him.

He trailed his hand from the waistband of Tyki’s slacks up the front of his shirt, caught his tie and took two short steps back before he bumped up against the counter. “Yeah,” he smiled, coy while he pulled Tyki in, “but wait til you hear my excuse.”

Tyki’s hands at the counter by Allen’s hips, his body close and warm and his smile a slow taunt. “Better be worth an Uber fare,” he murmured, and Allen angled his chin up to catch his lips on Tyki’s sharp grin.

Allen pressed against Tyki and relished his velvet touch, the indulgent softness of his mouth. Drunk on too many things, Allen ran his intoxicated hands back through Tyki’s silk hair, fingertips caught alive with the sensation. Clenched his hands, caught Tyki’s quiet moan with his grinning lips and canted his hips against the sharp jut of temptation - Tyki’s thigh, pressed against him. All he had to do, really, was part his knees, let Tyki press in, let himself fall apart in his hands.

But before the hypnotic movements of Tyki’s lips against his could rupture Allen’s thin veil of propriety, someone barged into the kitchen with a victorious kind of sound - probably not expecting to see Tyki pressing Allen against the bench, fingers creeping up the back of his shirt.

“Nope,” was the immediate statement from the doorway, and Allen dropped his head against Tyki’s shoulder with a quiet laugh.

Under his breath, he whispered below Tyki’s ear, “Should we find somewhere more private, do you think?” while a short scuffle broke out at the door.

“Nope nothing,” came a second voice, coloured with habitual sarcasm and deep-seated amusement, words shaped loosely through an almost unidentifiable accent. “You gotta.”

“Um,” Tyki said against Allen’s temple, “no. I still have an hour and twenty-three minutes to get Link drunk.”

“You can forfeit whenever you’re ready,” Allen reminded, teasing, and glanced over at the doorway when the first voice let out a whine of quiet distress.

“You’re so small,” complained the blue-haired-rainbow-suspenders person Allen had seen come through the cafe every now and then, their exit blocked by their - wow, tiny - friend and his deeply mischievous grin. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“So don’t be a pussy,” the little one reasoned blandly, hands locked into the doorframe to create a barricade with his body, “and I’ll let you out.”

“You could almost just step over him,” Tyki remarked, an intrigued commentary.

An unstoppable laugh bubbled past Allen’s lips and he pushed Tyki away by the shoulders, announcing, “I’m not associating myself with that comment.”

Tyki looked down at him, affronting surprise over his amusement. “What,” he said, “I could probably step over you too if I really wanted to.”

“Which is exactly why you’re not touching me right now,” Allen reasoned, snickering at the unimpressed look Tyki shot him.

“Oh look!” the ten year old boy announced, his affected surprise not touching the sarcasm that seemed rooted deep in his personality. “Tyki Mikk! What are the chances!” From the look of growing dismay on his blue haired friend’s face and his own disastrously entertained grin, Allen could guess the chances were pretty high. “You know,” he continued conversationally, tilting his head to the side, “Rowan was just talking about you, actually.”

“Oh my god Ray,” was Rowan’s distressed punctuation.

“Again,” Ray finished, devilish. Between him, Lavi and Tokusa, Allen was beginning to wonder if this party was actually just a front for some kind of demon gathering. Not the deeply evil kind, but the sort that just fed off the trouble they stirred up.

Rowan looked like they were feeling the same way, but then their eyes caught on Tyki’s piqued interest and Allen was stifling a laugh with the back of his hand at how flustered they were all of a sudden.

From behind them, not even trying for a stage whisper, Ray asked almost nonchalantly, “Do you need me to kick your ass?”

“No!” Rowan insisted sharply, blush creeping up their cheeks, “no, I’m. I’m sorry,” they said to Tyki, already bright red, “but like. I saw your performance with the jazz ensemble last semester and I just want to say you’re really amazing, like.” They paused, sucked in a breath and emphasised, “Really amazing,” before continuing in their fervent ramble, “and I am probably not nearly drunk enough to be doing this right now but my friends kind of forced me to.”

Tyki’s eyes were alight with an interesting mix of reactions. Something like modest surprise - the modesty completely and utterly overrun by flattery and a deep, satisfied smugness.

Smiling that coy, sloe-eyed smile of his, Tyki said, “Drunkenness has less to do with honesty than it does bravery. I’m flattered,” in a voice dipping low with unabashed flirtation.

“You’re preening, actually,” Allen commented, amused behind his dry statement, and arched an unsurprised brow up at Tyki.

Unaffected by this astute observation, Tyki simply continued Allen’s assessment of his reaction to Rowan’s praise with, “Bravery isn’t quite the word I want, either.”

“Brazenness?” Allen suggested, and Tyki perked up with a snap of his fingers.

“That’s the one.”

Redirecting his unsurprised stare to Rowan with a small roll of his eyes, Allen told them, “He thrives under praise, I’m sorry.” Hand on his chest, dipping his head in a mockery of apologetic morning. “You’re really just inviting him to flirt shamelessly at you.”

“Who’s Allen Walker?” Tyki backed Allen’s statement with a short, unconcerned shrug.

Ray, eyebrows creeping up to his hairline, pursed his lips and glanced between them. Starting slow, he hazarded, deadpan, “Nnn...not the guy you were just tryna fuck in the kitchen?”

“Look,” Tyki emphasised, but any defence he was planning on making was sidetracked by Ray’s shoulders hunching up with the snicker he'd been holding back.

“Hey Ro,” he nudged his friend, shooting them a grin more amused than concerned, and asked, “still breathin’?”

Rowan, face still red as anything, groaned and leaned down, turned their face away to mutter something embarrassed in Ray’s ear.

His expression of cheeky taunt fell into something more like sober consideration, and he jerked his chin in a short nod to whatever they were saying.

Rowan straightened with a look of deep embarrassment, hand covering their lips, and Ray wasted no time in turning to Tyki and reporting with a strangely intense expression, “Drunk-Rowan is trying to figure out how to convey that they wanna be friends-forward-slash-do music stuff with you without sounding creepy or,” he paused to frown down at his empty hand, as though checking palm cards, before looking up and finishing with that same short nod, “fangirlish.”

Allen blinked at him, wondered if he could get his question out before he spat a laugh all over the kitchen and asked, “Did you just repeat exactly what they told you?”

“Yessssss,” Ray confirmed without a second’s hesitation, and Rowan immediately turned on their heel, taking hurried steps out of the kitchen.

Allen found Ray mirroring the laughter that him doubled up. Tyki looked deeply flattered and a little bit excited.

“Can they play trumpet?” he asked, leaning forwards a little as though he wanted to peer around the kitchen door and try catch sight of them through the crowd.

“Nope,” Ray allowed through his laughter, popping the ‘p’ in a way eerily similar to how Lavi did, “but you can bet they know someone who does.”

“Are you seriously,” Allen demanded through his snickers, “selling your friendship for a trumpet player?”

“Capitalise through demand, boy,” Tyki said as though he were imparting a great wisdom. “I’d love to start a jazz band, but the only people who want to be in a jazz band are already in them.” Allen wasn’t quite following what Tyki was talking about, but he was sure he was saying something very reasonable and meaningful. Like, it almost sounded profound. “Also,” he added after taking a drink from his glass, “I would kill for a trumpet player.”

“Got it!” Allen announced, straightening quickly and reaching for his phone.

“What?” Tyki demanded, immediately  concerned. “What.”

“I’m changing your name to brassfucker,” Allen stated, opening his contacts and quickly adding an ‘r’ into Tyki’s name.

“Oh my god,” he was saying, watching over Allen’s shoulder, “thank you.”

“Raaaaaaayy…” came Rowan’s voice from the doorway, filled with trepidatious concern, and was quickly followed by them poking their head back into the kitchen. “Kimmy’s about to do something stupid.”

Allen couldn’t help but laugh at at the short yelp that tore from Ray, his shoulders jolting up sharply like reflex. Fervent and mildly terrified, he whipped around and darted out of the kitchen with a distressed warcry of, “WHY DID WE LEAVE HER ALONE IN THE SAME ROOM AS HIM?”

Allen glanced back at Tyki after a moment, blinking bland surprise. “Should we be concerned, do you think?”

“I think,” Tyki answered slowly, calculating, “if the little boy doesn’t steal his friend’s phone and add me on facebook by tomorrow morning, we should probably start being concerned.”

Allen gave a long, slow blink. “Seriously?”

“Look,” Tyki defended, holding up his hands, “I know how that sounds. It’s only half accurate.”

Allen arched a brow. “It sounds like you are singularly after them for the perks of their friendship.”

“I’m sure the two of them have everything under control,” Tyki reasoned simply, finishing off his drink and leaning down to distract Allen with a kiss to his cheek, followed it up with a second, more indulgent one, creeping closer to Allen’s lips.

“Stop trying to distract me from your coldheartedness!” Allen cried, words jumbled a little against Tyki’s lips.

“I’m not,” Tyki lied, moving to kiss Allen’s other cheek, tilt his chin up with a touch of his fingers and line teases along Allen’s jaw. “I’m a monster, really,” he admitted below Allen’s ear, and Allen was just easy enough to accept it. “Absolutely morally bankrupt,” Tyki murmured, kissing down his neck, and Allen’s eyes fluttered, his hands curled into the front of Tyki’s shirt.

“I can see that,” he agreed, tilting his head to free up his neck, the scrape of Tyki’s stubble against his skin trailing shudders down his spine. “And you’re incredibly good at distractions,” he added, and trailed a hand up to Tyki’s rough cheek to pull him up from where he was sucking gently at Allen’s pulse point, because he’d just realised he really quite desperately missed having Tyki’s lips on his.

Allen could feel his grin against his lips, smug and victorious, and arched into his touch when Tyki’s hands trailed to the small of his back. Laughed into their kiss when he moved down to Allen’s ass, squirming a little when Tyki kneaded his cheeks through his pants, hungry and shameless. Another dip further down, and Tyki hoisted Allen up to prop him onto the counter so they could be almost of a height.

Quiet as a breath, words mumbled against Allen’s lips, Tyki murmured, “You wouldn’t believe how long I’ve wanted to kiss you like this.”

“Oh?” Allen laughed, fingers tangled in his hair, and tilted his head up to press a kiss under Tyki’s jaw. “How long?” he teased, knees locked around his waist.

“Mmh,” Tyki hummed vaguely, trailing his fingers absently up and down Allen’s spine, working shivers across his skin. “Since the start of the year, I think,” he answered at length, and Allen dropped his head to laugh against Tyki’s collarbone.

“What?” he demanded, not really getting it. “Like… actually eight months.”

“Mm,” he confirmed, distracted and sweet, and placed a hand under Allen’s chin to bring him up for another gentle kiss. “I saw you,” he said, and pecked Allen’s lips again, “in Campbell’s class. Came in for about half a minute to drop off some paperwork.”

God, Allen didn’t even remember that. Had he? He’d still been living with Neah first semester, every now and then his uncle had asked him to bring in something he’d forgotten. God, yeah, he probably had. Holy shit.

“Couldn’t take my eyes of you,” Tyki murmured, lips back at Allen’s throat, and he wondered if Tyki could feel the way his pulse was hammering in his veins.

“Kept seeing you around campus after that,” he added, kissing his way back up Allen’s neck, along his jaw to his chin. “You’ve got the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen,” he breathed, and Allen wasn’t quite prepared to have him open his eyes right then. Dark with sincerity, and so close that Allen could see the pirates gold flecked through the brown. “You look radiant,” he said, words falling across Allen’s lips, “and I wanted to make you smile like that.”

And there Allen was, trying to reign in that little smile trembling on his lips, without anything to say in the face of Tyki’s simple allegory for something as complex and absurd as love. All he could do, really, was curl his arms around Tyki’s shoulders, press his face into the crook of his neck and tell him, “You do,” with a breathless kind of laugh. “I’m glad,” he said after a moment, breathing safe like a secret into the hollow at the base of Tyki’s throat, and wasn’t quite sure how to put the thought into words.

He wasn’t glad Tyki had bothered him for so long, exactly - insistence could quickly become antagonism, gross and unwelcome. But Allen had never told Tyki to stop. He’d never wanted him to stop. There was a subtlety in silence, and he was glad Tyki had figured him out so effortlessly.

Tyki wasn’t a patient man, no. But he knew a game when he saw one, and there was a certain thrill to an impasse.

“I’m glad you let me play,” he said at last, and huffed another laugh. Wondered if it would be difficult to rope Tyki into a round or two of poker sometime.

“My pleasure,” he responded, voice humming in his throat against Allen’s lips, and it didn’t sound so much a pleasantry as teasing honesty. “I was thinking,” he mused, fingers still trailing up and down Allen’s spine, “we should play cards sometime. How do you feel about blackjack?”

Allen’s shoulders shook with his laugh, and he pulled away to grin a taunt up at Tyki, fingers interlaced at the back of his neck. “I’d be delighted,” he said, and from the sharp smirk growing across Tyki’s face like a challenge, he could see the devil in Allen’s eye.

“Oh man!” came Lavi’s loud remark from the doorway, coloured with hysterical laughter, and both Allen and Tyki looked over at him without missing a beat, eager for the news. “Link is in some strife,” he snickered, stumbling into the kitchen and digging through the ice in the sink for a beer.

“So you just,” Allen gave a one-shouldered shrug and twisted his lips in and expression of derisive unconcern. “Left him there.”

Lavi shot him a confused look, like ‘well what the fuck did you expect?’, and all Allen could really respond with was another shrug. “Were you guys about to fuck?” he asks instead, arching his brows at Allen’s legs around Tyki’s waist, Tyki’s hands - oh, they were under his shirt, that’s why it felt so nice.

“Not til Link cries,” Tyki said simply, and Lavi looked like he didn’t want to know.

“O- kay, not gonna creep in on your weird sex fantasies. Have you seen Kanda?” he asked, glancing around the kitchen and then back out into the hall. “I swear he came through this way.”

“I was not paying attention,” Allen stated, and Lavi nodded like he wasn’t at all fucking surprised by that.

“Yeah,” he said, “I can see that. Shit- hey! You!” Lavi called out as Kanda made to walk past the kitchen back into the mess of people. “What are you doing here!”

“I live here,” Kanda glared, tense under the arm Lavi threw around his shoulders.

“Get in here,” Lavi stressed, dragging him in regardless of what Kanda’s face said he would rather do. Any number of things, really. Punching Lavi in the face didn’t seem out of the realm of possibility. “My friend,” Lavi cried, grandiose, “would you like to partake in a shot of liquor?”

“Obviously,” he seethed, grudging, and shot a cutting glare at Allen when he dared snort a laugh.

“Get this man some tequila!” Lavi announced, psyched, and Allen plucked up the half-empty bottle from the bar beside him. Tyki looked skeptical as Allen twisted off the cap, but then again, so did Kanda.

“The fuck do I need that for?” Kanda bit out while Lavi held out a shot glass for Allen to fill. Between the two of them, they managed to miss, and then miss again, and then overfill the glass. But, you know. Got there in the end.

“Uuuhhhhhhhhh,” Lavi dragged out while he pushed the tiny glass into Kanda’s hand and dug out the box of salt and lime wedges. “Fortitude?” he hazarded, holding them out for him.

Kanda shot him with a dead stare before putting the shot on the bench and sprinkling salt onto the back of his hand and taking a wedge of lime. Allen was impressed and a little terrified by the practiced ease with which Kanda did the shot, not flinching once. And when it was done, he still had that same angry glare.

“Who the fuck doesn’t loosen up after a tequila shot?” Tyki demanded, a little incredulous, and Kanda’s scowl stabbed him in the face.

“Must be the salt,” Allen nodded wisely, and Lavi choked on a spluttering laugh.

“So,” Kanda gritted, whatever little patience he had for the three of them already running thin, “what did I need the fortitude for?”

“Link’s here,” Allen chirped lightly, bouncing his heels against the counter. “He got the teensiest bit pissed and it’s very cute.”

The way Kanda bristled reminded Allen very strongly of a cat. A little, angry black cat baring its teeth. God, he was a mess. It was hilarious.

“What’s Link doing here?” he hissed, really filling that cat persona - fursona? - and it was taking all Allen had not to bury his face in Tyki’s chest and start cackling.

“Uhhh I invited him, dipshit,” Lavi said like it was obvious. “It’s a party.”

Kanda did not take to being treated like an idiot. “That’s exactly the reason I’m confused,” he seethed, looking murderous.

“Who knows,” Allen rolled his eyes and draped his arms around Tyki’s shoulders when he turned within the cage of Allen’s legs to properly face Lavi and Kanda. “Maybe he wanted to talk to you,” he shrugged, “for some…” he dragged his gaze skeptically up Kanda’s grunge-mall-goth-taking-a-day-off look, “... obscure reason. Whatever,” he said, bringing his hands up to drag through Tyki’s messy hair. “Who gives a shit? He’s tipsy and it’s cute as fuck and you’ve gotta see it,” he stated, staunch under Kanda’s thunderhead glower. “Once in a lifetime opportunity.”

Kanda held for a moment, a muscle in his jaw jumping, until he relented with a short roll of his eyes and a bitter sigh. “Whatever,” he muttered, turning to push back past Lavi and out into the party. “Might as well.”

“One for the road,” Tyki called, and reached into the sink to tug out a beer to toss it underarm at Kanda, who turned just in time to fumble it once before catching it.

“Why the fuck,” he seethed, glaring from the bottle in his hand up to Tyki’s grinning face, “would you throw a beer?”

Allen snickered when Tyki arched a sardonic brow and countered, “Why the fuck would I put in the effort to walk over there and hand it to an ungrateful piece of shit?”

Kanda shrugged sourly, twisted off the cap in a sharp movement and immediately put his lips to the mouth of the bottle when it frothed up to overflow. Already turning his back to leave the kitchen, he tossed a one-fingered salute over his shoulder at Tyki’s laughter.

“Love a bit of head,” Allen sighed happily, resting his chin in his hand, elbow propped on Tyki’s shoulder. Tyki and Lavi both shot him blank, surprised looks. “On my beer,” he added, nodding after Kanda. They glanced at each other, shrugged a little. “Also blowjobs, they’re pretty great.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tyki muttered.

“Okay girls,” Lavi cried, clapping his hands lightly as if he was the queen. Or Rupaul. Or- no, wait, same thing. “Get your shit together, we gotta make! Things! Happen! Can I borrow your shades?”

Tyki glanced down surprised, as though he’d forgotten all about them, and unhooked his glasses from the front of his shirt. “Treat ‘em well,” he warned, holding them out. “I’ll replace your shampoo with hair removal cream if you don’t.”

Allen opened his mouth, not quite sure what he wanted to say. Eventually, he settled on a bland remark of, “You are incredibly mean.”

Lifting him up from the bench and lowering him to stand, Tyki countered, “I like to think of it as... Incredibly generous, with warning labels.”

Allen thought about that for a moment, tilting his head with a vaguely unconvinced sound.

“Come on!” Lavi insisted, getting behind them to hustle them out the door towards the rest of the party. “Where are they?” he demanded, “I can’t see shit with these glasses. Are they prescription?”

“Yes,” Tyki answered grudgingly. “That’s why you’re also paying for new ones if you break and-or lose them.”

“Okay,” Lavi agreed, “okay okay I won’t, promise. I hope I hit the right person then, Jesus.”

“What do you mean, ‘hit’?” Allen asked skeptically, glancing over his shoulder at Lavi’s lopsided grin.

“Trust me,” he shushed, “trust, trust. It’ll be great, I promise.”

“They’re near the couch,” Tyki announced directing their oddly-huddled group over towards where Kanda and Link were… talking.

“I thought he was wearing your glasses,” Allen commented, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Lavi.

“I’m wearing contacts,” he reasoned, rolling his eyes a little, as though it hadn’t been obvious his sight had been in fine order for most of the night.

“So you just,” Allen shrugged, “brought the glasses to suit the funeral theme.”

Tyki winked and clicked his tongue. “You get me.”

“Oh my god,” Lavi interjected, “yeah, there they are. Okay, okay, watch this. I’m about to be brilliant.”

He pushed between Tyki and Allen and stumbled drunkenly in the direction of the couch. Allen wasn’t entirely certain if that drunkenness was put-upon - come to think of it, he didn’t even know if Lavi had been drinking. He certainly could have been, but Allen hadn’t been paying all too much attention to him, and there was nothing much to distinguish this brand of obnoxiously charismatic behaviour from any other Allen had seen from him.

And then- okay the whole ‘hitting’ thing made sense really quite suddenly. Lavi gave a loud, falsely dramatic cry - something like, “Ohhhh nooooo! I’m FALLING!” before he, you know. Fell. Onto Link. Who fell onto Kanda who, in turn, fell onto the couch. With Link on top of him, and Lavi on top of Link. Fucking fantastic.

“Oh my god,” Allen wheezed, face pressed into Tyki’s shoulder, clutching his sleeve like a life preserver. “Oh my fucking god.”

“Lavi you fucking dumbass!” was the predictably outraged yell from Kanda.

But honestly, after like three years of living with him Lavi was just about used to it. His response was to fall off the couch onto his ass, laughing hysterically with his arms curled around his stomach. “Hahaaaaaaa!” he screeched, “Sorry guys! Hadn’t tried walking for a minute!”

“Then quit drinking, dipshit!” Kanda spat, but still wasn’t really making any move to, well. Move. He honestly seemed quite happy laying there with Link on top of him. You know. Apart from the fact he looked absolutely outraged. “I’m not dragging your ass to bed!” he seethed.

Link seemed to have shut down for a moment, just. Laying there, staring in blank-faced, red-cheeked shock at Kanda before he got an all-system reboot and did his best to achieve liftoff - like a cat freaking out over a cucumber, minus the reflexes.

“You fucker!” Kanda spat at Lavi, seething, and plucked his wet shirt away from his body. “This was a fresh shirt!” He shot to his feet, advancing on Lavi like a bodily threat - the absolute outrage in his eyes only lending to that.

“Dude, sorry!” Lavi cried, rolling desperately away to put some distance between them before making any attempt to climb to his feet. “I’ll put money on the laundry card, promise!” he pleaded, pushing to stand with the most pathetic expression of grovelling appeasement Allen had ever seen in all his years. “I’ll pay for our laundry this week, just throw it in my hamper bro,” he appealed, shoulders hunched up, proffering his hands like he was pushing Kanda an olive branch.

His seething expression lasted a long, long moment, Lavi cringing away slowly with each passing second. As soon as he found his roommate sufficiently intimidated, Kanda turned on his heel and stormed off towards the hallway without another word.

Lavi visibly slumped with his sigh of relief, but Link was still just standing there like a blind horse. Except for the fact he was, like. Blatantly staring after Kanda. A horse blinded by love, or. His massive, meter-long boner. LAME, a lame horse. Fuck, and Allen called himself an author. What did horses have to do with it?

“I’m thinking of a quote about something to do with a lame horse,” he said, scowling somewhere past Link. “Or maybe it was blind?”

“A nod is as good as a wink?” Tyki offered without missing a beat. Allen shot him an untempered look of blatant surprise. “To a blind horse,” Tyki finished the quote, arching his brows a little, looking down at Allen expectantly. “Faces?” he prompted, but Allen was just frowning now, a little confused. “Rod Stewart? Seriously?”

“I mean I was right about one thing,” Allen shrugged.

“It wasn’t lame,” Tyki said drily.

“No, no,” Allen waved away, leaning to watch Link hurry to follow Kanda down the hall. “It just had nothing to do with Link’s boner.”

Tyki pressed his hands together and brought them up to his face as though he was praying. Closed his eyes. Let out a steady, calculated sigh. “I don’t get you,” he said at length, eyes still closed. “I don’t get you at all.”

“I’m sorry?” Allen said, glancing over at him with another confused frown. Well, perhaps not confused so much. He had just name dropped Howard Link’s boner to the guy who was… somewhere between romancing him and being his boyfriend. Or… Was Tyki his boyfriend? That was. A stupid word. Allen didn’t like it.

He kind of did.

It was still stupid.

So was Howard Link’s dick.

“You can quote Rahsaan fucking Patterson off the top of your head,” Tyki stressed, opening his eyes and pointing his prayer-hands right at Allen, “but you don’t know who Rod Fucking Stewart is.” Allen was silent for a long, long moment, just. Staring and being stared at. “You scope of the music industry baffles me,” Tyki said, looking genuinely quite baffled.

“Nice use of the word ‘baffle’,” was all Allen could really think of to say.

Tyki held his stare for half a moment longer before breaking down into laughter.

“You know what I wish, though,” Allen grinned, taking the opportunity presented by having Tyki doubled up laughing at him to press a lingering kiss to his neck without having to go up on his toes or like. Drag Tyki’s head down about a foot. “I wish I could afford a pair of high heels so I don’t have to break your neck every time I want to kiss you.”

“Oh,” Tyki gasped dramatically, an arm coming to curl around Allen’s waist, his other hand catching Allen’s. “You wear heels?” he stressed, almost sounding pained with desire.

“I can,” Allen corrected, giggling when Tyki buried his face into his neck, “but I don’t. Lena’s are too small, and shoes are expensive.”

Tyki pulled back just far enough to pin Allen with a look of hopeful want. “Can you dance in heels?” he pressed, and Allen realised that with Tyki holding his hand like that, with an arm around his waist, they were essentially standing in a very, very, very close closed stance.

“Depends on the dance,” Allen snickered. “I could probably swing on a pole in six inches, but this?” He lifted their joined hands and arched a brow. “I’d break my ankles and nail your feet to the floor at the same time.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” Tyki grinned, pressing his lips to Allen’s and walking backwards towards the couch, pulling Allen along with him with the arm around his waist until they fell, Allen against Tyki’s chest, Tyki half-laying on the sofa.

“I don’t think I’ve ever danced before,” he laughed against Tyki’s lips, pushing up only to rearrange himself so he was straddling Tyki’s lap, letting go of his hands to push his hair back from his face.

“What,” Tyki laughed, his hands going to Allen’s hips, “never?”

“Middle school PE aside,” Allen snickered, resting his fingers against Tyki’s chest and leaning down to kiss him again, still smiling too hard for it to be anything more than chaste and messy.

“I had to learn,” Tyki mumbled against his lips, hands trailing up the back of Allen’s shirt, tracing the line of his spine until he was arching against him with a shiver and a laugh. “My family’s weird about things like that.”

“Are they why you started music?” Allen hummed, propping his elbows on the armrest behind Tyki’s shoulders, effectively laying on top of him while he kissed at the stubbled corner of his jaw.

“Not at all,” Tyki snorted. “No, I was playing music long before Sheryl found me. He’d much rather I were studying political science.”

“Sounds boring,” Allen commented, drawing a line of kisses across Tyki’s cheek. “Is he a local representative or something?”

“Ah,” Tyki laughed awkwardly, tracing his fingertips up and down Allen’s spine before admitting, “Or something. He’s the Portuguese Ambassador, actually.”

Allen paused, and pulled back from Tyki to frown down at him in hyper-focused disbelief. “I’m gonna have to hear that again,” he said slowly, “when I’m not…” he gestured vaguely.

“Drunk?” Tyki hazarded, eyebrows arched, and grin teasing at the corners of his lips.

“Yes,” Allen said, eyes on those lips. “Yeah, that. Can I kiss you?”

Tyki ducked his head as well as he could with his laughter, hands curling around Allen’s hips. “Why are you asking now?”

“Consent is important,” Allen sniffed, struggling to hold back his own smile.

“Yes,” Tyki laughed, leaning back to grin up at Allen, his eyes so amused and endlessly affectionate. “Yes, you can kiss me. I think I’d rather like it if you did.”

“Well I certainly hope you wouldn’t be consenting to something you didn’t like,” Allen reasoned, arching a brow at the man below him.

“Well,” came Lavi’s bitter, dramatic huff before Allen could follow up on that whole consent thing, and Tyki curled his legs against Allen’s back without prompting, leaving room for Lavi to flop down onto the couch before stretching his legs across Lavi's lap. “I hope you’re happy. Hanson? On my playlist?”

“Postmodern Jukebox, actually. MMMbop,” he corrected, blandly amused, and tilted his head to glance at Lavi around Allen. “But yes; very happy,” he stated comfortably.

“I’ve gotta agree,” Allen said, satisfied.

“But anyway,” Lavi stressed, waving it away while Tyki dropped a leg from his lap so he could urge Allen to turn and sit between his legs, his back pressed to Tyki’s chest. “Link and Kanda have been gone a while, huh?”

“They’ve been gone, like,” Allen rolled his eyes, settling in against Tyki, “two minutes.”

“Maybe three,” Tyki allowed with a shrug, and Allen snickered a laugh like that made much of a difference.

“Reckon they’re fucking yet?” Lavi said as though he hadn’t heard them.

“Why don’t you go check?” Tyki snorted, draping his arms around Allen’s shoulders, wrist clasped in one of his hands.

“Uuhhhhhhh,” Lavi dragged out sarcastically, “cause I live with Kanda and in order to do that comfortably there are some things I can’t know about him,” he settled on. “He already hates you,” he said with a shrug, holding out a tupperware container of half-disintegrated sweets that Allen reached for with a delighted sound. “They’ve got vodka in them,” he added for Allen’s benefit before continuing to Tyki, “Why don’t you do it?”

“Self-preservation, mostly,” Tyki reasoned simply, stealing a gummy from the container in Allen’s hands.

Lavi’s eyes narrowed and he pinched the toe of Tyki’s dress shoes before laying a trump card. “I’ll concede the super soft pillow if there is dick in any orifices.”

Tyki was silent for a long moment. “So to get my pillow back,” he said slowly, “I actually have to see Kanda and Link fucking.”

“Don’t act like you’re not into that, you nasty,” Lavi snickered, tucking his hands behind his head and throwing Tyki a challenging grin.

Tyki didn’t seem to have an answer to that.

“Seriously?” Allen stressed into his silence, twisting to pin him with an incredulous stare.

“You can’t look me in the eye and-” Tyki cut himself off at Allen’s arched brows. “I’m not into this,” he tried, jabbing his heel into Lavi’s thigh. “This is weird,” he admitted freely. “But I mean. Like.” Allen and Lavi both were trying their absolute best to  not just burst into laughter at Tyki’s determined expression. “If they just started going at it,” he reasoned, focus wavering at their amusement, “and I happened to be there. Just let it happen, you know?” His lips broke into a smile, one side of his mouth twisting up while he tried to hold back the laughter from infecting his voice when he accused, “They started it.”

“Mmmmmnope,” Allen hummed, shaking his head while he bit back his grin. “I don’t believe this.”

“I’m calling bullshit,” Lavi agreed, making no such efforts of hiding his blatant amusement.

“What?” Tyki demanded, pushing himself to sit up a little straighter.

“You would not just sit there,” Allen stated, laughing. “You wouldn’t.”

Offended, Tyki insisted, “I would.”

Through his laughter, Lavi managed to cry, “You could not keep your hands to yourself.”

“He’s right,” Allen nodded wisely, twisting in Tyki’s arms to face him properly, keeping his damning grin locked on him. “You’d need to be right in the middle of that.”

“I,” Tyki floundered, looking somewhere between shocked and called out. “Wh…”

Sinking into a smirk, Allen leaned in to murmur against Tyki’s ear, “I mean.” He paused to breathe a laugh against his neck, pressed his hips a touch closer to Tyki’s when he reasoned, voice low, “Imagine if it was Link fucking me.” He felt Tyki go still beneath him, tense, hands a fraction tighter on Allen’s hips. Allen grinned, devilish, and found his mark with his teeth at Tyki’s earlobe. “You wouldn’t just sit there,” he mocked, “watching him put his hands all over me,” trailed his fingers up Tyki’s neck, tangled them into his messy bun, tugging just the right amount to have him curl his hips towards Allen’s. “In all the wrong places,” he grinned against Tyki’s warm neck. “Would you?”

A low grown, quiet, almost needy, and Tyki’s hands dug tight around Allen’s hips. Strong fingers curled into his skin like frets, and Allen arched into the touch.

“Think you’d really sit there,” he challenged, pulling back to show Tyki his victorious smirk, to burn under the intensity of Tyki’s hungry stare, “and let him fuck me slow and gentle like a virgin?”

Awkwardly, voice high and wavering, Lavi sang tentatively, “Fucked for the very first time.” Allen paused, then twisted to throw a Look over his shoulder. Lavi was sitting there, twiddling his thumbs on Tyki’s shin, eyes pinned somewhere up near the ceiling. He seemed to catch both Allen and Tyki watching him from the corner of his eye, because he glanced over at them and shook his head in a disappointed reprimand. “You’re as nasty as each other.”

There was a beat of silence before Tyki sang, “My baby’s a freak like me and she knows just what I like.”

Picking it up without a thought, Allen followed up, “She carries the keys to the places no one dares to find.”

“God,” Lavi cringed, “fuck, no, now there’s two of you fuck fuck.”

Allen glanced at Tyki, who arched his brows, smirked in invitation before they both continued, obnoxiously loud and not very in-tune, “She won’t TELL nobody what goes on in these walls - if they TALKED they’d probably tell you all about love!”

“Oh my goddddddd,” Lavi cried, shoving Tyki’s leg off him, “get OUT! Go perve on Kanda and Link you creep!”

Tyki doubled up with his laughter, lifted Allen away just a touch and slipped out from beneath him. Allen settled back into the couch with a huff once he was standing, not afraid to admit he was pouting the tiniest bit. An indulgent grin, and Tyki paused to lean down and kiss him back against the couch.

Lips soft on Allen’s, gentle and sweet and bitter with vodka-laced gummies. He couldn’t really help the way he traced his tongue across Tyki’s lips, and grinned when he felt the soft-as-silk give of Tyki’s tongue sliding against his.

Tyki pulled back, bit Allen’s lower lip between his teeth and tugged a quiet groan from his throat at the same time. “I’ll be back in a second,” he promised, mouth moving in a teasing smirk an inch away from Allen’s, and traced his calloused thumb across Allen’s lower lip before straightening and heading off towards the hallway, not quite able to hold a straight line with his steps.

Allen snorted a laugh after him, ignored the embarrassed, enamoured smile sitting on his lips and curled his legs up against his chest, digging into another misshapen, half-disintegrated gummy.

“Soooooooo,” Lavi teased like he was about to start chanting Allen and Tyki, sitting in a tree. Allen arched his brows and licked the lolly-sludge off his thumb. Lavi smirked. “What’s the tea,” he entreated, shuffling across the couch so he was pressed right up against Allen’s side, and reached into the tupperware container.

Allen considered playing it cool for all of half a second before he just rolled his eyes and slumped back in his seat, heaving a long, sighing groan in the shape of, “Godddddddddd.”

“Right?” Lavi agreed, laughing.

“He’s so fucking wonderful,” Allen begged of the blank, kinda dirty ceiling. “I’m so thirsty.”

“Are you gonna go back to his place and,” Lavi nudged his elbow against Allen’s ribs, “talk?”

Allen frowned in something like distaste, and turned his head to pin that expression on Lavi. “Why is that still a euphemism for sex?” he demanded, almost disgusted. “Hey Lavi,” he said, pushing himself to sit up straight, “do you ever wonder why I get laid, like. Fifty times more than you?”

“Please teach me your ways,” Lavi groaned around another vodka gummy.

“When I want to have sex with someone,” Allen said, plain and clear, “I look them straight in the eye and say…” he slowed right down, gesturing with his hand for Lavi to pick up the end of the sentence, “I…”

“Would like to get to know you,” Lavi tried.

“Want to have sex with you,” Allen corrected, going back to the tupperware.

“Yeah,” Allen was strongly of the opinion that Lavi was dramatically rolling his eyes into the back of his head, “but that’s just how you are, like. Your charm is that you’re so… what you see is what you get, you know?”

Allen did not know. That wasn’t a very good description of him as a person. Not with all the fifty million layers of unaddressed insecurities fronting as confidence, egoism and self-destructive behaviours. “Sure.”

“I mean with sex,” Lavi clarified, and that actually made a lot more sense. “Not in general. In general you’re like… I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Same,” Allen snorted, tilting the container to his lips to drink down the disintegrated remains of what might have been jelly babies.

“You don’t fuck around with will-he-won’t-he mixed signals bullshit.”

Mouth full of alcoholic gummy sludge, Allen mumbled, “Why would I even pretend I don’t wanna fuck someone I wanna fuck?” He paused to swallow it down. “Literally,” he said, dragging his finger around the inside of the container to scrape together what was left, “I don’t know what he’s doing later?” He stuck it in his mouth and shrugged. “But I douched.”

Lavi couldn’t seem to decide if he was screaming, laughing, or rupturing his spleen, but it was a very satisfying reaction nonetheless. “ALLEN!” he screeched, hysterical.

“What?” he defended blandly, shrugging. “I wasn’t gonna turn up here with a dirty asshole.”

Struggling to breathe, Lavi choked out, “I bet your ass has never smelled frasher than it does tonight. Febreze all up in there.”

“You’re so right,” Allen sighed, falling back against the couch and lobbing the empty container towards the coffee table. “I’m so clean and empty, my entire body is.” He paused, thinking. “A chasm.” Not about his choice of words, evidently.

Lavi made another sound like one of the hyenas from Lion King and repeated at the top of his lungs, “A CHASM!”

“Ooo, Tyki Mikk!” Allen mocked himself, “Come plunder my Atlantis!”

“HOW DO YOU GET LAID MORE THAN ME AGAIN!?” Lavi demanded, kicking his feet against the couch as he screeched with laughter, holding his face in his hands. “TELL ME SPECIFICALLY HOW.”

“SHOTS FOR WHOEVER GUESSES HOW BIG HOWARD LINK’S DICK IS.”

All heads snapped up at that, at Tyki leaning casually against the entrance to the hallway, grinning like he’d just won the fucking lottery.

“TWO INCHES,” was Lavi, their first bidder, still hysterically out of breath.

Tyki clicked some fingerguns at him and answered, “You’re fired.”

“TWO FEET,” chimed in Tokusa, emerging from somewhere in the messy mess of university students.

“Much closer,” Tyki cheered, almost looked like he perked up.

“What the fuck,” Lavi breathed, shook.

“I’m torn between terror and adoration,” Allen spoke up, actually feeling a little trepidation, “but it isn’t actually a meter long, is it?” Several heads turned, and he shrugged. “The thought did cross my mind earlier.”

“Let’s be realistic here,” Tyki snorted, and Allen resolved to stop talking about Howard Link’s Massive Horse Boner, if only for the sake of not having Tyki start to think he was actively interested in someone who Allen’s knee-jerk instinct was to laugh at.

“So,” Tokusa summarised, “it’s somewhere between two inches and two feet.”

“Look,” Tyki grinned, raising his hands, “I think we’re getting away from the point.”

“Which is…?” Tokusa prompted, arching a scathing, bitchin-ass brow. Like, plucked, trimmed, shaped and everything. And he was rocking the liner tonight, actually, Allen was getting distracted.

So… was Lavi though, actually. Oh, wow. Oh, that was interesting.

“Howard Link has a MASSIVE cock,” Tyki announced grandly to the room, “and everyone’s a winner.”

A cheer went up, picking up momentum as people who hadn’t been listening to his speech heard the celebration and just, you know. Decided to celebrate too. It was a fucking party and the nerdy history student who wore tweed around campus had been packing this whole time, it was something worth celebrating.

Tokusa gravitated towards their sofa and Lavi’s eyes were still on him when he said, voice dripping with the sarcastic sweetness that never quite left him, “I do feel blessed, it’s true.”

“Hey Lavi,” Allen said, digging an elbow in against his side, “you should take Tokusa and get those shots.”

“That,” Lavi said, glancing quickly at Allen’s arched brow and then back at the green-haired asshole he appeared to have some absurd kind of crush on, “sounds like a great idea sure hey let’s go there’s some Johnny Walker Blue in there actually,” he rushed, standing up and dragging the vaguely amused Tokusa along with him to the kitchen.

“Don’t shot my bourbon you fuck!” Tyki called after him, but it was probably lost on deaf ears. He watched after them for a long moment before glancing down at Allen. “They’re not coming back,” he summarised, and dropped to sit in a messy, rumpled pile beside Allen. Mmm.

“I know,” he said simply, turning in his seat to face Tyki. One leg tucked beneath him, the other trailing off the couch, head resting in his hand and his elbow propped on the back of the sofa. “Lavi's not the only one who can force two people into a room and make them kiss,” he reasoned, smirking.

“You didn’t even try,” Tyki said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Allen arched his brow, reached out and played with the open top button of Tyki’s shirt. “I shouldn’t have to,” he reasoned simply, eyes flicking up to catch Tyki’s. “They went, didn’t they?”

“That’s,” he stopped. “...A good point, actually.”

“Where’s your tie?” Allen asked, realising why he looked different, and smoothed his fingers up beneath the collar of his dress shirt. “Did you get ravished by a horny teenager?” he teased, leaning in a breath when he felt Tyki’s hand on his knee, fingers alternating between tapping out the beat of whatever song was playing and drawing small, swirling patterns.

“Well,” he scoffed, “someone’s certainly getting ravished.”

Allen watched him expectantly. “...Me?” he hazarded.

Tyki blinked at him. “I mean,” he said. “If there’s a god, it’s going to be Kanda. But I’m sure we can arrange something,” he added with a grin, trailing that hand up Allen’s thigh.

“Arrange something, then,” Allen challenged, and arched a coquettish brow.

Tyki leaned forwards to close that distance between them, his smile melting into a kiss, lips so soft and malleable and full that Allen felt a pained groan building in his throat just at having them pressed against his. Smooth as half-melted chocolate, and Allen followed with a quiet whine when Tyki leaned back, falling to lie on the couch, his laugh muffled by Allen’s.

To be fair, Lavi and Tokusa did end up coming back with shots. Like, ten minutes later, when Allen’s head was up under Tyki’s shirt discovering that, sadly, his nipples weren’t very sensitive at all.

“No offence,” Tokusa commented, snark lacing his voice, “but that’s fucking disgusting.”

“Whatcha lookin for in there, buddy?” Lavi added while Allen wormed his way out from under Tyki’s shirt.

“I’m not… entirely… sure,” Tyki answered for him, but had been happy enough to let him go looking anyway.

“Eldorado,” Allen answered simply, sitting up straight on Tyki’s lap, turning to look at Tokusa and Lavi - one amused, the other looking on the verge of dissosciation.

“Eldorado?” Tyki repeated, arching a brow.

“El-do-RA-DO, THE CITY OF GOLD!” Lavi sang loudly, hilariously out of tune.

“You’re looking deliciously rumpled,” Allen observed, raking his eyes over Lavi’s creased shirt and somehow-messier-than-usual hair while he twisted on Tyki’s lap to sit between his legs, his back pressed to Tyki’s chest.

“And I brought shots,” Lavi added, holding up the four glasses he was somehow holding between his hands, “which makes me even more desirable. I think by law.”

“I’m certainly feeling so inclined,” Allen remarked, coy, and he felt a laugh roll through Tyki’s body, pressed up so firm and tasty against his back.

“Really, now?” he murmured, the vibrations of his voice rumbling through Allen’s chest, and his legs just. Fell open at the way Tyki trailed his hands up his thighs. “When I’m sitting right here.”

“I am,” Allen stated, eyes on the shots Lavi was placing carefully on the coffee table and his attention on the way Tyki had hooked his short fingernails into the inseam of Allen’s pants and was currently following that inseam towards his mostly-soft-but-also-kind-of-hard cock. “Torn,” he settled on, shudders he wouldn’t admit to rolling up his spine.

“If only,” Tyki hummed a sigh, dropping his head to press his lips to the crook of Allen’s neck, “I knew,” he continued absently, kissing slowly, slowly up Allen’s neck until he found that place below Allen’s ear that had him going stiff in Tyki’s arms, sucking in a sharp breath and tilting his head to offer more access. “...how to catch your attention,” Tyki murmured, and Allen could feel his smirk against his neck, trembled tense when Tyki traced his tongue against the sensitive skin.

Fingers dug tight around Tyki’s knees on either side of him, Allen almost didn’t hear Tokusa’s quiet imitation of throwing up, followed by, “I can smell two dicks that need to get wet, like. Yesterday.”

“Oh, man,” Lavi groaned in the periphery of Allen’s hearing while he tilted his head to catch Tyki in another slow, filthy kiss over his shoulder, “you’re literally right. It was a whole big thing, trust me, you don’t want to get involved.”

“I don’t,” Tokusa agreed, voice laced with delicate disgust, “you’re absolutely correct.”

“We should go soon,” Tyki murmured against Allen’s cheek, his hands creeping up the front of Allen’s shirt. Thumbs tracing the line of his waist, fingers curling and uncurling in distracting tickles of shuddering sensation across the sensitive skin of Allen’s navel.

“We should,” Allen agreed quietly, eyes heavy with his sly smile, his hand tangled back in Tyki’s thick black hair.

“Take a shot then,” Lavi shrugged, holding out two glasses of… well it was either vodka or tequila. No one was shotting Bacardi. No one was that stupid.

“Call an Uber,” Tokusa said, throwing his back without hesitation, “and get your remarkably shameless boners out of here.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Tyki grinned behind Allen’s ear and curled one arm around his waist while he reached out to take one of the shots. He passed it to Allen, who rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh, before he reached out to take the second one in Lavi’s hand for himself. “Cheers,” he offered, lifting his glass.

Lavi took up the last one from the coffee table and the three of them tapped their shots together.

Tokusa looked on, offended. “Without me, I see,” he commented, scathing.

“You literally just did yours,” Lavi reminded, and threw his back. Allen followed, and Tyki behind him, and when he reached out to set the glasses on the coffee table Tokusa was still frowning at the wall in perplexed frustration.

“Fuck my ass,” he snapped, blinking awake and glancing too quickly between the three of them, “what time is it?”

Allen lifted Tyki’s arm from his waist and peered at his watch. “About twelve?” he answered.

“No,” Tyki snorted a laugh, “he asked for the time, not your age.” Allen drove a sharp elbow into his ribs and Tyki wheezed out a laugh, not regretting it a bit.

“It feels,” Tokusa breathed, his middle fingers at his temples, staring into the middle distance with a deep, distracted focus, “like I’m dissociating into a void where it only gets later and later and tomorrow never comes. But no,” he sighed, blinking and dragging his eyes lazily over the three of them, “that’s just. A feeling.” He stared at Allen and Tyki, the intensity of his focus a little terrifying. “You two are tripping me the fuck out of this dimension,” he said, “can’t lie.”

“Jesus,” Lavi remarked, halfway between amused and concerned and not quite sure what he should do with either of those. “Are you okay?”

“I’m...” Tokusa started to say, and stopped to blink at the opposite wall, wide-eyed, and clicked his tongue. Lavi frowned, and reached out to touch his shoulder. “Don’t touch me,” Tokusa shied away looking like Drake in Hotline Bling, seemed to notice the positioning of his arms a moment later and dabbed. “I’m fine,” he said, straightening back up and bringing a hand to gently hold the shoulder Lavi had almost touched. “I’m perfect. You,” he said, turning to pin Allen and Tyki with an imperious scowl. “Uber. Get out. Go throw a hotdog down a hallway.”

“Wait,” Allen said, going still, “wait wait wait. Was Link crying?”

“What,” Lavi blinked, “the fuck.”

“Shit,” Tyki hissed.

“Was Howard Link crying,” Allen demanded an answer.

“No seriously,” Lavi begged, “what the fuck.”

“You wanna cash that in now?” Tyki groaned, shifting his hips distractingly behind Allen to dig his phone out of his pocket.

Allen snorted a derisive laugh and reasoned, “I wanted to cash that in two hours ago, are you kidding?”

“Okay,” Tyki sighed, holding his phone up above Allen’s head so he could see what he was doing, “okay, let me find one.”

Tokusa had his disconcertingly dilated eyes pinned on Lavi’s distressed confusion. “You get it,” he stated.

Lavi nodded slowly. “I think I do, actually,” he admitted, “yeah.”

“Seven minutes,” Tyki announced, dropping his arms back around Allen’s shoulders.

“We should wait outside,” Allen said, a little reluctant, “so we don’t forget and, like. Miss it.”

“Good idea,” Tokusa agreed, gracefully folding himself to sit on the coffee table, knees crossed, his chin resting in his palm, “but try not to let the appearance of privacy get to you,” he commented while Allen pushed up from the comfort of Tyki’s chest and stood, stretching his arms above his head. “The jizz will still be on the grass in the morning.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Tyki commented, dry.

“It’s not a warning,” Tokusa sniffed, haughty. “It’s wisdom.”

“Thanks for the wisdom, Tokusa,” Allen chimed, catching Tyki’s elbow and pulling him along.

“Don’t,” Tokusa winced as they walked past, putting a hand to his ear as though hearing his own name caused him physical pain, “fucking. Touch me.”

Outside, after weaving their way through clusters and cliques and the barrage of euphoria that was college students giving a night up to forgetting their responsibilities and due dates, Allen leaned against the side of the walk-up apartment, breathed in deep and slow and let the freshness of the summer night air wash over him.

Like a flipped coin, the fire that had been searing under his skin simmered and cooled, burned down to the gentle, incessant need to feel Tyki’s lips on his.

To kiss him, and kiss and kiss and kiss until there wasn’t such thing as a reality around them - no reality more real than Tyki, and Tyki’s soft mouth and his thick hair and his arms, the arms Allen would die for, and his warm, warm body pressed close and comfortable and safe. God, Allen wanted it so much. He wanted it, he wanted him, he wanted Tyki to touch him and take some of that fire from his veins - or make it burn hotter, or something .

He opened his eyes a sliver, let them drift over the dark velvet sky. Black, blue, and ombre orange from the city lights too bright for all but a few brave stars to show themselves. Let his gaze drift down, slow and lazy and dizzy with the alcohol buzzing in his head.

Tyki.

God, he was beautiful. He was so fucking beautiful.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Allen breathed, and Tyki looked up from the cigarette pack in his hands. Face half in shadow, cast unnaturally blue-white by the street lamp behind him with a cigarette hanging from between his lips. He seemed surprised. Allen reached for him - stretched a searching hand out without lifting his head away from the wall. “You’re so beautiful,” he repeated, the honesty of the feeling swelling up like emotion in his throat.

He saw the pull of Tyki’s cheek, the crease of his dark eyes around his smile. He stepped closer, within Allen’s reach. Nudged his shoulder beneath Allen’s hand and plucked a second cigarette from the pack. Offered it out without a word.

“Menthol?” Allen asked, because as much as he enjoyed smoking he had a feeling the cloying taste of tobacco in his lungs would make him sick.

“Camel Crush,” Tyki answered around the filter of his own, and Allen reached out to take it.

One hand draped over Tyki’s shoulder, fingers teasing the nape of his neck beneath his messy piled-up bun, Allen murmured teasingly, “You mind if I…?” and squeezed the filter between his fingers until he heard the capsule pop.

Tyki breathed a laugh between them and shifted closer, tilting his head towards Allen. “Why,” he reprimanded quietly, voice coloured in amusement while he reached into his pocket to exchange cigarettes for a lighter, “would you ruin a perfectly good tailor,” he struck the flint a couple of times before it caught and held it to the end of Allen’s menthol, “by popping?”

Allen pulled lightly at the filter, dragging the heat of the flame through the tobacco so it could burn in his lungs along with all that dizzying adoration. Pulled the cigarette away from his lips and puffed the minty smoke towards Tyki. Lips curling in a cheeky grin, he said, “Don’t wanna taste like smoke when you kiss me.”

Tyki plucked the unlit cig from his mouth and inclined his head towards Allen. Quiet, low, in a voice that Allen wished he could drown in, Tyki murmured, “I have no such reservations,” and pressed his lips to Allen’s. Kissed him the way he wanted to be kissed, the way he needed. Bodies pressed close and warm, Allen’s back against the wall and Tyki’s hand at his neck, cupping his jaw.

His lips were so impossibly, ridiculously soft. Gentle, like an oxymoron to his sharp tongue, his mouth slow next to his quick wit.

He pulled away an inch, let his words brush past Allen’s lips while he murmured, “Wanna donkey fuck?”

“I’m sorry?” a surprised laugh bubbled over into the space between them, and Allen closed his eyes and tilted his head aside when Tyki moved in to press his grin against Allen’s neck.

“Lighter’s dead,” he reasoned, pulling back to strike the flint, no gas left to catch a flame.

“You should have lit yours,” Allen laughed quietly, private within the cage of Tyki’s arms. He lifted his cigarette to his lips, took Tyki’s between his fingers and pressed the unlit end to his burning cherry while he drew in a breath, ember flaring.

Tyki breathed a quiet laugh and said, “What, you never heard that saying about pretty girls and cigarettes?” He took his smoke from Allen, pressed a smiling kiss above his brow and hummed, “No way I could let you light your own.”

“There’s a certain beauty in chivalry,” he commented, leaning back against the wall and letting his fingers play at the buttons of Tyki’s shirt, and amended with a wry smile, “So long as gracious actions aren’t rooted in misogynistic intentions.”

Tyki’s brows arched a little and he gave a slow blink, shaking his head. “I am too drunk to understand what you just said,” he admitted blandly.

Allen closed his eyes on a quiet laugh and said, “I tend to make less sense when I drink.”

Bringing the cigarette to his smiling lips, Tyki corrected, “You tend to talk even better than you do when you’re sober. Somehow,” he grinned through the smoke that spilled from his lips.

“Occupational hazard of a writer,” Allen smirked, and Tyki made a sound of contemplative disagreement.

“Author,” he corrected, letting his hand slip down Allen’s arm to catch his fingers, step back and drag him away from the wall and out into the light of the single street lamp. “Writer is so…” He wrinkled his nose a little.

“Blasé,” Allen supplied with a laugh, and let himself follow Tyki’s slow, unconcerned steps.

“Exactly,” he grinned. “You don’t call an artist a drawer just cause they draw.”

“That’s,” Allen paused, considering, “a good point, actually.”

Tyki smiled, and stepped in close. Trailed his fingers across Allen’s cheekbone and tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “I’m clever,” Tyki said with amusement curling his lips, in the creases of his dark eyes, “but I’m not very smart.” At Allen’s short frown he laughed lightly and brought his cigarette to his lips. “I failed every English and math class,” he grinned, “and geography too. Straight A’s in manual arts and music.” His smile turned gentle, and his thumb traced across Allen’s lower lip, the expression on his face something indescribable. “You make me do better,” he said, voice soft. “Pay attention to words. What they mean, not just how they sound. Reading your work helps me write. And I feel like I’ve never been closer to saying what I mean.”

“What’s this about,” Allen breathed a laugh, wondering if Tyki could see his blush in the colourless light.

Tyki huffed and ducked his head, leaned in to press a kiss to Allen’s hair. “It feels ridiculous to say it,” he laughed, “especially now, when we’re both drunk and standing on the nature strip outside Lavi’s house. But,” he said, pulling back to ash his cigarette and bring it to his lips, eyes pretty and amused in the dark when he looked down at Allen. “I want to be with you, if you’d like. And not just because,” he huffed another laugh and seemed to gesture vaguely to Allen as a whole, “you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. Or that I’ve been in love with your smile since the first time I saw it. Or the way you laugh and write and play like nothing can touch you.”

Allen swallowed, nervous and uncertain, and tried desperately to figure out what expression he was meant to be wearing. And he couldn’t, he couldn’t figure it out through the pounding in his chest, the dizzying breathlessness, the way Tyki’s warm hand squeezed his trembling fingers in wordless reassurance.

“It’s not as dramatic as it sounds,” Tyki breathed through a grin, and ducked his head again. “I just want you to know, that. You make me better. You make me do better and be better and just. Try, so much harder, to be the best. Because I think you’re trying the same,” he said, eyes narrowing into a sly taunt, tilting his head down close to Allen’s, “and I’ll be damned if I lose out to a ten year old boy.”

“Oh my god,” Allen groaned through his too-wide grin, curling his arms around Tyki’s neck and leaning up against him. Stretched up on his toes, Allen pressed his smile to Tyki’s, the idiot’s laugh filling the space between them while his arms wound around Allen’s waist.

“I hate you,” Allen mumbled against him, smiling too wide for it to be true. “I thought that was going to be super cringingly romantic,” he complained, tucking his chin over Tyki’s shoulder, “but it was just stupid and mean.”

“Well,” Tyki laughed against him, “I couldn’t let you get the wrong idea, right? I mean, I like you and all but I’m not in love with you yet.”

“I could see it happening, though,” Allen hummed, teasing, and leaned back against Tyki’s hold, spine curved around his arms. “Ten years from now; you, internationally famous. Me, a New York Times bestselling author.”

“We’re rarely at home,” Tyki continued with his teasing grin. “I’m always touring, and you’re always with me. Booked out shows after booked out shows, and the only reference I have for the places we’ve been is the stories you write about the cities we’ve seen.”

“A great romance for each country - an anthology of the same two people falling in love over and again, in every context the world offers.”

“Mmmm,” Tyki hummed, low and appreciative, and trailed his hands up Allen’s spine, his arms, over his shoulders to frame his face, trace his calloused thumbs across Allen’s cheekbones while he watched Allen’s face with an expression of keen adoration. “I’d love to fall in love with you,” he murmured, his voice distracted by sincerity. “In whatever context we get.”

“Somewhere in the multiverse you just said ‘I love you’,” Allen said, teasing, and brought his cigarette to his lips to hide his smile.

Tyki cocked a brow, an amused smirk curling at the corner of his mouth, and countered, “Somewhere in the multiverse you are a tuna and I am a seahawk, and I just plucked you out of the ocean and broke your spine. Let’s not think about those kinds of impossible possibilities.”

“Well that isn’t romantic at all,” Allen remarked, snorting a laugh.

Tyki smiled, tipped his head down to rest against Allen’s. “If anyone could write a romance about a fish and a bird,” he murmured, close and sweet, “and have it all work out happily in the end…”

“There’s a saying,” Allen said, with no idea of how or why or where he remembered hearing it. “If a fish and a bird were to fall in love, where would they make their home?”

Tyki’s fingers traced across Allen’s cheek, wove into his hair. “How about space?” he proposed, grinning.

Allen laughed, and pressed his smile to Tyki’s in another kiss. “That’s ridiculous,” he murmured, but thought he might like the ridiculousness of it anyway.

One hand dropped away from Allen’s face and curled around his waist, and he felt Tyki’s smile melt and turn soft against his lips. He pressed closer against Tyki, hands resting on his shoulders, and tilted his head to fit their mouths more easily together. Tyki’s fingers dragged back through his hair, slid down to the nape of his neck.

Allen’s hands curled against his chest, melting against Tyki when his hold tightened for a moment, his liquid tongue stroking past Allen’s lips without a breath of fight.

Tyki’s phone chimed, a quiet interruption that he didn’t seem to hear, and Allen slid his hand down his chest. Down his stomach, snaked his arm around Tyki’s waist and flcked the butt of his cigarette away before sliding his phone from his back pocket. Holding it up behind his shoulder, Allen pulled away, giggled and wriggled a little when Tyki moved to kiss down his neck instead, stubble dragging shudders across Allen’s skin.

“Uber’s here,” he announced with a tickled laugh, and glanced at the car that had unobtrusively pulled up not far away.

“Mmm,” was all Tyki had to say about that, setting his teeth below the corner of Allen’s jaw and tracing his tongue in a soothing counterpoint to the rough stubble of his lips.

“God,” Allen gasped, trying to laugh, his fingers clenched in the front of Tyki’s shirt, “he’s right there, you know?”

Hand tracing back up from Allen’s neck into his hair, Tyki murmured below his ear, his voice a low, teasing growl, “You didn’t seem to mind seven minutes ago. A whole room full of people,” he breathed, fingers dragging through Allen’s hair until his hand was fisted in the strands, pulling him to arch against Tyki’s body with a short sound, sharp and quiet and so, so good, “and you were all over me like you wanted them to know I’m yours.”

Maybe he had, really. Maybe that was what it was. His breath was coming short and sharp and Tyki was waiting a hair away from his parted lips, and maybe that was exactly it. Maybe all this night had been about was showing Tyki off, his gorgeous face and gorgeous voice and his gorgeous fucking hands all over Allen’s body like a neon sign of I AM GOING TO FUCK THIS MAN TONIGHT.

And, well. Fair’s fair, right?

A grin curled onto Allen’s lips, sharp and challenging, and he let his eyes slip open to narrow slits, watching Tyki in the sharp contrast of light and shadow the streetlamp cast across his face.

“Your move,” he breathed across Tyki’s lips, and closed his eyes on a thrilled sigh when his fist tightened in his hair.

Low as a threat, quiet as a promise, Tyki whispered, “Do you know how much I want you?”

That smile still sitting on his lips, Allen guessed, “Enough to put on a show for the Uber driver?”

“You’re a treat,” he growled, and caught Allen’s grin with his lips before he had a chance to say anything. Hot and hungry and impatient, and still somehow so impossibly, tragically soft.

It left Allen unguarded, defenceless, and had him stumbling half a step closer, weight pressed heavily against Tyki’s warm chest.

“Mhh,” he whined, quiet and needy and pleading for Tyki to hold him and have him and take him in any way he pleased so long as Allen could feel it, would see the evidence of Tyki’s hands on his body for days after.

“I want you,” Tyki growled against him, teeth catching on his lips, an arm tight around the small of his back, fist curled into his hair. “In my bed. Naked,” he breathed, tilting Allen’s head back to nip biting kisses down his throat. “Or not,” he laughed, low and heated. “Begging me to take you. Fuck you hard and harder til you’re sobbing.”

“Please,” Allen breathed, hoarse and wrecked, his heart in his throat and the heat of his blush making his head spin.

“Mmh,” Tyki growled against his neck, satisfied but still so, so hungry, and laughed quietly when the car pointedly beeped its horn at them. “Reckon you can keep it together for the Uber driver?”

“Reckon I can try,” Allen gasped, not at all certain between Tyki’s hands on his body and his voice in his ears and the taste of his tongue on his lips.

“C’mon,” he murmured, grin colouring his voice, and let his hand go loose in Allen’s hair. He stepped away, kept his arm around Allen’s waist when he turned. Kept him tucked close against his side and steered him on unsteady legs towards the car.

Chapter Text

At the car, Tyki murmured, “Sorry for the wait,” with his voice all infuriatingly calm when he ducked his head to grin through the open passenger window. Like he was teasing the driver. Like he knew he wasn’t sorry for making him wait five or so minutes. Like the indulgence of kissing Allen was a mockery of his time, and somehow a gift all the same.

“Tyki?” the driver confirmed, pointedly inflectionless.

“That’s me,” he confirmed, smug as anything, and reached to open the back door. Holding it open for Allen, he inclined his head graciously and gestured for him to slide in first.

Allen arched a brow at him, trying to look more put-together than he felt. “A queen doesn’t scooch,” he quoted imperiously, and Tyki doubled over the top of the car door, laughing.

“I should have known you were a Princess Diaries bitch,” he cackled, pushing himself upright and sliding in ahead of Allen, catching his wrist to tug him ungracefully along after him. “Close the door, your Highness,” he snorted.

“It’s your Majesty, actually,” Allen sniffed, slinging the car door closed.

“Seatbelts,” the driver sighed, already disenchanted to whatever this carpool was going to be. True to form, he turned the radio up a few notches once he’d heard them fasten the belts.

“Ooh,” Tyki commented, already leaning into the hand Allen had at the back of his neck, letting Allen pull him into a kiss at the awkward side-by-side angle. “This is a tune,” he said, words muffled against Allen’s lips. “Um,” he said, pausing to indulge Allen in a short kiss before pulling back, clicking his fingers as though he was fervently trying to remember something. “James Blunt, You’re Beautiful, um.” He clicked again. “Two thousand and… ten. Ah shit um. BACK TO BEDLAM, four points, I can’t remember what record label he was with when he released that. EMI, maybe? Pretty sure he’s with Atlantic now.”

“What?” Allen stated, just a little bit completely confused.

“Artist, song, album, year,” Tyki listed on his fingers, his grin flitting in and out of view beneath the sodium glow of the streetlights passing overhead. “Record label for extra points.”

“I am never playing this game with you,” Allen said, unflinchingly confident.

“That’s wise,” Tyki nodded. “I’d destroy you.”

“Plus I could never really get behind this song.”

“What?” Tyki demanded, eyes wide. “How?”

Allen ducked his head and snorted a laugh, tried to explain, “I don’t know, the lyrics are so… blatant, you know? The art is in saying something without saying it, and he’s just out here, you know. Saying it. Just deadass telling a story.”

“What,” Tyki laughed, teasing, his shoulder bumping against Allen’s, “you don’t like songs that tell stories? You don’t?”

“Nooo,” Allen whined on a laugh, dropping his head onto Tyki’s shoulder, “no, I do, it’s not that, I just.” He paused, and huffed a short breath.

“What?” Tyki pressed, his laughter drunk with affection and amusement and more than enough alcohol. He cleared his throat, tired to sober himself and settle his expression. “What,” he tried again, the smile still there in his voice.

“Just,” Allen straightened and turned to face Tyki as well as he could, trying to reign in his smile, “as a writer-”

“An author,” Tyki corrected emphatically, and leaned in to kiss him. “You’re an author,” he murmured, lingering against Allen’s lips.

“As an author,” Allen teased, pressing a kiss up against Tyki’s grin. “I can… tell,” he said, pulling back and reaching a hand up to tuck his hair behind his ear. “When I hear a story that… I could write better?” he hazarded, sheepish, and ducked his head with an embarrassed laugh. “It’s hard,” he pressed his fingers to his own heated cheek, “it’s hard to explain with songs, you know? Cause I don’t… write music.” He breathed another laugh and shook his head, looked up to meet Tyki’s amused smile. “But I can still tell.”

“So,” Tyki said, reaching out to trace his fingers along the collar of Allen’s shirt, “what’s a storytelling song you like?”

“Ah,” Allen hummed, glancing away, and let his whole body move with how he clicked his tongue in on-the-spot exasperation. “Um. Goes to Hell.”

“Hm?” Tyki prompted, sounding more than a little distracted by Allen’s collarbones.

“Alice Cooper,” Allen laughed a little, embarrassed. “That album, Goes to Hell. That’s-”

“Incredible,” Tyki agreed, low and fervent, calloused fingers slipping beneath Allen’s shirt to trace along the line of his collarbone.

“Isn’t it?” Allen laughed, and tilted his chin with a quiet sound of amused appreciation when Tyki leaned in to kiss down his throat, hungry and needy.

“Just,” he murmured against Allen’s skin, and he probably wasn’t talking about an album of broadway-worthy Dante-esque storytelling when he breathed, voice rough, “absolutely wonderful.” Although, you know. He totally could be.

Breathless, Allen laughed, “My my, Mister Mikk. Who knew storytelling got you like this?”

“Or music,” he mumbled into the hollow at the base of Allen’s throat, pushing him back as far as they could in the awkward space until Allen’s shoulders were propped against the door and his fingers were dragging up Tyki’s neck, head thrown back to bare his throat, ticklish giggles falling past his lips when Tyki’s stubbled cheeks trailed down his chest as far as his shirt would allow.

“Or you,” Tyki considered absently, his hands sneaking up the hem of Allen’s shirt to get at his waist. “Or you talking about music,” he said, and pulled back to gasp breathlessly, “God, kiss me.”

“Okay,” Allen laughed, reaching for Tyki’s shoulders, and pulled himself up to meet him in a messy kiss, letting out a short cry when the car rounded a corner, tipping him too far past Tyki. Allen clung to him, arms tight around his shoulders, and grinned at Tyki’s quiet laughter in his ear.

“This is harder than it looks,” Allen hissed in a stage whisper and used his position of clinging to Tyki’s neck to trace his teeth softly across the shell of his ear.

Tyki’s short, gasped groan brought a grin to Allen’s lips, had him weaving his fingers up into Tyki’s hair and pulling his head aside so Allen could press that grin to the side of his neck. Pressing against Tyki, Allen set his teeth against his throat, felt the vibrations of his almost-silent moan against his tongue and pushed him back into the seat. A hand in his hair, the other pushing him against the backrest, Allen tasted the salt from Tyki’s neck, parted his lips and sucked at the soft skin.

“God,” Tyki breathed, his hands sliding up the back of Allen’s shirt, fingers dragging shuddering distractions along the dip of his spine. “Should’ve known you’d be able to put that mouth to good use,” he gasped, letting out an unsteady laugh.

“Comes with the territory,” he grinned, catching Tyki’s earlobe between his teeth.

“What,” Tyki taunted, setting his blunt nails against Allen’s skin and dragging them down his back. He couldn't help the long shudder and a quiet moan that touch pulled past his lips, and his hand tightened in Tyki’s hair with a wave of perverse arousal when he breathed against Allen’s ear, “Practice makes perfect when you’re the whole campus’s fucktoy.”

Too breathless to be coy, Allen murmured against his cheek, “You gonna make me your little slut, Mikk?”

A hitched breath, quiet and hot, and Tyki went still for a moment. Hands too tight at Allen’s waist, a quiet sound shuddering past Allen’s ear. His certainty like a lustful promise, Tyki breathed, “You won’t want anyone else, once I’ve had you.”

“We’re here,” the driver interrupted, awkward and tense, stopping the car, “thanks.”

“Thank youuu,” Allen sang, immediately tearing away from Tyki and slipping out of the car, stumbling on the sidewalk when his head spun a little before finding his balance and righting himself to wheel around and catch Tyki’s wrist to drag him out.

Slinging the door closed behind him, Tyki took a moment to card his fingers through Allen’s hair and press a hungry, biting kiss to his lips before he strode past, pulling Allen along with him.

Drunk and laughing and so fucking turned on, Allen followed at Tyki’s heels when he pulled him up the stairs of his apartment building. He fell into his arms at the second landing and let out an appreciative, “Mmf,” when Tyki pinned him against the door. Any other sounds were smothered by Tyki’s lips on his, his body pressed close and demanding.

Allen sucked Tyki’s full lower lip between his teeth, teased his tongue across his slick, kiss-bruised skin and swallowed the quiet groan that fell from Tyki’s mouth to his. His aim, really, was to make multitasking as difficult as possible. Dominate Tyki’s attention, toe the line between I need to kiss you and I need to fuck you .

And, well. Fumbling his keys in the lock, dropping them on the floor and breathing a fervent curse against Allen’s mouth? He counted it as a win.

Especially when Tyki had to take a knee to pick up the keyring, his hand still firm on Allen’s hip, and gave Allen the freedom to drag his fingers through Tyki’s hair. He pulled Tyki’s head back, forced his hooded eyes to look up, dark with hunger and arousal when Allen trailed his fingers almost tenderly down his cheek. Let his thumb rest against Tyki’s full lower lip, press in between his teeth.

Contemplative, Allen murmured, “Maybe I should make you my little slut.”

Tyki’s eyes narrowed with a flash of challenge, his fingers curling tight like a warning around Allen’s hip for a moment before he managed to unlock the door. Standing and pushing it open in one motion, Tyki caught Allen’s wrists as he stumbled backwards and pressed him against the wall of the dark entryway with enough force to punch a breath from his lungs.

Arms pinned above his head in one of Tyki’s hands, Allen tilted his head back for the promise of Tyki’s lips against his, his silhouette a whisper away.

“I’d like to see you try,” he murmured into the darkness between them, voice low and smooth and amused , his hand tightening around Allen’s wrists until his breath caught on a quiet whine. “Did you keep my phone?” he breathed, dragging his lips across the line of Allen’s jaw.

“Back pocket,” he gasped, arching away from the wall when he felt Tyki’s breath fluttering across his neck. “Left.”

“Good boy,” he said, voice low and close enough to make Allen’s knees weak, and slipped his free hand around around Allen’s hip, his searching fingers trailing along the curve of his ass until he found the phone.

The screen lit Tyki’s face from below, his thumb quickly darting around until he seemed to find what he was looking for. Half a moment later, Allen heard the slow, honey-drip beat of Nick Murphy start playing somewhere in the apartment.

“God,” he breathed, fingers curling, so fucking enamoured, just over and over finding more and more reasons to fall for this gorgeous man.

The memory of last night flashed through his mind - Tyki’s skin wet with rain, smooth lips rolling slick against Allen’s amidst charmed laughter, strong arms holding Allen against him, Allen’s legs curled around his waist.

“You can pick me up, right?” he grinned, breathless, pulling against Tyki’s hold just to feel his grip tighten.

Tyki’s laugh was beautiful and low and everything Allen wanted to hear, buried against his neck when he released Allen’s wrists. He had Allen pressed up against the wall within seconds, Allen’s legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.

His hands were clenched in the collar of Tyki’s shirt, his body pressed close against Tyki’s, no inch of space between them from their chests to their hips. Allen let out a tight, desperate sound, his dick caught between them, and rolled his hips to try for more and more and more, hungry for a bruising touch. And Tyki was merciless, pinning him hard against the wall, biting at Allen’s neck and grinding up against him until Allen couldn’t help the moans that fell past his lips, breaths heaving short and fast while he arched against him, shamelessly trying for more friction while Tyki sucked marks onto his neck.

“Hey,” Tyki gasped below Allen, kissing up beneath his jaw, each press of his too-soft lips a veil for the short, hungry nips of his teeth. Muffled against Allen’s skin, he mumbled, “Think you can stay still for a couple seconds?”

“Mmh,” Allen sighed, dragging his hands around Tyki’s shoulders, curling his legs tighter around his waist, “no promises, if you keep doing that.”

Tyki laughed again, low and smug, and pressed Allen hard and sharp against the wall, his grin below the corner of Allen’s jaw. A small whine fell from Allen’s lips, his fingers digging into Tyki’s shoulders. “And what,” he murmured, intoxicating, teeth catching on Allen’s skin, “might that be?”

“All,” Allen gasped, legs locked, grinding hard up against Tyki’s stomach. “All of that. Unless you want to fuck me against this wall,” he amended on a quiet groan when Tyki’s hips ground up against him, Allen’s legs going slack for a moment at the hint of Tyki’s dick pressed against his ass.

“So impatient, boy,” he taunted, his laugh quiet and promising. “I want to take my time with you,” he murmured, drunken promise skating across Allen’s skin. “Want to watch you come apart,” he breathed, and a gasp stuck in Allen’s throat like a breathless whine when Tyki lowered him just enough to grind against him, hot and hard and heavy. “You and all those layers of,” he sucked in a sharp breath, bit at Allen’s neck hard enough to bruise, Allen’s whine muffled by his needy groan, “vapid carelessness.”

He pulled away from Allen’s throat, and Allen was caught breathless by the demand in his dark eyes, the burning want like fire beneath his skin. Not for Allen’s body. Not just for Allen’s body. Not for the sounds Tyki could drag from him, the pleasure he could give Tyki. Not for some marionette, a two-dimensional idea.

Tyki wanted Allen. Not because he knew him, but because he wanted to learn him.

Dark eyes pinning Allen with his fervour, making his breaths come short and sharp with something like fear - something like exhilaration - Tyki looked at Allen like he wanted him, and said, “So I am going to take you to bed, and I’m going to be the best you’ve had.”

Allen curled his hands around to the nape of Tyki’s neck, dipped his head so his lips brushed like a sweet poison a breath away from Tyki’s when he murmured, “What makes you so sure?”

“I’ve never had time for half-heartedness,” Tyki reasoned, quietly certain, and Allen could taste the sly grin that spread across his lips a moment later. “And I don’t think there’s another person I’d like to love more than someone who can mimic an iambic pentameter without realising they had just heard one.”

“Well that was far more than five syllables,” Allen remarked, dry, and Tyki pressed his laugh to the corner of Allen’s grin in a kiss.

“I think it might have been forty - still right,” he laughed. “If you like I can put it in doubles.”

“Oh my god,” Allen laughed, dropping his head against Tyki’s shoulder. “Oh my god.”

“Please,” Tyki scoffed a quiet laugh, lifting him away from the wall without a hint of strain. “We haven’t even started yet. Save the sermon,” he said while he carried Allen unerringly through the dark apartment towards the thick beat of the music.

He kicked open a door and took only a few steps into the room before dropping Allen unceremoniously onto the bed, didn’t hesitate to crawl up between his spread legs to press a kiss to Allen’s laughing lips.

“I can’t believe you carried me,” he gasped between giggles, hooking his legs around Tyki’s hips and pulling him down for another grinning kiss. “Think you could fuck me against the wall?” he teased, helping Tyki find the hem of his shirt and pull it up over his head.

Tyki laughed and dropped Allen’s shirt over the side of the bed, kissing down his chest while he said, “There is far too much coordination involved there.”

“Maybe when we’re sober,” Allen grinned, arching back against the sheets with an appreciative sound sitting in his throat at the feeling of Tyki’s soft lips meandering down his chest, rough cheeks making him shudder.

“Maybe in an ideal world,” Tyki commented with a teasing grin, and dragged the flat of his tongue across the bead of Allen’s nipple.

“Ah!” he cried, pitched high and desperate, his legs locking tight around Tyki’s waist and his fingers curled into fists in Tyki’s hair, whole body coiled tense.

Tyki pushed up from Allen’s flushed chest and grinned down at him, narrow-eyed and wanting. “Really, now?” he teased, attention caught, and trailed his fingers down from the hollow of Allen’s throat.

“Yes,” he gasped, hardly an answer, every thought blown like dandelion seeds to Tyki’s victorious grin and the way he brushed his thumbs across the peaked buds. A desperate, frustrated sound dragged from his throat, his body twisting like a cat’s under Tyki’s low laughter.

“Yes?” he taunted, lowering his grin to Allen’s chest, the feeling of his lips parting over his nipple drawing out another almost-pained whine. And that was nothing compared to having Tyki roll the bead gently between his teeth, tongue working over the tip while he played the other between his fingers.

It was beyond something that Allen could vocalise, almost beyond pleasure, his body wound so tight that his legs were trembling around Tyki’s hips, breaths coming short and sharp, chest tight around the overwhelming sensation. “T-too-” he gasped, choked, every nerve on fire when he managed to plead, “too much, it’s - ah!” His next breath came in a deep, shuddering gasp, and Tyki lifted off quickly, eyes caught on something like concern.

“Are you-?” he started to ask, but Allen was already nodding his head, reaching up to pull Tyki down for a biting kiss, dragging his teeth down Tyki’s soft tongue in a fervent demand, refusing to slow down for Tyki’s concern.

Tyki gave an encouraging groan, curled his arms around Allen’s back to heft him further onto the bed, their lips parting for gasped breaths when Allen’s shoulders fell amongst the pillows scattered messily around the head of Tyki’s bed.

He let out an appreciative sound, sinking into the scent of Tyki’s sheets, legs still wrapped around his waist. Tyki shifted uncomfortably, reached to squeeze his hand around Allen’s calf like a reassurance and reminded, “Shoes.”

“Right,” Allen rushed, unhooking his legs from Tyki’s waist and twisting so he could toe off his chucks and have them drop over the edge of the bed while Tyki pulled away to kick off his dress shoes. Allen lay back, propped on his elbows amongst Tyki’s pillows, and watched him work at the top few buttons of his shirt before pulling it off over his head.

A slow smile spread across his lips as Tyki climbed up the bed to fit back between his legs. “Nice,” Allen murmured, and brought his fingers up to rest against Tyki’s stubbled cheek when he leaned in for another demanding kiss. Allen lowered himself from his elbow and trailed his fingertips down Tyki’s jaw, his throat, down the dip between his pectorals, grinned against Tyki’s lips and stated, “Very nice.”

“You commenting on the weather?” Tyki laughed, close and amused, and pushed up to reach for the bedside table. He flicked on a small lamp, warm yellow light diffused soft through the shade, painting Tyki’s chest and his beautiful face in dusted gold. “Might need this,” he said with a grin, hair caught in a messy halo when he came back to hover over Allen, a bottle of lube in his hand.

“Thank god you keep that handy,” Allen teased, laughing, and slid his hands up Tyki’s warm shoulders to the nape of his neck.

“Where would you be without me,” he agreed with a smirk, dropping the bottle into the sheets so he could splay his hands across Allen’s chest in a touch light enough to have Allen tilting his head back, breathless laugh falling past his lips, arching against Tyki’s calloused fingers, his legs twisting at the almost-overwhelming sensation of Tyki’s attention moving slowly down his body.

“Guessing,” he gasped, fingers clenching at Tyki’s shoulders, “you don’t want me to answer that.”

“On the contrary,” Tyki grinned, voice pitched low and smooth like a serpent’s expectation, and he leaned down to kiss Allen’s sternum, gold-lit eyes grinning sly up at him, “I’d love to hear what you get up to,” he continued slowly, teasingly, kissing down the line of Allen’s stomach to his navel, “when you don’t have someone to keep you company.” His lips took a keen interest in the sparse trail of red-brown hair leading down to the waistline of Allen’s pants and he prompted, “Well?” under Allen’s shuddering silence, his sharp smile resting half an inch above his fly.

“I-” Allen started to say, and twisted a little with a short gasp when Tyki dragged his tongue across the sensitive skin in a tease. “I have no shame,” he said, firm voice wavering and unsteady under Tyki’s hands, “if that’s what you’re asking.”

Sounding far, far too amused, Tyki arched a brow at Allen and said, “That’s not what I’m asking, and you know it.” He pressed a lingering kiss to Allen’s waistline and sat back to kneel between his legs, eyes dark and heavy.

Fingers traced down Allen’s sides, made him twitch and whine with the gentle touch, and trailed around his hips to his inner thighs. A breath away from his erection, growing more and more desperate for friction under Tyki’s taunting gaze. But Tyki dragged his hands away, his touch trailing feather-light down the inseam of Allen's pants, and it was impossible to help the way his legs fell open with a quiet, pleading whine.

“Why don’t you tell me,” Tyki murmured, slow and indulgent, and traced his hands tauntingly back up the inseam of Allen's pants, “what you did last night,” voice quiet and heavy with intention. His hands stopped, thumbs tracing the crease of Allen’s thighs, and he breathed, “once I’d left.”

Allen sucked in a shuddering breath, struggled, for a moment, to remember what, exactly, Tyki was talking about. “I,” he started, voice so unsteady he thought it might break. He forced out a sharp breath, sucked in a new one before closing his eyes to the distraction of Tyki’s beautiful, gorgeous, stupidly distracting face.

Feeling the shudders of quiet arousal tremble up his spine from where Tyki’s hands hadn’t quite stopped moving, Allen admitted, “As soon as you left, I went to my room.” He lowered his hand to rest at the waist of his pants, where he had countless times before, and traced his fingers up the familiar, meandering path to his chest. “Imagined your hands first,” he said on a laugh, remembered that spectre of Tyki he’d thought up.

Remembered him like smoke, his touch as cold as Allen’s and intangible where it counted.

“Soft where I want it,” he continued, shuddering with his teeth digging into his lower lip when his cool fingertips brushed like a whisper over the peak of his nipple. “Hard,” he breathed, his other hand smoothing over his hip, brushing against Tyki’s along the crease of his thigh, “where I need it.” He pressed the heel of his hand down over his cock, squeezed his erection through his pants under Tyki’s silent, hungry gaze, a quiet, satisfied sigh falling past Allen’s bitten lips at the pressure. “Imagined you,” he gasped under Tyki shifting forwards to match his touch at his chest, fingers slipping between Allen’s to brush his hand away, to trail his thumb in the lightest touch across the bud, “feeling me up, just.” He paused, tried to suck in enough air, breaths coming unsteady. “Hungry,” he choked out, the warmth of Tyki’s hand replacing his over his cock like desperate relief. “Demanding,” he said, voice unsteady and pitched a note too high at the quiet strength in Tyki’s hands, the way he groped hot and hard and heavy at Allen’s length, indulgently feeling the shape of him through his pants.

“You have,” Tyki breathed, low and weighted, his hands at one point as impossibly gentle as his lips, the other as intense as his desire, “an incredible grasp of character. But I think,” he murmured, fingers slipping down Allen’s side while he lowered himself down to his elbows between Allen’s legs, “you might have underestimated,” he continued, and Allen gasped a short, desperate sound when he pressed his lips to the tented fabric between his thumb and forefinger before pulling back an inch to match Allen’s wide stare before finishing, a taunting grin curling in the corners of his lips, “how much I want to suck your dick,” and sinking back down with a devilish look in his eyes, his hand massaging a promise over Allen’s length.

“Oh my god,” Allen gasped and dropped his head back onto the mattress, hand instinctively sliding up against the coarse stubble of Tyki’s cheek to tangle his fingers in his messy hair. “Oh my god,” he sobbed and forced himself to look at how Tyki was mouthing at the shape of his cock, breath hot and wet through the cotton of Allen’s pants. Sucking in a shuddering breath, Allen’s hand tightened in Tyki’s hair when he felt his tongue prod at the head of his dick through the muffling layers of clothing, his elbow trembling with the effort of holding him up while he whined, “Oh fuck, oh Tyki, fuck,” and choked off in a strangled moan when he felt Tyki’s teeth drag light down his length through his pants and underwear. “God,” he moaned, hips pressing up off the bed to chase that intoxicating sensation, and shuddered at the sound of Tyki’s low, teasing laugh.

He had his lips pressed to the arch of Allen’s hip, fingers hooked in the waistband of his pants, slowly working around to his fly while he clicked his tongue and taunted, “You had such a large vocabulary a moment ago, boy. What happened?”

“A moment ago,” Allen gasped, trembling when he felt Tyki pop the button of his pants, “your mouth wasn’t on my dick.” Only, well. A moment ago it kind of had been on his dick, so that statement was - fuck, semantics, a few more moments ago it hadn’t been. And then it was. And then Tyki had felt that incessant urge to talk shit.

Allen had a few thoughts about what he ought to do with that mouth of his, rather than try be funny.

Tyki muffled his laugh against Allen’s navel and moved up his body to hover over him, one hand planted in the blankets and the other peeling down the fly of Allen’s pants. His grin was teasing, intimate when he murmured, “Do you want me to stop?”

Allen groaned frustration and hooked his legs around Tyki’s thighs, arched his hips up for the faint brush of his erection against Tyki’s and demanded with a glower, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Tyki’s chuckle melted into a quiet moan when he leaned down to press his lips to Allen’s, hips grinding against the hand trapped between them to force Allen back down onto the bed. He pulled away from Allen’s demanding lips, kissed down his jaw and the line of his throat when Allen arched his head back, a vocal response falling past his lips to the way Tyki slipped his hand down the front of his pants and massaged a touch against his cock, still trapped in his underwear.

“You’re so eager,” Tyki growled, repeating the gesture with a firmer grip that had Allen twisting with a breathless mewl. “When was the last time you got properly fucked?” he breathed, low and something like possessive against the skin below Allen’s ear.

“Months,” he choked out on a gasp, head tilted to bare his throat for the scrape of Tyki’s stubbled cheeks, his fingers scrabbling at Tyki’s neck, his shoulders, his back. “It’s been,” he sucked in an unsteady breath, shudders rolling down his spine, “months.”

“God,” Tyki groaned, and Allen wasn’t of a mind to mock him for hypocrisy. Not when his lips were trailing down Allen’s chest and his hands were tugging impatiently at Allen’s pants, pulling them roughly down his hips. “You deserve better than that,” he promised, voice as coarse as his movements when pulled back to kneel between Allen’s thighs and pull his pants past his knees.

Breathless, Allen helped as much as he could - hurriedly kicking them down his calves, pressing his bare foot against Tyki’s shoulder to toe the hem past his heel.

“A beautiful,” Tyki murmured and tossed Allen’s pants aside, one hand trailing up his calf while he pressed his lips to the inside of Allen’s knee, “nasty boy like you,” he said, low, and hung Allen’s ankle over his shoulder, hand sliding up along his thigh while he trailed kisses along the indent the inseam of his pants had left, “deserves to be fucked whenever he damn well pleases.”

Allen choked off a moan when he felt Tyki’s breath hot against the crease of his thigh, caught in the fabric of his trunks, and his fingers unerringly found their way back into Tyki’s hair when he gasped, “I absolutely agree, Tyki Mikk.”

A disastrous grin spread across his lips when he peeled Allen’s underwear down, eyes alight with amusement and a kind of expectant anticipation when he shot an indulgent, appreciative glance at Allen’s hard cock. “Let’s see,” he murmured, taunting eyes flicking to Allen’s face as he smoothed a hand up his thigh, “what we can do about that.”

His hand was hot and firm, and covered all but the head of Allen’s cock. Too used to his own touch, Allen’s eyes fell closed with a quiet, overcome cry when Tyki purposefully massaged his fingers around his length.

“You might want to watch this,” Tyki said, a cocky promise sitting low in his voice, his warm breath brushing across the already-wet head of Allen’s dick.

And Allen, well. He really couldn’t resist an opportunity like that. Sucked in a steadying breath and made himself look.

It shouldn’t have been such a big deal, really. A sight he’d seen any number of times, that it became something almost meaningless. A man propped on his elbows between Allen’s legs, heavy eyes watching him with no small amount of expectation. Lips parted, about to take him in. A prelude only good for a moment of anticipation.

But Tyki’s eyes weren’t just expectant. He wasn’t just hungry, he wasn’t just acting on lust. There was such a complexity behind that expression that Allen was struck deep and breathless with a feeling of... sonder . His heart clenched between one beat and the next, eyes locked on Tyki’s face, and he was quite suddenly very aware.

Aware of Tyki, and of himself, and of the incredible intimacy of that moment.

Tyki.

A whole live human. A man who’d lived through each moment of his entire life - inconsequential and drastic and beautiful and frustrating.

People on people around him that he passed by every day, and he was looking at Allen with raw sincerity woven deep into his teasing smile.

He didn’t mean it as a gift. It wasn’t something he was giving Allen. But looking at that smile Tyki kept reserved for him - playful and almost dark, something deeper than a game - Allen felt that breathlessness of being overcome threaten at the back of his throat again.

Of all those people Tyki passed every day, of all those smiles he caught, Allen’s was the one he wanted to keep.

Allen, who’d never had cause to dream of taking something as silly as attraction seriously. Who could never make people love him, and had long ago stopped believing it was something he deserved.

Tyki wanted him despite that he’d never cared to hide how he’d reigned in his expectations to only ever run skin deep. Tyki wanted Allen, despite the fucktoy name he’d made for himself.

Tyki hadn’t brought Allen here to fuck him.

They would fuck, of course. Allen couldn’t imagine pulling the plug on this. But despite that fucking had always been the goal, it had never for one second been the endgame for Tyki.

He paused there over Allen’s cock, lips parted in a daring grin, eyes sly as a challenge, and when he sank down over Allen’s hard length it was a sensation Allen had felt a hundred times before, but was somehow just so fucking new.

Because it was Tyki.

With his hot, wet mouth, soft tongue pressing against the head of Allen’s cock in a way he never wanted to stop feeling - a sensation he never wanted to forget. Tyki, with his strong hands and quick wit, with his indomitable pride. Tyki, in all his self-assured drunkenness, was sucking Allen’s dick like he couldn’t imagine a damn thing he’d rather be doing.

His self-indulgence was beautiful, the way he flattened his malleable tongue to the underside of Allen’s cock. Taking him all the way into his mouth like a snack. The way he sucked, bobbed his head, rolled that perfect tongue of his around Allen’s girth didn’t speak technique but, god, Allen couldn’t find fault in how it felt.

He just - had such a mouth. Plush and gentle and soft soft soft. He had a mouth that was made for sucking cock, and he didn’t need tricks to have Allen arching back against the pillows with a high, tight whine, fingers curled into his thick hair.

So slow and luxuriant, like he was simply enjoying himself - enjoying how it felt to have Allen in his mouth. Tasting him, sucking at him, working that delicious tongue of his against Allen’s skin in whichever way took his fancy.

Allen arched up against him, breath falling from his lips in a rapturous sigh. Pressed his hips up against Tyki’s mouth and he swallowed Allen down, a pleased moan working from his throat to his mouth, low voice rumbling around Allen’s cock.

“God,” he breathed, eyes closed, rocking his hips in slow thrusts into Tyki’s mouth, Tyki’s tongue rolling smooth around him without a hint of strain, just. Everywhere at once, his warm, slick mouth enveloping Allen’s length with natural ease. “God, your mouth,” he gasped, fingers clenching in Tyki’s hair when he sucked at Allen’s cock, pulled up and indulged in laving his tongue across his head for a moment. Slid his tongue in against his slit, Allen’s legs curling around his shoulders with a weak, pleased cry before he lifted off.

Tyki slid his finger up the underside of Allen’s erection, a smug little grin on his face while he watched Allen’s dick twitch at the gentle touch. “You’re a cute little thing,” he teased, eyes flicking up to catch Allen’s while he smeared precome around the head of Allen’s cock with his fingertip, “aren’t you.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a thing for small dicks, Mikk,” Allen taunted, a little breathless, eyes narrow to match Tyki’s sly amusement.

“Maybe not,” Tyki smiled, and dipped down to press a lingering kiss to the rosy head of Allen’s cock, tongue dragging across his skin to catch that precome, “but I certainly like yours,” he admitted, grinning at Allen’s tight little moan.

Unsteady, trying for firm and somewhat missing the mark, Allen gasped, “You just bring me here to play with me?” with his hand twisted up in Tyki’s hair, body arching under the way Tyki’s tongue melted around his cock.

Tyki’s laugh sure was something else, when it was hummed and muffled against Allen’s already-leaking head. Tyki lifted off, dragged his hand in a slow, luxuriant stroke up Allen’s spit-slicked length. His grin was something deadly, something enticing when he teased, “I thought you liked games.”

Allen’s legs curled tight around Tyki’s shoulders, drawing him in for the addiction of his mouth on Allen's skin, despite that he wanted more. “If I say you’ve won this one,” he gasped, hips rolling to fuck into Tyki’s hand, “will it get you to hurry things along?”

“That’d just be too easy,” Tyki taunted. “But,” his grip curled tight and his wrist flicked quick and fast over Allen’s cock for a few beats until blissful pleasure was unravelling his thoughts, his head thrown back and his body twisting against Tyki’s, “we ought to keep things interesting, hm?”

His grip let up all too soon and Allen arched into the loss of friction, a petulant whine dragging from his throat when he fell against the bed with a frustrated huff. “Nice use of the word ‘ought’,” he muttered, and had to bite his tongue to keep from following it up with something crass and tasteless and demanding.

Tyki shot him an amused glance regardless - a smile playing at the corners of his lips, fond laughter folded into creases of his eyes. A small twitch of his lips, like he thought it was cute.

“What?” Allen demanded, still very much on the verge of pouting. And what with Tyki’s hand still not on his dick, he was certainly feeling inclined to take care of it himself.

But Tyki’s answer more or less derailed that train of thought. “First time you said that,” he said, that twitch of his lips folding into a real grin, fingers coming up to play along the edge of Allen’s jaw, at his chin. “I thought you were a real condescending bitch.”

Allen ducked his head on his laughter, fingers still caught like gentle affection in Tyki’s hair.

Tyki propped himself up on his elbow, smiling down at Allen like he couldn’t quite believe him. Traced his thumb across Allen’s grinning lips. “All those fake smiles to go with it,” he murmured, and it hardly sounded accusatory so much as enchanted. Quietly amazed.

Enamoured.

Allen laughed, reached up to cup Tyki’s jaw and pull him down for a sweet kiss. “I am,” he grinned against Tyki’s lips. “I am an absolute, horrid bitch.”

“Condescending, though,” Tyki grinned, dragging his hands down Allen’s back and pulling him to kneel up, so he was all but sitting in Tyki’s lap, “I think not.”

“I mean it,” Allen said, pulling away to pin Tyki with a reprimanding look that melted within seconds “When I say it, I mean it.”

“I know,” he murmured, pressed his smile up against Allen’s jaw. “You’re a far cry from genuine, but I wouldn’t call you cold.”

“I think you’ll find,” Allen mocked, and pressed his fingers to Tyki’s warm cheek, giggling when he jolted at the cool touch and caught Allen’s wrists to pull his hands away from his face. Tyki pushed forwards, tilted Allen to fall back against the pillows, his hands pinned to the sheets. “I used-” he stopped, interrupted by Tyki’s lips on his. Indulging him for a moment, letting Tyki kiss down his jaw to his neck, Allen repeated, “I used to have a terrible carnie accent when I was a kid.”

“I can’t even imagine,” Tyki laughed against his throat. “That doesn’t suit you at all.”

“I did,” he assured, “I did. I Never liked magic tricks,” he grinned, indulgently trailing his fingers over Tyki’s broad shoulders, the muscles of his back, tracing the dip of his spine, “or clowns. And all the games were rigged,” he complained, letting his head fall back with an appreciative groan when Tyki dragged his tongue up the column of his throat.

“Rigged games sound like they’d be right up your alley,” Tyki countered, his grin a tease pressed up under Allen’s chin.

“No,” he giggled, twisting, “there’s no art to rigs. Cheating, however-”

“God,” Tyki laughed, dropping his head to rest on Allen’s chest in a kind of unsurprised speechlessness. “I’d better keep my eye on you,” he said, pressing his lips to Allen’s collarbone and following it with a small nip of his teeth, a swipe of his soft tongue.

“Stay sharp, Mikk,” Allen breathed in a taunt against his ear, fingers dragging up his warm back. “Next time we’re playing strip poker.”

Stretching over him, one hand reaching for the bottle of lube he’d dropped earlier, Tyki kept his narrowed eyes pinned like a challenge on Allen when he supposed, “You’ll be counting cards, will you?”

Allen laughed quietly, closed his eyes against an expectant shiver when he heard the sound of Tyki popping the cap. Mocked him with, “I suggest you wait and see, so I can draw your attention to what you’re supposed to be focusing on right now.”

“Patience,” Tyki murmured, leaning down over Allen, his elbow pressed into the pillows by Allen’s head and his warm breath caught in the space between their grinning lips, “is a virtue.”

“Did I ever strike you,” Allen laughed, breathless, legs falling apart and hips rolling expectantly at the promise of Tyki’s slick fingers ghosting along his perineum, “as virtuous?”

Tyki laughed again, low and quiet, and moved down Allen’s body with kisses lined along his chest. “Well,” he murmured, pausing at Allen’s sternum to shoot him a glance daring Allen to refute him before moving down his abdomen, reasoning, “I don’t think angels are inherently virtuous.”

“Oh my god,” Allen was already scoffing, more embarrassed than exasperated, but pretending they were the same thing.

“But they’re certainly a step above the rest of us,” Tyki finished regardless, a challenging grin curling at his lips when he hesitated over Allen’s navel.

And Allen, well. He very well might have like to retort with a structured and scathing argument to that. But it was a bit difficult to reach coherency beyond, “God,” when he had Tyki’s warm, slick fingers tracing around his entrance, Tyki’s competitive smile keeping him in place, daring him to make a move.

Lips bitten, breaths tight, eyes squeezed shut against the promise of pleasure Tyki was taunting him with, Allen tried to grit out, “Your perception is quite-” He stopped and gasped a short breath, thighs trembling against the need to rock down against Tyki’s explorative touches. “-idiosyncratic,” he finished on an explosive breath, unable to help the way he twisted beneath Tyki’s taunts.

“That’s a ten-point SAT vocabulary right there,” Tyki commented, almost blithe, and Allen made no effort to hold back the sharp, frustrated groan when it tore from his throat.

“Would you just fuck me?” he snapped, rocking his hips down against Tyki’s hand, fingers tangled sharp in his hair.

“If you insist,” Tyki teased, his grin pressed beside Allen’s leaking cock. His fingers gave another taunting swirl deeper around Allen’s entrance before they pressed easily into his hole. His spine arched with a small moan, hands trembling where he had them clenched in the sheets.

“God,” Tyki breathed against Allen’s hip, pushing deeper into him, “did you come prepared?”

“It’s not,” Allen bit off a gasp when Tyki twisted his fingers and scissored a little, the stretch just enough to make Allen’s toes curl, “a matter of preparation,” he tried to reason and his abdomen tensed and shuddered against the need to push himself down onto Tyki’s hand.

“So you’re just loose,” Tyki pressed his grin against Allen’s tight stomach in a teasing kiss, working his slick fingers deep. “See,” he murmured into Allen’s skin, “I knew you fucked around, but. You haven’t been with anyone for a while, huh?”

“I told you,” Allen gasped when Tyki pressed a third finger into him, just for fun. “Not- nghh,” he tried again, a moan catching in his throat at the warm friction of Tyki’s insistent fingers, “not for months,” he finally choked out, eyes squeezed shut with shuddering breaths falling past his lips.

God, Tyki’s fingers, his hands. The same hands that played music so beautifully - the same fingers that drummed staccato patterns across Allen’s skin. So wonderful and beautiful and talented, and Tyki was fucking him with those hands as if it were something he deserved.

He pushed up to lean over Allen, fingers working effortless pleasure into Allen’s body. “Which means,” Tyki smirked down at him, dark and seductive, “you must have been fingering yourself, hmm?”

Not like this, though - nothing like this. An unsteady whine worked its way out of Allen’s throat when Tyki pushed in deep and spread his fingers a little, the stretch arching Allen’s spine and curling his toes. Nothing Allen did to himself could compare to the feeling of Tyki’s fingers in him, stretching him, pleasuring him. Tyki pulled back only to press in again, and Allen clenched down on him with a breathless moan, a high, needy sound falling past his lips when he felt Tyki’s knuckles stretching him through that inarticulate desire to fuck down on his hand.

Tyki worked his fingers into Allen’s hole again and again, firm and torturously slow, and Allen forced himself to watch Tyki’s face with heavy-lidded eyes, let his gaze trace the reverent desire in his expression, the lust in his deep breaths, something like amusement in the corners of his parted lips.

“So,” Tyki breathed, that amusement curling into a smirk, “have you been touching yourself like this, boy?”

Allen shuddered when Tyki dragged his fingertips long and slow along his walls, unhurriedly searching for his prostate, and dropped his head back with a choked whine when he felt how close he got. “Y-” he gasped, his left hand disentangling from the blankets beneath him to reach up and trace the line of Tyki’s neck, fingers curling into his hair instead while he moaned, “Yes, I- I have, I did, I’m- Tyki,” he keened, rocking down on Tyki’s hand.

“Did you finger yourself last night?” Tyki murmured, breath tight, leaning back to watch how his own fingers fucked into Allen’s hole. Fingertips prodding around his prostate with each stroke.

“I did,” Allen cried, gasped, hands tangled almost painfully into Tyki’s hair, “I did, because I want you, I want you,” he gasped, eyes closed tight, head arched back, hips swirling in a desperate bid to have Tyki’s fingers touch him where he needed it. Something, Allen was quickly realizing to his own sour frustration, Tyki was intentionally avoiding. “PLEASE,” he cried, explosive, clenching down on Tyki’s gorgeous, slender hand, felt Tyki keep stroking inside him, “please, Tyki,” he heaved, begged, “god.”

A whisper low against his ear. Taunting, in a way. Reassuring, somehow. So confident in Allen’s answer, as though he weren’t asking for himself so much as for Allen. “Why’d you do something like that, boy? he breathed, satisfied with his own victory. “Why’d you fuck yourself hard and loose before I was even ten minutes away?”

“I wanted you,” Allen gasped, tilted his head back, twisted with a long, desperate whine. “I want you,” he pleaded, blunt nails drawing scores down Tyki’s neck, digging sharp into his shoulder. “I need you, I need you, please!”

“You want me,” he teased, his horrid smile brushing against the shell of Allen’s ear, “and you need me. What else?” he murmured, prompted, and Allen hated that he knew exactly what he meant with his fingers curling a breath from Allen’s prostate.

Breathless, rolling his hips in a desperate bid for the pleasure Tyki kept edging him with, he growled, “Keep playing around, Mikk, and there ain’t no way I’m ever gonna love you.”

Tyki’s laughter was devastating - devastating - when it was breathed against Allen’s ear, his slick, dexterous fingers slipping like sadistic torture from Allen’s hole.

A desperate, pleading whine tore from his throat, caught on a sob, and he twisted, clenched down, curled his legs around Tyki’s waist and dug his fingers into his skin in a desperate bid to stop him from pulling away.

“Now, now,” he taunted, the mockery in his voice pitched low in a way that rocked an arching shudder down Allen's spine, “don’t be sad. Two out of three ain’t bad.”

“Are you going to fuck me?” he panted, eyes on Tyki’s face, hands each dug into his shoulder and the back of his neck.

The corners of Tyki’s lips curled up into a smirk and his hot, slick fingers traced around Allen’s sac, curled loose and light around his hard cock. “Would you like me to?”

“Very much,” Allen gasped, jaw locking against his moan when Tyki’s lube-slick fingers dragged indulgence up his length.

“Would you like me to fuck you?” he murmured, sank down with his fingers carding through Allen’s hair, dragging it back from his flushed face so his chocolate lips could melt against Allen’s. “Do you want me to fuck you?” he said again, breathed against Allen’s loose lips.

“I could have fucked you the moment we got inside,” Tyki murmured, lips skating across Allen’s cheek, tilting his head aside with the fingers tangled in his hair, hand working slow like a taunt over his length. “Could have held your face against the wall, taken you without even bothering to touch you. You’d have liked that, wouldn’t you?” He nosed beneath Allen’s chin, pressed a lingering kiss to the jut of his throat, the nervous bob of his adam’s apple when he swallowed. “I’d like that too,” he admitted, voice dipping low into something savage, something like a growl.

Tyki’s teeth scraped across Allen’s skin and he shuddered, a small sound falling weak from his threatened throat.

“But first impressions,” he recited, thumb rolling slick indulgence over the leaking head of Allen’s cock, “really are everything. Wouldn’t you say?”

All he could say was let loose a quiet, tight whine, pleading and desperate and waiting. Waiting for Tyki to make his move, to kiss Allen, to fuck him, if he wanted. If he were to be so inclined.

“I could fuck you,” Tyki murmured, words gentle, lips soft, “but I don’t want that. I don’t want something so crass from you, boy,” he repeated, reiterated, his hand smoothing from Allen’s hair, dragging down his neck, his back. “Something unfeeling. You’re worth more than that,” he said, words pressed to the skin below Allen’s ear, back arching around the arm Tyki curled behind his back. “You should be adored.”

A gentle kiss was pressed to his cheek, sweet and lingering, and that was it. That was the difference between Tyki and every other nameless dick he’d ridden. Because he could have fucked Allen against the wall in the entryway.

And then what? They’d each have lasted ten minutes and Tyki would either convince him to stay for round two or he’d be doing up his pants, giving Tyki that mocking smile he reserved for his mistakes, and offering a facetious thanks as he left through the still-ajar door.

That was the difference. Because everything Tyki wanted to say he said with music, and rather than fuck Allen in the hallway he’d dug his phone from Allen’s pocket and put on one of his playlists - so perfect that Allen hadn’t given it a second thought.

Because, with his arm curled around Allen’s back like an embrace, Alex Turner was playing over the sound system and Tyki was kissing him - his lips, his cheeks, his jaw, everywhere he could reach, with his hand releasing Allen’s length to trail up his body, to curl so impossibly gentle around the back of Allen’s neck as though his tenderness was more important than either of their lust.

Tyki pushed up after one last lingering kiss to Allen’s mouth and reached for the bedside table and Allen knew what he was going for and his hands curled into the front of Tyki’s shirt, held him, stopped him, and his voice was strangled when he gasped out, “Wait, I- I’m,” and had to swallow back that thick swell of adoration that threatened to overflow from him in the form of a breathless whine when Tyki stopped and looked at him, his expression one of patience and a silent question. “I want,” he hesitated before stressing, “you, I want… Is that. Alright?”

Tyki blinked, seemed surprised before he clarified, “You mean like, without... Bare?” When Allen nodded sheepishly Tyki ducked his head with a breathless laugh, overwhelmed for a moment. “That’s, um. Is that okay? I mean,” he made a short gesture, “I’m. I’m clean, is. Are you?” he asked, glancing up to see Allen’s small, amused smile.

He nodded and reached up, trailed his fingers along the line of Tyki’s jaw to weave into his messy hair. “I want you,” he repeated on a breath and Tyki sank down to kiss him again with a quiet, lustful sigh.

Against Allen’s lips he murmured, voice intoxicated, “You’re so,” and didn’t even bother to finish that thought. Pressed into the kiss, traced his tongue between Allen’s lips, curled up behind his teeth to tease the roof of Allen’s mouth so he tilted his head back against the blankets and moaned, quiet and overcome when Tyki followed him.

A hand at Allen’s hip, one planted in the sheets beside his head, and Tyki’s intoxicatingly gentle touch trailed up the line of Allen’s waist, the planes of his chest, brushed over his sensitive nipple so he arched up against Tyki’s body, whine caught in his throat.

Tyki pulled back from Allen’s lips, kissed along his jaw and nipped below his ear so Allen’s shoulders came up and he squirmed with a ticklish laugh, hooking his legs around Tyki’s hips and trailing one hand up the back of his warm neck into his hair.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” he breathed a furtive, teasing whisper against Allen’s ear, and Allen laughed as he pulled back, fingers trailing from his hair, down his shoulders and chest.

Tyki sat back, undid his fly, gracelessly kicked his pants down his legs, muttering, “Clothes are the fucking worst.”

“Guess I won’t bother with those white lace panties, then,” Allen hummed an ambivalent tease, eyes on Tyki’s stomach, his thighs, his heavy cock as he carelessly toed his pants off onto the floor.

“Um,” Tyki countered immediately, rolling onto his hands and knees to crawl back up between Allen’s legs, “no, you most certainly will bother. You hot mess,” he reprimanded with a teasing scowl, and dipped down to catch Allen’s earlobe between his teeth.

He laughed again, turned his head so his lips were pressed against the side of Tyki’s head, fingers tangled in his hair. “Do you think so?” he teased, low and coy with a promise woven into the words. “Think lace panties are worth that mess?”

In answer, Tyki pressed grinning kisses along the line of Allen’s jaw and lowered himself to his elbow, trailed his hand down Allen’s side and around to the small of his back. “Everything,” he breathed like a promise, the tease falling away to leave something gentle and fond and real. “You’re worth everything.”

Allen shuddered with want and something else when Tyki brushed indulgently over the curve of his ass, down his thigh.

You should be adored. That’s what he’d said.

Adored.

It was the type of word to linger.

His hand moved back up, slower, his lips hot against Allen’s throat. Allen’s hand tightened in his hair when Tyki’s fingers traced the crease of his ass, his breath unsteady when Tyki found his ready entrance.

He pressed two fingers in, only to the first knuckle, and Allen trembled around him, a small sound falling from his throat at the tease. His head fell back on a silent moan when he felt the slick, blunt press of Tyki’s bare length, sucked in a shuddering breath when he pushed in against his own fingers, the thickness just the perfect touch of painful to leave Allen breathless with pleasure.

Tyki kissed at his neck, breath hot and lips soft, and when he pulled his fingers away to hold Allen around the waist, he bit down over Allen’s shuddering pulse. His legs trembled around Tyki’s waist when he pressed deeper and Allen gasped, fingers tightening into a fist in Tyki’s hair when he sucked at Allen’s neck.

It was going to bruise, Allen could tell, but all he could do was close his eyes and whine such quiet, perfect pleasure at the way Tyki slid into him with the slow, slow roll of his hips.

“Tyki,” he keened, voice wound tight when he felt Tyki bottom out, “god,” he gasped, choked, and curled his legs tighter around his waist, hooked his ankles at the small of his back and dragged his short fingernails up the arm planted by his head, felt the way Tyki’s shoulders shuddered with tiny tremors.

After a long moment he felt Tyki suck in a deep breath, and a quiet whine fell past Allen’s lips when he rolled his hips back, so so slow. His exhale wavered across Allen’s collarbones when he pressed forwards, the hot drag of him filling Allen up again enough to make him disentangle his fingers from Tyki’s hair just so he could drag them back through again, his hand tight on Tyki’s shoulder.

He pressed a breathless groan against Allen’s throat when his hips met the back of Allen’s thighs, and without hesitation he rocked back to continue that slow, indulgent momentum.

“God,” Allen choked when Tyki filled him again, eyes squeezed shut, and it felt like all he could say, the only word he knew how to form with those speechless breaths shuddering into his lungs. “God,” he repeated, “oh, god, pl- please,” he struggled to breathe. Throat tight, fingers scraping down the strong line of Tyki’s shoulders, he felt like he was going to sob with each gasped breath, each strangled whine.

A low sound worked its way out of Tyki’s throat, his lips moving to lay a hundred thousand kisses down on Allen’s neck, along his collarbone, across his shoulder while he rolled in again and again. Sensual and hot and so so good, his body moving pleasure like warm honey over Allen’s skin. Lips retracing their path, Tyki kissed up Allen’s neck and along his jaw, lifted himself on his elbow while his hips undulated slow and firm so his hot lips could hover an inch above Allen’s.

Breaths mingling, Allen felt Tyki’s hand trail up his body, gliding so lovingly across his skin that it made him shudder and arch into Tyki’s next thrust, his eyes slipping closed against Tyki’s worshiping expression while an overcome sound strangled itself in his throat. Tyki’s fingers left a shiver of sensation in his wake, Allen’s skin tingling with the absence of his touch until his hand was cupping Allen’s cheek, stroking back to curl around his ear, into his hair.

Low, reverent, his voice deep and quiet, Tyki whispered, “Perfect,” and a small whine fell from Allen’s lips when Tyki kissed the corner of his mouth on his next thrust. “You’re so perfect,” he breathed, lips brushing like feathers against Allen’s skin. “Beautiful,” he murmured, voice caught on a moan when he pressed into Allen’s body, and Allen felt as though he was burning up. Tyki’s lips danced across his cheek, laying the lightest of kisses everywhere he could reach and gasping between each one, “You’re beautiful, so beautiful. You’re so good, so perfect, Allen.” Quiet, but no less coloured with helpless pleasure, and Allen felt as though he was going to burst.

Filled with Tyki’s hot length, with his warmth, Allen could only curl his arms behind Tyki’s chest, tuck his head in against his shoulder and tilt his hips to meet each of Tyki’s slow thrusts.

Adoration.

It was the type of feeling to linger.

Tyki smothered his groan into the crook of Allen’s neck, curled his arm around Allen’s back and held him close while they rocked together, Allen working to meet each of his slow, consuming thrusts. His deep breaths were hot against Allen’s skin, both of them already worked up from the slow pace, hot summer air pooling into the room through the open window.

Allen dragged his his fingers down the dip of Tyki’s spine, blunt nails sliding easily across skin already turning slick in the humidity.

“God,” he gasped, groaned, eyes closed, head arched back. “God, I need-” he panted, rolling his hips to Tyki’s. Faster, stilted, desperate for more. “I need,” he stumbled over broken words, stumbled over the erratic twist of his hips, thoughts he couldn’t phrase. “I want,” he ground up against Tyki, “to feel you, I want to feel you, please, god, please Tyki, let me- let me,” he rambled, demanded, pushed at Tyki’s shoulder until he caught on to Allen’s command and pushed himself up on his elbow, openmouthed gasps falling from his lips

He turned onto his side, his hand still at Allen’s waist, and Allen pressed him down against the bed, sat straddled atop Tyki’s hips. He dragged his fingers down Tyki’s chest, his quivering stomach, sat back on him with a breathless sigh. Head tilted back, lips parted to how full he felt, stretched and stuffed full of Tyki’s cock.

Tyki’s legs curled up behind him, hands circling Allen’s hips with the silent praise of, “Fuck,” falling from his lips. “God, princess,” he gasped, rolled his hips in impatient expectation, dragged his hands down Allen’s thighs, up to his ass, around to his hips. “You’re gorgeous,” he breathed, hands moving like selfish worship across Allen’s skin, “you’re beautiful. You’re perfect, boy. You’re perfect.”

A hand on Tyki’s knee, his fingertips pressed against his hot stomach for balance he didn’t need, Allen lifted up, up on his cock. Tyki’s hands curled so tight around his hips, fingers fluttered to knead hard into Allen’s skin when he stilled atop him, the head of Tyki’s cock buried just past his entrance.

Sliding down, the burn in his thighs was almost as good as how it felt to fuck himself down on Tyki’s dick. Slow - feeling him. The size of him, the shape, and just how fucking hard he was.

Like if Allen couldn’t tell from the dark look of hunger in his sharp eyes, like if he couldn’t feel it in the bruising strength in his hands when he guided Allen’s hips a touch faster, pulled him down onto his cock a breath harder - if he couldn’t tell from the way Tyki rocked his hips up so hard and firm, chasing the pleasure Allen’s overheated body promised him, if he couldn’t tell from Tyki’s impeccable, measured momentum, then surely - surely - the rigid proof of his undeniable arousal would flatter Allen with Tyki’s animalistic need for him.

But it was enough.

Every single one of those details was enough - was more than enough, and more and more and more until Allen had his hands planted on Tyki’s chest, until he was fucking himself back on Tyki’s cock and Tyki was meeting him halfway. Until it was hot and fervent and Allen’s breaths were being punched out with each of Tyki’s thrusts and his hands - god, his hands.

Allen loved Tyki’s hands. Worn from a half-dozen instruments, and two decades learning them all. Calluses on his fingertips, nails bitten carefully down.

Beautiful and strong, fingers long and slender and tapered, and so much of who Tyki was that Allen found himself catching Tyki’s hand from his hip. Tangled their fingers together, the pale skin of the back of his hand like ivory when Tyki held him, dark fingers resting between Allen’s knuckles like sharps and flats.

Tyki would play him, if Allen let him. He would learn all Allen’s notes - his highs and lows and just where to put those hands of his to make him sing.

It wouldn’t be a particularly pretty song, came a dazed thought to Allen’s mind. It would be fervent and raw, and from the swelling of an emotion in his chest that almost reminded him of terror, the moans that fell past his lips - if he let them - might sound a little too close to sobs.

He couldn’t hear what song was playing - he’d forgotten to listen for it. The heavy beat of Tyki meeting him halfway shook through Allen’s body again and again, unwavering, patient, steady. And maybe Tyki fancied himself some kind of Buddy Rich, but looking at the way their hands interlaced like the keys of a piano, Allen thought he might like to let Tyki learn him.

“I love your hands,” he panted, breathed, leaned down to press his gasping mouth to Tyki’s and caught himself with their joined hands pressed into the sheets by Tyki’s head. “I want them on me,” he whispered through a quiet moan at the different angle, and didn’t really care if the poetic sentiment translated.

“Where?” His voice was deep and fervent, rugged, a current of that hunger underlying the word. His free hand skated up allen’s burning thigh, over the curve of his ass.

His fingers kneaded hard and demanding, stretching him open to fuck deeper on the next thrust - tugging a short, sharp whine from Allen’s throat. Warbling and needy, and desperate when Tyki let go, let go to strike his ass with a sharp slap. Hard enough to make a lovely sound, soft enough that he barely felt it.

A question - and one Allen would love to answer, were his mind not so taken with another thought.

Propped up with the arm pinning Tyki’s hand to the bed, his spine curved tight and legs working to meet Tyki’s unstaggering thrusts, Allen slid his hand up Tyki’s hot chest. Felt the sharp breaths he heaved into his lungs, the staccato rhythm of his heart. Allen traced his fingers up until they found the flutter of his pulse at his neck, until the heel of his palm was resting at the hollow of Tyki’s throat and he could feel the way Tyki  swallowed down that flash of something deep and dark and possessive.

Fingers ringing his overwarm neck, Allen breathed, unsteady and so wanting, “Here.”

“Fuck,” Tyki breathed, voice caught on a growl that rumbled beneath Allen’s palm, and his hand curled a fist into Allen’s ass, neat nails digging crescents into his cheek. “You’re dangerous,” he taunted on a grin, fingers tightening around Allen’s while his hand dragged up Allen’s back, holding him close when he rolled back to reverse their position so he was kneeling between Allen’s legs, Allen’s hips propped up on his thighs.

A loud moan tore from his lips at how hard Tyki fucked into him, his shoulders forced into the mattress on each thrust, breaths punched like desperate moans from his lungs.

“You really are a mess,” Tyki panted, voice tangled rough and hot, one hand pinning Allen’s to the bed, the other trailing around his shoulder, tracing like a threat of pleasure along his collarbone. His body curled over Allen’s, fucking down into him with the delicious voracity Allen had wanted from him all along. “Do you trust me?” he breathed, his thumb brushing almost tender over the jut of Allen’s throat.

His hand resting on Tyki’s hot chest, fingers caught in the dip of his collarbone, Allen gasped on a wayward laugh, “As far as I could throw you.”

Good sex was good, but it was really only great if he could toe the edge of what was sane. And from the look of him, the feel of him, from the way he curled his fingers around Allen’s throat, from the devilish smile on his face, Allen thought he might be able to do that with Tyki.

From the way Tyki fucked into him - hard enough to resound through Allen’s whole body, to fill him to his fingertips - and from the way his fingers tangled with Allen’s in the sheets, from the way he leaned down to press a kiss against Allen’s choked, breathless lips, he felt as though Tyki might have been wanting just the same thing.

He loosened his hand around Allen’s throat, let him gasp a breath from beneath Tyki’s lips. Cut him off and sealed it with another kiss.

“You’re gorgeous,” Tyki murmured, mumbled against Allen’s mouth, his words silenced beneath Tyki’s hand. “You beautiful, perfect mess,” he breathed. “You don’t need to trust me, do you?” he huffed half a quiet laugh, lips moving against Allen’s ear while his lungs burned, his throat worked beneath Tyki’s hand, choking and desperate for air. “You could kill me with a word,” Tyki said, and Allen’s fingers curled against him - around his firm hand, nails scoring short lines across his chest.

Chest burning, screaming, thoughts fluttering instinctive panic and helpless, perfect pleasure, filling him, filling him, hot and tangible, coiling in the pit of his stomach, tighter and tighter with each word. Tyki’s low voice, caught on intoxicated pleasure. His cock, hot and thick, fucking so perfectly into him over and again. His hands - his hands.

Curled too tight around Allen’s throat, choking him, strangling him, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, and it was so good, it was so good. Those beautiful hands - those perfect, beautiful hands. They could create, and they could destroy. They could give, they could give, they could take and take and take and he couldn’t breathe.

“You could kill me with a word,” Tyki gasped, something dark and hungry and beautiful in his voice, “but it seems I’ve got you quite speechless.”

Allen’s body twitched, jerked, bucked against Tyki’s thrusts. God it hurt, it hurt, his throat ached bruised and helpless and he wrenched his hand against Tyki’s hold only to find he couldn’t, he really couldn’t free himself. Tyki had him pinned and panic was warring with pleasure in his chest, a riot of desperation.

“You don’t need to trust me,” Tyki growled, fucking into him, voice dipping low and rough and coarse, his fingers tightening like a threat around Allen’s hand, his throat, “but I really think you should. Don’t you?”

And like a blessing, like grace, like bliss and desperation, Tyki loosened his punishing hold on Allen’s throat, let up on that suffocating pleasure, and Allen gasped in a jagged breath, and the pleasure that flooded through his body was decidedly winning as panic fled.

Sweet air filled his lungs, relief flooded through his body, and Tyki was fucking him, fucking him so perfectly, with his lips at the corner of Allen’s jaw and the hand that had ringed Allen’s throat dragging down his body, curling around his cock. That pleasure was unravelling from him, unkept, and Tyki’s beautiful hand was curled around his leaking cock and it was too much it was too much and he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t help it.

He tried, he tried so hard to hold out, to hold on, but the way his legs tightened like vices around Tyki’s waist only pulled him deeper, harder, and Allen was gasping, sobbing, chanted a pleading litany of, “No no nonono-”

“No?” Tyki asked, his grip on Allen’s cock going loose like a question, and that was exactly what Allen wanted but exactly not what he needed, and a loud, desperate whine tore from his bruised, aching throat.

He fucked himself onto Tyki’s cock, a sob building in his chest while he pleaded, stumbled, “No, I’m- yes, but- god, keep - keep - god I’m gonna- nonono- Ahh!” he cried, his whole body rolling with the unhelpable pleasure of his orgasm breaking through whatever flimsy hold he’d tried to secure. “No!” he sobbed, cried, so overwhelmed, so desperately, bitterly frustrated, so overcome. “No, I don’t- I’m- god!”

Tyki fucked him through it, hot pleasure caught like moans in his panting breaths and it would have been a miracle - it would have been a fucking miracle if Tyki had managed to finish through the shuddering aftershocks rocking through Allen’s body, but he didn’t, he didn’t, and Allen could tell how hard he was trying, how desperate he was to come for Allen.

And god, Allen tried - he tried so hard to help him, to give Tyki the pleasure he’d worked into Allen, but it fucking hurt, god. It really was the absolute worst sensation in the world, being fucked post-orgasm. Like a cheese grater on raw nerves.

But Allen tried, he tried, hid the pained twitch of his lips, the grit of his teeth. Tried to keep his legs from jerking at Tyki’s waist, tried to roll his hips to meet Tyki’s thrusts, tried to clench down on his hot length, but Tyki - Tyki noticed, because of course he did, because he was Tyki and he noticed things. His unwavering pace stuttered, slowed, a staying hand at Allen’s waist.

“No!” Allen gasped, locking his ankles behind Tyki’s back. “No, no, please! Please, keep going!”

Tyki hesitated a moment, concern flickering across his beautiful face. He tried, to his credit - worked carefully into Allen’s abused hole a couple of times before he was shaking his head and pulling out, leaving Allen aching and empty and so wrecked, filled with the lingering warmth of pleasure, with guilt and cheap satisfaction.

Tyki’s lips brushed across Allen’s sweaty brow, kissing the pinched frown of strain away even as Allen slipped his hand between their bodies, caught Tyki’s hot, slick cock, still so painfully hard. He dragged his thumb across the head, jerked his hand down Tyki’s length, desperate to help him finish.

“Ah,” a laugh fanned across Allen’s cheek and Tyki caught his wrist, shaking his head beside Allen’s, “no, you. You don’t have to.”

“No, please,” Allen stressed, a frantic apology in his voice, “let me suck your dick,” he offered, tactless and plain, “I’m so sorry.”

Tyki was laughing at him, pulling away, disentangling himself from Allen’s legs. “It doesn’t matter,” he tried to reason, ultimately far too amused, and stretched off the bed to pick up a shirt from the floor. “I mean,” he laughed, wiping Allen’s come from his hands and slick from his cock before crawling over to Allen, “I can come any day of the week. I’m not going to force you to do it for me,” he mocked, wiping come from his stomach.

An exasperated, frustrated groan, and Allen fell back against the pillows, exhausted and defeated, arms thrown out across the bed while Tyki cleaned him up.

“At this point, it’s going to take far too long to work back up,” he snorted, tossing the shirt back over the edge of the bed and falling to lay down with a satisfied huff, “and I’m not going to do that to you, so just,” he stretched an arm out, caught Allen’s wrist and tugged until he grudgingly, apologetically shuffled closer. “Get over here,” Tyki teased, to Allen’s rolled eyes, “and calm down.”

Cheeks red, tucked against Tyki’s side with an arm resting on his chest, Allen mumbled, “This is so embarrassing, I’m so sorry.”

Tyki’s laugh rumbled through his chest beneath Allen’s ear, gentle and familiar, and he admitted, “Honestly I think I just drank too much,” with an annoyed snort. “ ‘s not like it was bad, this is. Fucking incredible,” he confirmed, his fingers drifting lazily across Allen’s overheated back.

Burying his face into Tyki’s shoulder, Allen groaned ashamedly, curling in on his embarrassment. “I should have let you finish though, I just couldn’t… stop myself from coming,” he whined, his whole body burning.

“I think that sentence alone,” Tyki said, his shoulders shaking under Allen with silent laughter, “should destroy any shame either of us might be experiencing right now. And if you still feel bad,” he added, rolling to his side so Allen could see his cheeky grin before he ducked down to press a kiss against his temple, “it’s not like I’d say no to a next time.”

“Well,” Allen snorted, pushing at him to roll back so he could curl more snugly against his side, “Maybe next time, then.”

Only, every time he’d ever said that had been with the intention of never seeing that one night stand again. Ever.

Not for any reason, particularly, but that he didn’t… like… the expectation. That there would be a next time, whether Allen had actually enjoyed himself or faked it and forced himself to come just so it would be over. And, well. It usually wasn’t that drastic, but most cases it was that it had only been mildly better than a night alone, and that was mostly because any company was better than his own.

But this - this here, with Tyki. It wasn’t that. Not really.

God, Tyki hadn’t even come. The fuck kind of shitty one night stand was that?

Adoration.

It was the kind of thing that got beneath the skin, bled into bones. Curled like smoke in resting lungs, poisoned unwary blood and melted tired hearts.

Tyki didn’t have to say I adore you, because it was so obvious that he DID. Obvious in the way he shifted his legs so Allen could tangle his knee between Tyki’s, in the way his fingers dragged gentle across Allen’s hot skin, in the way he pressed his lips to Allen’s hair, curled his hand around the one Allen let lay limp on his warm chest, over his still-pounding heart.

“I think we need a safeword,” Tyki seemed to muse, voice a baritone rumble beneath Allen’s ear.

That, at least, surprised a laugh out of him. “What?” Allen demanded, propped himself up on his elbow so he could see Tyki’s face, laying on his stomach half on top of Tyki.

“You had me worried for a second there,” Tyki grinned up at him, rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck back, eyes falling closed on a satisfied huff. Words mumbled through lazy lips, he asked, “Is it just your instinct to shout ‘no’ when you’re coming?”

“Nooooooo,” Allen groaned, long and low and embarrassed, and dropped his head down against Tyki’s collarbone, feeling his laugh vibrate beneath his fingertips, “oh my god, I’m so-” He huffed, cut himself off with a frustrated groan and shook his head against Tyki’s chest, loving his quiet, private laughter.

Lips tasting the salt from Tyki’s skin, he mumbled to admit, “I didn’t want to come too quick, but-” and ended up falling in with Tyki’s laughter halfway through whatever explanation he was trying to make, groaning through his unwilling helplessness.

Tyki hummed lazy intrigue, traced his fingers feather-light up the dip of Allen’s spine. Watching him with half-lidded eyes, dark as molten gold in the halflight of the bedside lamp, he asked, “Do you think it was too quick?”

Allen snorted, derisive, folded his hands across Tyki’s chest and propped his chin atop them. “What,” he scoffed, “you don’t think it was?”

He gave a minute shake of his head, smiling, breaths like laughs falling from his lips. “I drank too much,” he reasoned simply, voice filled with sleepy satisfaction, his fingers trailing absently up and down Allen’s spine. “I don’t think I’d have come.”

Allen’s shoulders shook with a laugh and he teased, “Well for your benefit, I can say it was truly something else.”

Tyki’s eyes closed with the effort it took to roll them and he muttered, “Yeah, I was there,” but stretched down to kiss Allen’s crown regardless.

Allen murmured a happy sound, twisted and shuffled to make himself comfortable. He ended, more or less, in his original position with his head resting on Tyki’s shoulder, and arm draped across his chest, legs tangled amongst the mess of twisted sheets. “I don’t know about you,” he mumbled, tired eyes heavy, mesmerized by the way Tyki’s fingers traced the dips and ridges of the back of his hand, the way his heart beat steady in his chest, the quiet pump of it visible from Allen’s close angle, “but I’m exhausted and drunk and very, very afterglow-y.”

Tyki’s quiet laugh shook beneath him, and he countered, “Two out of three ain’t bad.”

Letting his eyes slip closed, Allen heaved on a long, deep huff, “Think I’m gonna go to bed.”

His amusement tangible, Tyki mocked, “Go on, then.”

“Mmh,” Allen sighed, pressed his leg more comfortably between Tyki’s. “Gonna sleep,” he corrected himself.

A quiet laugh, a whisper of lips against his brow, beautiful fingers tracing sweet and gentle up Allen’s arm. “Sweet dreams, princess,” Tyki murmured, words ruffling past Allen’s hair.

And maybe because he was drunk, and maybe because he was half asleep, or maybe because he felt warm and comfortable and safe, tucked against Tyki’s side like it was where Tyki wanted him to be, Allen found himself humming, “Love you and I like you,” in the sleep-slurred chant that he used to sing to Neah. That he used to sing to Mana.

That Mana used to sing to him.

So gentle with adoration, Tyki returned, “Yeah,” while he reached to turn off the lamp, words falling as thoughtless and familiar as Allen felt, “love you and I like you too.”

It wasn’t about being in love, Allen’s drifting thoughts mused to the steady beat of Tyki’s heart beneath his ear. The white glow of his phone illuminated the world behind Allen’s eyelids for a moment, and the music shifted into something slow, easy, quiet. No, it wasn’t about being in love. It was a prayer, almost. A bid to like the people your heart picked.

And Tyki might not have said it - really, he struck Allen as the type of person who wasn’t given to saying it at all. Not explicitly, in any case.

No, he might not have told Allen in so many words. It might not even be something so real as that just yet. But the intent was there, the desire.

Maybe tomorrow, or maybe the day after.

It wasn’t about being in love with someone; it was about loving them. Wholly and beautifully, to love them with everything they gave.

 eat something, listen to some music. It’ll still be here when you come back. 

Allen pulled in a deep, sleepy breath of morning satisfaction and the first thing he registered was the smell of summer. Warm, dusty, the faintest hint of musk brought from inescapable heat. The bare skin that Allen’s cheek rested against brought to mind singing cicadas and humid nights, skies heavy with monsoon rains and pavements hot enough to melt the soles off shoes.

He turned his head a little without bothering to open his eyes, pressed his lips absently against the smooth heat of Tyki’s shoulder blade. His arms were tucked between his chest and Tyki’s back, curled into his warmth while he slept despite the sheets strewn around them, unneeded in the heat of summer. Allen’s indulgent press of lips turned into a lazy kiss, and with heavy eyes sliding open he moved his head to place another into the dip of Tyki’s spine. With a deep, happy sigh he trailed one of his hands across Tyki’s back, around to his chest. Curled his legs closer to Tyki’s and relaxed into a drowsy lull.

Breathing deeply, slowly, feeling Tyki sleep against him, feeling his heart below his hand. Surrounded by his scent, his warmth, the quiet peace that came with waking up in his bed. Absently, Allen’s lips curled into a small smile between Tyki’s shoulderblades. Chances are, I won’t be sticking around for breakfast.

God, but he couldn’t think of a single place he’d rather be. Lax and warm and comfortable, and probably in need of a shower. It didn’t matter.

Dimly, he realised there was music playing from the speakers. Quiet, quiet enough to sleep to. Slow, gentle. Tyki must have put it on.

Tyki, with a playlist for everything. From study to sex to sleeping it off. Delicate staccato guitar played almost harp-like, muffled horns beneath melodic vocals and a slow, heavy bass beating out the tempo beneath it all. Allen didn’t even hear the words for the longest time, letting himself get lost in the gentle melancholy warmth of the composition, lazing into the gentlest touch of piano.

Can’t run away, I won’t turn back I need to know - will it ever change? Will it ever grow?

Allen’s arm curled a little tighter around Tyki’s chest when he heard that, when the words that smooth voice was murmuring built themselves into meaning in his ears. He felt his heart swell with the violins and swallowed back the lump growing in his throat, the sudden burst of emotion like the sun creeping over the horizon threatening to strangle him.

The thing that I thought before was better - now it’s disappeared. Now it’s crystal clear.

This was the part where he was meant to run away, right? Before Tyki woke, before the curling tendrils of what might be affection managed to constrict around his heart and choke the air from his lungs. Keep him trapped, keep him stifled and unsatisfied and wanting always for everything one person could never give him.

Everything Tyki couldn’t give him.

Like… what, exactly? Commitment? Freedom? Understanding, acceptance, silence and words, and music when neither was enough? Undivided attention, affection enough to drown in and not a drop of it stifling?

You should be adored.

If someone like that existed, the least they could do was be a terrible lay.

Tyki was, Allen decided while he pressed his face against the smooth, warm skin of his back, incredibly selfish. That he could be everything Allen could have dreamed up and didn’t even have the humility to ask him to stay.

He would anyway. He would.

How could Allen let himself walk away from this? How could he make himself?

Will it ever change, or will it always stay the same? It always stays the same.

It wasn’t a choice. It wasn’t. He pressed his lips to Tyki’s back, again and again, and when he decided he wanted to, he uncurled his arm from around Tyki’s chest, untangled their legs and rolled away. Breathed deep, relaxing into the warm sheets for a long moment before pushing himself to sit up. Fingers dug into the blankets, relishing the sensation.

Every movement was slow, indulgent, and took a few seconds to complete. Allen turned his head, pressed his lips against his own bare shoulder while he looked over at Tyki with heavy, fond eyes. Chances are I won’t stick around for breakfast. His lips curled into a smile while Tyki huffed a heavy sigh in his sleep and shifted from his side to his stomach, dark hair spilled out thick and silky across the pillows, messy and deliciously tangled. Beautiful.

Almost unwillingly, Allen pulled his eyes away from Tyki’s naked body and glanced around the room. He hadn’t been able to see much in the dark, and the alcohol hadn’t helped his memory - to be fair, he’d been a bit too distracted by Tyki to take note of his decor.

The room wasn’t massive - about a half meter of space on either side of the bed with a dresser on one side and a bookcase on the other. There was an eclectic mess of things cluttered on the surfaces; textbooks, notebooks, pens, loose papers, printed pages of tabs and piles of staff paper shuffled messily together - some with notes penned in, some blank. The electric piano in the opposite corner seemed to double as a desk, with at least two empty mugs that Allen could see, a packet of cigarette filters and a metronome. More scattered sheets of paper, heavily annotated. There was an electric guitar on a stand beside it, and when Allen glanced back to Tyki’s side of the bed he saw a classical leaning against the wall. Two upright speakers were playing the quiet music from Tyki’s laptop, screen dim where it sat on the piano, and Allen decided that was where he ought to head first.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Allen took a moment to steady himself against the dresser when he stood.

Hangover was a strong word, and it wasn’t as though he was nauseous. Just bleary, a bit unsteady. Very, very thirsty. Probably hungry too. He hadn’t decided yet.

Taking careful steps, Allen moved to the piano, only stopping when he found his trunks on the floor to dip down and pull them on. Sitting heavily on the padded leather stool, he reached out to brush the touchpad of Tyki’s laptop and sighed quiet relief when it opened to his spotify rather than come up with some kind of lock screen. Or weird porn.

Though… weird porn could have been an interesting discovery.

Clicking onto his profile, Allen scrolled absently through his playlists, smiling at the strangely obscure yet expressive titles, some with names attached.

Ladies of Leisure (Road), would you trust a rocket man?, dont trip (Alma), did you take my steely dan CD? (Lavi), 2:57am, black widow, nothing to see here (Wisely).

Allen’s eyes were drawn to one when he caught his name in the title - ante up.

With a small smile he selected it, let sadboy (Kanda) keep playing quietly while he scrolled through the selection.

He was faced with a list of songs he didn’t know and artists he didn’t recognise, and blinked in sleepy intrigue while he dragged the scroll bar down the page. Not quite sure where to begin, he settled on one called Coffee . Simple, eloquent. Allen smiled when the beat came in quiet over the speakers, gentle soul. Still quiet enough to let Tyki rest, Allen turned the music up the slightest bit to mark the difference between music to fall asleep to and music to wake up to.

Cracking a long yawn, Allen rolled his shoulders and stood up from the piano stool, wincing when the stiffness in his hips started to set in, a twinge in his lower back. With a silent groan he dipped down to pick a white button-up shirt from the floor while he made for the door, only realising once he was out in the cramped kitchenette that it wasn’t actually his. Cuffs hung down past his fingertips and the broad cut of the shoulders only served to highlight how tiny Allen was in Tyki’s clothes.

Absently rolling up the sleeves so they hung loose and heavy above his slender wrists, he set the half-full kettle to boil and paused for a moment to glance around. Cups, cups, cups.

Cautiously, Allen stretched up to pry open one of the overhead cupboards. Only finding plates, he went to the next. On his third attempt he found a few glasses and one single coffee mug. Which… well. If there were any others around they’d be in the same place, right?

He craned his neck to peek back into the bedroom and caught sight of the two mugs sitting on top of the piano. Three cups seemed like a reasonable number for a music student who lived alone and drank most of Allen’s coffee anyway, but Allen wasn’t particularly of a mind to be doing Tyki’s dishes that early in the morning.

The instant coffee sat on the bench with the kettle, along with a few other bits and pieces - a couple of tea options in a sealed jar, sugar in a small ceramic pot. A setup for guests, Allen realised with a small smile.

He had to dig through a couple of drawers to find a teaspoon, but by then the kettle had come to boil and he popped open the coffee jar to spoon in a generous amount. Matching it with sugar, Allen peeled open the small fridge for the milk, and put everything back as it was once he’d stirred it all together.

Picking up the mug, Allen dropped the spoon into the sink and took cautious steps back to the bedroom, careful not to spill a drop. He looked up from the cup when he slipped through the doorway and a warm smile spread unprompted across his face when he caught sight of Tyki.

He was still sprawled carelessly across the bed, but he’d rolled onto his back and looked something less than awake. Sheets were tangled around his legs, hardly covering him, and his hazelnut skin looked nothing short of wonderful in the morning light. Sleepy, his expression melted into a slow, lazy smile when he saw Allen, his heavy-lidded eyes shining gold in the sun falling across his face.

“This,” he murmured as Allen approached, voice deep and rough and a little bit slurred from sleep, “is a sight I can get used to.”

Allen lifted his chin, teasingly coy, and placed the coffee on some of the papers atop the bookshelf at Tyki’s side of the bed. “Get used to it then,” he said loftily, and crawled onto the mattress. Hooked his leg over Tyki’s waist and settled low on his stomach.

A warm hand came to rest on Allen’s knee, the calloused pad of Tyki’s thumb tracing small circles on his skin before his touch brushed absently up Allen’s thigh. Allen trailed his fingers along the line of Tyki’s collarbone, rested his hand on his shoulder and leaned down with a small smile to kiss him.

It was slow and gentle, sleepy and warm. Their lips slid indulgently together, the playful nips of teeth and subtle tease of tongues hardly moving past anything chaste.

Tyki’s free hand slipped up over the curve of Allen’s ass, up under the back of the oversized button-up he’d thrown on, and his fingers traced the dip of his spine at the small of his back. Allen melted down against Tyki, their chests pressed together and his fingers weaving absentmindedly into the thick, tangled silk of Tyki’s hair.

Tyki hummed a weighty, satisfied sound and dropped his head back on the pillow, left his neck open for Allen to trail kisses down his throat. “Mmmh,” Tyki sighed appreciatively, his hand going to the back of Allen’s neck, and he smiled at how he felt Tyki’s voice buzz against his lips when he asked in a tease, voice still low and something like intimate, “Think you’ll stick around for breakfast?”

Allen laughed quietly, already knowing the answer, and pushed up to rest on his elbows, brushed his fingers across Tyki’s brow to push those messy stray hairs away from his face. “Let’s make it through coffee first,” he said anyway, and Tyki stifled his laugh with another unbearably gentle kiss.

Allen was, he’d decided, very hungry - and omelette sounded absolutely wonderful.