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The meeting room hums with quiet chatter as the teachers settle into their usual spots. Sanemi folds his arms across his chest, leaning back in his chair with a scowl already forming on his face. Next to him, Obanai takes a seat, looking exasperated.
“You should have seen Hashibira today,” he mutters, leaning slightly toward Sanemi, “He broke another beaker during class. That kid has no concept of restraint.”
Sanemi snorts, his lips curling into a half-smirk. “What did you expect from him? He’s practically feral. I’m shocked he even knows how to get to school.”
Obanai lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. “It’s not just the beakers. He keeps disrupting my lessons—asking questions that have nothing to do with the material. Who cares how boars hunt? It’s chemistry, not zoology.”
Sanemi huffs out a laugh. “At least he’s asking questions. Kamado just stares at me with those wide eyes like I’m speaking a foreign language. And don’t even get me started on his handwriting—it’s like trying to read a toddler’s scrawls.”
“Maybe it’s a family trait,” Obanai quips, “Nezuko’s essays are barely coherent half the time.”
Sanemi grunts in agreement, shifting in his chair as he glances around the room. Uzui is lounging casually at the far end of the table, cracking some joke to Kanroji, who giggles softly in response. Rengoku, as always, looks overly enthusiastic, sitting up straight as if the principal’s arrival is the most exciting event of the week.
“Why do we even need these meetings?” Sanemi grumbles, turning back to Obanai, “It’s the same thing every time. Ubuyashiki comes in, talks about budgets or some new policy, and then we all sit here pretending to care.”
“Because it’s protocol,” Obanai replies dryly, adjusting his mask, “Not that you’ve ever been good at following it.”
Before Sanemi can respond, the door to the meeting room opens. He glances over his shoulder as Kanae and Shinobu walk in together, laughing softly about something.
“Good afternoon,” Kanae greets warmly, giving them a small wave as she and Shinobu look around the room, deciding where to sit.
“Kanae. Kocho,” Sanemi replies with a curt nod, his tone as polite as he can manage. He’s not much for pleasantries, but he respects Kanae enough to at least make the effort.
Shinobu glances at him briefly, her lips quirking into a slight smile. “It’s good to see you again, Shinazugawa-sensei.” she says lightly, her tone carrying that teasing edge that always makes Sanemi’s brow twitch.
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, waving her off. She was one of his students not too long ago, and while she’d always been decent, her sharp tongue had a way of getting under his skin.
“So,” Sanemi begins, looking back at Kanae, “How’s she doing as your student-teacher?”
“She’s doing wonderfully,” Kanae replies with a proud smile, settling into the chair next to Obanai, “She’s a natural in the classroom. I think she’s even better with the students than I am.”
Shinobu hums softly, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t go that far,” she says modestly, though there’s a hint of amusement in her voice.
Sanemi snorts. “She’s better than most of the kids, that’s for sure,” he grumbles, leaning back in his chair again, “At least she actually listens. Genya could take a few pointers.”
Kanae laughs lightly, her voice warm. “I’m sure Genya is trying his best. He’s such a sweet boy.”
“Sweet doesn’t help him pass exams,” Sanemi retorts, though there’s no real bite to his tone.
“What about Agatsuma?” Kanae asks, turning her attention to Obanai. “Still as… energetic as ever?”
“Energetic is one way to put it,” Obanai replies dryly, “The kid practically raced into my class today thinking I wouldn’t notice he was late.”
Kanae covers her mouth with a hand, stifling a laugh. “Oh dear. I hope he didn’t cause too much trouble.”
“Only the usual,” Obanai mutters, shaking his head.
Sanemi leans back in his chair, nodding absently as Kanae and Obanai continue their conversation. Something about classroom management techniques or student participation—it’s all background noise now. His eyes drift across the room once more, landing on Giyu, who’s seated quietly near the corner as usual.
For a moment, Sanemi feels a flicker of warmth just looking at him, his typically stoic expression giving away nothing. Then he notices Shinobu sliding into the seat next to him, her head tilting slightly as she pokes at his arm with one slender finger.
Sanemi’s brows furrow immediately, his grip on the armrest tightening. What is she doing?
“Giyu-sensei,” Shinobu says with a faintly teasing tone, tilting her head further as she leans toward him, “You’re always so quiet. I thought it might be nice to hear how your classes have been going. Are your students behaving?”
Giyu doesn’t look at her at first, keeping his gaze fixed on the table in front of him. After a moment, he mutters, “They’re fine.”
“Just fine?” Shinobu presses, “Surely there’s more to say than that. Have any of them surprised you lately? Done something you didn’t expect?”
“No,” Giyu replies curtly, his tone flat.
Sanemi grits his teeth, his jaw tightening as he watches Shinobu persist. What does she think she’s doing? And who the hell does she think she is using Giyu’s given name?
Undeterred by Giyu’s lack of enthusiasm, Shinobu pokes his arm again, smiling faintly. “You’re so reserved, Giyu-sensei. I’d think someone as mysterious as you would have at least one story to share. Are you sure there’s nothing interesting to report?”
Giyu finally glances at her, his expression completely blank. “No,” he says again before turning his attention back to the table.
Sanemi can feel his irritation building, a tight knot of jealousy settling in his chest. He knows Giyu isn’t interested—he doesn’t have to worry about that—but it still grates on him to see Shinobu poking and prodding at him like this.
Shinobu doesn’t seem fazed, though. She leans her chin on her hand, her elbow propped on the table as she continues, “Well, maybe you’ve been too busy to notice. Are there exams coming up in your classes? Or are you working on something else—maybe a project?”
“Yes,” Giyu says, his tone clipped.
“Ah, I see. And what about after the meeting?” Shinobu asks, her voice dropping slightly, “Do you have any plans, or are you heading straight home?”
This time, Giyu doesn’t respond at all. He stares straight ahead, his expression as unreadable as ever.
Sanemi’s grip on the armrest tightens further, his nails digging into the wood. He can hear Kanae laughing softly at something Obanai said, but their words are muffled, drowned out by the rush of irritation in his ears.
“Some of us are going out together,” Shinobu suggests with a small smile, “You should come, Giyu-sensei. It’ll be fun.” she pushes, her tone playful yet insistent.
Sanemi doesn’t even realize he’s speaking until the words are out of his mouth.
“Kocho,” he snaps, his voice cutting through the conversation in the room, “That’s Tomioka-sensei to you. You’re still a student—act like it.”
The room falls silent. Heads turn in unison, eyes locking onto Sanemi. Even Uzui, who’d been mid-laugh at one of his own jokes, stops, his grin freezing in place. Shinobu’s smile falters, her cheeks flushing a deep red as she sits back in her chair, her hands folding neatly in her lap.
“My apologies,” she mutters softly, her voice barely audible.
Sanemi doesn’t respond, his sharp glare lingering on her for a moment longer before he turns back to face the front of the room. The silence stretches, awkward and heavy, before the other teachers slowly return to their previous conversations.
Next to him, Obanai leans in slightly, his tone low, “What was that about?” he asks, his eyes narrowing at Sanemi.
“Nothing,” Sanemi scoffs, waving a hand dismissively, “She was being unprofessional.”
Beside Obanai, Kanae’s expression is equally confused, a brow raised curiously, “Since when do you care about professionalism, Shinazugawa ?”
Sanemi doesn’t answer her, keeping his eyes fixed ahead, jaw tight. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he catches movement. Giyu is looking at him, his dark eyes meeting Sanemi’s in an unwavering gaze. For a brief moment, Sanemi’s breath catches.
Giyu’s lips quirk ever so slightly, just enough to form the faintest hint of a smile. The gratitude in his expression is subtle but unmistakable, a look that only Sanemi would notice.
He feels his tension ease slightly at that smile, his grip on the armrest loosening. He exhales through his nose, leaning back in his chair as the murmurs in the room swell again, filling the air with a more comfortable buzz.
Shinobu remains quiet, her gaze fixed on the table in front of her, her earlier playful energy completely gone. Sanemi allows himself a small, satisfied smirk.
“Sanemi,” Kanae’s voice cuts through his thoughts, soft but insistent. He startles slightly, looking up at her with a mix of confusion and lingering irritation.
“What?” he asks, his tone sharper than intended, though Kanae doesn’t seem fazed. She smiles at him, her expression calm and patient as always.
“I asked if you’ll be coming out tonight.”
Sanemi frowns slightly, his brows knitting together. “What are you talking about?”
Kanae lets out a light laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Uzui invited everyone to go out drinking tonight. Our usual spot,” she explains, tilting her head toward the flamboyant teacher, currently engrossed in a conversation with Rengoku.
Sanemi’s frown deepens, and his gaze flickers briefly toward Giyu, who is still sitting quietly at the far end of the table.
“Who all is going?” Sanemi asks, his voice gruff as he looks back at Kanae.
“Everyone but Himejima and Tomioka,” she replies, “They both declined, as usual. Though Shinobu said she was going to try and convince Tomioka.”
Sanemi grumbles under his breath, leaning back in his chair. He’s not exactly thrilled at the idea of spending his evening in a noisy bar—especially without Giyu—but…
“Don’t make me go alone,” Obanai cuts in, his tone seemingly playful but carrying an undercurrent of genuine request. Sanemi glances at him, catching the flicker of something like unease in the other teacher’s mismatched eyes. With a sigh, he shifts in his seat, running a hand through his hair.
“Fine,” he mumbles, his voice reluctant, “I’ll go.”
Kanae claps her hands together softly, her smile widening. “Wonderful! It’ll be nice to have the group together for once.”
“Great,” Obanai says, his voice casual but tinged with relief, “Try not to scare off the bartender this time.”
Sanemi snorts, rolling his eyes as he crosses his arms over his chest. “No promises.”
The door to the meeting room opens, and Amane Ubuyashiki steps inside. Her presence commands instant attention, the sounds of chatter falling away as the teachers sit up straighter in their chairs. Sanemi adjusts his posture reluctantly, his arms still crossed over his chest as his eyes flicker toward her.
Ubuyashiki’s voice fills the room as she begins discussing budget allocations, upcoming exams, and new disciplinary measures for the students. Sanemi tries to pay attention—he really does—but his focus starts to wander after the first few minutes. His gaze drifts across the table until it inevitably settles on Giyu.
The other man sits composed as ever, his expression flat, but Sanemi’s eyes catch on the slight parting of his tracksuit. It’s unzipped just enough to reveal a sliver of pale skin, the curve of his collarbone disappearing into the fabric. Sanemi’s chest tightens, and he shifts in his seat, cursing himself silently for letting his attention wander.
Still, his gaze lingers, tracing the faint shadow of muscle beneath the tracksuit. It’s ridiculous, really, the way such a small thing could have him distracted. He scowls, forcing himself to look away—only for his eyes to dart back moments later.
He barely registers Ubuyashiki’s closing remarks until she gives a polite nod and thanks everyone for their time. “You’re dismissed,” she says, and the teachers begin to rise, chairs scraping against the floor.
Sanemi pushes himself to his feet, offering a brief “See you later” to Obanai and Kanae. Kanae gives him a cheerful wave while Obanai mutters something about not being late.
Sanemi barely hears them. His mind is already focused elsewhere as he strides out of the room, his pace brisk as he heads down the hallway. He knows exactly where Giyu has already retreated to: his office.
The fluorescent lights overhead cast a dull glow on the empty corridors, and Sanemi’s footsteps echo faintly as he walks. He reaches Giyu’s office door and pauses for a moment, taking a breath to steady himself before raising a hand to knock.
“Come in,” he hears Giyu’s voice call from inside.
Sanemi steps into the office and swiftly closes the door behind him, the click of the latch echoing in the quiet room. He doesn’t waste a second, crossing the space between them in quick strides. Giyu barely has time to look up from his desk before Sanemi’s hands are on him, gripping his shoulders and pulling him to his feet.
Without a word, Sanemi leans in and captures Giyu's lips with his own, their mouths meeting in a fierce and passionate kiss. Giyu is initially taken aback but soon relaxes into it, his hands reaching up to grip Sanemi's arms.
When Sanemi pulls back, Giyu’s cheeks are already tinged with red, his eyes wide in surprise. “What’s gotten into you?” he asks, his voice breathless and clearly startled.
Sanemi smirks, brushing off the question as his hands slide down to Giyu’s waist, keeping him close. “I just missed you,” he says simply, his tone gruff but genuine.
Giyu’s blush deepens at the comment, the pink spreading to the tips of his ears as his gaze flickers away for a moment. “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, but there’s no real bite to his words.
Sanemi chuckles lowly, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over the fabric of Giyu’s tracksuit. He holds Giyu there for a moment longer, just enjoying the rare flicker of softness in his typically stoic expression.
After a beat, Sanemi leans back slightly. “Are you coming out tonight?” he asks, tilting his head as he studies Giyu’s face.
Giyu hesitates, his lips pressing into a faint line as he looks up at Sanemi. “Do you want me to come?” he asks quietly.
Sanemi’s smirk softens into something more genuine as he tilts his head, studying Giyu’s flushed face. “Of course I do, but only if you’re up for it. ” he says, his tone laced with affection. Then, with a sly curve of his lips, he adds, “If not, I’m more than happy to just come by your place after.”
Giyu’s blush deepens, and he narrows his eyes in mild exasperation. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, raising a hand to lightly smack Sanemi’s arm.
Sanemi chuckles, the sound low and warm. “And you’re too easy to rile up,” he teases, his hands giving Giyu’s waist a gentle squeeze before releasing him.
Giyu lets out a small sigh, his shoulders relaxing as he relents. “Fine,” he says softly, “I’ll go.”
Sanemi’s grin widens, his sharp features lighting up in satisfaction. “Perfect” he says, leaning down to press a quick kiss to Giyu’s lips before finally stepping back.
He glances down at Giyu’s dirty tracksuit and raises an eyebrow. “But do me a favor,” he says, “Wear something nicer than that, yeah? At least for me.”
Giyu huffs, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrays his amusement.
Sanemi heads toward the door, his usual swagger in his step. Just before stepping out, he throws a quick glance over his shoulder, his grin softening into something more genuine. “I love you,” he calls out, his tone soft.
Giyu’s gaze meets his, and though his expression doesn’t change much, his voice is warm as he replies, “I love you too.”
Sanemi stands in his room, a pile of shirts spread out on his bed. He’s holding two in his hands, one dark gray and one burgundy, his brows furrowed in thought. It’s not like anyone cares what he wears—his colleagues certainly don’t—but the thought of Giyu dressed up for the night keeps nagging at him. If Giyu is going to dress up, then…maybe he should make an effort too.
“Why the hell am I overthinking this?” he mutters to himself, tossing the gray shirt onto the bed and holding the burgundy one up to his chest to check the mirror. He frowns. Too formal.
Before he can grab another option, his door swings open abruptly, and Genya steps inside, already mid-sentence. “Hey, Aniki, do you know where—”
Genya freezes, his words dying on his lips as he takes in the sight of his older brother standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by clothes. His eyes widen for a moment before a sly grin spreads across his face.
“What the hell do you want?” Sanemi snaps, his voice sharp and embarrassed as he quickly drops the shirt in his hands.
Genya crosses his arms, leaning casually against the doorframe as he lets out a small laugh. “Are you—are you getting dressed up?” he teases, his grin widening, “Wait, don’t tell me. You’re meeting Tomioka-sensei, aren’t you?”
Sanemi’s face flushes instantly, a deep red spreading from his cheeks to his ears. “Shut up!” he barks, pointing an accusing finger, “What the hell are you even doing in here? Get out!”
Genya raises his hands in mock surrender, his grin unrelenting. “Alright, alright. I’m just saying—don’t forget protection.”
Sanemi glares at him, his face burning hotter. “Genya!” he shouts, his voice a mix of outrage and mortification. But his brother is already retreating, quickly shutting the door behind him before Sanemi can throw something at him.
Left alone again, Sanemi lets out a long, exasperated sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “Little punk,” he mutters under his breath, his voice muffled by his palm.
After a moment, he takes a deep breath to steady himself and turns back to his bed. This time, he grabs a simple white button-up shirt and holds it up in front of the mirror. It’s clean, crisp, and not overly fancy. He decides to leave the top two buttons undone, pairing it with a dark green vest for a nice touch. Giyu always says that color suits him, anyway.
Satisfied, he tugs the shirt on and adjusts the vest, giving himself one last look in the mirror. “Good enough,” he mumbles, grabbing his wallet and heading out.
The bar is already buzzing with the low hum of chatter and the clinking of glasses, but it’s easy for Sanemi to pick out his group at one of the large round booths near the back. Even over all the noise, he can hear Rengoku’s booming laughter paired with Uzui’s exaggerated commentary. The sight of the table is enough to make Sanemi consider turning on his heel and waiting outside for Giyu, but before he can act on the impulse, Uzui’s sharp eyes catch him.
“Shinazugawa!” Uzui calls, waving an arm widely like Sanemi might somehow miss their absurdly noisy gathering, “Get over here! Don’t just stand there looking pretty!”
Sanemi groans internally, forcing himself to trudge over to the booth, the group’s volume seeming to amplify as he approaches. Uzui is seated comfortably inside the booth with Rengoku on his right, their laughter loud enough to drown out the bar’s music. Beside them, Kanroji is cheerfully munching on a skewer of grilled meat, a mountain of food stacked in front of the three of them. Obanai sits in front of them on one of three stools, his usual stoic demeanor appearing slightly exhausted.
With a resigned sigh, Sanemi pulls out the stool beside Obanai and sits, bracing himself for the inevitable onslaught of noise.
“Shinazugawa!” Kanroji chirps, her eyes sparkling with delight. “I’m so glad you made it! We were just talking about you!”
“Nothing good, I’m sure,” Sanemi mutters, crossing his arms as he leans back slightly.
Uzui leans forward dramatically, resting his chin on one hand and giving Sanemi a once-over. “You’re looking sharper than usual tonight, Shinazugawa. Trying to impress someone?” His grin is wide and teasing, but there's an all too knowing tone in his voice that makes it all the more irritating.
“Shut it,” Sanemi growls, scowling as he shifts in his seat.
Rengoku laughs heartily, the sound echoing across the bar. “Tengen, you shouldn’t tease him so much! Shinazugawa always looks dashing!”
“Dashing, huh?” Uzui raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.
Kanroji giggles, her cheeks slightly pink from her drink. “He does clean up well, though. It’s nice seeing everyone outside of work for a change!”
“You mean it’s nice to have an excuse to eat like this,” Obanai mutters quietly, his tone aiming for playful but falling flat.
Kanroji turns to him, pouting slightly. “Obanai, don’t be mean! It’s not my fault everything here is so delicious.”
Obanai’s gaze softens, his stern expression faltering. “I wasn’t being mean,” he mumbles, looking away quickly and adjusting his mask. Sanemi catches the faintest hint of a blush creeping up the man’s neck and smirks, shaking his head.
“So, Uzui,” Sanemi says, steering the conversation away from himself, “how’s your class? Still trying to convince those brats to take you seriously?”
Uzui leans back in his seat, draping an arm over the booth’s edge. “Oh, please, my students adore me. They know I’m the most flamboyant teacher on staff.”
“They laugh at you, not with you,” Sanemi deadpans.
“That’s just their way of showing admiration,” Uzui says, completely unfazed.
Rengoku laughs again, clapping Uzui on the shoulder. “Your confidence is truly inspiring, Tengen! My students have been thriving lately—they’re such a passionate group!”
“That’s because they actually like you,” Sanemi mutters under his breath, earning a soft chuckle from Obanai.
“What about you, Kanroji?” Uzui asks, smoothly ignoring Sanemi’s jab, “Any exciting moments with your class?”
Kanroji lights up, practically bouncing in her seat. “Oh, yes! One of my students made a beautiful drawing of me as a thank-you gift! Isn’t that sweet?”
“That’s adorable,” Uzui says, nodding approvingly, “Clearly, you’re leaving a flashy impression.”
Kanroji beams, her smile radiant as she continues. “And I’ve been thinking of starting an after-school cooking club! Some of my students have been asking for recipes, so I thought, why not?”
“That’s a good idea,” Rengoku says, his tone enthusiastic. “You’ve always been so talented in the kitchen, Mitsuri!”
Obanai shifts slightly, his fingers tightening around his glass. “If you need help setting it up, I could… assist,” he offers, his voice wavering slightly.
Kanroji’s eyes widen slightly before her expression softens. “Obi, that’s so kind of you! Thank you!”
Obanai looks away quickly, muttering something about it being no big deal. Sanemi watches the exchange with a knowing smirk, leaning over to murmur, “Smooth, Obi .”
“Shut it,” Obanai hisses back, though his ears are definitely red now.
“Anyway,” Uzui cuts in, clearly trying to redirect the focus. “What about you, Sanemi? Any wild stories from your classroom lately?”
Sanemi shrugs, leaning back with a bored expression. “Nothing worth talking about. Same troublemakers as always.”
“Let me guess,” Uzui says, grinning. “You scared them straight with that charming personality of yours?”
“Something like that,” Sanemi mutters, though the corner of his mouth twitches slightly.
Rengoku suddenly straightens in his seat, his hand shooting up as he waves enthusiastically toward the entrance. “Tomioka! Over here!” he calls, his voice carrying easily over the noise of the bar.
Sanemi whips his head around, probably too quickly, and his eyes immediately find Giyu. The man walks in with his usual quiet grace, dressed in a crisp blue button-up paired with a black vest. The color suits him—too well, in Sanemi’s opinion. His breath catches for a moment before he forces himself to turn back to the table, feigning disinterest.
“Wow, he’s here?” Obanai scoffs. His tone is sarcastic, but it’s enough to grate on Sanemi’s nerves, “Didn’t think he’d actually show up.”
“Same,” Uzui chimes in, smirking as he leans back in his seat, “Guess Shinobu really worked her magic on him.”
Sanemi bites the inside of his cheek to keep from snapping back, his hand curling into a fist beneath the table. He knows Obanai and Uzui aren’t trying to provoke him, but the comments still rub him the wrong way.
“Come on, sit with us,” Uzui says, grinning as he scoots over to make room, “We don’t bite—well, unless you ask nicely.”
It takes everything in Sanemi to not strangle that flashy idiot then and there.
Giyu hesitates for a brief moment before sliding into the booth beside Uzui. Sanemi forces himself to stay calm, telling himself it’s better this way. No one here knows they’re even friends—much less anything more. Still, there’s a small, irrational part of him that feels bothered seeing Giyu sitting so far from him.
Kanroji leans forward slightly, her eyes sparkling. “It’s nice to have you here, Tomioka. Do you ever go out to places like this?”
“Not often,” Giyu admits, glancing down at the table.
“Well, you should!” Kanroji exclaims, “It’s good to relax with friends sometimes!”
“Especially with this group,” Rengoku adds, grinning, “We’re the most entertaining staff on campus!”
“Speak for yourself,” Sanemi grumbles.
Uzui leans forward with a mischievous grin. “So, Tomioka, any hobbies we don’t know about? Secret talents? Guilty pleasures?”
Giyu blinks, looking mildly caught off guard. “Not really,” he says after a moment. “I… like reading, I suppose.”
“Boring,” Uzui declares dramatically, earning a round of laughter from the group—except Sanemi, who just rolls his eyes.
“He probably reads more than all of us combined,” Rengoku counters, smiling brightly at Giyu.
“Exactly!” Kanroji exclaims, clapping her hands together. “That’s not boring at all, Uzui. It’s cultured!”
“Sure, sure,” Uzui says, waving a hand dismissively, “Let me know when he takes up something flamboyant, like salsa dancing.”
“Or when you learn how to shut up,” Sanemi mutters, his lips twitching upward briefly.
Giyu glances at Sanemi for a moment, a flicker of something like amusement passing through his eyes before he looks back down at the table. Sanemi’s chest tightens slightly, and he quickly turns his attention to the conversation again, trying to focus on anything other than how good his boyfriend looks right now.
The conversation flows from there, dipping into a variety of topics like favorite foods, embarrassing moments from work, and Kanroji’s cooking club idea. Giyu doesn’t say much, but when he does, it’s enough to draw small smiles and laughs from the group.
Uzui suddenly straightens again, his hand shooting up for the second time that night. “Kochos!” he calls loudly, his voice carrying above the din of the bar.
Sanemi glances over his shoulder, and sure enough, Kanae and Shinobu are walking toward the table, both still appearing graceful despite the chaotic atmosphere. He raises his hand slightly in acknowledgment, giving Kanae a small wave. She smiles warmly in response.
Shinobu’s wave, however, is a bit too cheerful, her overly sweet smile grating on Sanemi’s nerves. He pointedly ignores it, turning back to the table as he crosses his arms.
Kanae reaches them first, her soft voice cutting through the noise as she greets everyone. “Good evening, everyone. It’s nice to see you all.”
“Kanae!” Kanroji greets, beaming, “I’m so glad you came!”
Sanemi inclines his head toward Kanae as she takes the final stool next to him. “Hey,” he says simply, his tone far more polite than usual.
“Hello, Sanemi,” Kanae replies with a kind smile before turning her attention to the rest of the group.
Shinobu slides into the round booth, situating herself closer to Giyu than Sanemi would like. His jaw tightens slightly as she scoots closer, her posture just shy of deliberate.
“Good evening, everyone,” Shinobu says, her tone as sweet as honey. She pauses, her sharp eyes flicking toward Sanemi, “And good evening to you, Shinazugawa-sensei.”
Sanemi doesn’t bother replying, keeping his eyes fixed firmly ahead.
“Nice to see you both,” Uzui says, grinning widely as if oblivious to the tension, “Now that everyone’s here, it’s time to get this party started properly.” He waves down the bartender, raising a hand in the air, “A round of shots for the table, please!”
Rengoku laughs, his voice booming as he pats Uzui on the shoulder. “You never do anything halfway, do you?”
“Of course not,” Uzui replies with a smirk, “I live for extravagance, my friend.”
As the bartender brings over a tray of shots, the group erupts into laughter and easy conversation. Kanae and Kanroji chat animatedly about the cooking club idea, while Rengoku and Uzui swap exaggerated stories about their students.
Sanemi feels a sharp nudge in his side and glances over to see Kanae smiling at him. “Relax, Sanemi,” she says gently, “It’s a night to enjoy yourself.”
He grunts in response, though he does uncross his arms, reaching for his drink instead.
Across the table, Shinobu leans slightly toward Giyu, saying something Sanemi can’t quite catch. Giyu responds with a short nod, his expression unreadable. Sanemi’s grip tightens slightly on his glass, but he quickly shakes it off, downing his shot in one go.
The table bursts into cheers as the first round of drinks disappears, and Uzui immediately signals for another. The conversation around the table grows louder, the mix of alcohol and laughter creating a chaotic energy.
“You wouldn’t believe it!” Rengoku bellows, his face slightly flushed from the drinks, “One of my students tried to convince me that missing homework is a sign of artistic genius!”
“Did you let it slide?” Uzui grins, leaning forward eagerly.
“Of course not!” Rengoku declares, pounding a fist on the table for emphasis, “But I did tell them their creativity was admirable!”
Kanroji laughs so hard she almost chokes on her drink, while Obanai mutters, “You’re enabling them.”
“Oh, come on, Iguro,” Uzui teases, “Lighten up! Not everyone can be as charming as us.”
“You mean as obnoxious,” Sanemi mutters, though there’s a slight smirk on his lips.
“You wound me, Shinazugawa,” Uzui responds dramatically, clutching his chest.
The laughter rolls on, but Sanemi begins to zone out, the noise blurring into the background. His gaze drifts across the table, settling on Giyu.
The brief flicker of calm he feels seeing his boyfriend is swiftly replaced by a wave of irritation as his eyes narrow on Shinobu. Her finger is prodding Giyu’s arm again, her face much closer to his than Sanemi is comfortable with.
Her usually composed demeanor seems to have slipped slightly, the alcohol loosening her tongue. She leans in, her lips nearly brushing Giyu’s ear as she speaks in a low voice. Sanemi strains to hear over the din, the voices of his friends fading as he sharpens his focus.
“So, Tomioka-sensei,” Shinobu says, her tone light but with an edge of curiosity, “You never talk about your personal life. Are you seeing anyone?”
Sanemi’s grip on his glass tightens, his jaw clenching as he watches Giyu shift uncomfortably.
“No,” Giyu replies simply, his voice steady but soft. It shouldn’t bother Sanemi as much as it does—they both agreed to keep things private—but right now Giyu’s denial grates on him almost as much as Shinobu’s attitude.
Shinobu tilts her head, clearly unsatisfied with his answer. “Really? Someone as handsome as you? I find that hard to believe.”
Sanemi feels his blood begin to boil, his fingers tightening further around his glass.
“You must have someone you’re interested in,” Shinobu presses, her voice dropping to a more flirtatious tone.
“I don’t,” Giyu repeats, his expression flat—though Sanemi catches the faintest flicker of discomfort in his eyes. But Shinobu, clearly not picking up on the subtle cues, presses on.
“Are you sure?” she asks, her voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper, “You must have someone on your mind, Tomioka-sensei. Someone you’re too shy to admit.”
Giyu remains silent, his posture tensing slightly. Shinobu’s fingers trail up his arm, flexing ever so slightly over his bicep. Sanemi’s heart skips a beat as a sudden rush of possessiveness floods him. He wants to stand up, grab Shinobu by the collar, and drag her away, but he stays rooted to his spot, watching helplessly.
“Tell me, Giyu,” Shinobu coos, leaning in even closer, her lips dangerously close to his ear, “You don’t have to be shy. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
At that moment, Giyu finally reacts. He jerks his arm away from her grasp, standing up abruptly. The sudden movement catches everyone’s attention, and Shinobu blinks in confusion, her hand still poised in the air.
“I—I need to use the bathroom,” Giyu says quickly, his voice tight with barely contained tension. Shinobu frowns as she looks up at Giyu, but she doesn’t immediately move to let him out. Instead, she tilts her head slightly, a bit of surprise in her expression, before she shifts and finally stands to make way for him to pass.
His gaze flickers toward Sanemi for the briefest of moments, but he doesn’t wait for any sort of acknowledgment before turning and heading for the back of the bar.
“Well, I guess we’re going to have to wait for Tomioka-sensei to get back before we finish our conversation,” Shinobu says lightly, but Sanemi can hear the slight edge of annoyance in her voice.
Rengoku, oblivious to what has occurred, raises his glass. “More shots!” he declares, his voice booming. The rest of the group enthusiastically cheers in response.
Sanemi doesn’t join in. Instead, his gaze follows Giyu’s retreating figure until he disappears into the bathroom, his chest still tight with an angry, unspoken frustration. The loud cheer of the group fades into the background as Sanemi’s frustration simmers beneath the surface. He barely hears the sounds of shot glasses hitting the table or Uzui’s typical exaggerated commentary as he pushes away from the booth. His anger propels him forward without thought.
“Where are you going?” Kanroji calls out with a laugh, but Sanemi doesn’t answer. He can feel the weight of their gazes on his back, but he ignores it.
His steps are fast and purposeful as he makes his way toward the bathroom, his mind still buzzing with the image of Shinobu too close to Giyu, her hand on his arm, her flirtations growing bolder with every passing moment.
Sanemi pushes the bathroom door open with more force than necessary, the dull thud echoing in the small, dimly lit bathroom. Giyu, who is leaning against the sink with his head bowed slightly, flinches at the sudden intrusion, his eyes snapping up to meet Sanemi’s.
“Sanemi—” Giyu starts, but the words die in his throat as Sanemi storms toward him, his expression furious.
“What the hell was that?” Sanemi growls, sharp enough to cut through the muffled sound of music and shouts from the bar.
Giyu straightens, his usual calm demeanor slipping as he looks at Sanemi. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Sanemi scoffs, stepping closer. “Don’t play dumb with me, Giyu. She was all over you, and you just sat there like it was nothing.”
“I didn’t want to cause a scene,” Giyu says quietly, his tone steady but defensive.
“A scene?” Sanemi snaps, his voice rising, “I’ll show you a damn scene.”
Sanemi's hand shoots out, fingers curling tightly into the fabric of Giyu's collar. With a forceful tug, he yanks Giyu forward, closing the distance between them in an instant. Their bodies collide, the impact sending a jolt through both of them as Sanemi crashes his lips against Giyu's in a bruising kiss.
The kiss is fierce, almost violent in its intensity. Sanemi pours all of his frustration, jealousy, and desire into it, his lips moving roughly against Giyu's. His free hand comes up to grip the back of Giyu's neck, holding him in place as he deepens the kiss, his tongue demanding entrance.
Giyu is momentarily stunned, his body rigid with surprise. But it only takes a moment for him to respond, his lips parting with a soft gasp that Sanemi swallows greedily. Giyu's hands come up to grip Sanemi's arms, not pushing him away but holding on as if to steady himself.
Sanemi breaks the kiss abruptly, his chest heaving as he looks at Giyu with dark, hungry eyes. Without a word, he grabs Giyu's wrist and pulls him toward the nearest stall, practically shoving him inside. Giyu stumbles slightly, catching himself against the wall as Sanemi follows, slamming the stall door shut behind them. He fumbles with the lock, his fingers clumsy with urgency. The metal latch slides into place with a satisfying click, and Sanemi turns his attention back to Giyu, pressing him against the wall.
Their lips meet again, the kiss just as fierce as before. Sanemi's hands roam hungrily over Giyu's body, fingers digging into his hips, his waist, anywhere he can reach. Giyu responds in kind, one hand tangling in Sanemi's hair while the other grips his shoulder tightly.
Giyu gasps sharply as Sanemi's teeth sink into the sensitive skin just below his jaw, the sensation sending a shiver down his spine.
"S-Sanemi," he breathes out, his voice low and strained, "You're going to leave a mark."
Sanemi pulls back just enough to meet Giyu's gaze, his eyes dark with desire. "I don't care," he growls, his breath hot against Giyu's skin, "Let them see. Let them know you're mine."
Before Giyu can protest further, Sanemi's lips are on his neck again, sucking and biting with renewed fervor. Giyu's head falls back against the wall with a soft thud, a quiet moan escaping his lips as Sanemi works at the spot that he knows makes his knees weak.
His hands roam hungrily over Giyu's body, fingers gripping his hips tightly. Giyu's breath comes in ragged gasps, his head tilted back to expose more of his neck.
Their bodies press closer together, the heat building between them. Sanemi rolls his hips forward, grinding against Giyu. A low groan escapes Giyu's throat at the friction. His hands clutch at Sanemi's back, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt.
Sanemi's hands drop lower, fingers deftly unfasten Giyu’s belt. The leather slides free with a soft hiss. Sanemi makes quick work of the button and zipper, pushing Giyu's pants down just enough.
Their eyes lock as Sanemi wraps his hand around Giyu, stroking slowly. Giyu gasps, his hips jerking into the touch. Sanemi captures his lips again, swallowing his moans as quickly as they come.
"Sanemi," Giyu breathes against his lips. "Please..."
Giyu's breath comes in ragged gasps, as Sanemi’s hand moves faster, his hips rolling to match his lover’s movements. His fingers dig into Sanemi's shoulders, clinging to him desperately.
Without warning, Sanemi releases Giyu’s cock, spinning him around and pressing him against the wall, pants crumpling to the ground between his legs.
“What are—”
Giyu is silenced by two fingers suddenly being shoved into his mouth.
"You can be quiet for me, right?" Sanemi whispers in Giyu's ear.
Giyu nods, sucking on Sanemi's fingers to wet them thoroughly. After a moment, Sanemi withdraws his hand and reaches down between them. Giyu gasps softly as he feels a finger press against him, teasing at first before slowly pushing inside.
Sanemi takes his time, working Giyu open carefully despite the urgency thrumming through his veins. He adds a second finger, scissoring and stretching as Giyu pants against the wall.
When Giyu starts pushing back against his hand, Sanemi knows he's ready. He quickly undoes his own pants, freeing his aching erection. Lining himself up, he slowly pushes inside with a low groan.
After a brief pause, Sanemi begins to move, starting with slow, deep thrusts. Giyu bites his lip to stifle a moan, his fingers curling against the wall as he adjusts to the sensation. Sanemi's hands grip Giyu's hips tightly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he gradually picks up the pace.
"Such a good fucking whore for me," Sanemi growls, his pace quickening, “Just for me. No one else gets to see you like this. No one else can make you feel good like I do.
Giyu lets out a soft moan in response, pushing back to meet Sanemi's thrusts.
"That's it, take me deeper. You're so perfect like this, coming undone for me, desperate for my cock.”
Sanemi's thrusts grow more forceful, driving Giyu against the wall with each snap of his hips. Giyu bites his lip hard, struggling to stay quiet as waves of pleasure course through him. His legs tremble, threatening to give out, but Sanemi's grip on his hips keeps him upright.
"You're mine," Sanemi growls in Giyu's ear, his voice low and possessive, "Say it."
"Y-yours," Giyu gasps out between ragged breaths, "Only yours, Sanemi."
Sanemi rewards him with a particularly deep thrust that has Giyu seeing stars. His hand snakes around to grip Giyu's neglected cock, stroking in time with his thrusts.
"That's right. Mine. Shinobu could never please you like I do."
He leans in close, his lips brushing Giyu's ear. "She doesn't know how you like it rough, how you melt when I mark you up, how perfectly you take my cock."
Giyu shudders at Sanemi's words, a quiet moan escaping his lips. Sanemi smirks, his hand strokes Giyu faster as he continues to thrust deep inside him.
"You're close, aren't you?" Sanemi murmurs, "Go ahead, come for me. Show me how much you love my cock.”
With a final flick of the wrist, Giyu's body tenses, his come spilling over Sanemi's hand and onto the wall. Sanemi groans as he feels Giyu tighten around him, his own climax following quickly after. He buries himself deep inside Giyu as he comes, his body shuddering with the intensity of his release.
They both pant heavily as they come down from their high, Sanemi’s forehead rested against Giyu’s shoulder. Slowly, he pulls out, earning a soft whimper from Giyu.
As the haze of lust begins to clear, reality starts to set in. They're in a public bathroom stall, at a bar where all their colleagues are waiting just outside.
"We should..." Giyu starts, his voice hoarse.
"Yeah," Sanemi agrees, already reaching for the toilet paper to clean themselves up.
They dress in silence, the air heavy between them. Sanemi finishes first, running a hand through his disheveled hair in a futile attempt to tame it. He watches as Giyu tucks in his shirt, noticing the way his hands tremble slightly.
The anger and jealousy that had consumed him earlier begin to dissipate, replaced by a twinge of guilt. He reaches out, gently catching Giyu's wrist to still his nervous movements.
"Hey," Sanemi murmurs, his voice softer than before. Giyu looks up, meeting Sanemi's gaze with a mix of uncertainty and lingering desire in his eyes.
Sanemi steps closer, his free hand coming up to cup Giyu's cheek. His thumb brushes lightly over the faint hickey already forming on Giyu's neck, a mark of his earlier possessiveness. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, leaning in to press a soft, tender kiss to Giyu's lips.
The kiss is a stark contrast to their earlier fervor—gentle, almost reverent. When Sanemi pulls back, his eyes search Giyu's face. "I shouldn't have gotten so jealous. Or angry at you. It wasn't your fault."
Giyu shakes his head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's okay," he says, his voice low and warm. His hand comes up, fingers splaying across Sanemi's chest. Sanemi can feel the warmth of Giyu's palm through the thin fabric of his shirt, a comforting weight against his racing heart.
"Actually, I…liked it," he admits, a faint blush creeping up his neck, "Seeing you so worked up, so possessive…it was exciting."
Sanemi's smirk widens, his thumb tracing Giyu's bottom lip. "Yeah?"
Giyu nods, his blush deepening. "Yeah. I've never seen you like that before."
Sanemi leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Giyu's lips. When he pulls back, there's a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Maybe I should get jealous more often."
Sanemi leans in, capturing Giyu's lips in another quick but passionate kiss.
"You should head back out first," Sanemi murmurs, his fingers trailing along Giyu's jawline, "I'll join you in a few minutes."
“Okay,” Giyu agrees softly. He moves to unlock the stall door, but Sanemi catches his wrist, pulling him back.
“I love you,” Sanemi mutters, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.
Giyu's eyes soften as he looks at Sanemi. "I love you too," he murmurs, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Sanemi's cheek before slipping out of the stall.
Sanemi listens to Giyu's footsteps fade as he exits the bathroom, leaning back against the stall wall with a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it into some semblance of order.
After a few minutes, Sanemi emerges from the stall. He splashes some cold water on his face, studying his reflection in the mirror. His cheeks are still flushed, his hair slightly mussed despite his efforts. With a shake of his head, he straightens his shirt and heads back out to rejoin the group.
As he approaches the table, he sees Giyu has returned to his original seat. This time, however, Shinobu isn’t leaning towards him—her posture strangely tense.
“There you are!” Uzui calls, his smirk already in place, “We were starting to think you’d ditched us. Or gotten into a fight.” He leans forward slightly, his gaze flicking to Giyu,“Speaking of fights... Tomioka, what’s with that bruise on your neck? Looks like someone got a little rough with you. Almost looks like you did it, Shinazugawa.”
The noise at the table falters, gazes turning towards Uzui and Sanemi. Shinobu’s eyes widen, her hand freezing mid-reach for her drink, and Sanemi catches the faintest twitch of Giyu’s expression.
Sanemi doesn’t hesitate, shooting Uzui a pointed look as he shrugs. “So what if I did?”
The silence that follows is deafening. All eyes snap to Sanemi, some in shock, others in dawning realization. Even Obanai’s usual stoic mask slips, his eyes widening in disbelief.
Uzui’s grin stretches impossibly wide, and he slaps the table with enough force to rattle the glasses. “Well, well, well! Shinazugawa, you dog! Finally making moves! Congratulations!”
Sanemi chuckles lowly, the sound rough but amused. His sharp gaze lands on Shinobu, who’s frozen in place, her cheeks a vivid shade of red. “Move,” he growls, jerking his chin toward the edge of the booth.
There’s a pause where Shinobu’s pride visibly wars with her nerves, but finally, she huffs softly and slides out of the booth, her face still bright red. Sanemi steps into the newly vacated space without hesitation, sliding in beside Giyu and draping an arm around his shoulders.
Kanroji gasps softly, her eyes sparkling with delight as she clasps her hands together. “Oh my gosh, is this real? I think this is the cutest thing ever!”
Uzui bursts out laughing, clapping Tomioka on the back hard enough to make him grunt. “You two really know how to make a flashy entrance!”
Rengoku, beaming as always, lifts his glass. “A toast!”
The group cheers, though Sanemi barely hears them over the rush of heat in his ears. He glances at Giyu, whose expression remains calm despite the faint pink dusting his cheeks.
Giyu leans in slightly, his voice low enough for only Sanemi to hear. “That was...bold.”
Sanemi raises a brow, his usual bravado faltering as he leans closer to Giyu. “Was that okay?” There’s an uncharacteristic edge of worry in his tone, his grip on Giyu’s shoulder tightening slightly.
Giyu looks at him, his calm gaze meeting Sanemi’s. For a moment, the noise of the group fades into the background, and it’s just the two of them. Then Giyu shakes his head, a faint, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“It was perfect,” Giyu says softly, his voice steady and sure.