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“So this—“ Shidou gives a firm, hard slap to the pink convertable, “—is Bertha!”
Rin’s not sure if he laughs or grimaces, his mind is too clogged and muddy to even make out why the hell he’s out here. His skin feels prickly and his throat feels dry. He needs some water—
“I’ll get ya some water RinRin!”
Shit, was he talking out loud? He genuinely can’t fucking tell. Shidou has too much glee in his stupid skippity steps when he goes back inside, the music inside only now beginning to make Rin’s head pound even more.
He’s not even sure where he is at this point. Why’s he here again? He’s never been much a party-goer, so why was he—
Shidou comes back out with water, and it’s cold and refreshing on his tongue. He almost says thank you to the insect, who continues to stare at him.
There’s a smirk on his face, that stupid sexy grin he pulls out whenever he has something planned— which is always. It’s stupid, beause that smirk fit him so well. With his dead sexy stare too, god Rin fucking hates the guy— why are assholes allowed to be sexy?
“You’re quite talkative for being drunk RinRin” Shidou muses, eyes crinkling in mirth; Shit, was he talking out loud again?
Ugh, who cares. He stumbles his way to the hot pink car with distaste prevelant on his features, hopefully cursing Shidou out when he opens the door. Fuckin’ asshole, he’s not some damsel in distress.
Shidou takes the empty water cup and chucks it off into the lawn, before hopping into the drivers seat. Rin has half the mind to hassle him for also being drunk, but Shidou has quicker senses when Rin’s the non-sober one.
“I didn’t drink tonight, so let’s get home yeah?”
Rin doesnt say anything more, leaning back in the passenger seat and letting the dumb blonde take the wheel. Everything’s so fucking fuzzy, why the hell had he even come out here? Was there a point? God he shouldn’t have drank, he can already feel the hang over that’s going to haunt him tomorrow.
He’s so weak right now, he hates it.
His cognitive thoughts are there but his body is too slow to even try and keep up. Waves of fatigue wash over him, limbs feeling disconnected from him as he stares off at the street lights that passby— did someone fucking spike him? This can’t be just alcohol.
He whimpers, soft and weak as his clothes stick to his disgustingly sweaty skin. He feels disgusting, he’s ruining Bertha.
“Shidou,” he croaks, throat scratchy as the streets and roads blur into a messy array, “this isn’t the way to my fuckin’ house—“
He’s sure he messes up that sentence somewhere, maybe he doesn’t even get it out. Shidou looks at him, that stupid fucking sexy look in his eyes— he’s sexy. Drop dead sexy. Annoyingly sexy.
“That’s cuz we’re going to my house,”
Shidou says it all nonchalant, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and Rin is dumb dumb stupid for not realizing it. Rin hates it— he wants to rip Shidou’s stupid blonde antennae and poke his sexy eyes out— maybe even puke on his beautiful and precious Bertha.
Instead he leans back in the seat, the inklings of a migrane forming in the depths of his skull— because he’s tired and drunk, in no condition to start fist fighting the demon next to him.
It’s silent for the rest of the ride— except for whatever CD Shidou had shoved into the poor slot of his dying Bertha. She squawked out the music as if it was her dying breath, Rin didn’t know wether to laugh or cry.
They pullup to Shidou’s apartment— nicer than what he expected at least. Shidou helps him out of the car like a true gentleman— the asshole.
He hiccups, nausea swirling in his stomach as he leans against Shidou’s shoulder, legs weak and mind spinning. Shidou grabs onto him, hand firm against his waist— something in Rin’s stomach churns.
Not in disgust, but in something warm and nostalgic— arguably worse than the former.
The warmth continues up their trip in the elevator, and it simmers to a boil too quick for his liking. He feels nauseous, but Shidou is so warm and strong and sexy and he smells nice and—
Rin shudders, he’s never getting drunk again.
When they’re inside, drunk Rin’s body moves before semi-cognitive Rin can think to stop him, and his lips are on Shidou’s before he can help himself.
Shidou’s lips are chapped, they taste like fucking cherries of all things. He’s warm and firm and maybe if Rin wasn’t drunk he could appreciate the smooth motion of comforting circles Shidou rubs into the skin of his back as they kiss.
He doesn’t know what he’d doing, he doesn’t know why Shidou’s letting him disrespect him like this, but his clothes are sticking to his skin and his jeans are tight and the air is too heated to breathe.
Rin feels like he’s drowning— all of Shidou Ryuusei hits him at once— and his mind feels more drunken than it has all night. If he moans he doesn’t hear himself, but the tight lipped curses and groans Shidou mutters against his lips has his skin burning.
It’s too much.
He hiccups before dread washes over him and he pushes Shidou away just fast enough to puke all over him.
It’s mortifying, Rin wants to die.
He feels disgusting, his throat burns, he’s heaving as the mere stench if his own vomit on the guy he was just fucking making out with is enough to make him puke again. An ache rickets in his chest, he hates himself right now.
“Hey, Hey— RinRin you’re okay—listen to me you’ll be okay RinRin—“
Fuck, is he crying? His vision is blurry and his throat hurts like a fucking bitch. He blubbers out stupid sorries he cant even quote himself on as Shidou kicks his door shut with his heel and promptly strips out of his button up. The mixture of emotions that punches him in the gut at seeing Shidou shirtless and panicking over him is revolting.
Shidou practically rushes him to the washroom, letting him get on his knees infront of the toilet-bowl as Shidou sits next to him, shivering as his bare back touches the cold tub.
Rin heaves until his tears are wrung dry and his throat aches as if he’ll never speak again. It’s humiliating, it’s a shot to his ego he doesn’t think he’ll recover from.
Rin half thinks Shidou is going to bully him, throw a tease or a snark reminder of their shitty enemy-ship mid puke sesh. He instead rubs comforting circles in his back, whispering sweet reassurances that make Rin sob even more.
Shidou helps him up and out of his clothes— something so tender it might just make him cry again. It’s stupid, it feels as though all his tears that he’d shoved into the corners of his being were all springing out like some shitty party trick.
Shidou turns on the shower, and Rin realizes he’s naked for all but his boxers. Shidou says something about giving him privacy, Rin leans his head into his shoulder, weak grip on his bicep.
Shidou gets the hint, he strips off his pants and hops into the shower too.
Rin’s glad— humiliation aside. He thinks he might’ve passed out and fucking drown if he hadn’t forced Shidou into the shower with him. He lets Shidou do the work— let’s him wash the sweat off Rin’s skin.
Rin’s grateful, something he didn’t think he’d ever feel toward the man. Like seriously— Shidou Ryuusei and gratitude??? Yeah, not really in Rin’s prospects.
Well whatever, now it is.
Rin shivers as Shidou’s warm hands wash his skin, calloused fingers rough yet gentle. He feels like a porcelain doll, so fragile and gently cared for. His ribs ache at the feeling.
They’re done quick, just long enough for both of them to get the emanating smell of puke off of their skin. Shidou wraps a towel around Rin, rubbing his hair dry as his skin drips with water.
He doesn’t seem to care, walking out bare and wet into the abyss if his apartment to get only what Rin can hopefully assume to be clothes.
Rin is right, Shidou comes back with clothes.
He doesn’t throw them at Rin like he usually would, he doesn’t even give a snide remark on needing to dress him. Not even a snicker that he’s a big baby who can’t handle some alcohol.
Shidou holds him close, something tender that has Rin’s skin molten as he slips into his clothes, leaning into Shidou’s shoulder. There’s a brief pause when he’s done, hand resting on the small of Rin’s back a moment too long.
He helps Rin to the bedroom, it’s a blur really. He gives Rin water and forces him to eat some kind of solid food before passing out. Rin’s mind is dizzy— oh so dizzy, because he hasn’t felt so loved since he was small.
Shidou nurtures him, and in him he sees the blurry resemblance of his brother who sang off-tune lullabies and fed him burning soup when he was ill. His heart feels like it’s shattered against his ribs, being slowly put together.
“RinRin?” Shidou whispers, a sound so delicate it’s only then Rin realizes he’s crying again. He feels his fingers tremble and his neck flush warm as fat tears roll down his cheeks. He feels like an overgrown baby.
There’s a part of him, one that wants Shidou to give the faintest snicker so Rin can harden his walls like he always has.
But no.
Shidou wipes his tears with his thumbs, sweet words on his tongue as he presses gentle kisses to Rin’s cheeks, as though he can make it all better.
He’s too far gone for this, and he sobs like a little boy. So raw and guttural it makes his throat ache. He feels so alone yet complete as Shidou slips into bed, holding Rin in a gentle embrace as he cries.
His tears stain Shidou’s shirt and skin. He hiccups like a toddler as his throat closes up in desperation.
Shidou pats his head, gentle strokes through his hair, something he revels in.
He focuses on the smell of Shidou. Sweet and tangy and spicy and masculine and feminine and—
Rin could go on forever. Shidou smells like everything, like an explosion of possibility.
That’s what he is, Rin supposes.
But most of all, he smells like home. He smells like walls that Rin could learn to make a loving home in.
Shidou whispers something, soft and fading, as his hands rake through Rin’s hair once more—
“You’ll be okay, RinRin”
And that’s all Rin really needs.