dumbshow | highly new, slightly improved open post

highly new, slightly improved open post

assorted morons

optional prompts/ideas

☆ caught in the rain meme
☆ little steps meme
☆ affectionate physical contact meme
☆ picture prompt also acceptable but link them so it's tidy
☆ AU ideas: soulmates AU, reincarnation AU, Bad End AU, canon divergent/roleswap AU, dorky college AU, crossover AU, super indulgent high fantasy AU
☆ melodrama is ultimate tier
★ SHIPPING AND FUCC:
☆ non-fluffy relationship types I'm down for: codependent, master/servant power imbalance type ships, "we're bad for each other but worse for anyone else," other things I am failing to think of tbh
☆ things I am not into: noncon (includes "dubcon"), incest, tsundere shit if your tsundere is just verbally abusive, gratuitous torture porn, you'll probably have to ask me about harder kinks and they will vary by character
☆ I don't have a kink list so pitch me an idea if u thirsty
☆ if you would prefer a locked post I can also make that happen

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yeah, yeah. Hey! We can get it delivered. That's a new thing. People just bring food to your door, it's great, but-- yeah, okay, hang on--

[He has to skedaddle to go order it. And maybe it's good they're taking a little break from one another, the two of them finally exhaling after all of . . . today.

Which, honestly, was a lot. He doesn't regret a single second of it, he'd go back and do it again if he had the chance, but it doesn't mean it wasn't tense. He isn't entirely certain they're out of it, truth be told, but at the same time, it's not like people are breaking down their door.

He orders food. He orders a lot of food, Japanese and Italian and French (obviously), because what's the point if they're not gonna go over the top? Why not let Kakyoin try everything, or at least three things? He wants to spoil the guy, truthfully. He wants to give him everything and anything, because he deserves it.

It's not quite guilt prompting him. He's never stabbed the guy, never once forced him into anything, but . . . others have. And that's more than enough to leave him feeling like he's gotta make up for god, what, all of humanity? Something. Look, it doesn't matter, just let him do this.]

You should probably try a shower, those are fun . . . we can watch shitty tv all night, too, uh, that's like stories but people act them out--

[He says it idly as he comes back, shoving a hand through his hair, mussing it out of its usual style, really committing himself to staying in for a little while.]

[Polnareff's enthusiasm edging further into whatever this is - over the top apology food-ordering, or something - is something they'll have to address sooner or later. Sure, Kakyoin had made some noise about not owing anyone anything for getting him out of the park, but at the same time, he doesn't want to watch Polnareff go just a little off the deep end trying to go above and beyond.

Later, maybe. If it gets to be too much. He can't deny that part of him is flattered that Polnareff seems so happy just doing things for him, but-- mm.

When Polnareff returns, Kakyoin hasn't left the room but he's left the couch, to wander around and pick up decorative knickknacks and stare out the window a bit. He looks back over his shoulder, and-- ah-- puts down an expensive trinket before he drops it like a fool. It's just...]

Your hair looks nice like that.

[Aha, bury him under bougie furniture. Polnareff has always been handsome, but all... casual, hair down, not screwing up a yukata for the fifth time-- damn.

How about that view! Out the window!]

You're still... [50 steps ahead?] Try thinking about one thing at a time.

[Oh. Oh, hello, and he grins as Kakyoin turns. He isn't entirely certain that look means what he thinks it does, but if so, ha ha, now they're even. There's a little more swagger to the way he walks towards Kakyoin, even if he's picked the inferior hair option.

Anyway. He's right, of course: he is all over the place, too excitable and too eager, tripping over himself in his enthusiasm. It'll calm down sooner or later, especially because even he realizes he's being too loud.]

There's a lot of fun to be had. I just wanna be sure you don't miss out.

[But it's gently said as he stands next to Kakyoin, glancing down at the city below. One thing at a time . . . well, this is pretty nice. Just standing here, next to Kakyoin, watching the real sun set.]

[Don't walk like that, don't even look at him-- Kakyoin hums flatly, staring dutifully out the window for a good, hmm, ten seconds before he can't help glancing over at Polnareff.

They're just standing here watching the sunset, and just like the other day, it's easy enough to lean to the side and press their arms together.]

Write it down, then. [no, no, okay--] Thank you.

[There. He's quiet a moment, then,] ...Did I hear you ask for enough food to feed an entire town?

No, because that's a surprise.

[Honestly . . . he glances down at Kakyoin (and it is down, how short), quietly pleased by that gentle point of connection. It's nothing, and it means nothing, but-- one thing at a time, he'd said, and so he tries not to think about how he'd like to wrap his arms around him properly, rest his head atop Kakyoin's, pull him in real close--

One thing at a time. He shifts his weight, bumping lightly against him.]

Don't ruin it for yourself.

Oh, is it? Then I didn't hear anything.

[He has perfect hearing, but alright, he'll play along. He can't help but grin a little, bumping Polnareff back. They can stand here doing this like children until the food gets here; Kakyoin would be weirdly fine with that.]

Well... [hmm] What do you do out here when you're not coming to see me?

[Oh, hm. That's a good question. For so long, it was nothing but training. Training to fight, training to track others, training to make sure that his sister's murder was avenged. And yeah, he'd done things between that, but it'd always been temporary distractions, nothing like a real hobby.]

Dancing.

[He says it slowly, trying to think.]

Jojo takes me out to karaoke sometimes, I guess that's a big thing in Japan. Or . . . I like going for runs. Just keeping in shape, you know?

[Hm. Not a great summary. He digs into his pocket, tugging out a cigarette, bumping up against Kakyoin intentionally as he does.]

Hey. Wanna hear some music?

[Ooh, teach him about American Dancing. And Japanese Karaoke? What's karaoke. Kakyoin hums, avoiding more culture clash for the time being.]

Sure.

[Ah, but how will they keep bumping into each other like children once Polnareff does whatever he needs to do to get music going... Hmm!]

You can dance?

Yeah. I'm good with my body.

[It's not innuendo. A little flirting, maybe, and that's emphasized as he winks, but he means it. Anything physical, dancing or fighting or sports, comes easy to him. What's it called? Something intelligence, Sherry had told him once. Whatever. It doesn't matter. The point is: some people are great at math but can't run to save their life; some people, like him, are incredibly clever on their feet and then a little clumsy otherwise.

He heads for the speaker system, prodding around it until he can hook up his phone to it. Of course he picks something with a beat, remix or not. If this is Kakyoin's first modern song, it ought to be a bop.]

You wanna learn? C'mere.

Edited (LET ME LINK THE SONG) 2019-07-24 03:17 (UTC)

[Good with his body... what a dork. Kakyoin still chuckles anyway, leaning against this fancy shelf or table or whatever by the window while Polnareff goes off.

This sure is— a track. He blinks a few times, clearly shook by this sick beat, then obligingly joins him across the room.

After a moment he sort of awkwardly holds his hands out. Yes? Maybe?]

I have no idea what I'm doing.

Yeah, no kidding.

[He looks so awkward . . . but it's sweet. He's grinning as he grabs his hands, fingers threading together, before tugging him in close. He's lighter than Polnareff expects; it's easy to pull him in, one hand dropping to skim over his lower back, the other lifting in a joke of a waltz pose. The beat's easy, one-two-three, and he's still grinning as he starts moving them, more ridiculous than actual dancing.]

Just-- it doesn't matter, there's no steps. Just do what feels good, okay?

[He'll save grinding for next lesson.]

[Oh— oh, that's a lot closer than he expected. He's visibly surprised, eyes wide, just for a moment before he manages to relax. It's definitely not a dance, but it gets a smile out of him anyway. The song is weird - honestly, the whole experience right now is weird, but Polnareff is enthusiastic about it and that's, hmm, more motivating than Kakyoin thought it would be.]

You've met me. How well do you think this would go if I had to lead?

[He can memorize steps with perfect accuracy, however, so this not-a-waltz is going straight into the vault.]

You'd adapt.

[Which is a wry joke and a vague statement all at once. It doesn't matter. It really doesn't, this is stupid and fun and he loves dancing, he really does. Fingers tightening on Kakyoin's waist, he spins them both, his hips rocking and his fingers tightening around the other man's. They move quickly, giddily, the pace picking up the longer the song goes on, and it's not as if Kakyoin can get tired, right, so why not just go for it? Pull him in tighter, because the sun's set and the room is dim and he's spinning them both around, hands splayed on his back--

--and the song changes, slower, sweeter, more intimate--

--and it's so easy to just dip him down, leaning over him, his grin softening.]

[Dancing-- hmm. Kakyoin can't say he's enamored with the thing itself, but he's definitely something over Polnareff— so it's not bad at all. The song builds and the energy between them with it, and Kakyoin laughs again somewhere in the middle because, honestly, he is supposed to be a grumpy low-ranking thug, and here he is dancing in this completely unfamiliar place, and it's... fun.

Then the song changes, and oh, down he goes— With Polnareff's face so close to his it's all he can do to stare up at him, hesitant maybe, but not uncomfortable. Fortunately he remembers to blink like a normal person. And no, he can't really get tired, but he's built to be convincing, which mean that, yes, hosts can in fact blush.]

...Hi?

Hi.

[He lingers over him for a few moments, his eyes darting about his face. That blush isn't real, just like the rise and fall of Kakyoin's chest isn't real, but on the other hand, it's surely not programmed, right? He's just feeling it, right? He surely wouldn't blush to pander to Polnareff's ego. Yeah. Okay. Okay, and he grins a little wider. One leg stretches out, brushing against Kakyoin's, as he slowly pulls them up.]

You're cute when you blush.

[He can't help it, he thinks, especially when he frowns up at Polnareff in genuine embarrassment but his face still feels warm, or at least whatever passes for warm for someone like him.]

You're not cute at all.

[Hmph... yes, that's biting and convincing. He pats Polnareff on the cheek, very sarcastically, to emphasize his point. He could detach himself and go back to staring out the window, but he's decided not to do that just yet.]

Is that right?

[He yanks him in closer, pulling him up against Polnareff's body, his grin sharpening.]

So how come you still wanna dance, huh?

[Ah— hello there. He's surprised again, but still settles his hand on Polnareff's shoulder.]

You told me it was fun. I'm having fun.

[He says, flatly. No, this is fun, trust him.]

That doesn't mean you're cute.

Are you having fun?

[It's a real question, though he doesn't release him just yet. But you can't be flat and sarcastic like that, not when he's still so tentative about things like autonomy.]

Yes.

[A beat. Well, under a thin veneer of constant panic and worry that someone will kick in Polnareff's front door at any moment and drag him back to the park. But that isn't Polnareff's fault.]

I'm... wondering about what happens next. But I enjoy your company.

That's kinda the thing, Kakyoin. Whatever you want is what happens next.

[He says it with half a smile, more rueful than the manic cheer he usually exudes.]

You understand?

Well— I suppose, in the abstract, yes. If we don't get caught.

[We, at least. There's that.]

But right now, yes, this is fun.

Good.

[He squeezes his hand as the next song plays, and oh, it's French, that's much more like it. It's bright and cheery, even if the lyrics are a little dark. It's a splendid song to nonsensically dance to, and they would, but oh, there's the doorbell--]

Ahh. Dancing and now dinner, huh?

[Probably a good idea. They neither of them are exactly out of breath, but at the same time, dancing burns calories (or oil, or whatever Kakyoin runs on, which, hey, does he need, like, an oil can, how does it work . . .)]

Go set the table, yeah? Stuff's in the kitchen.

[French, and some file buried in Kakyoin's head shifts everything into French for a moment; he nearly replies in French, but he blinks and shifts it all back instead.]

Uh— alright...

[He doesn't set tables, but he shuffles off into the kitchen and stands there for a moment scrutinizing the available stuff. Well, plates, he's got plates... is there a whole process here? He stands there holding a fork for a good ten seconds, fully aware that he knows how to use this thing but has never actually picked one up before this moment.

So the table setting is going great. He'll work it out enough.]

[Polnareff will be delighted the first time Kakyoin replies in French. Be told. But he's busy at the front door, presumably telling the deliveryman why he needs so much food, or at least a heavily fabricated reason why. It takes a while to gather it all up in his arms, but it smells good.

The table is not set when he gets back, but whatever, that's okay. He's got plates! It's great! And the Japanese food presumably comes with some chopsticks, albeit cheap wooden ones, so they're good.]

Man, you'd suck as a housewife.

[Cheerfully said as he dumps one, two, three bags on the table.]

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