This isn't it, this isn't what does it for him. Gojyo needs a flash of high, round breasts, a glimpse of pale inner thigh, the sway of feminine hips. Hakkai just out of the shower is none of these things, and yet the completely commonplace gesture where he wipes water from his eyes and slicks back his damp hair, leaving his face oddly open and unadorned, is suddenly enough to make Gojyo swallow hard, enough to make him feel crazy-hot all over, enough to make his heart kick up a notch or three. It's ridiculous.

Put on a shirt, he wants to say, but it's only been recently that Hakkai has felt secure enough to allow Gojyo to see him without one. The scar isn't even pink anymore, but it's long and jagged-looking as it punctuates his torso, and it's hard sometimes for Gojyo not to stare. Hakkai politely pretends not to notice as he goes about his business, waiting for his hair to dry.

And it's not like Hakkai never looks. Gojyo has caught him, once or twice, caught him with those green eyes sliding down his chest and maybe even lower. He hasn't said anything about it because he's still not sure what it means. Hakkai hasn't said anything, either.

"It's too damn hot," Gojyo complains, just to have something to say. It is hot-- the tail end of August has brought with it thick, opressive air and sullen heat. Gojyo knows by now that Hakkai doesn't like the rain, but he's starting to wish for it anyway. Anything to break this heatwave. Anything just to change this mood.

"I thought I'd try something different for dinner," Hakkai says, expression pleasantly neutral. Things aren't as awkward between them as they used to be, but it's hard not to be on-edge when everything's crazy with the end-of-summer heat. "Just a quick stir-fry with vegetables. It's too warm for much else."

"Yeah, sure." Gojyo isn't really listening. Mostly he's trying to concentrate on his magazine, some ancient dog-eared thing he found just now half-shoved under the couch. His eyes won't even focus on the words, but at least he's looking at pictures of girls now and not at Hakkai's chest.

Hakkai does eventually put on a shirt-- one of Gojyo's, sleeveless and shapeless, almost grey with age. Gojyo has maybe a vague memory of giving it to him. Hakkai's never worn it before.

Dinner is probably great, but Gojyo forgets to taste it. Afterward he drinks his beer too fast and tries not to watch Hakkai do the dishes. Hakkai's hips wriggle as he srubs plates and it's not long before the shape of the stitching on the back pockets of his jeans is burned into Gojyo's brain.

"Gojyo--" Hakkai throws a glance over his shoulder and then just stops, stops moving and stops saying whatever he'd been about to say. The sound of the tap running seems suddenly very loud.

"What?" He's been caught-- it'd be a wuss move to look away now.

Hakkai's expression changes slowly, melting from polite inquiry into a look Gojyo wants to call considering, except that it's too heavy for that. His hands move, automatically, and then the water is off. The sudden silence seems even louder.

Hakkai turns around, hips tilted to lean back against the counter.

"You're always watching me," he says, carefully. There's a note of uncertainty there, like he doesn't trust his own judgment, or like maybe he wants Gojyo to deny it. Gojyo knows, suddenly, that if he plays it off now Hakkai will nod understandingly and accept his lie, easy, no questions asked.

He swallows hard and says, "Yeah."

Hakkai shakes his head. Maybe he should've lied after all. "Why?"

Because I can't NOT watch you is what Gojyo wants to say, but that doesn't make sense to him, even though it's true. Hakkai's hands, folding laundry. Hakkai's chest, rising and falling in calm sleep. Hakkai's smile, serene and fake, except for those lightning-rare times when it's not. Gojyo can't explain it. He doesn't think he wants to.

Sweat glides down the groove of his spine. It's really just too damn hot.

When Hakkai leans down and kisses him he forgets to protest. He can taste ginger and soy sauce on Hakkai's tongue and it distracts him from his thoughts. His lips are warm; his mouth is wet. The kiss turns sloppy, too much tongue, the brief hardness of teeth. When Hakkai pulls back Gojyo is breathing too hard and too fast. His lips feel scraped, bruised.

"I'm sorry," Hakkai says immediately, exactly like he isn't. His eyes are a little wide, though.

"Me too," says Gojyo, stupidly, and Hakkai flinches, looks away. Gojyo opens his mouth to say I didn't mean it like that, but since he doesn't know how he did mean it....

"I won't do that again," Hakkai says. He's looking at some point on the kitchen floor, studying the linoleum like it'll give him the answers. "I didn't mean to--"

"To what? To kiss me?" Gojyo feels an edge rising up, but he can't tell if it's panic or anger or... what. "To want me?" And then he sets his jaw and glares, hard, daring Hakkai to deny it.

Hakkai doesn't look at him. He clears his throat. "Ah. Yes. Both of those things, I suppose."

And Gojyo suddenly thinks, Why aren't we past this yet?

He doesn't remember standing up. One minute he's in his chair, the next he's got Hakkai pressed against the counter and his tongue is in his mouth. He kisses Hakkai like he's a woman, and when that just isn't enough he kisses him like he's never kissed anyone before, awkward and desperate and deep.

When he draws back finally Hakkai is shaking. "Gojyo," he says, and his voice cracks in the middle like he's going to cry. He doesn't cry, though. He just looks up at Gojyo like he's scared, or hopeful, or scared of being hopeful.

Gojyo bites his lip and tries not to have any expression at all. His feelings are a wild hot tangle and he doesn't want to touch them, not yet. Maybe not ever.

"I don't know if I can," says Hakkai. Gojyo doesn't ask what he means.

"S'okay. It doesn't matter." It does matter. It might matter more than anything.

Hakkai closes his eyes for a second, as if he's steeling himself. Then he lifts his chin and clears his throat and says "Kiss me again," so Gojyo does.

And it's too damn hot.