newtypeshadow (newtypeshadow) wrote in ayaxschuldig,

FIC: 097. Ice cream

title: 097. Ice cream
characters/pairings: Schuldig/Ran, Nagi/Omi, Crawford
rating: PG-13
warnings: AU
word count: ~1000
notes: for slash_me_twice challenge (table here)

Schuldig watches movies with a strange concentration. As if he’s trying to read lips even when no one is speaking. As if there’s something he’s sure he’s missing. Ran likes to watch him frown at the screen, but Schuldig always seems to know when Ran is looking and the lines on his face ease as he turns and winks in the darkness. Their bare forearms touch on the armrest, and Ran feels the contact acutely throughout the movie. Every touch between hero and heroine he imagines between Schuldig and himself. He has never wanted so much to see an on-screen kiss as when he sits next to Schuldig in a theatre.


Ran asks him once, point blank, why he keeps taking him places to “hang out,” as Schuldig calls it. They never talked in the halls before, when Schuldig was at Ran’s school. And their social ranks are vastly different.

Schuldig shrugs. Do you not like hanging out with me? he asks.

Ran flushes, says That’s not it.

Schuldig says, Then go with it, Ran. Don’t you trust me?


Ran finds himself gravitating to Schuldig. He still wonders why a university student would hang out with a high school boy like him, even if he is a senior. But then he sees Schuldig talking to a freshman he recognizes by face but not name, and Ran wonders how many other people Schuldig talks to that he’s not aware of.

He’s going to walk away when Schuldig suddenly looks up and waves him over.

When Ran approaches, he is caught in a one-armed hug. Ran, Schuldig says, This is Nagi. He’s anti-social and needs people to make him get off his computer. Shall we take him out with us?

Ran’s face goes red and Nagi’s lips purse. Aah, Ran says dumbly.

I’ll be a third wheel, Nagi says, Thanks anyway.

Schuldig looks so disappointed when Nagi walks away that Ran says, Omi would like him.

Nagi stops walking. He turns and says, You know Tsukiyono?

Ran nods. He’s a friend of mine.

Nagi looks so hopeful, Ran calls Omi up and the four of them go out. At the end of the evening, Omi and Nagi are inseparable, and Schuldig whispers to Ran that love is in the air.

Ran blushes, but looks pointedly at the pair in the arcade of the restaurant, battling it out on a remote-controlled fighting game. Schuldig rests an arm on the back of the seat and it touches Ran’s shoulder blades. He tenses for a moment, and then leans back. They watch Nagi and Omi play almost until closing.


Ran wants to kiss him. Schuldig knows it. But Ran just…won’t.

When will he do it, Brad? Schuldig asks on the way back from university one day. They are on the subway. It’s easier to talk mind to mind there, and people don’t look at them funny when they stare intensely at nothing. Schuldig thinks, I’m sick of waiting, and glares out the windows in the doors.

If I told you, that would change things, Brad answers.

Change things how? Frustration lances through Schuldig’s words. What’s so bad about me kissing him first?

Trust me, Brad says. I’m not wrong. Let him make the first move.

Their stop comes.

They get off the train and go their separate ways.


Watching Schuldig eat ice cream is an exercise in self-control. Ran is pretty sure the other man knows it, too, because he always orders vanilla, and when it drips onto his fingers he licks it off and glances up at Ran as if to say, “does this turn you on?”


Ran nearly kisses him when Schuldig is dropping him off at his house one night. Ran has gathered up the nerve, Schuldig can tell, and touches Schuldig’s arm to start a conversation his has rehearsed in front of his mirror, and which Schuldig has been looking forward to since he caught the memory of it on their last unofficial date…but then the porch light turns on and the silhouette of Ran’s parents cross the window. Ran tenses and says the usual thank you, and climbs out of the car.

Schuldig schools his expression until he is off the block. And then his face twists. So close!


Schuldig dances like a livewire, but with more grace. He crackles with energy, and when he pulls Ran close on the dance floor, Ran feels tingles all over his body. Schuldig dancing against him is almost enough to drive him crazy. He smiles a tight-lipped smile at his grinning companion and turns his back. Schuldig rocks against him, unperturbed. Ran is just glad no one on the dance floor is looking the embarrassing tent in his slacks.


It’s an infuriating dance, but one he must continue. Schuldig watches Ran watching him, feels Ran wanting him, and can do nothing but continue these provocative steps. Ran must kiss him first if their relationship is to go well. That’s what Brad said, and that’s how it’s going to happen. Brad never lies about important things.


Schuldig’s lips are soft and slick. They taste like the lychee juice they shared a bottle of, and they move against Ran’s slowly, the undulations of a wave. Ran doesn’t know why he felt now, at Schuldig’s apartment, at his kitchen table, would be the perfect time to kiss him. He just knows his speeches flew out the window when Schuldig licked the juice from his lips in that way he eats ice cream, like he wants Ran to think of him when the lights go out and he is alone in bed.

So Ran found himself leaning in and pressing his lips to Schuldig’s.

It is when Schuldig kisses back that he feels himself coil like a snake within his skin. Like he is an outward-rippling shockwave and Schuldig’s lips are ground zero. His fingers curl against his knees and his knees go weak, and he is glad he is sitting. He is sure he will embarrass himself if he lets this go on any longer, and so he withdraws, lips parting from Schuldig’s with a wet sound that he is sure will haunt his dreams.

Schuldig smiles softly at him. I’ve been waiting for you to do that, he admits.


Schuldig nods.

H-how long?

Ran feels chills when Schuldig leans close and strokes the back of his fingers down his cheek. It feels like forever, Schuldig says, and kisses him again.
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