[fic] smells like teen spirit (kanda, lavi)
Title: Smells Like Teen Spirit
Pairing: Kanda, Lavi, Lenalee
Rating: PG-13 for language and drug use
Disclaimer: DGM belongs to Hoshino Katsura et al
A/N: High School AU Flashback!; the one where Lavi is that stalker Kanda knows and hates. And Lenalee does weed.
&
There was the first time. And the second. And the consequential third. Frankly, Kanda wondered if he should have cut his wrists right then.
Then there was the fourth, with its dangerous potential. This (un)tapped energy.
*
Kanda's been pounding the pavement - or rather, the race track - all morning long. He's worked up a decent sweat, he's hit his target heart rate. He's even thought yes I can yes I can, over and over, unbeknownst to his fellow track runners. Near early noon they dwindle until Kanda's the only one left to hurt his ankle in silence.
"Fuck!"
At least there's privacy. He rolls onto the ground to lift his heel up.
"Ow."
This obviously hurts. He's never been one to point out the, uh, obvious, has he?
The sky morphs into a quasi-British-Scottish hue, the trees topped with all those layers of grey mush. Brilliant. It'll rain and then he will be sitting here like a very unlikable retard. He gets up anyway and runs on his bad foot to his bag on the bench then makes a harder (but totally possible fff) run up the hill beside the track. Once there, he can sit back down on his crippled ass to think about what it would be like to lose two feet.
Well, if you lose a foot, you might as well lose a leg. That's just common sense.
He takes his mini chopsticks out.
"Hey there, Yuu!"
Right away, a splitting headache. A blush. Oh no his fucking face is on fire.
"Lavi, you're making it so obvious."
Well, Kanda's the king, Kanda's the king. . .
He bows his head so Lenalee and that - whatever he is - will get the message.
They obviously do not.
Lenalee invades the space to the right of him, almost kicking grass into his open bento. She hums an apology that doesn't sound too apologetic. He flicks the lid shut but that fucking Bookman must have another say in the matter.
"Ah! Is that a bento?"
Kanda covers his face with his fringe.
"I've made some before. I'm kinda crappy at it. The best ones gotta have the shrimp over the rice." Laughter. "Gotta call it innovative when they cut the lil' sausages into octopuses. When I was in Japan - "
"You were in Japan?" Kanda asserts, tossing his fringe about. He can feel the dried salt in his sweat, like a primordial exfoliant.
"Yeah yeah. You interested in knowing why or what?"
Kanda doesn't think. "No. Pardon me, I'm having my lunch."
Midway between picking the egg and cold udon and placing them into his mouth, Bookman chooses to get comfortable in the grass in front of them, Lenalee pulling something out of her purse and lighting it.
Kanda chokes and shakes his head, knowing where this is going and not liking it any more than he ever did before. He has a nice wad of noodle tangled around his uvula. "Lee. What the hell."
"Okay, Kanda." She gives an exaggerated sigh.
"Not okay. What do you think you're doing? Put," he waves at the joint, "that," he grabs the lighter because she's holding the joint aloft, "away." She puts her hand in his face and he peels away in disgust. "And you smell like it. Have you already lit one up?"
She nods and takes a drag. He scowls a little more. This only encourages her to defy him.
Fine. Be that way. They say you can't get addicted, but what the fuck is that about?
"I've been with Allen."
"Not him again." He is all she can talk about as of late. All she can talk about. All.
"Just because you refuse to associate with him doesn't mean. . ." She takes a drag.
No, that is exactly what it means. Go on. Put that shit out and go on.
She lets out smoke, coughing a bit. "D-doesn't mean I've got to avoid him at all costs."
Uh. Yes it does? Lenalee is on something other than her unabashed use of marijuana.
"I don't like him. He's got that coddled smirk," Kanda says, sighing and starting over with his meal.
"On the contrary, Kanda, he's somewhat."
"What."
Lenalee opens her mouth again. Nothing comes out except more smoke. She closes it and smiles her signature smile. Goddamn it, now that's absolutely irresponsible. He watches her get up, pat herself down, and start to walk off with her skirt askew. She looks behind her and Kanda's eye twitches. Traitor. She keeps smiling until Kanda breaks eye contact, very much opting to sit and eat in -
There goes the neighborhood.
"What the fuck. What. Are you still doing here."
Bookman has made himself at home. He's lying there in the grass, using his arms as support, being all this and being all that, the curve of his hip just. . . Tch! Kanda looks down at people like that. And there! Bookman is crossing his feet and probably rubbing it in that Kanda can barely run let alone walk right now. "Want company?"
Kanda goes back to eating, wondering if Confucius had to kill anybody in his lifetime.
"You were just having a good time with your girlfriend. You gettin' shy on me?"
Kanda smacks his lips. "I will not answer to asinine assumptions." Plus, shove off, you're not supposed to see Kanda limp home later.
"You are shy. I like that about you. Me?" Yeah, fuck you. "I guess I could use some restraint." Which somehow makes things a little less like aggravated assault.
"You guess?" Kanda snorts, then realizes that it's probably stupid to do that while eating. He doesn't like getting rice up his nose.
"All right, I'll practice. I was out with Lenalee Lee for the past hour getting up to mischief. Doin' teenage shit. But I will not indulge you with the naughty bits because I'm supposed to be shyyy."
Kanda studies Bookman over raised chopsticks. He wonders if wondering if chopsticks can kill a man is an overall bad thing. Like, overrated.
Bookman licks his lip and scratches at the corner of his mouth.
Kanda opens his mouth slightly without really having anything to say. Bookman catches this. "You don't hafta worry. I don't use a thing. Swear to Bob, I stick to fags and I'm a happy camper."
How is Kanda supposed to trust that, exactly? Is he being stalked? He should have asked this at the beginning of the conversation.
Wait, this isn't a conversation. This is not happening. And. What? Hopefully those are British fags and not American ones. Fuck it, shut the fuck up.
"Uh." Kanda tries to erase it all. "You've joined the team? For track? Permanently?" Because there is no way in hell Kanda is implying anything else, fag or no fag. He. Does. Not. Smoke.
Bookman comes down with a rather guiltless expression that whispers oh yes, and this is where their definitions kind of bleed together.
See, Kanda catches these things, too. Nuances. Ticks in the ass. Whatever you want to call them. Something touches him inside and he finds himself offering up his bento. "If you want," he adds.
Bookman grins. "Waste not, want not, that's what Allen says."
"And what do you say?" Kanda now thinks about stabbing himself.
That arrogant fool looks like he's been chosen to go on an expedition. What kind of expedition? The kind that might center around beaches and bikinis. Or Kanda. Oh bloody crap.
"Want it, get it," Bookman says, his hooded eyes looking north, and then directly at Kanda's mouth.
*
They shared their first kiss not too long after that. Ironically, this seemed to turn Lenalee into an anti-drug activist.
Pairing: Kanda, Lavi, Lenalee
Rating: PG-13 for language and drug use
Disclaimer: DGM belongs to Hoshino Katsura et al
A/N: High School AU Flashback!; the one where Lavi is that stalker Kanda knows and hates. And Lenalee does weed.
&
There was the first time. And the second. And the consequential third. Frankly, Kanda wondered if he should have cut his wrists right then.
Then there was the fourth, with its dangerous potential. This (un)tapped energy.
*
Kanda's been pounding the pavement - or rather, the race track - all morning long. He's worked up a decent sweat, he's hit his target heart rate. He's even thought yes I can yes I can, over and over, unbeknownst to his fellow track runners. Near early noon they dwindle until Kanda's the only one left to hurt his ankle in silence.
"Fuck!"
At least there's privacy. He rolls onto the ground to lift his heel up.
"Ow."
This obviously hurts. He's never been one to point out the, uh, obvious, has he?
The sky morphs into a quasi-British-Scottish hue, the trees topped with all those layers of grey mush. Brilliant. It'll rain and then he will be sitting here like a very unlikable retard. He gets up anyway and runs on his bad foot to his bag on the bench then makes a harder (but totally possible fff) run up the hill beside the track. Once there, he can sit back down on his crippled ass to think about what it would be like to lose two feet.
Well, if you lose a foot, you might as well lose a leg. That's just common sense.
He takes his mini chopsticks out.
"Hey there, Yuu!"
Right away, a splitting headache. A blush. Oh no his fucking face is on fire.
"Lavi, you're making it so obvious."
Well, Kanda's the king, Kanda's the king. . .
He bows his head so Lenalee and that - whatever he is - will get the message.
They obviously do not.
Lenalee invades the space to the right of him, almost kicking grass into his open bento. She hums an apology that doesn't sound too apologetic. He flicks the lid shut but that fucking Bookman must have another say in the matter.
"Ah! Is that a bento?"
Kanda covers his face with his fringe.
"I've made some before. I'm kinda crappy at it. The best ones gotta have the shrimp over the rice." Laughter. "Gotta call it innovative when they cut the lil' sausages into octopuses. When I was in Japan - "
"You were in Japan?" Kanda asserts, tossing his fringe about. He can feel the dried salt in his sweat, like a primordial exfoliant.
"Yeah yeah. You interested in knowing why or what?"
Kanda doesn't think. "No. Pardon me, I'm having my lunch."
Midway between picking the egg and cold udon and placing them into his mouth, Bookman chooses to get comfortable in the grass in front of them, Lenalee pulling something out of her purse and lighting it.
Kanda chokes and shakes his head, knowing where this is going and not liking it any more than he ever did before. He has a nice wad of noodle tangled around his uvula. "Lee. What the hell."
"Okay, Kanda." She gives an exaggerated sigh.
"Not okay. What do you think you're doing? Put," he waves at the joint, "that," he grabs the lighter because she's holding the joint aloft, "away." She puts her hand in his face and he peels away in disgust. "And you smell like it. Have you already lit one up?"
She nods and takes a drag. He scowls a little more. This only encourages her to defy him.
Fine. Be that way. They say you can't get addicted, but what the fuck is that about?
"I've been with Allen."
"Not him again." He is all she can talk about as of late. All she can talk about. All.
"Just because you refuse to associate with him doesn't mean. . ." She takes a drag.
No, that is exactly what it means. Go on. Put that shit out and go on.
She lets out smoke, coughing a bit. "D-doesn't mean I've got to avoid him at all costs."
Uh. Yes it does? Lenalee is on something other than her unabashed use of marijuana.
"I don't like him. He's got that coddled smirk," Kanda says, sighing and starting over with his meal.
"On the contrary, Kanda, he's somewhat."
"What."
Lenalee opens her mouth again. Nothing comes out except more smoke. She closes it and smiles her signature smile. Goddamn it, now that's absolutely irresponsible. He watches her get up, pat herself down, and start to walk off with her skirt askew. She looks behind her and Kanda's eye twitches. Traitor. She keeps smiling until Kanda breaks eye contact, very much opting to sit and eat in -
There goes the neighborhood.
"What the fuck. What. Are you still doing here."
Bookman has made himself at home. He's lying there in the grass, using his arms as support, being all this and being all that, the curve of his hip just. . . Tch! Kanda looks down at people like that. And there! Bookman is crossing his feet and probably rubbing it in that Kanda can barely run let alone walk right now. "Want company?"
Kanda goes back to eating, wondering if Confucius had to kill anybody in his lifetime.
"You were just having a good time with your girlfriend. You gettin' shy on me?"
Kanda smacks his lips. "I will not answer to asinine assumptions." Plus, shove off, you're not supposed to see Kanda limp home later.
"You are shy. I like that about you. Me?" Yeah, fuck you. "I guess I could use some restraint." Which somehow makes things a little less like aggravated assault.
"You guess?" Kanda snorts, then realizes that it's probably stupid to do that while eating. He doesn't like getting rice up his nose.
"All right, I'll practice. I was out with Lenalee Lee for the past hour getting up to mischief. Doin' teenage shit. But I will not indulge you with the naughty bits because I'm supposed to be shyyy."
Kanda studies Bookman over raised chopsticks. He wonders if wondering if chopsticks can kill a man is an overall bad thing. Like, overrated.
Bookman licks his lip and scratches at the corner of his mouth.
Kanda opens his mouth slightly without really having anything to say. Bookman catches this. "You don't hafta worry. I don't use a thing. Swear to Bob, I stick to fags and I'm a happy camper."
How is Kanda supposed to trust that, exactly? Is he being stalked? He should have asked this at the beginning of the conversation.
Wait, this isn't a conversation. This is not happening. And. What? Hopefully those are British fags and not American ones. Fuck it, shut the fuck up.
"Uh." Kanda tries to erase it all. "You've joined the team? For track? Permanently?" Because there is no way in hell Kanda is implying anything else, fag or no fag. He. Does. Not. Smoke.
Bookman comes down with a rather guiltless expression that whispers oh yes, and this is where their definitions kind of bleed together.
See, Kanda catches these things, too. Nuances. Ticks in the ass. Whatever you want to call them. Something touches him inside and he finds himself offering up his bento. "If you want," he adds.
Bookman grins. "Waste not, want not, that's what Allen says."
"And what do you say?" Kanda now thinks about stabbing himself.
That arrogant fool looks like he's been chosen to go on an expedition. What kind of expedition? The kind that might center around beaches and bikinis. Or Kanda. Oh bloody crap.
"Want it, get it," Bookman says, his hooded eyes looking north, and then directly at Kanda's mouth.
*
They shared their first kiss not too long after that. Ironically, this seemed to turn Lenalee into an anti-drug activist.