Kit swiftly made a mental note to keep John away from his bookshelves in the future so he wouldn’t be granted another chance to bastardise a beloved author’s name with an inappropriate innuendo. Shaking his head and rubbing his thumb against his temple, Kit wondered whether or not he should even acknowledge John’s awful Dickens comment before deciding against it. It would only fuel the man more and the last thing John needed was encouragement when he was on a sexually charged rampage and dragging the literary greats into it.
“William and Charles aren’t here to defend themselves, so let’s not,” he said passively, patting John’s shoulder in a fraternal gesture before he groaned and dropped his forehead against the same spot.
“Please stop talking about my hip action,” he sighed. That wasn’t exactly something that he could ignore and continued to press his nose against the well-tailored material of John’s expensive suit, casting a baleful look up at his friend through his eyelashes. Perhaps Kit was a little tipsy, which made him feel slightly more touchy-feely than normal, but growing up with Katherine had fashioned him into an affectionate guy. His other best friend hadn’t been given the same hugs and kisses he’d been showered in as a child, meaning she turned to the Kingsleys for the love her parents had failed to provide her with. And Kit had always been on hand to give it to her.
He wasn’t as physical with John. Perhaps it was a socially embedded concept that put a strike through two boys who shared a boarding school dorm indulging in anything other than fleeting almost-hugs and enthusiastic handshakes. But John was hardly starved for affection. Kit knew that from the amount of times he’d shown up outside their room only to find a sock dangling off the doorknob, a clear sign he should do his homework in the library instead.
Still, it was New Year’s Eve, Kit was feeling sort of giddy and John was making him laugh even if his lips were fighting a smile at that moment. “You’re unbelievable,” he told his friend, rolling his eyes at the blasé way John had successfully managed to pull off using the term ‘tonsil tennis’.
“What if I don’t care about kissing someone at midnight?” he challenged his friend, pulling his head back and raising his eyebrows. “Why does that have to be a thing anyway? I usually just peck Katherine, but I’m sure she’s definitely busy right now.”
He craned his neck, hoping he’d catch a glimpse of Katherine cosying up to Jack. If he showed his support for that almost-couple with bountiful enthusiasm then perhaps Jack would eventually warm up to him and Kit would have one less enemy to worry about. He didn’t like having enemies.
Frowning when John brought up Blossom, Kit lifted a hand to straighten the blonde’s collar. “Sounds healthy,” he muttered. But John’s relationships happened to be none of Kit’s business so he held his tongue on the matter and stopped in his tracks, turning to face his friend and clamping both his hands on John’s shoulders, beaming up at him with a friendly smile.
“John, just focus on enjoying yourself. It’s…” He checked his watch. “Five minutes until midnight and you’re trying to help me find someone to kiss? I appreciate the effort but, really, go enjoy yourself instead of trying to liven me up. You’ll probably find it much more rewarding than hanging around with me.”
It wasn't often that John Smith wished a gorgeous fella would stop touching him, and yet there he stood, his best friend far more affectionate than he'd ever known him to be, and John felt desperate for him to stop. The second he felt Kit's head drop against him, his nose nuzzling against his suit, John's heart stammered in his chest. It was a bizarre reaction, one he'd only ever felt the once – with Blossom, of all people – and yet here he was, weak as could be at the most fleeting, passing touch from Kit Kingsley. His best friend – well, aside from Ginny, who'd have his head if she heard him claim otherwise. Even so, he hated the reaction that Kit could, unwittingly, illicit from him, and when he stared down at the other boy, he couldn't help the smile that twitched at the corner of his lips.
Feeling bold, he smirked, before gently reaching an arm around Kit, twisting his arm around the other boy's waist and pulling him a little closer. Once he felt content, he used his other hand to reach forward, cupping the nape of the boy's neck and angling his face upwards so that he could look at him a little closer.
“Sorry, sweetheart. Is there another part of your body you'd rather I talk about?” he mused, feigning innocence. Cheeky as he was, he placed a firm kiss to Kit's forehead, before releasing his hold on him, and letting him go free.
He was feeling a little better now, having reigned in a little of his own dignity. Banishing any thoughts of feelings for Kit, he merely focused on the slight twinge between his legs that he felt with anyone that he took a slight fancy to. There was nothing more to it. Kit was just his friend. Gorgeous, utterly charming, and unimaginably dorky; but a friend all the same. Would John have liked the opportunity to bed the other man? Absolutely. He'd be an utter madman if the thought of sucking Kit Kingsley's cock didn't turn him on just a little, but it wasn't on the cards, and that was perfectly fine. Whatever feelings he thought he was having for the boy were merely a result of their friendship, mingled with John's own depraved thoughts, meaning he'd lost track and confused them for something more. Simple as can be.
“Well, as you said, Katherine's busy, and if you usually have somebody to kiss, surely you wouldn't want to go and break tradition? It's merely a bit of fun, darling,” John encouraged, laughing at his friend. It didn't have to be anything meaningful, not at all. John usually found himself someone cute and willing and never saw them again after the event, so why on Earth couldn't Kit do the same? Besides, as gorgeous as he was, his game was atrocious, and John couldn't recall the last time he'd seen Kit score – if ever. “But why not have a little fun, Kitty, love? It's your party, after all, and you could do with loosening up a little, couldn't you? Something fun. Meaningless.”
With a shrug, he dismissed Kit's muttered words in regards to Blossom. He shouldn't have brought her up. He wished he hadn't. What he and Blossom shared was nobody's business, and he wasn't about to waste time explaining their situation to Kit. There had once been love between the two, and now there wasn't. It was fairly simple, and their current arrangement was by no means healthy, as Kit had pointed out, but it was a mutual agreement for the time being.
Instead, he eyed Kit's hand as he toyed with his collar, aimlessly fumbling with the fabric of his shirt. His heart stuttered again, that same, pitiful reaction as before. With a sharp intake of breath, he shut his eyes momentarily, waiting for the moment to pass. He was all too aware that Kit could see him, could read his reaction, but there was no chance the boy would work out just what he was reaction to. After all, he could just be feeling a little resigned with the other man; which, in a sense, wasn't too far from the truth.
“Kit, darling,” John sighed, finally opening his eyes and staring into the bright blue of Kit's own. “I couldn't think of anything more rewarding than hanging around with you, sweetheart.”
Pausing, he craned his neck so as to look over Kit's shoulder, taking in the many faces that littered the party. He saw that little French bookworm from before; she was cosied up in the corner, wedged between two redheads, a bloody book in her hands. Right, no, he'd have to pass on her. Kit could do far better than some softy with a penchant for reading and quiet corners. His eyes scanned the room further, glossing over Katherine who seemed to have hit the jackpot with both the Kelly boy and Isabella, and moving on, instead, to a gaggle of familiar faces; The Bingley's. Ah. Gaston's bunch. While John had certainly had his own fair share of fun with both Nicole and Cosette – Stanley and Jill were yet to be swayed – he wondered if they'd be quite to Kit's tastes. Perhaps Jill would be more to his pace, but wasn't that a little boring? With a grunt, he realised that he was fighting a losing battle, and that no matter just who he picked, Kit wouldn't be satisfied. It would be easy enough for John to swoop in at the last minute and find himself a partner to ring in the New Year with, but he wasn't giving up.
Time seemed to dwindle, with each minute passing at a faster pace than the last. Before he knew it, people were counting down around them, and he was faced with a dilemma; abandon Kit by the bar, and leave him to ring in the New Year alone, or make a move.
Unthinking, he listened as the final cheers of 4, 3, 2, 1 chorused around him, and he made his decision.
“Oh, fuck it,” he muttered, before swooping in. Cupping Kit's cheek as delicately as he could manage, his arm circled the boy's waist once more, his hand bracing his lower back. As their chests collided with a little more strength than he'd anticipated, John ducked his head to meet Kit's, before pausing, tentative to finish the action. Squeezing his eyes shut, he gave in, and softly caught Kit's lower lip between his own, drawing him in as their mouths found one another.
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