I watched the show when it originally aired in the US. I was eight. So no, I really don’t have any specific first memory. I don’t know how or when it happened, but me and my sister were obsessed, and it only got bigger from there.
I wrote my first fanfic for Digimon when only Adventure was out. It was in script format. And I definitely shipped Izzy (Koushiro) and Mimi. It was terrible. I was eight after all. And dear god, SCRIPT FORMAT. WHYYYYYY?
My sister also wrote fanfiction for it. She was twelve, so hers was much better. But neither of ours were even remotely good compared to the ridiculous fiasco masterpiece my other sister wrote. She didn’t watch the show. She only knew what she heard from us. And being sixteen or seventeen, she had much more skill to put a story into words. To this day, it is still the funniest Digimon fic I’ve ever read. Someday, I’ll have to post it somewhere so everyone can want to gouge their eyes out enjoy it as much as I do.
I watched it all on Saturday morning cartoons, but for a couple summers there, they played every episode of the first two seasons, Monday through Friday from 3 p.m. to 4 p.m. I taped them all on VHS so I could watch them any time I wanted, dammit. And I watched those VHS tapes all the way through high school, till I finally bought them on DVD on eBay (they barely had limited editions available for the original series at the time) my freshman year of college. And then I watched them all over again. I’ve seen the English dubs so many times I have the whole damn thing memorized.
Daisuke can't seem to keep his pants on. Even in freezing weather.
Day #9 of the Digimon OTP Advent Challenge 2019: Shiver
AO3 | FF.Net
Ken's school let out early today, and the sixteen-year-old decided to take the train to Odaiba to surprise his boyfriend with an impromptu date. Daisuke loved surprises, and as long as he was the one doing the surprising, Ken did too.
Naturally, Ken arrived early. His private school in Tamachi had released at noon, but with a couple hours until Odaiba released, he walked around a few nearby shops.
The weather had turned cold—particularly cold even in winter—and even going in and out of shops, Ken was shivering by the time he waited outside of Odaiba High for his spiky-haired boyfriend to emerge in a throng of teens wearing iconic sky-blue blazers. Of course, most of those blazers would be hidden away under winter coats, but Ken wasn't so sure Daisuke would adhere to logic.
The bell rang, but Ken didn't move from his perch on the wall near the main exit, cell phone in hand just in case they missed each other.
He had no need to worry, though. Daisuke wasn't easy to miss when he stormed out of the building, pushing his way through a slow-moving group of first years and laughing hysterically, something clutched tight against his abdomen. It was no surprise when Takeru ran after him, his blond hair particularly messy, followed shortly by Hikari, Miyako, and Iori, snickering as they walked together.
Ken slipped off the wall, bundling his coat tighter and trying not to tremble.
And true to form, Daisuke noticed Ken the moment he moved. His face instantly brightened, and he veered in his boyfriend's direction, nearly knocking over a pair of his classmates in the process. He didn't slow down when he reached Ken, didn't hesitate before launching the full force of his body onto him, and Ken was thrown to the ground with his giant puppy of a boyfriend on top of him, kissing him with all his might.
"That's cheating," cried Takeru as he stumbled to a stop beside the pair on the cold, hard ground. "You can't use your boyfriend as your home base."
Daisuke's only response was to pull back enough to chuck the crumpled material between them at Takeru's face before diving back in for another kiss. Said crumpled material, which Daisuke had kept close after stealing it right off his blond friend's head, was Takeru's newest hat.
Hikari, Miyako, and Iori reached the group and paused behind Takeru, who sloppily yanked his hat back over his head, grumbling all the while. But it was only when it became apparent Daisuke didn't need oxygen to breathe that the complaints began.
With a sheepish grin—all pleasant and apologetic but not actually sorry for glomping him—Daisuke helped Ken to his feet. "What're you doing here?"
Ken barely managed to gather himself together. "Surprise?" he offered, cheeks flushed. His body was trembling, but it wasn't from the cold anymore.
No, despite the fact that his boyfriend wasn't wearing anything over his dark-blue sweater-vest over his white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up at the elbows, tie mysteriously gone, Daisuke simply radiated heat with enough force to rival the sun itself. And when he grinned like he did at Ken's one-word response, the warmth increased tenfold.
Blush intensified, Ken turned to the other to pay his respects—it had nothing to do with trying to distract himself from the way his boyfriend's ridiculous grin dug under his skin and seeped into his very bones, not at all.
Takeru, a new denim hat with a wide brim forced too far down on his head, looked just as irritated as when he'd come running out of the building, but he chatted with Hikari, Miyako, and Iori amicably nonetheless. But the moment they realized the very public make-out session was finally over, they turned to greet him as well.
"Hello," Ken said in his quiet voice, and a small smile spread across his face.
"Hey, Ken!" Miyako greeted happily.
"Class out early?" Takeru asked.
He nodded. "Yes, we had a half day for the teachers to—"
Well, nothing beyond that was really important because then Ken's vision was blocked by dark material that landed haphazardly over the top of his head.
"Daisuke!" the group chorused.
Ken shook his head and scowled at the dark-gray cloth that landed at his feet. "Daisuke," he said, voice low, "why in the world are you throwing your pants at me?"
"In public," Miyako added, indignant.
Hikari sighed, exasperated. "Can you really not wait ten minutes to change at home, Daisuke-kun?"
But Daisuke just laughed as he turned to his boyfriend to fix his now messy hair. "Gomen, gomen. I got over-excited."
Ken shot him a glare, but per usual, he remained unfazed, totally unaware of the double entendre.
At least, underneath his uniform pants, Daisuke managed to wear a pair of dark-khaki shorts. No one understood how he could fit them comfortably under the dark-gray slacks, but no one could argue with Daisuke when it came to logic. Mostly because Daisuke defied logic at all costs.
"Sure, over-excited." Takeru snorted. "If this didn't happen every damn day, I'm not sure you should apologize for not being able to keep your pants on around your boyfriend."
Daisuke's face turned a dark scarlet. Finally, he understood. "Shut up, Takeru! At least I have a boyfriend."
The blond raised an eyebrow—he and Hikari had been dating for nearly as long as Ken and Daisuke. "At least I can keep my clothes on in public."
"I'm still wearing clothes, baka!"
"Half your uniform is missing." Takeru crossed his arms over his chest. "You can't go half a day without losing some part of it, but you manage to wear those dumb shorts under your pants."
Daisuke jutted out his bottom lip. "Pants are dumb. I don't see why we have to wear uniforms anyway."
"I bet you couldn't go a whole day without losing even one article of clothing," Takeru challenged.
Flustered, Daisuke spluttered to answer, but everyone knew he couldn't really argue against that. He hadn't managed it yet.
Ken sighed as he leaned down to grab the dark gray pants, buttons undone all along the sides from Daisuke tearing them off. "Really, Dai, we're second years. You've had to wear a uniform for over four years now. How is this still a problem?"
His boyfriend continued to pout.
To be fair, Ken probably should've commended his dedication to the quote-unquote cause. When his attempts to get away with wearing his favored cargo shorts during class were thwarted, Daisuke devoted hours upon hours every week to learning how to sew so he could alter the uniform pants.
His first plan was simply cutting off the bottom half of the pants and reattaching them with buttons, but then he was still stuck wearing slacks. That didn't last long.
After that, he discovered the idea of converting the uniform pants to tear-away pants, but that required him to further develop his sewing skills. Which he did, of course, and without complaint. And that means a lot when it comes to Daisuke. Eventually, he managed it—and then the struggle was finding shorts that fit underneath. Most of his shorts at the time were too bulky and obvious if he managed to fit them under the pants at all.
He had since mastered the whole affair, though. Obviously.
And really, how much could Ken complain about his boyfriend just tearing off his pants in one stroke?
Oh, yeah. Perhaps the fact that he did it in public and rarely even front of him. That was somewhat disheartening. Ken would much prefer it if Daisuke kept his ridiculous stripping habit in private. Preferably in Ken's bedroom.
Miyako snorted. "Don't tease him too much, guys." Not that her voice was any less teasing. "For all we know, he might declare another war on pants."
Iori shook his head, eyes wide. "No. Not again."
Miyako was now all-out laughing. "But it was great! He only got suspended thirteen times for refusing to wear them that first year."
"Fifteen," Ken automatically corrected. The current uniform pants were now folded neatly in his arms. "And why am I always the one having to fold these stupid things?"
Scratching the back of his neck, Daisuke simply grinned, but he accepted the folded pants and slid them into his backpack with grateful eyes.
Takeru raised an eyebrow. "How are you the one always cleaning up his messes? You're usually not out of class yet when he starts throwing clothes around."
Heat rose to Ken's cheeks.
It probably had something to do with the fact that Daisuke met him after school every single day, and they usually wound up doing homework and, ahem, hanging out at his apartment in Tamachi. Of course, Daisuke getting out his schoolwork always meant tossing the no-longer-worn pants out of his backpack, and Ken folded them for him every time. Daisuke always called him anal as he did it, but he also added how incredibly cute he was, and…well, they usually didn't get much homework done after that.
Daisuke slung an arm around Ken's waist and tugged him close. "If all goes well, he'll be cleaning up my messes for years to come."
Ken frowned. "That's…" He sighed. "That's a very nice sentiment."
Not very practical, mind you, but definitely a nice sentiment. Ken definitely preferred to think of their relationship in the long term as well, but he didn't necessarily envision himself being a perfect housewife who did all the housework.
Perhaps he wasn't being very practical either, though. He'd seen Daisuke's room in its natural state far too often.
And yes, folding.
Ken was pretty sure Daisuke didn't even know how to fold laundry.
When he shook his head at the thought, his teeth chattered.
"You okay?" Suddenly, Daisuke was in his face, worry lines creasing his forehead, and he tutted. "You're wearing like ten sweaters and a huge scarf. How are you still cold, Ken-chan?" Then, he turned to the others to give them a wave. "Later!"
They ignored the chorus of goodbyes in favor of Daisuke wrapping his arm around his shivering boyfriend and leading them toward the Motomiya apartment.
Ken sighed, snuggling closer to his boyfriend's heat. "You could at least have the decency to pretend to be a normal human being and wear pants when it's this damn cold like the rest of us," he said, burying his face in his scarf.
But Daisuke laughed. "What're you talking about? It's not that cold. But you know…" His voice took on a particular tone that sent a completely different kind of shiver down Ken's spine. "I could warm you up. It's not like anyone's home right now."
Ken pressed closer. Yes, that sounded like the perfect way to rid his body of this chill.
Is it still thanksgiving cuz i just started reading your fic (the seduction of motomiya daisuke) and honestly god bless you 😂 (its 11:40 pm on a school night but i have no self control)
Squee! Thank you! I’m so glad you like it. 💙💚💙
But I’m pretty sure you have to go to class in the morning. lol
The Seduction of Motomiya Daisuke, Ch. 10 *A Daiken Fic*
Daisuke’s friendship with Ken has always come easily. It’s the lusting after your best friend part that’s hard.
He just didn’t realize how hard until Ken starts acting weird.
Now, Daisuke isn’t sure how long he can handle his BFF and roommate’s sudden attentions. At least, not without potentially ruining a 12-year friendship.
By the time the rice is done soaking, Ken is draining his second glass of Cocoromi Norton, an acidic red wine from the Coco Winery north of Tokyo. His cheeks are flushed, and he smiles at me in a way that says he's not all there.
Great. Just great.
How am I supposed to show him how to cook like this?
Thank god I chose something simple and easy, but there's no way in hell I'm letting him hold a knife now.
"Motomiya," he says, drawing out the word in a sing-song voice, "when can I get my hands dirty?"
I pinch the bridge of my nose, forcing myself to concentrate. "Come here, then." I nod him closer but make sure to avoid his eyes. "Help with the rice."
He leaves his glass on the counter by the sink and joins me near the stove, leaning his weight against my shoulder. "How can I help?"
I shrug him off. "Drain the rice."
Ken frowns at the bowl of uncooked rice, soaking in cool water. "Colander or…?"
I try not to laugh as I grab the sushi vinegar, salt, sugar, and kombu. "Ken, it is a strainer." I slide them onto the counter by the rice cooker, then guide him over to the sink with the large bowl. "Like this… "
He presses close to my side as I rotate the bowl over the sink, then tilt it so the water starts to pour through the small holes on one side. A hand, cool to the touch, lands atop my bicep, and he makes a quiet, thoughtful sound as he watches.
"See?" I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "This kind of bowl was made specifically for rinsing rice." I shift to hand it to him as I add, "The closer you get to the end, you have to stick your hand in there to make sure the rice stays in the bowl."
But instead of taking the bowl from me, Ken slips his hand into the cool water and cups the rice so it stays out of the way. His head rests on my shoulder, his movements slow but determined.
When the water has been sufficiently drained, I push the bowl into his hands and tell him to add it to the rice cooker.
"How are you already this drunk from two glasses of wine?" I demand as he uses a spatula to nudge the last grains of rice into the cooker.
Ken just laughs.
With a scowl, I call out the measurements for the rest of the ingredients, and he manages to add everything to the rice cooker without making a mess, which I suppose I should be grateful for. Then, we put the lid on, turn the cooker to sushi mode, and slide it to the back of the counter to make space.
Sighing, Ken relaxes into me again, melting to my side, his head nestled in the crook of my neck, and my body stiffens.
"Ichijouji, how am I supposed to show you anything if all you want to do is take a nap?" I grumble.
His laughter breezes over the skin of my neck—I inhale sharply. "I don't want to nap," he insists, nudging his way between my body and my arm. "I want to snuggle."
I pat his back awkwardly. "You're not usually this…affectionate. Even when you're drunk."
He laughs again, but it's silent this time, and when he's done, he twists to face the counter while still keeping his body in constant contact with mine. "What's next? We're making sushi, aren't we?"
I squeeze his waist with a sigh. "Temaki sushi," I clarify.
Ken pulls back to glare at me, his bottom lip jutting out. "What? We're doing hand rolls? You don't think I can handle making regular maki?"
Amusement tugs at my mouth. "Right now? Definitely not."
He leans closer to flick me on the nose, and I scowl at him.
"Hey, you're the one who decided to get drunk."
"I'm not drunk," he says, pulling away from me finally. "I am blissfully tipsy."
I snort. "Okay, drunk-ass, want to get out everything we bought this morning?"
After a quick scoff, he rummages through the fridge to pull out everything we bought at the marketplace while I pull out the cutting board and find a few knives.
The convenience of making temaki instead of regular maki sushi is that we don't have to be as specific about cutting the ingredients. But still, they need to be in long strips that can easily be rolled up into the nori funnel.
"Okay, you don't get to help with this part," I say the moment he lays the different fish on the counter beside me.
Ken pouts.
That's a rare sight to see.
But no matter how damn cute he is with that pout and those flushed cheeks, I'm not letting him anywhere near my chef knives. Or any knives.
I tap him under the chin to catch his gaze. "There's no way in hell I'm letting you cut yourself, Ichijouji. Deal with it."
He huffs, looking away. "Fine." And he pushes away from the counter.
"You're still supposed to pay attention," I call after him.
But he's at the opposite counter, pouring out another glass of wine. "Aren't you going to drink yours?"
My glass sits beside his, mostly full. I haven't had more than a couple sips.
I shake my head. "Alcohol and knives don't mix, Ken."
I turn my attention to the fish and begin slicing them into long sticks, which will be simple to add to our temaki. The finished pieces, ready to eat, slide onto a platter I pulled out. Organizing this should be easy; everything should be ready by the time the rice is done cooking.
Cold hands settle on my hips, then Ken tucks his chin over one shoulder. "Aren't you going to explain what you're doing?" he murmurs, eyes studying the cutting board, where my knife hand has frozen mid-slice.
I swallow. "Uh, cutting."
He smiles softly. "You've always had a way with words, Motomiya."
His little jibe eases the tension in my body, and I return to slicing through the salmon. "It's simple really," I say, trying to relax my shoulders despite his attentions. "I'm cutting them into slices so they fit on the temaki."
"Fascinating," he murmurs.
I finish slicing the salmon, then move on to the red snapper.
His thumb slips under the hem of my shirt—my breath hitches—and rubs circles on the sensitive skin near my hip. Then, his nose traces up the side of my neck.
I nearly slice off the tip of my index finger.
"Ken," I say, voice quiet but firm, "what are you doing?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you trying to make me lose a finger?"
He leans back with a frown, his brow furrowed in thought. "Why would I want that? I rather like your fingers, Daisuke. There are so many fun things they could be put to good use doing…"
I turn to him sharply, and his intense blue-violet eyes lock with mine.
He's too close.
I wet my lips and try to divert my attention back to the cutting board, but I can't take my eyes off him. Especially since his thumb hasn't stopped rubbing circles right at the hem of my shorts, sending pleasant chills through my body.
"Like what?" I ask, voice quiet. "What 'fun things' should I be doing with my fingers?"
Ken smiles, and the flush on his cheeks increases. "You don't know how to use your imagination, Daisuke?"
Oh, trust me, I use my imagination all the time.
I drop the knife on the cutting board and twist to thread my clean hand through his loose hair. "I want to know what you imagine."
"What I imagine?" He says the words like he hasn't considered the concept before, like he's testing the words on his tongue. "Daisuke…" He blinks slowly, his eyes struggling to focus on me. "I always—"
Pop.
The rice is ready.
We're in the middle of making dinner.
And Ken's been drinking.
I pull away with a guarded smile and check on the food. The paddle moves through the fluffy rice with ease, and the glossy sheen on the grains looks perfect.
The Seduction of Motomiya Daisuke, Ch. 1 *A Daiken Fic*
Daisuke's friendship with Ken has always come easily. It's the lusting after your best friend part that's hard.
He just didn't realize how hard until Ken starts acting weird.
Now, Daisuke isn't sure how long he can handle his BFF and roommate's sudden attentions. At least, not without potentially ruining a 12-year friendship.
Hikari frowns in the booth across from me. "Come on, Ken, it can't be that bad…can it?"
I almost laugh.
Because even she hesitates when she actually thinks about it.
Of course it's that bad.
Daisuke, my best friend for over a decade, my crush for just as long—perhaps longer—and my roommate since we graduated high school, taunts me.
Not literally.
Okay, well, it's Daisuke, so yes, literally. But not literally about this. That would require him to have the faintest idea about my crush.
God, I can hardly call it a crush anymore. It's been twelve years since we first met, and while it's safe to say my eleven-year-old self had a crush, that's hardly the appropriate word now that we're twenty-three.
But unintentional as it may be, he still taunts me.
He walks around the apartment in his boxers without a care in the world. He has no problem changing clothes or even taking a shower with the door only partway shut. To be fair, we only have the one bathroom, and he takes ridiculously long showers right when I need to get ready for work, so leaving the door cracked makes sense. But he leaves the door cracked even when it's two in the afternoon on a Sunday, and neither of us is going anywhere.
He takes any opportunity to pinch or prod me. He's always been a physical person, but he enjoys teasing me far more than I can handle. He snickers every time I squirm and gasp when he pokes me or runs his fingers over my ribs to tickle me. In fact, he's thinks it's "fucking hilarious." That's an exact quote.
Worst of all, though, is how easily he hugs me. He's a genuinely affectionate person, and he has no understanding that invading someone's personal bubble is wrong—or maybe he thinks we've been best friends long enough my personal bubble no longer exists for him. He'll press a hug to my back while I'm cooking—then spend the next few minutes with his chin on my shoulder, critiquing my every move because I'm apparently "absolute shit" in the kitchen, though he says it with an amused laugh and his hot breath on my neck. When we watch a movie, he sits right next to me, far closer than necessary on a large couch, and stretches his arms across the back so I have no choice but to curl into him. And on the few nights I still suffer from nightmares, he crawls into my bed and holds me in his muscular embrace until I calm down. On those nights, he refuses to leave, insisting in case the dreams come back. The nightmares stay away for the rest of the night, but his arms remain hooked around me—a promise that he'll keep me safe. He hasn't failed me yet.
When at last I meet Hikari's gaze again, still trying to decide the best way to explain, her face has fallen. "That bad, huh?"
I nod, solemn.
"And you're sure he doesn't know what he's doing?"
I scoff, lips twisting into a petulant scowl. "This is Motomiya. He rarely has any idea what he's doing."
Hikari smiles at that. "Daisuke has matured quite a bit, Ken."
"Not when it comes to me. He's a child—he pouts, he begs, he pokes, he even tries to trip me sometimes."
But she only laughs. "Does he try to pull your pigtails too?"
I shoot her a glare—mostly because she knows one of my reasons for finally cutting my hair back in high school was because Daisuke liked to play with it.
Then, she sighs. "Honestly, it sounds like he likes you, and considering that's exactly what you want, I don't see the problem."
I reach for my teacup and frown at the remnants of my matcha. "You know me, Hikari. I'd prefer not to make any moves without all the data, and this is definitely a situation where I need more data. If I misread signals, I could ruin one of the most important friendships in my entire life."
Hikari stretches across the table to squeeze my wrist. "Change is scary no matter what, Ken. But if you think Daisuke would ever stop being your friend because you confess your feelings, you're underestimating him."
"No, it's not…" I shake my head. "I know he'd still be my friend, but everything would be different. Everything would be tainted."
She smiles again, this one an attempt to comfort and reassure me.
"I just…I need more data, but I can't decide on the best plan to proceed."
"Well," she says, teasing a little now, "if you're asking me to interrogate him about his feelings for you, the answer's definitely no."
I snort. That wasn't even on my radar.
"We're not eleven anymore," she continues, more seriously this time, "and between the two of us, I think we can find something more appropriate and accurate."
I shake my head with a sigh. "I hope so. I've been thinking about this for weeks, but everything I come up with just doesn't work."
She snickers. "Because you're thinking about this like Ichijouji Ken."
I glower at her. "I am Ichijouji Ken."
"Yes, but thinking like you isn't going to break through to Daisuke. You're too logical, too critical. We need to think like him to find something that will work."
Hmm.
That's actually a good idea.
I swallow, narrowing my eyes in thought. "So we play to his strengths?"
Hikari shakes her head, a little smirk growing on her lips. "No, we manipulate his strengths, and we play dirty."
My mouth curves into a wide smile, and a short laugh bursts from my lips.
"Well," she amends, "you play dirty. I have no intention of getting more involved than this."
"Noted," I say when my laughter fades, and I quickly return to all seriousness.
"So first, we determine Daisuke's strengths—how he thinks about things, what senses he relies on, how you can switch around his schedule to your advantage."
I give a short nod. "Well, he's a very physical person, so touch is really important. He bounces around from idea to idea and has trouble making everyday decisions. He's rarely observant, but if something has his focus, he is hyper-aware of that thing, though usually that's a video game or something."
She bobs her head in agreement. "Okay, but I think you're missing something very important: As impulsive as Daisuke can be, he really relies on things to be the same. He relies on you to be the same."
I cock my head. "What do you mean?"
"Ken, it's no secret that you and your friendship has been Daisuke's rock throughout the years. Even a few small changes—nothing too obvious, of course—could really get under his skin."
Oh.
"Also," she adds, "don't forget how incredibly emotional and impulsive he is." Here, she hesitates. "Which is exactly why I think the best course of action is to give him a dose of his own medicine. Force him to be the one uncomfortable."
I want to smile, but I hesitate. "I'm pretty sure that would require more self-confidence than I have, Hikari."
She holds me steady with no more than a firm smile. "Ken, you are one of the most intelligent and attractive men I have ever met. Reach deep and give him hell, you understand?"
I laugh, but my heart isn't in it. "You're enjoying this far too much…"
The small smirk on her normally soft features is confirmation enough.
During one of the group's bi-weekly movie nights, the Chosen Children can't help but notice the very obvious hickey on Ken's neck.
AO3 | FF.Net
A few notes...
Okay, this old post of Sweet Affectionate Moments made me want to write a bunch of one-shots with my OTP(s). At this point, I haven’t decided on writing any ships other than Daiken because Daiken is my ultimate OTP of all fandoms ever, and it doesn’t get nearly enough love. This is to the prompt: A Love Bite.
Most of these will be fluffy because, as much as I love darkness and angst, too many Daiken/Kensuke fics are super angsty. And frankly, if anyone in this world deserves fluff in their life, it’s Ken Ichijouji.
Seriously.
Just look at my baby...
"Hai, hai…"
Daisuke's booming voice filters into the apartment the moment Takeru lets him in. They pause in the entryway for coat removal, and I flash Miyako a smile over the peninsula counter, but she's already rolling her eyes under her large glasses.
"Oh, hey, I brought you guys some ramen. This is a new recipe…"
I look up, beaming, when they come into the kitchen. "Hi, Daisuke," I say, pausing before grabbing the next box of Pretz. "Hi…"
Takeru slides behind me to slide the couple boxes of ramen into the fridge, and Daisuke pauses at the peninsula corner with a confident grin that assures me nothing is wrong.
I frown anyway.
Because for the first time since we started these movie nights, Daisuke arrived alone.
Ever since we started these bi-weekly gatherings after Miyako returned from Spain, he has Ken in tow, the taller, quieter boy on his heels, the soft smile he always sports around Daisuke firmly in place. We switch off locations—usually between mine and Takeru's apartment and Ken's, as everyone else has a roommate like Miyako or still lives at home like Iori—and even when Ken hosts, Daisuke is the first there. No matter how early Takeru and I arrive, he's already there, relaxing on Ken's couch or stealing Ken's food like he owns the place. But that's just Daisuke's way.
Oddly perceptive for once, Daisuke scratches his neck as he says, "I just came from dinner with Jun," by way of explanation.
"Oh," I say, then smile. "How is she?"
Honestly, the most impressive part is how mature he's become in regards to his sister. They still bicker and fight, mind you, but they can also sit down for a family dinner without trying to murder each other. Occasionally, the Motomiyas are even sweet.
Right now is not one of those times, though.
Daisuke groans and buries his face in his hand. "She spent the entire time talking about her wedding. Shuu-san only proposed last month, but she's had everything planned since she was six." He peers up at me through spread fingers. "They've been arguing about how realistic her plans are."
I nod as Takeru slides over to my side and wraps an arm around my waist. "Hai, Shuu-san doesn't strike me as the type to want a big wedding." I tear open the Pretz box and pour the contents into the serving bowl in front of me.
Miyako's hand stretches across the counter to grab a couple of the pretzel sticks. "Will Ken not be here?"
I chuckle. Miyako is ever the blunt one.
"Some university assignment," Daisuke says. He shakes his head, though not in answer to her question. "He said he'd be here, though. Shouldn't be too hard to finish quickly. For a genius."
Takeru laughs, his side shaking against mine. "Ken hasn't been a genius in years."
Most of Ken's intelligence was exponentially expanded by the Dark Seed, but even still, he's one of the most intelligent Chosen Children. I can never decide who comes out first between him, Miyako, and Koushiro.
But the dark look that crosses Daisuke's usually warm eyes says he has fundamental disagreements with Takeru's statement.
Another knock sounds at the door, and Takeru presses a kiss to my hair before slipping from the kitchen.
I flash a smile. "Why don't you guys pick out a movie while I grab us drinks?"
Without argument, Daisuke and Miyako push away from the counter, and I go over the snacks one last time to make sure I haven't forgotten anything before opening the fridge.
No, the argument doesn't start until Daisuke and Miyako are actually in the living room, trying to agree on a movie.
They never could agree on anything.
Takeru emerges from the entryway with Iori, and per usual, Iori offers me a small smile. "Thanks for hosting again," he says, inclining his head.
I grin. "We love having you guys over."
A sharp yell comes from the living room.
"Yeah," Takeru says after a chuckle, "after all, it's so quiet without company."
The intense look that crosses Iori's face says he'd prefer the quiet, but he happily accepts a drink before heading into the living room as well.
"Should we wait for Ken?" I ask, shooting an apprehensive look at Takeru.
He steps closer and presses a kiss to my lips. "You know Daisuke's going to insist we do."
I sigh. "And the moment Ken arrives and sees that we waited for him, he's going to apologize until someone convinces him to stop."
Takeru snorts.
He knows as well as I do that that someone will be Daisuke. Those two boys were practically inseparable at eleven, and nearly eight years later, that hasn't changed in the slightest. If there's anyone who isn't afraid to tell Ken to shut his self-deprecating trap and accept our friendship with open arms, it's Daisuke.
Even still, there's no sign of Ken for at least twenty minutes.
Not that that slows down Daisuke and Miyako's arguing. Or how much the rest of us want a pair of earplugs.
I frown when I check the clock again.
Perhaps he lost track of time while working on his assignment. Ken can, at times, be a perfectionist.
But right when Takeru is about to make his third attempt to stop the bickering, there's someone at the door.
I move quickly, eager to get away from the yelling and to make sure it's actually Ken.
When I open the door, he stands on the stoop, his hands deep in his jacket pockets and his face buried in the silky gray scarf—which is wrapped around his neck at least three times. It can't possibly be that cold outside.
"Hey, Ken, you're just in time." I step aside so he can come in. "We were just about to strangle Daisuke and Miyako and pick our own movie."
Ken laughs, but it sounds strangled, and for a moment, he hovers outside the door. Is he trying to decide between coming inside and bolting?
"Come on in," I say slowly.
At last, he steps over the threshold, but he's jittery, his movements uneven. This is more flustered and uncomfortable than he's been around the rest of us in eight years.
The mass of scarf at his neck probably doesn't help with that either.
I slide the door shut and press him in a short hug, hoping I can reassure him, help set him at ease. "Come on, Ken. Get comfortable."
"Right." He nods stiffly, and slowly, he unzips his jacket and hangs it by the door. He hesitates a long moment then, one hand clutching the scarf at his throat, and then he uncoils it enough that it's no longer suffocating but keeps it firmly around his neck.
"We've got snacks out," I say in a quiet voice. "You hungry? Thirsty? What do you want to drink?"
In the living room, the rising voices echo through the apartment.
Ken follows me toward the group. "Maybe some coconut water?" he suggests in a quiet voice.
I nod.
But any further conversation halts the moment the living room comes into view.
"Keeeeeennn!" Daisuke's high-pitched whine fills the air—equal parts amusing and annoying. "Thank god you're here. I need someone on my side, dammit."
Almost immediately, Ken relaxes enough to roll his eyes. "What are the options this time, Motomiya?"
A frown tugs at my lips as I turn and open the fridge to grab a coconut water.
We've all graduated high school now—well, aside from Iori, who's a junior this year—and Ken and Daisuke have been best friends practically forever now. But the only times I've heard Ken call Daisuke by his first name were overheard snippets of private conversation. Any time they're in a public or group setting, it's always Motomiya this and Motomiya that. Even after eight years.
True to form, Daisuke launches into a speech about the mecha movie he chose, all wild gesticulations and upbeat voice, while Miyako huffs behind him, her foot tapping angrily against the floor.
I draw Ken's attention as I set his coconut water on the small table by the couch, but after a grateful smile, his attention darts back to Daisuke's enthusiastic face.
Finally, Miyako can't hold herself back anymore.
"No no no!" she nearly screams, stabbing her finger at Daisuke wildly. "We watched one of your stupid action flicks last time, and I want to watch something fun this time. Something that doesn't end with half the supporting cast dying!"
Daisuke scoffs, barely glancing at her. "Bullshit. You just want to watch a movie where the biggest problem is some generic chick can't decide between her best friend and the cool guy in the leather jacket."
Miyako's gasp is as dramatic as they come. "I'll have you know this is a comedy, and it's cute, and it doesn't even have a love triangle, thank you!"
But he grimaces, turning to her fully. "It's cute?" He casts a glance over his shoulder toward Ken, begging him to join the fray.
His best friend's amusement takes the shape of a serene smile, and Ken considers patiently. "You know, Miyako's right," he says after a moment of silence overtakes the room. "We watched an action movie at our last movie night. Perhaps it's time to choose another genre."
Miyako squeals and launches herself toward the player. In seconds, she pulls out the disk and slips it in.
"Traitor." Daisuke crosses his arms over his chest and glares at his best friend like a petulant child.
Takeru, leaning against the couch armrest, stifles his chuckles, and I slap his knee to keep him quiet.
Ken sends Daisuke a soft smile—one that seems to say, Calm down. You know I'm right.
For a moment, it seems to work.
Daisuke's face settles into an irritable though resigned scowl, and Miyako joins Iori at the other end of the couch, a victorious smirk on her face as she snatches up the remote. She and Iori share quiet conspiratorial whispers and little snickers.
"Thank god that's over," Takeru murmurs, and he leans forward to grab his drink and drops onto the couch beside Miyako—leaving just enough space for me to snuggle into his side.
But even as the disk loads in the machine and cycles through quiet logos and copyright warnings, Daisuke and Ken are still standing in the middle of the room, blocking the television, having some sort of silent stand-off.
Then, Daisuke cocks his head. "Why're you still wearing your scarf?"
The tension in the room quickly rears its head, and I freeze before I can join the others on the couch.
Ken opens and closes his mouth like a fish, desperate for air.
When he receives no response, Daisuke leans closer with a frown. "Take it off."
"N-no…" Ken stutters, stumbling back a step. "I like it. I want to wear it."
Daisuke just shakes his head and waves away his best friend's excuses. "Take it off, Ken. You look ridiculous wearing that in here."
"No," he insists, shaking his head.
With a scowl, Daisuke crosses the distance between them and tugs at the gray scarf. "Stop being weird. If you're not going to take it off, I will."
"Motomiya…"
The word is a warning, quiet but firm, but Daisuke blazes right past it, untangling the massive scarf, and Ken does nothing to prevent him.
When at last the scarf's out of the way, crumpled into a bundle in Daisuke's arms, it's apparent why Ken didn't want to take off the protective material. His face, pale as always, flushes at the sudden attention, but the pink of his cheeks is nothing compared to the harsh red-brown bruise on his neck, just above the collarbone.
The room is silent.
Until, finally, the disk reaches the menu and starts blasting upbeat pop music into the living room.
Miyako fumbles with the remote to turn down the volume.
The spell's broken.
Daisuke leans closer, a smirk on his lips. "Say, Ichijouji, how'd you get that huge hickey?"
If possible, Ken's flush deepens.
"What have you been doing in your free time?" Daisuke's smirk turns particularly devious. "Who have you been doing?"
Despite the awkward and uncomfortable air to the room, I can't help but wonder too.
In our eight years of friendship, Ken's never had more than a date or two here and there, and none of them turned into anything more. Honestly, he's never seemed particularly interested in anyone, and he's never talked about potential partners the way the rest of us have.
Behind me, Takeru sighs and sits up straighter. "Come on, Daisuke. Don't be mean."
He proceeds as if he hasn't heard a word: "Because it looks like whoever gave you that hickey wants to get to know you better. If you know what I mean." The smirk hasn't disappeared yet, and there are no signs it will soon. "Come on, Ken. You know you can tell me…"
That strikes me as odd.
After so long, it's hard to imagine Ken and Daisuke keeping secrets from each other. Like always, Daisuke's an open book, and he inevitably weasels all of Ken's secrets out into the open—at least between the two of them. Really, by now, Ken knows better than to try to keep secrets from Daisuke. He said as much at our last movie night at his apartment.
But the amused way Daisuke speaks says this doesn't bother him. Strange.
"How long has this been going on?" Daisuke says through a grin. "How long have you been sneaking around and keeping them to yourself?"
Ah.
He's teasing him.
Daisuke knows exactly who Ken's new lover is, and he's teasing his best friend just for the hell of it. Because he knows Ken hasn't gotten up the nerve to tell the rest of us he's seeing someone yet.
"Motomiya," Ken tries again, but his voice quivers.
"They must really like you if they want to mark the great Ichijouji Ken for all the world to see. They must not want to keep your little tryst a secret anymore. Can you imagine how jealous all the girls will be when they learn you're already sharing your bed?" Daisuke says, his words taunting now. "Or were you just so caught up in the heat of the moment that you didn't even realize until the morning? Is he that good?"
My breath hitches.
He.
That's all it takes for Ken to regain his ground and his composure. "No," he snaps, pushing Daisuke away, "he's an ass who doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut. And he cares far more about his pride than the fact that his boyfriend wasn't ready to tell the world yet."
Daisuke scowls and chucks the gray scarf at the floor. "I distinctly remember you saying you didn't want to hide it anymore."
"We agreed to tell them together."
"We're together right now!"
Holy shit.
My legs give way, and I collapse onto the edge of the couch beside Takeru. I don't have to look at the other three to know they're sporting equally shocked looks.
"This is not how it was supposed to go," Ken says, still irritated, but his voice lowers. "We were going to tell them. Using words. In a normal conversation. Not for you to just drop it while bragging about your sexual prowess."
Daisuke grins again. "Yeah, but come on…"
Ken rolls his eyes. "Really, you're a child."
"That would be pedophilia."
His best friend—no, boyfriend—only sighs.
"Come on, Ken," Daisuke says, finally dropping his bravado and his frustration, and steps closer. "You were going to back out again. Just like last time." He reaches for Ken's hand and threads their fingers together when there's no protest. "If I'm proud or bragging, it's because you're completely out of my league. I know how lucky I am, and I don't want to hide. I don't want to hide how I feel about you."
Ken's blush is back again, but this time, it's accompanied by a pleased smile. "I'm not out of your league, Daisuke. Stop thinking like that."
Daisuke only smiles and squeezes his hand. "You wanna try again?"
He gives a short nod.
With a determined sharpness in his eyes, Daisuke turns to us, tugging Ken close and tucking him under his arm. "Hey, guys…"
"Hi?" Takeru murmurs uncertainly.
On his other side, Miyako releases a strangled greeting, indecipherable.
"We're together," Daisuke says, his words firm and final, leaving no room for argument. "A couple."
"We've been together for two and a half months," Ken adds, his voice softer, uncertain, his eyes unable to meet ours. "We've been…I've been trying to work up to telling you for a while now."
But Daisuke squeezes him again. "We," he corrects.
Ken meets his gaze, then nods. "We."
For a long moment, they stare at each other in silence.
Then, the couch starts shaking as Takeru bursts into laughter, bending forward to bury his face in his hands, laughing uncontrollably.
We turns to him sharply, and I lay a hand on his shoulder with a frown.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Takeru says, forcing the words through his laughter. "I'm not laughing at you guys, I promise. This is just so uncomfortable." As his chuckles faded, he pushes himself up to look at them again and says, "Seriously, though, I'm really happy for you two."
At the other end of the couch, Iori clears his throat. "Yes. Congratulations."
Between the two boys, Miyako straightens and finally manages to get her voice back. "When did this happen? How the hell did this happen? Tell us everything!"
And I simply smile at the two best friends turned boyfriends as Daisuke launches into an overzealous explanation of how their relationship changed. As always, his hand movements are wild and exaggerated, though one side is decidedly tamer than the other. Because he refuses to release Ken's hand.
Every once in a while, Ken shoots him a sharp look, a warning to keep Daisuke on point—perhaps a warning to veer away from certain details.
Probably details pertaining to Daisuke's supposed sexual prowess. Not that Ken disagreed with that assessment. Actually, Ken was the one who used the phrase in the first place.
ok but Willis mom being a massive Bruce Willis fan is just funny headcanon backstory now that will never come up. She’s actually just huge into action films.
