It takes every ounce of his self-control – what little of it he has – to not grin like a fool. It feels like the situation has fallen right into his hands and Shinji is filled with glee.
Kyouya-kun, however, doesn’t seem to share his enthusiasm.
“Cease looking at me like that,” he says from behind his tea cup, eyebrow twitching.
“Like what?” Shinji asks with his most wide-eyed, innocent expression.
Lowering his cup, Kyouya-kun fixes Shinji with a stare that would make Byakuya proud. “You know precisely what I’m talking about.”
“You’ll have to be more specific,” Shinji says. “I can’t read minds.”
Dark eyes glitter with barely concealed irritation. Whether it’s because of the footsie Shinji has been engaging him with beneath the table, or Shinji’s not so subtle groping, Shinji can’t be sure. Likely, it’s both of them that Kyouya-kun doesn’t approve of.
Kyouya-kun works his jaw for a long moment. “Remove your hand,” he says tightly.
Shinji grins. “Why?”
“Excuse me,” Kisuke interrupts. “Perhaps you two could… ah… get a room?”
Kyouya-kun’s entire body twitches. “That’s why,” he near-growls.
“Like having an audience has stopped me before,” Shinji scoffs.
On the other side of the table, Ichigo groans, his forehead hitting the polished surface with a solid thunk. “TMI, Shinji,” he mutters, flushing red to the tips of his ears. “So, yeah, get a room. Before Ootori wallops you over the head.”
“I’d pay to see that.” Kisuke grins.
“I’m here for business,” Kyouya-kun reminds all of them, lips pressing firmly together.
“Oh, is that what they’re calling it these days?” Kisuke asks cheekily.
Shinji smirks. “Don’t let him fool ya,” he replies, unashamedly squeezing Kyouya-kun’s thigh and relishing in the glare immediately tossed his direction. “He likes it.”
“Hardly,” Kyouya-kun sniffs, but the slight shudder to his frame proves his words a lie. Shinji, for his part, considers this a rousing success.