After All Is Wed And Done
Victor watched Soma turn away, engulfed by the crowd of wedding guests. Something sickly pooled in his gut. If only he could remember what had happened the night before, but Inosuke had gotten them roofied -
“Old Man!”
It was the boar-headed man. Victor’s gaze fell on him wordlessly, brain sluggishly lagging behind, still attempting to compute Soma’s stricken expression and his sudden and abrupt rejection.
“Here, catch loser,” Inosuke grunted, lacking any type of warmth as he threw Soma’s engagement ring in his face, heavy-handed. “Bye bye now.”
Victor belatedly touched his forehead, absently staring down at the blood on his fingers.
-
Chuuya was still vibrating with energy, having sung during the wedding to much applause. The only thing left was to see how Hawkeye-sensei responded to his singing!! His face flushed with pride in himself as he bounded over excitedly to his sensei, whom he could have sworn he was getting ‘proud-vibes’ from, despite no words or actions that would indicate so. When he’d been asked to sing at the wedding, he had been excited to prove himself and show his teacher how far he’d come. He had prepared for this meticulously, practising for hours on end. Initially, he’d pulled Akutagawa in to be his audience, but the boi’s endless coughing fits had been far too distracting. It was almost a relief when Aku ended up in the ER needing a nebuliser, and Chuuya could instead practise in front of the mirror by himself.
Seeing his favoured (and only) protege, Hawkeye suddenly remembered he needed to scold Chuuya for being involved with an organisation as dangerous as the Mafia.
“I don’t want you mixed up with such petty criminals,” Hawkeye (a pirate that, on any given day, committed much more heinous crimes than any mafioso - even the most sinister - would ever dare) reprimanded him, “I thought I had warned you before of the repercussions of ‘getting in’ with the wrong crowd.”
The Port Mafia Executive’s cat ears and tail, which had popped out when he’d expected praise, now drooped down. He was sad at being told off but knew it was for his own good.
Shanks petted the cat ears out of habit, used to having to do this due to his own students’ - well namely just Atsushi’s - ‘condition’.
Chuuya’s ears slowly started perking up again.
(“Chuuya!” Sebastian cried, noticing the cat features on the small boy.)
Hawkeye, sighing resignedly, petted them too - leading them to shoot right up. He would simply continue this lecture another day. Twas now the time for celebration.
“You missed a note,” a passing Gon murmured to Chuuya in a sing-song voice, careful to say it in his protruding cat ear so only he could hear (as insolent as Gon was, even he was wary of crossing the line in front of the powerful teachers and earning their ire - being sliced and diced by Hawkeye’s Swiss pocket knife as soon as he’d just been resurrected was not an ideal scenario).
His comment wasn’t true anyway of course - Chuuya’s singing had been nothing less than flawless. He had merely said it to see, and revel in, the anguish and despair Chuuya was sure to feel. Such antics were his greatest sources of joy - bringing people down, stamping all over them, and breaking them into pieces like they were biscuits (or Biskys as he called them). His eyes now shone with sadistic pleasure as he basked in schadenfreude.
Back in the days of Gon’s first lyfe, Chuuya might have let those words get to him, and started doubting himself. Now, however, he was confident and self-assured in his capabilities. He stared the little bitch down coldly (the short Gon was one of the very few people the short-but-not-as-short-as-Gon Chuuya could look down on).
“Begone, disbeliever,” he commanded, voice ringing with the authority of Arahabaki.
“Be Gon? But I already am Gon, you silly,” Gon chuckled good-naturedly, arms crossed behind his head anime-style, as he walked off.
-
Two hours later - Inosuke was manning the bar, making his classic drink mixes which were all alcohol with a side of drugs. The most popular being the sake surprise, which was of course tequila with ketamine.
Two people who had heavily indulged in Inosuke’s cocktails were Tomoe and Levi. Levi was pressed against the caterer’s table, Tomoe between his thighs as they made out desperately, Levi’s hands fisted in Tomoe’s hair.
Mustang stood to the side - having left Tomoe alone for a single moment to grab them both a drink from the open bar - glasses in his grip cracking under his frustration.
Nobunaga slung his arm over Mustang’s shoulder, his side pressing against his bicep, “Mmm, I’m excited to join in on that later.” He took a loud and obnoxious sip of his champagne, one finger poking out as he too watched on.
A red flush of anger and embarrassment flooded over Mustang’s face; he gritted his teeth, jaw clenched. How dare Levi!!! When Mustang had finally caught Tomoe on his own!!
He pushed away from Nobunaga, resigning himself to drinking alone at the bar for the night.
-
The bar was the perfect measure of busy and not-busy. Many guests had taken to dancing, a select group of students intoxicated and sitting in a ring around the Great Luffini, holding hands and mumbling their way through some kind of incantation. Gon sat on a nearby table, watching them with his legs swinging, uncontained glee and cruelty on his face as he waited with palpable curiosity to see what the Great Luffini was up to (he was summoning more bacon, having eaten all of what Inosuke had set out).
Pokkle of course watched on from his throne in hell, absolutely furious. How dare Oxbridge be celebrating ANYTHING, not when the imminent threat of himself was so very present! BUT - and he consoled himself with this knowledge only - when his plan finally came into fruition, they’d ALL see. ALL of them. The cackle rose from his ribs; he tipped his head back, brown hair catching the light, a halo around his shoulders that looked like fire. The hem of Ciel’s child-sized clothing popped around his muscular abs, for the young Earl’s clothing had been sewn for the size of a fourteen year old victorian boy, not the king of hell. Pokkle’s delicious sides were exposed to the outside world.
-
Back on Earth Mustang ordered himself five sake surprises, ready for the night to be over.
Two seats to his left sat Soma, purple hair radiant as he twirled it around his finger.
“What did you say your name was?” Soma smiled alluringly, hand on the bar, pinky close enough to skim the other man’s.
“Amon,” murmured the man in response, adjusting his position slightly to better appraise Soma.
Amon couldn’t have been more than a few years older than the prince. He was a good-looking man - very good looking actually. Dark hair, dark eyes, sharp jawline, athletic build draped in designer wear; the very aesthetic of a male model you’d see plastered on magazine covers.
His eyes ran over Soma’s frame, taking him in, gaze lingering at some places a little too long. Soma’s lips curved almost triumphantly.
-
Watching from a short distance away, two glasses of champagne in hand, Victor felt his heart stop.
What was Soma-? Why was he-?
Victor had avoided Soma himself at first, not wanting to start any unnecessary drama at Ayato’s wedding – it had already been dramatic (and embarrassing) enough with Soma’s pointed hair flips and head turns away from his direction, as well as the weird faces and gestures Atsushi kept making at him - but he hadn’t been able to bear to see Soma looking so.... upset. Especially not if it was because of him. And so, he’d made up his mind to find Soma there and then and have a proper conversation - like two mature adults - about whatever the hell was wrong.
He’d picked up some drinks and headed over in Soma’s direction just to see -
This. His fiance throwing himself at someone else.
“You know what you did.” Soma had said.
But Victor didn’t know what he’d done. He was... confused to say the least. He had no clue what Soma was thinking. Did people in relationships generally know what the other was thinking without having to be told? He didn’t know, he’d never been one to care for committed relationships – dating Yuri after Yuri - until Soma, of course.
So no, Victor didn’t know what had happened between them - but if Soma just told him whatever the hell he’d done, he could at least apologise, make amends, promise to never do it again...
But Soma – well, apparently all he’d needed were five fucking minutes to move on from their whole relationship. From them.
Victor’s hands shook – was it from anger, pain, confusion, frustration? He didn’t know – and he quickly set the glasses to the side, clenching his trembling fists, knuckles aching to draw Amon’s blood.
Soma’s hand was now resting confidently – tauntingly - on Amon’s arm. His ring finger was bare – no longer adorned by the gold band he’d been wearing just a day ago. He shifted his body again to get closer to Amon, and threw his head back laughing at some joke that probably wasn’t funny at all.
Amon pulled his hand away to drink but still moved his body in Soma’s direction, their knees pressed together. To add insult to injury, Soma’s hand dropped to Amon’s knee, fingers tracing lines across his knee cap as they spoke to each other.
Victor seethed. His mind raced through multiple scenarios, trying to find one that could have led to this – having to watch the man he’d intended to marry flirt with some pretentious guy dressed fucking stupidly who wasn’t even bad looking and was clearly younger than himself – but he couldn’t think of anything. Even at his worst, did he really deserve for his heart to be broken this way? No explanation, no warning signs, no second chances. How could he deserve it when he loved Soma so much, never hesitated in showing and proving that love?
His lover’s hand now moved up to Amon’s thigh before Amon had the nerve to smoothly pull Soma’s stool over using his foot, letting their bodies press closer and knees slot together and -
“Hey Victor, what are you over there for? Come ooonnn, Fukuzawa found himself a pole and – Oh,” Shanks, who had drunkenly draped his arm around Victor’s shoulders, stilled, taking in the scene.
Victor, who had just been about to pull the fucking asshole away from his fiancé – well, former fiancé – and perhaps break some bones while he was at it, paused for a moment, taking a shuddering breath before he grabbed one of the glasses of champagne and downed it one go.
Soma’s face had hints of a blush on it now, and his eyes were widened slightly. Amon’s lips were disgustingly close to Soma as he spoke in his ear, and then -
They were kissing.
The glass in Victor’s dropped, shattering all around him with sharp shards scattering across the floor.
Not that he gave a fuck about glassware.
Feeling his body tremble with an incandescent fury the likes of which he’d never felt before, he shook off his friend’s arm to make his way over to them, to get that fucking sleaze away from his lover and punch him to death.
“There, there lad,” Shanks’ voice was heavy as he stepped in the way of Victor’s trajectory, hulking body obscuring his vision, “Let’s get some drinks in you,” stilling Victor with a firm grip on his shoulder.
“Shanks -” through gritted teeth.
Kakashi, probably having seen what was happening through use of his multipurpose Sharingan, had made his way over to them too. He shook his head subtly, lips tightened and a saddened look in his eyes, clearly empathetic for his friend. Even Hawkeye, who had, uptil now, been drunkenly duetting with his student, materialised by their side in support.
“If you don’t get out of my way -”
“There’s no use, Victor,” Kakashi said solemnly, “Just give him tonight. Talk to him - later. When the dust has settled and you’re more rational.”
What - what the fuck did that even mean???
“He’s lashing out because he’s hurting,” Kakashi continued, “Something a young person might do. Give him some space for now. Talk to him when both your heads are clearer - and he grows up.” Though the last four words were muttered scathingly to himself - Soma wasn’t the only one with protective friends annoyed on his behalf.
“Besides,” Hawkeye maintained a stoic composure despite his drunkenness, acting like he hadn't just not too long ago been belting out the YMCA while forcing everyone present at the wedding to watch Chuuya do the dance (through threats of beheading ofc), “If you do decide you still want the ghoul man dead, that can easily be arranged.”
“Come on,” Shanks said gently, guiding him back to the readily-assembled 420 gang who were waiting with open arms. Fukuzawa was, unfortunately, too drunk and busy sliding up a pole to be there so it was the 420 gang minus Fukuzawa (just like their Snapchat group. Fukuzawa simply did not understand Snapchat enough in his elderly age to be able to use it, and then when he eventually had figured it out, he’d kept sending accidental snaps of his open yukata at unfortunate angles, or of his wrinkled double chin, which no one wanted to see).
Even Ayato had joined them (Yosano had of course understood the universal rule of “bros before hoes” - she waved him off and joined fem!Hawkeye to get wasted with her main bitch).
Tomoe and Levi would always be ready and raring to go if Victor wanted to have a good old-fashioned bitching session.
Even Mustang, drunk as he was, was there for Victor - “The other guy’s hot sure, but you’re hotter. I mean you’re so hot - I’d - I’d fuck you any day. Not today - or tomorrow - um I’m busy most days, actually - but you are one sexy piece of ass with a sexy ass,” he slurred, trying not to panic.
Kaname’s ears perked up. Was someone turning down a chance to fuck Victor? This was his time to shine. The thing he kept his prayer beads around for. Another opportunity to be with this glorious ex-ice skating champion. He ran his hands down the front of his robes to straighten them, patting his pockets to ensure his trusty string of anal beads and Heine’s classroom pointer were to hand.
He stepped in the direction of the grey-haired man, reaching out to tap him on the shoulder -
“Kaname?” Hawkeye smiled at him, teeth bared and yellow predatory hawk-like eyes glinting, “I think you’re needed elsewhere.”
Kaname stared Hawkeye down, taking in the hand flexing at his sword, the tightness around his mouth, the way his custom-tailored, Prada childhood-magician-entertainer outfit fit on his broad shoulders.
“U-WAAAAAAAAA,” Kaname cried, taking a step back, “Hawkeye I didn't realise you had dibs!!!!”
Hawkeye glowered. Kaname scampered away, belatedly shouting something about fucking his underage sister over his shoulder.
Victor let himself get dragged into the gang’s shenanigans, staring after Soma and his purple hair and the way he was pressed against someone else -
The teachers stayed by his side the rest of evening - including even the drunk Fukuzawa (although that felt less like support, more like a burden when Fuku started insisting the 420 gang be called the 69 gang instead, resulting in a shouting match with Levi that lasted hours. The only person that had taken Fuku's side in this passionate debate was Mustang - more out of spite than anything - while the others had either maintained neutrality as they hated both names, or supported Levi because Levi was babie. A strange, embarrassing, drug-addicted, lovable babie).
Amon mysteriously ended up in ER that night, but if you asked the teachers what had happened, they would simply sip their tea and tell you they don’t even know who Amon is.
-
Soma wasn’t well-versed with flirting or subtlety. If he wanted something, he’d demand it, and beyond that he’d just take it. He was a Prince after all - he’d been given anything he ever wanted in life, no questions asked.
So this was new territory for him. Thankfully he had Atsushi to show him how to make a man your bitch in thirty seconds flat, and with his friend’s words of guidance rattling in his skull and the chance to get revenge on Victor for being an absolute asshole - he would give this flirting thing his best shot. He’d smiled coyly, fluttered his eyelashes, even laughed exaggeratedly when Amon had asked if he was drunk.
He knew Victor was watching him. The man had been for the entire night, standing on his own as the wedding celebrations unfolded in front of him, anger, confusion, sadness, and irritation flashing over his expression incrementally. And he SHOULD be. After playing Soma for a fool for so long -
And then, walking into the wedding hall with ANOTHER man in his arms, which was totally rude and UGH -
It was like - this whole time, Soma had been picking up pieces of his broken heart while Victor had just been picking up other men.
“I’m surprised Ayato never mentioned me,” Amon half-smiled, though the way his lip turned upward betrayed something deeper to the story. Pulling his drink to his mouth moved his hand away from Soma’s, which - was Soma really so unattractive that even touching someone else’s hand would push them away -
But then Amon was turning his body to Soma’s so their knees pressed together - and - Soma smiled at him in return.
“He’s very professional like that.” Soma’s gaze flickered to the side, met Victor’s for a moment, and let his hand drop onto Amon’s knee, fiddling with the fabric there to maintain Amon’s attention on his touch. Atsushi’s harsh directives were practically ringing in his ears. “I’m one of the few students who don’t see him for therapy.”
“Is that so.” Amon’s eyes lingered on Soma’s, the teal intense and heavy as if trying to expose his insides, the mechanics of his brain, every vulnerability and the very thing that made Soma tick.
“Yeah. Y-yeah,” Soma replied breathily. He had tried not to seem flustered - but - he tugged the collar of his shirt and his nails bit into Amon’s muscled thigh - this flirting thing was HARD. He was tempted to throw it all to the wind and just ASK Amon if he wanted - to - make out? Or - whatever -
Suddenly Soma was closer - one of Amon’s feet dragging his barstool to close the gap between them, their knees slotting together, and he only had to tip his head forward slightly to - was he going to kiss Soma, already, what was Inosuke serving because this couldn’t all be Soma’s own doing, could it?? - but Amon’s lips coasted against his cheek in a whisper and skimmed his ear as he muttered, “Normally,” his voice low, “When someone flirts with me...I have their full attention.”
Soma gulped, catching Victor’s gaze one last time before his eyes fell shut.
His cheeks flared in embarrassment.
“I’m sorry! I - I didn’t mean to make you feel bad - you were doing a great job by the way, I mean I totally would have - like, at least made out with you, but I mean -”
Snorting, “I’m flattered. Care to prove it?”
When Soma stilled in - confusion, because really what the hell was going on, mixed signals much?? Amon tipped his head to the side, pressing their mouths together.
As they kissed, Soma opened an eye slightly to glance in Victor’s direction. Catching his former lover's crestfallen gaze from across the room, Soma smiled against Amon’s lips, closing his eye and turning his face to deepen the kiss.
-
Tamaki winced, watching his senseis on the dance floor. Inosuke’s drinks had clearly kicked in a little late for them, and considering how desperately they’d all been pounding shots down not even twenty minutes ago…
Victor was dancing very well even in his drunken state, luscious ass emphasised by the tightness of his jeans. It was the other teachers that were the problem - Kakashi was drunk and exuberantly moving, twirling, arms waving above his head as he shimmied; Shanks was only slightly better - notably the worst dancer was Fukuzawa, a mixture between twerking, shaking his head back and forth, and slut dropping far too low and falling to the floor.
On the stage Hawkeye and an excited Chuuya were duetting the YMCA together. Hawkeye was merely standing there, deadpan, a hollow shell of a man, shifting side to side as if he was barely present while he belted out the lyrics. Chuuya’s dancing was far better, the song entrancing his entire body as he moved with the lyrics, hair shifting around his shoulders as he sang.
Ranpo stole Chuuya’s microphone, interrupting his beautiful crooning and pointing to the dance floor, “You guys should learn how to dance,” he said in a bored tone.
Hardly anyone noticed his words, too drunk, though Fukuzawa did look up towards his son with a wide smile.
“Especially you,” Ranpo continued.
“MY SON!” Fukuzawa screamed, “ANYTHING FOR YOU, BABY!” He would surely not remember those words come morning.
Someone wolf-whistled. Ranpo jumped off the stage, Chuuya’s singing resuming. He picked up the bag of crisps he’d discarded, shoving a fistful in his mouth, taking to the corner of the room so he could observe both teachers and students dancing together in celebration. If he was someone with sentiment, he would perhaps call it beautiful, akin to the closing credits of a movie. The lights were twinkling, the intoxicants were a-flowing, the music was to DIE for; the students were all safe and well, the teachers had found their dearest Ayato, and the caterers had been reunited with their lost piglet-cum-cousin-cum-lover, Hawk. Petals fell in the backdrop, either beckoned by Tamaki or Kaname. There was a flavour to the air, one of absolute celebration, a mixture between a victory march and the sensation of returning home.
“So all's well that ends well then, eh?” Nobunaga asked, leaning back on his chair.
“All’s well that’s well for me,” Ranpo corrected, sipping his chocolate flavoured Nesquik.