#pit babe polycule

It's Kenta that comes after him. Of course it's Kenta.

They'd been having fun, all of them; half-watching a bad movie and mostly just talking, Winner and him trading little love-bites of insults back and forth under Kim's indulgent gaze. And then with a slow gradual ooze like warm honey, it had slipped into something not fun, and Dean just--- He just had to get out of there quick.

It's dark out on the balcony off his and Kim's bedroom. Dean leans against the railing and tries to time his breathing to the red-light cycle at the nearest intersection, two floors and a hundred metres away. The flame of Kenta's lighter is a tiny blinding thing.

"I thought you told P'Kim you were quitting," Dean says. It comes out far more level than he'd feared. He hadn't been crying, not really, but Winner's words are still stinging in his chest.

Dean doesn't mind the smoking, not really. His dad, from what little he remembers of the man, was a smoker. There's a long-ago deep hidden feeling of comfort that comes creeping out when he smells nicotine. And he likes watching Kenta go through the little rituals that come with the act: the way he flicks the lighter on-off twice before touching the flame to his cigarette, how he always selects his next smoke from the middle of the pack instead of the edge.

Kenta takes another drag with a shrug of one shoulder. He blows the smoke away from Dean. "I will when Winner does."

Dean snorts inelegantly. "P'Winner says quitting goes against his name."

"Winner says a lot of shit," Kenta says. It's as pointed as he ever gets.

Someone impatient blows through the next red light to a chorus of horns. Their neighbour has turned on her <i>going out dancing</i> playlist. Kenta's free hand comes to rest, heavy and warm, on the back of Dean's neck.

"I know." Dean slumps sideways, just enough that Kenta understand he's supposed to hold tighter. "I know, I'm just being dumb."

He feels dumb. He feels the gap in years between them all most keenly at times like this. Getting all worked up about Winner saying something slightly mean, hurting Dean's <i>feelings</i>, when Kenta carries scars on his skin from what he's had to deal with. When Kim was beaten up and locked away just for caring about someone other than himself.

Winner didn't even look like he cared when Dean insulted him back.

"You're not dumb," Kenta refutes, the same steel in his voice as what he carries in his ramrod straight spine. He tugs Dean in a bit closer. A slight weight on the top of Dean's head, his hair ruffling slightly when Kenta breathes out slowly. He smells like nicotine and the beer Kim had been drinking. He tastes like all three when Dean twists around to pull him in.