Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“It’s called Metavision,” he says. The name sounds kind of stupid out loud, but Kurona doesn’t bat an eye. Isagi twists at the blades of turf by his feet. “Well, I named it that, I guess.”

Kurona nods. “So that’s what you were doing in the game against Manshine. When you collapsed into Kaiser’s arms on TV.”

Isagi sends him a look, one that Kurona has no issue smiling back at toothily. “It wasn’t into his arms, okay?”

“It was on national television, though.”

“Fuck off.” He flicks a few blades of turf at him, before taking a swig from his water bottle. “But yeah, like in the Manshine game. It’s like I can see everything. It’s fucking exhausting, I don’t know how he does it.”

“Kaiser?”

Isagi nods, gaze naturally finding the blond on the field. He’s standing by the goal posts with Ness, saying something. They’re only maybe ten meters away, but Isagi isn’t speaking loud enough for either of them to hear. The fluorescent lights of the facility don’t betray the time of day, but Isagi knows it’s late based on the lack of people on the field and the slight beginnings of hunger gnawing at him. He’ll grab dinner soon, with Kurona, once they get up. 

Kaiser has a whiteboard in hand, apparently not a fan of the millions Ego has dropped on buying individual tablets for everyone, and he draws something out, showing it to Ness periodically and explaining. He looks so sure and cocky about everything; it pisses Isagi off. His jersey sticks to him due to his sweat, making it obnoxiously skintight, and Isagi wrinkles his nose.

The soccer ball Kurona was attempting to balance on a finger wobbles precariously, and eventually thuds to the floor, Kurona sighing and standing up, leaving it there. “Should we grab dinner now?”

Isagi nods, taking the outstretched hand and pulling himself up.

“Still a little wobbly on your feet, Yoichi?” Kaiser taunts, seemingly taking a break from his whiteboard. “You have one decent game and you’re crippled for the week, hmm?”

“Fuck off, Kaiser,” Isagi responds tiredly, but still lets go of Kurona’s hand faster than normal. 

“Need me to cradle you in my arms, again? Run my hands through your hair? You just have to ask,” he smirks. Beside him, Ness wears that eerie smile, glancing between him and Kaiser.

“You bring it up quite a lot, Kaiser,” Isagi throws back. “If you want my attention, you just have to ask.”

Kaiser laughs. Isagi hasn’t been able to shake him since the last game, the last goal he scored, and he wonders how he could do it again. He wants Kaiser’s facade broken, wants to shatter the mask of indifference he wears. “Real sweet, Yoichi. As if I have to ask for your attention. I’ve already got it. It’s cute how you think I can’t feel your stares on me.”

Isagi feels his face burn.

Kaiser tilts his head, voice as condescending as always. The movement shows off his tattoo a little more, blue petals peeking out of his practice jersey. “But you can’t learn by just looking, Yoichi. You’ll always be below me. You tried surpassing me once and you fainted. Doesn’t sound like the makings of a striker to me.”

Isagi grits his teeth, and Kaiser turns back to Ness, picking up his whiteboard as if the matter was completely settled.

Kurona sighs. “He’s an asshole. Let's head to the mess—”

Isagi takes a step back. And then another one.

The soccer ball that Kurona dropped sits idly on the turf, and Isagi can see the outline of his kick before it happens, the ball heading straight for the empty space, just centimeters in front of Kaiser’s head, into the center of the net.

His direct shot is as powerful as always, and the ball soars.

But Kaiser, it’s always fucking Kaiser, reaches his hand forwards— whether to show something to Ness, point at something, or fix his fucking hair, it doesn’t matter. Because his vision shows the ball soaring into the goal one moment, and yet he doesn’t hear the tell-tale sound of ball hitting net, no, the ball hits straight into Kaiser’s right hand.

Kaiser curses loudly, cradling his right hand with his left, hissing in pain.

Ness is immediately all over him, hovering around, muttering, “Shit, Micheal, fuck, do you need ice? Should I call Noa?”

“Dammit, it’s fine, just jammed. I can play, it's fine. I can play,” he says, but his grimace betrays his words.

Isagi stares, eyes wide. A sick thought twists into his head that the expression displayed on Kaiser’s face is real, just like during the game when he had looked up at Isagi for once, whispering ‘you’re insane.’ He bats the thought away and takes a step closer. “Shit, I didn’t mean to—”

“Just fuck off, Isagi,” Ness says, shooting him a look.

“I didn’t mean to hit him,” Isagi repeats, frowning. “It wasn’t like it was on purpose!” 

Kurona rests a hand on his shoulder in support. “It was an accident. He’s sorry.”

Isagi doesn’t know about being sorry about it — Kaiser definitely had it coming — but he really didn’t mean to possibly impact his ability to play, so he nods.

Ness glares. “Why don’t you try f—”

Kaiser cuts him off. “Leave it, Ness. Where’s the nurse’s office?” Ness looks at him blankly, and Kaiser frowns, asking, “You don’t know?”

Isagi sheepishly clears his throat. “Um. It’s across from the viewing room.” For the first time since Isagi kicked the soccer ball, Kaiser looks at him. He looks pissed, definitely, but more bored than anything.

“If I can’t play tomorrow, I’ll fucking kill you, Yoichi.”

Kaiser didn’t make it easy to feel bad for him. “Right.”

---

Isagi doesn’t see Kaiser the next day at practice, where Noa doesn’t mention anything about his disappearance and Ness glares daggers at him and passes a little too high on the rare times he does. 

He doesn’t know what the protocol is for accidentally injuring your rival. He isn’t sure if he should ask Noa or Ness about him, or find Kaiser himself, or just leave the situation as a whole. Throughout the day, his friends make jabs at him for breaking Kaiser on purpose and cutting out the competition, and he laughs along, but if Kaiser can’t play for the Ubers game, Isagi will be just as pissed as him.

He recognizes that he’s evolved exponentially since meeting Kaiser, and the Ubers game will be the first game since he’s really had a chance to practice with his metavision. He wants to score a fucking goal for once, not just rely on assists. And he wants Kaiser to be right there, watching the entire time.

Isagi waits a few hours after practice to head to Noel Noa’s room, knocking hesitantly on the door. They slide open, revealing Noa sitting at his desk, computer screens all paused on clips from the Ubers’ last game.

“Isagi,” Noa greets, face as emotionless as always. “Come in.”

“Noa. I was, uh, wondering about Kaiser’s condition?” He’s wringing his hands, and he forces himself to stand straighter, not wanting to look weak in front of Noa.

Noa regards him with a cool look. “You sprained his index and middle finger. I watched the security footage. The two of you acted quite immature.”

The mood in the room is far less exciting than the first time he was here. Isagi drops his gaze. “I agree. It won’t happen again.”

“See to it that it doesn’t.”

“Will, um, will he be able to play tomorrow?”

“Most likely not. It’s only a finger sprain, but we don’t want to risk anything that would make it worse.”

Isagi nods.

“You seem disappointed.”

“Uh, yes. I had hoped to play agains— with him tomorrow.”

Noa hums. “Take it as a lesson, then. You two are the sparks in each other's evolutions. Hindering him hinders yourself.” He sends him another look. “Kaiser is in room Y19. Be mature about this.”

“Yes sir.”

The sparks in each other’s evolutions. Isagi bites his lip. He isn’t sure if he likes how everyone seems to see them as a pair, as if they're tied together.

---

Kaiser glares at his reflection in the mirror above his desk, tying back the top layer of his hair. He needs to work on keeping his metavision, as Yoichi had called it, on for longer. If he had it on while practicing, then he would have noticed the ball coming towards him faster, and he wouldn’t be in this situation: getting ready for a game day so he could warm the damn bench.

He stretches the two sprained fingers of his right hand briefly, the tape not allowing for much movement, and painstakingly unscrews the lid of his liquid eyeliner, attempting to get a grasp on the red top. With his index and middle finger essentially out of commission, he can’t hold it properly, fingers shaking before he finally drops the brush, a red mark streaking across the wooden desk.

“Fuck,” he mutters, making no move to clean it up. “Fuck.” he shuts his eyes, gritting his teeth. He wants to play, he wants to finally beat Isagi, to force him into submission on the field. He wants to watch the hope in his eyes die out as he realizes he’ll never beat Kaiser. He wants Isagi to be forced into passing to him. He wants to fucking play.

When he opens his eyes, he catches Isagi's eye in the mirror, leaning on his door frame. Kaiser startles for a millisecond before schooling his features into something more familiar and twisting in his chair. “'The hell you you want?” He curses the stupid doors at Bluelock that he still hasn’t figured out.

Isagi tilts his head, regarding him calmly. “‘Sposed to apologize. Noa told me where your room was.”

Kaiser smirks, turning back to face his own reflection. “So do you do everything Noa asks, no questions? Didn’t take you for a dog, Yoichi.” He glances at the red mark on his desk, wondering if Isagi saw him a few moments ago.

“He’s Noel Noa,” Isagi shrugs. “So yeah.”

“He’s overrated. Nothing special about him.” Kaiser never understood the hype, never understood how people like Isagi would look at him with stars in their fucking eyes and everything. “Figures he’d be your hero.” Isagi once again catches his gaze in the mirror, pushing off the door frame and stepping inside. “That wasn’t an invitation,” he says coldly. He isn’t in the mood to antagonize Yoichi.

Isagi ignores him. “Your rooms are so much bigger than ours.” He steps right behind Kaiser, leaning on his desk chair. “We don’t even have desks.”

Kaiser regards him in the mirror for a second, before standing and pushing past him to take a seat on his bed. He sets his reading glasses on the bedside table, shooting a glare at Isagi. “You gonna apologize and the get the fuck out anytime soon?”

“You’re different, today,” Isagi says instead, squinting at him. He waves a hand over his face. “Less… masked. ”

What the fuck did that even mean? “I’m pissed. Because I can’t fucking play today. Sue me.”

Isagi winces, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry.”

“Finally. Will that be all?”

“You were an asshole.”

“Aren’t I always? You plan on injuring me the next time?”

“I’ll save it for the field. Winning feels good.”

Kaiser smirks, leaning back on his hands. “And how would you know? I haven’t seen you score a single goal yet.”

Isagi grits his teeth. “I beat you on that last play in the Manshine game.”

He did. Kaiser plans on paying it back tenfold. “Strikers score goals, Yoichi. Not assists. I’ll admit, you’ve made some good assists so far. Have you thought about becoming a midfielder? You’d make a damn good one. You could pass to me, let me score your goals.”

“Fuck you. I hope you have fun on the bench,” Isagi bites back. He turns around, stopping in the middle of the room before Kaiser has the time to get his hopes up that he would finally leave. Despite having another twenty minutes before Noa gathered the starters for a final runthrough, Isagi wore his official jersey, dark blue hair contrasting against the red of the jersey. “Sorry for cutting your gametime. Didn’t mean to.”

“If you’re going to miss me on the field, you can just say so,” Kaiser responds half-heartedly, already turning his attention away to wiping his reading glasses.

“Do you need help with your eyeliner?”

Kaiser’s hands still. He turns, and sure enough, Isagi stands by his desk, picking up the forgotten red eyeliner.

“Don’t these dry out? You should close them.”

Kaiser bites the inside of his mouth. So he saw, then. “Leave it, and get out. You have a game to prepare for.”

Isagi stalks closer, waving the eyeliner as he walks. He stops a foot away from the bed frame. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without it. You look different.” His eyes trace across Kaiser’s face, and he clenches his jaw. He doesn’t like feeling so out of his element.

He always seems to be a little out of his element when it comes to Isagi Yoichi. “Stop with your pity. I don’t need it. I’m fine.”

Isagi shrugs. “Not pity. More like paying you back for spraining your fingers.”

Kaiser eyes the object warily, before flicking his gaze back to Isagi. The height difference unnerves him; he’s used to being the taller one. “Do you even know how?”

“Yeah. I’ve had practice.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Cousin, actually. I’ve seen how you normally wear it, too.”

A quip of ‘do you spend a lot of time looking at me, then?’ begs to be said aloud, but Kaiser’s tongue is lead in his mouth.

“Can I?”

He is going to regret this. Kaiser nods.

Isagi’s mouth twitches, and he tilts Kaiser’s head upwards by his chin, just like Kaiser did to him when they first met. It’s far more graceful, far gentler a touch.

He takes the already unscrewed cap and presses the brush against the outer corner of Kaiser’s eye, flicking outwards.

“Close,” Isagi murmurs, and Kaiser shuts his eyes obediently. A moment of silence, and then, “sorry, angle’s a little off…” and Isagi invades his senses even further. Kaiser feels a dip in the bed beside one of his thighs, Isagi’s knee knocking into him. The hand touching his chin skims down the side of his neck to settle on his shoulder, steadying himself. He can feel every warm breath Isagi takes, slow and steady, as well as the cold brush of the eyeliner streaking across his eyes, and the heel of Isagi’s hand resting on his face.

His eyes flutter open after a moment, tracing over the scene in front of him. Sure enough, Isagi has one knee on the bed, halfway to straddling Kaiser.

He should really remind Isagi of the time with an antagonizing quip and get him to fuck off. But Isagi looks fucking angelic leaning over him like this, and Kaiser never liked doing things halfway.

He raises a hand to Isagi’s — the one steadying himself — and allows himself to fall backwards onto the bed, pulling Isagi down with him.

His eyes are blown as he looks down on Kaiser, hands falling on either side of his head to keep balance.

“Sorry,” Kaiser says, the beginnings of a smirk overtaking his face. “Angle wasn’t right.”

Isagi blinks blankly for a moment, before shifting: adapting quickly to the situation. Kaiser doesn't even know what the situation is. “Right,” he says, looking far too happy. A finger traces over his cheekbone, sliding upwards and burying itself in Kaiser’s hair. “You blush so easily. Did you know that?” 

Kaiser huffs, ignoring the question. “Fuck off.”

Isagi’s hair looks like a sort of halo, backlit by the LED lights of the room, falling in front of his face symmetrically. “You’re always so composed,” he says, smile creeping into his voice. “On the field, in practice…nothing ever gets under your skin, does it?”

“Of course not,” Kaiser says.

Isagi smirks at his answer, breaking eye contact and letting his hand trail down his neck and draw over the petals of the rose tattoo on Kaiser’s neck. He shivers. “I don’t know,” Isagi hums, scanning over his face. “You don’t look so composed now.”

Kaiser’s face burns. “And how do I look?”

“Affected. A little disheveled,” Isagi answers easily, dropping his voice. “ Striking.”

Kaiser exhales. Striking. Only Isagi fucking Yoichi. In one smooth move, he hooks a leg around one of Isagi’s, pinning him and flipping the two of them over so Isagi faces the ceiling, Kaiser holding himself up over him by his forearms. “You don’t look too composed yourself, Yoichi.”

Isagi laughs, a little breathless. “Couldn’t take the heat, hmm? Too much for you?”

He clenches his jaw. “As if anything you do would be too much.”

“Careful,” Isagi warns, fire dancing in his eyes. “You don’t want to smudge your eyeliner.”

He scoffs, dipping down and pressing their lips together.

Isagi was clearly expecting it, pushing back into the kiss eagerly. It’s only a few seconds before Kaiser gives up on restraint and licks across the seam of Isagi’s lips, sliding in and deepening the kiss. He’s warm and tastes sweet, a little like the contraband toffee that's been making its way around the facility. 

A hand comes to rest on Kaiser’s face, skimming his cheekbone in a gesture far too intimate and far too sweet for whatever the two of them were doing. Before he can pull back, Isagi slides the hand into his hair, tugging harshly. The pain is sharp, reverberating in his head, and Kaiser bites down on Isagi’s lips a little too hard in retaliation. A tinge of iron permeates the taste of toffee, but Kaiser can’t find it within himself to care, not with the way Isagi groans at the action, free hand coming up to rake at his back through his crew neck.

It’s so much, Kaiser thinks. Everything feels as if it’s in hyper-focus, every sense amplified to the max. Kissing Isagi feels like metavision does, he thinks, and he wonders if Isagi feels the same. If Isagi feels overwhelmed, teetering on the precipice of too much and not enough.

Kaiser leans his weight onto one arm, slipping another under Isagi’s jersey and dragging across his abs, grinning when he feels Isagi’s stomach muscles jumping at the touch. 

He pulls off of him, breathing heavily and leaning back. Isagi has a healthy flush painted across his cheeks, eyes more than a little dazed. Kaiser smirks. He’s sure he doesn’t look much better, but at least Isagi looks affected now too. His eyes are swallowed by his pupils — dilated to the max — boring into his own. Kaiser thinks he gets it now. Striking. 

“Off,” he mutters, tugging at the Bastard München jersey, and only wincing a little about how scratchy his voice sounds.

Isagi yanks the shirt off, tossing it somewhere before dropping back onto the bed, the frame creaking with his weight. It isn’t the first time Kaiser has seen him shirtless, they share a locker room, but fuck if Isagi doesn’t look fucking good. “You plan on finishing what you started?” he asks after a moment of silence, and Kaiser smirks, discarding his own crew neck and watching as Isagi’s eyes go hooded, trailing over the tattoo on Kaiser’s arm.

He brings the same hand up, circling Isagi’s bicep, goosebumps appearing in his wake. He leans back down and whispers, “You need to work on your arms. How much do you even bench?”

And sure enough, the hazy look in Isagi’s eyes recedes, narrowing at him instead. “Are you fucking serio— oh.” He cuts himself off in surprise as Kaiser attaches himself beneath Isagi’s jaw.

He slows his speed from before, being deliberate about his ministrations. He leaves lingering kisses down the side of Isagi’s neck. His hand settles on the other side, hovering over his pulsepoint with a careful pressure, tracing nonsensical shapes into the skin.

It feels too intimate, something that lovers would do, so Kaiser drops further and begins sucking at the skin. Isagi hums contentedly, sighing shakily. He cards a hand through Kaiser’s hair softly, not tugging at it like before. His reactions are simultaneously too much and not enough. He wants more, so much more, but every time Isagi reacts, something in Kaiser’s chest squeezes.

Still, he bites down into the skin at the juncture of Isagi’s neck and shoulder, relishing in the reaction that follows: Isagi arches his back, unconsciously baring his neck for easier access, and moans a breathy “Kaiser,” all the while.

Fuck. Fuck. He wants to hear Isagi moan his name again. He wants Isagi to break underneath his touch. He wants to bring him to the brink of release, to the brink of sanity, and wants Isagi to beg.

“Well isn’t that a pretty sound?”

“Fuck off,” is Isagi’s reply, but even that is breathless and hoarse. “You’re so annoying.”

“Annoying?” Kaiser repeats, quirking an eyebrow. He pulls back a bit, glancing at Isagi’s neck, at the red marks that will turn blue within the hour. He looks good with Kaiser’s marks. “And you’re so responsive. Are we just stating facts?”

Isagi grins. “I told you your eyeliner would smudge.” He makes a show of taking Kaiser’s hand, folding the rest of the fingers down except for his middle and index. Kaiser lets him mold his fingers, unsure of where he’s going with this, until Isagi takes Kaiser’s fingers into his mouth, holding eye contact with Kaiser the entire while.

Kaiser short circuits. His breath hitches, heat pooling low in his stomach at the feeling of Isagi’s tongue swirling around his fingers, for barely a few seconds before Isagi pulls back. He once again maneuvers Kaiser easily — this time due to being more dazed than curious — and Isagi uses his own hand to swipe at the skin under the wing of his eyeliner. Sure enough, red streaks the tip of his finger, and Kaiser can feel his pulse hum in his neck.

Isagi licks his lips, mouth quirking up into a smile. “Right. Responsive.”

Kaiser blinks. Fuck, he can’t look at Isagi right now. The stupid, polite little smile that adorns his face when he pulls the most mind-numbing shit… fuck.  

He doesn’t move until Isagi attempts to hide his snicker, the stupid, playful look back in his eye. Kaiser narrows his eyes, deliberately rolling his hips downwards, sliding a thigh between Isagi’s. “Shit, Kaiser, mm— ” Isagi’s reaction is immediate, jerkily canting his hips and fingers digging into Kaiser’s upper arm.

He drops his head lower, shuffling down until he can kiss down the length of Isagi’s chest, drawing out moans and shudders as he goes. He sucks a hickey into the skin of Isagi’s hip, and hopes it won’t fade — hopes Isagi will see it for the next few days, and won’t be able to forget the way he trembled while receiving it.

Isagi’s legs almost naturally spread to accommodate him, something he wants to comment on but refrains from. His shorts ride up when Isagi raises his legs, planting his feet on the bed. Kaiser mutters a brief curse at the sight, biting into Isagi’s thigh, hands trailing further up the fabric.

"Fuck, Yoichi.” Isagi’s legs tremble beneath him, thighs quivering in anticipation, in want. Need. Isagi needs him. “You look so fucking good like this. All desperate for me,” the words are spoken quietly, but Isagi definitely hears them if the breathy mutterings of a shut up, Kaiser, are anything to go off of. Kaiser, of course, ignores him, barely even sure of what he’s saying at this point. “I wanna fuck you until you can’t think anything but my name. I wonder what sounds you’ll make then? You already sound so pretty, fuck.”

“You talk too much— shit. Just get…get on with it,” he lets out a shaky breath, bringing a hand up to bury it in Kaiser’s hair, the gesture far more comforting than it should be.

Kaiser drags it out longer, because when has he ever listened to Isagi Yoichi? He presses kisses and bites into the skin of Isagi’s inner thighs, working him slowly until the hand in his hair tightens with every movement and Isagi’s biting his lip so harshly it’ll bleed. Kaiser’s got the drawstring of his shorts between his teeth when Isagi suddenly sits up, pushing Kaiser back. “The game. I have the game.”

“What.” Kaiser thinks he’s going to burst a blood vessel if he doesn’t get his hands on Isagi’s dick in the next few seconds.

Isagi looks panicked, now. “I have to talk to Noa before the game! For the briefing. Shit, shit, shit—” He slides out from under Kaiser and hops off the bed, head turning every which way, presumably looking for his shirt.

“Were you seriously thinking about Noel fucking Noa just then?” His mind is still reeling from the sudden change in pace, but Kaiser was going to kill that overrated, fake-blond, senile piece of shit. 

“What? No! The game, what’s the time, fuck, shit—” He shuts up when Kaiser leans over the bed to pick up the red and black jersey off the ground and tosses it into his face.

“Fucking hell, Yoichi, you’re giving me a headache.” He takes an irritable glance at his alarm clock, scooting to the edge of the bed and sliding his feet off. “You’ve got four minutes until you have to meet Noa. It takes two to get from here to Field A. You’re fine.”

Isagi stops in his tracks, wrenching the jersey over his head. He follows Kaiser’s gaze to the alarm clock, and settles back on Kaiser. “Two minutes.” 

“Yeah, dumbass, a whole 120 seconds.”

His gaze is heavy as it trails Kaiser’s still bare body, and Isagi purses his lips. “I didn’t get to mark you.”

“Was that on your fucking bucket list for today, or something?” He counts off on his fingers, “Kiss Noa’s ass, score zero goals, leave a hickey on Kaiser?” He’s being an asshole, he knows, but he thinks it’s allowed when Isagi’s leaving his bed for Noel fucking Noa. He can be petty if he wants.

Isagi, of course, ignores him. He strides closer, biting down into Kaiser’s neck.

“Ow! Jesus, not all of us are into…” Isagi sucks directly on the bite mark, tongue skillfully swirling over the skin. Kaiser exhales. “...that.”

Isagi pulls back, tracing a thumb over the mark and pressing on it. “You were saying?”

“Fuck off.”

“Alright, see you!” Almost naturally, he leans down again to peck Kaiser on the lips, the same way a husband would do his wife before leaving to work. He hates his place in that metaphor. Isagi blinks rapidly. “I didn’t—Fuck, sorry, I didn’t mean to, like imply—”

“You planning on leaving any time soon, Yoichi? Noa’s waiting.”

Isagi narrows his eyes. “Why do you always act like I’m in love with Noa?”

“Because you’re always kissing his ass, why else? How can I improve, Noa-sensei? How should I fix my form, Noa-sensei? Fuck me in the backseat of your shitty 2011 Porche Carrera, Noa-sensei, ” he falsettos, rolling his eyes.

Isagi goes red. “What the fuck? It’s called admiration, Kaiser! He’s the best striker in the world.”

“Best striker in the world,” he scoffs.

“And who do you think is better, huh? You? Julian Loki’s better than you. I’m about to be better than you soon enough,” Isagi’s eyes blaze with passion.

Kaiser stands up, his height forcing Isagi to look up. “You think you’re better than me? Really? Right-fucking-now, lets go. I don’t care if I’m not on the roster, whoever gets the most goals wins.”

“You’re not on the roster…” Isagi blinks up at him, before grabbing at his right hand and inspecting the tape. “Right. You didn’t strain your hand, or anything, right? I completely forgot.”

He was going to give him whiplash one of these days. “You have a game to catch,” he says tiredly.

Isagi’s eyes widen. “Fuck, shit, shit,” and then he’s off, sprinting towards the door.

Kaiser sighs, flopping back onto the bed, shutting his eyes and running a hand through his hair. He lands on something, he thinks, and reaches under the mussed up covers to find the singular bottle of red liquid eyeliner.

Chapter Text

Bastard München loses the game. 

Isagi scored two of Bastard’s three goals, raising the price on him greatly. He grins and yells and claps Kurona’s back, but it really isn’t the same. He didn’t earn those goals. They were given to him far too easily, in a way they wouldn’t have been if Kaiser had been on the field. 

He sighs, slamming his locker closed. He hasn’t lost a game in a while, not since he and the rest of Rin’s team went against the world’s best, which barely counted. The mood in the room is somber, everyone speaking quietly if they speak at all. 

Yukimiya nudges his shoulder. “You gonna be okay to get back to the room?”

He nods, sluggishly. He played the entire game today with metavision, and his practice paid off. He didn’t collapse into anyone's arms this time, at least, but he did have to use Yukimiya as a crutch all the way back to the locker rooms.

He’s exhausted, he can feel it seep into his bones. Despite his answer, Yuki still accompanies him back to the room, sticking close until he leaves for dinner.

---

Noa chews them out the next practice.

They situate themselves on the benches in front of a massive screen, showing slow-motion replays and goal-winning plays and costly mistakes in hyperfocus. It can’t even be called being “chewed out,” not when Noa’s inflection doesn’t change at all, not when complimenting nor reprimanding.

Isagi commits every word to memory as he listens. 

Noa calls him back before he starts his lunch break. For a brief moment, Isagi thinks he’ll be reminded of what a hindrance to the team he will be until he gets his metavision under control, but Noa simply slides him two sheets of paper.

Isagi stares at them blankly, picking them up.

“Discharge forms,” Noa states, clarifying, “For Kaiser.” Isagi doesn't respond, so Noa continues. “Deliver them.”

Another blink “Yes, sir.” 

The dorms are empty with everyone on their lunch break, so Isagi doesn't have to worry about anyone seeing him. He doesn't entirely know why he feels relief, considering he has a perfectly viable reason to be seeking out Kaiser tangible in his hands, but feels relieved at the lack of players parading in the halls anyway.

Isagi goes to knock on the door, pausing when it automatically opens. “Kaiser?” He calls experimentally, but no one responds. Isagi strolls in anyway.

The bed is made. It’s really the only difference Isagi can point out: the desk looks the same, the red streak hasn’t been cleaned, and there isn’t a spec of mess anywhere. The only difference from yesterday is that the bed is made. Isagi sets the papers on Kaiser’s nightstand, hoisting himself onto the bed and swinging his feet.

He drops backwards, staring at the ceiling— the same view he had when Kaiser was making him lose his mind, trying to grasp for control as best he could.

If he really tried, it wasn’t impossible. He’d consider it easy, in fact: overtaking control from Kaiser.

It didn’t take anything sexual to shake him. No, Kaiser was in his element there, his experience obvious in the way he knew exactly how to work his tongue to make Isagi moan and where to touch to make Isagi gasp. 

It was the smaller things. Anything intimate made Michael Kaiser go blank. Isagi remembers it clearly. Just a light touch to his chin, and Kaiser didn’t talk back; slowly taking his fingers into his mouth, and Kaiser became frozen. It was easy.

Metal slides against metal as the doors open. “Getting comfortable, Yoichi?”

Isagi sits up, Kaiser already making his way over. “Had to deliver something for Noa. You’re officially allowed to play again.”

If Kaiser was excited, he didn’t show it, disregarding the information completely. “Didn’t think I’d see you in my bed so soon. Don’t suppose I’m still dreaming, hmm?” He’s knee to knee with Isagi, now, looking down at him. In a swift move, he steps between Isagi’s legs, grabbing his lower thighs to yank him even closer, not letting go.

“Came to deliver papers,” Isagi bites out. He knows his face is red, he can feel it. Kaiser’s liner was done perfectly, not a blemish on his face. His lips were parted, slightly, just enough to draw Isagi’s attention.

“Right, right, of course.” Kaiser lets his thumbs stroke against Isagi’s thighs, still held to rest against his waist like he’s coaxing Isagi to wrap his legs around him. He refuses to. “You haven’t been thinking about me, then?”

“I had a game. Of course not,” Isagi says, as if his brain didn’t automatically account for Kaiser at every turn before needing to reprogram to the fact that Kaiser wasn’t on the field. As if he didn’t naturally seek out Kaiser after each play, disguising it as looking for Noa. As if he didn’t lie in bed last night with nothing but stupid blond hair in his head and his hand hovering dangerously close to where it definitely shouldn’t go.

“Really?” Kaiser asks, tilting his head like he knows Isagi is lying. He drops his voice to a whisper, admitting, “Because I thought about you…” Isagi swallows, and Kaiser continues. “I thought about you in my bed. Gasping and trembling like you were yesterday. Making those pretty noises. You’re loud, did you know that? I bet the rest of the Bastard players would have heard you. Would've gotten off on it too, with how you sounded, moaning my name like that.” Isagi’s hand grips the bedsheet, breath hitching. His reactions are embarrassing, but he can’t stop looking at Kaiser. The swipe of eyeliner under his eyes, the wicked curve of his smile. He can’t stop looking.

“Kaiser,” he whispers. “I—”

“Yeah, just like that,” he cuts him off. “ All breathy and desperate. I wonder what else you would have said if I kept going. I wonder if you wouldn’t have been able to think at all, just repeating my name again…and again…and again.” Kaiser’s hands creep further up Isagi’s thighs, exposing the marks that have nowhere near faded. “Has anyone noticed these?”

Isagi's eyes flutter when Kaiser presses into one, throbbing with the added pressure. “No.” He doesn't mention how much of a pain it was to keep it that way.

“That’s a shame,” Kaiser mutters, pulling back and tracing lightly at the bruise. “I’ll make it more obvious, next time.”

“Hmm?” Isagi asks, distracted by the way Kaiser’s thumb makes little infinities against Isagi’s skin. 

“You alright with that?” His hands are cold.

“Mhm.” He tears his gaze away from Kaiser’s lithe hands, staring into his eyes instead; the sight just as mesmerizing.

“Not today, though,” he says in that same, low voice.

“Mhm.”

Kaiser steps back, clapping his hands together loudly. “Well, this has been fun. Gotta run, now.”

Isagi startles at the sound, blinking when his senses are suddenly free from Michael Kaiser. “Wait—what? You’re leaving?”

“Oh, don’t sound so sad, Yoichi! You’ll have me back soon. Just not now.” He walks to the door.

He can’t even tell what’s going on right now. “I—”

Kaiser turns back around, walking backwards as he shoots him an obnoxious wink. “Just returning the favor!”

The pieces start clicking into place, now. Kaiser, getting him riled up just for him to leave, just like Isagi inadvertently did roughly 22 hours ago. “I—I didn’t…I had a game! ”

“And I’ve got plans. See you!”

Isagi’s face burns with how much he wants Kaiser dead just then. And probably a little something else, too. “You’re a fucking asshole, Kaiser!” he calls.

All he gets in response is his annoying laughter, echoing in the halls.

---

There are six days until the PXG game.

Kaiser takes a final swig of his energy drink before tossing the water bottle to the turf, and heading to the wall. Ness nods at him from the ground, completing his stretches. He leans against the wall, bringing his knee up to his chest and wincing at the stretch in his hamstring. The kid with the bright cyan hair — Hiori, he thinks — glances at his presence but doesn’t mention anything, continuing to peruse whatever he’s looking at on his tablet.

He knows Hiori hangs around Isagi, one of their little quartet, but that’s pretty much the extent of his knowledge. He’s barely seen him in practice. Kaiser really only pays attention to the German members and the top 11 of Bastard, ignoring the rest. He hasn’t seen Hiori do anything spectacular, so he operates with the plan to add him to his vision only if he does something big enough to be worth it.

Kaiser drops his knee and begins on the left one.

“The PXG game will be good,” Hiori mutters, scrolling on his tablet. 

The words aren’t directed at him, but Kaiser leans over anyway and glances at the screen, displaying Itoshi Rin’s headshot, followed by his stats.

“Itoshi’s brother, yeah?” He asks. Ness glances up, and Hiori looks a little confused with Kaiser speaking to him, but he responds nevertheless.

“He’s insane. Probably the best Bluelocker.”

“He isn’t worth that much.”

Hiori shrugs. “He and Shidou don’t get along. I’d assume it’s something to do with that. We shouldn’t underestimate him.” He scrolls further. “He and Isagi have something going on. I wonder how that’ll translate to the field.”

Kaiser blinks, standing straighter. “Something going on?" Ness sends him a look in his peripheral vision that he pretends not to see.

He regards Kaiser for a moment, observing, before he speaks. “Yeah, Rin hated him for a little bit. But Isagi tried, like, befriending him, and it actually worked. Rin doesn’t befriend anyone. But then the U-20 match happened, and Isagi beat him, and now Rin hates him or something.”

He can feel an eye twitch coming on. “So Yoichi was…chasing after him until they became…friends.”

“I guess. Wore him down during the second selection, when they roomed together. I don’t really know how friendly they were. I only met Isagi later on.”

Despite his complete lack of decorum on the field, Isagi Yoichi was goddamn friendly. He was close with everyone. Kaiser was used to turning his head and seeing Kurona glued to his side, or seeing the weird half-dyed-blond monster kid draped all over him whenever their breakfasts coincided. Even Kunigami, the most anti-social fucker Kaiser knows, chooses to sit next to Isagi and Isagi only if he has to during meals. They barely speak, but Isagi always makes one-sided conversation and sends him a polite little smile each time. The same polite little smile he used on Kaiser when he was in his goddamn bed, minus the tinge of lust. 

If Rin was anything like Itoshi Sae, Kaiser understood firsthand how hard it was to talk to him. Yet Isagi fucking Yoichi was able wear him down when they shared a fucking dorm together. 

Hiori glances at him, and Kaiser schools his features. Doing so is normally natural to him, he normally doesn’t even have to think about keeping his face impassive. “I’m gonna…” Hiori trails off, pointing somewhere before leaving.

Ness sits up, looking at him.

“What?” he snaps.

“Seriously? Isagi Yoichi?”

“No. Nothing’s happening there.” It was the truth. Isagi was a hookup. Kaiser gets possessive over his things. It made perfect sense.

Ness smiles his eerie little smile. “Whatever you say, Michael.”

---

Kaiser sees the pink-haired psychotic motherfucker from the Japanese U-20 match walk into the mess hall halfway through their lunch, and doesn’t think anything of it, his attention quickly diverted when Isagi drops his tray on the seat across from Kaiser, taking a seat ungracefully. “What the fuck was that shit you pulled in practice?”

Kaiser grins. “Don’t even ask. You won’t be able to pull it off.”

“Tell me.”

“You’re too weak, Yoichi. You just can’t do it.”

“Tell me.”

“Tell you what: if you ever wanna see it again, just pass to me! I’ll pull it off anytime you’d like.”

“Tell me.”

“I think your passing skills are getting better, actually.” Kaiser taps a finger on his chin, thinking as if he hasn’t been saying the following words all week: “Have you thought about becoming a permanent midfielder?”

Isagi looks positively murderous, a look Kaiser hasn’t seen since two days ago, when he left Isagi in his own room. He’s about to comment on it, just to see what shade of red Isagi’s face will turn, when the cafeteria door opens, an influx of players coming in: Paris players.

They normally only share breakfasts with Manshine, lunches with Barcha, and dinners with Manshine again, almost never sharing a space with the Ubers or PXG. But Sure enough, the entire Paris team walks through the doors.

Isagi doesn’t turn back after noting the new arrivals, watching, until he’s suddenly getting up, leaving without a glance. Following his gaze, it’s easy to see which member he was heading for: Itoshi Rin.

Itoshi looks fucking pissed as Isagi walks up to him, still standing by the doors as everyone else from his team head over to the lunchlines and tables. He’s saying something to him, not loudly, but still almost violently angry.

Kaiser sits straighter, ready to vault over the table at a moment's notice, but Isagi holds his own, saying something back sternly. Whatever it is, Itoshi is the angry one, not Isagi.

Rin responds again, and the two battle it back and forth, until Rin doesn’t seem to be so angry anymore. They’re speaking neutrally, now.

Another few minutes go by, until Isagi claps him on the back, a grin in place, and turns around. The younger Itoshi doesn’t smile, but the upturn of his mouth implies amusement.

Kaiser rips his gaze away as Isagi approaches, spearing a vegetable with his fork. He releases his grip on the utensil, glancing at the red marks on his palm from squeezing too hard.

“Where were we?” Isagi mutters as he sits. “Right. Tell me.”

Kaiser ignores him, pointing at him and where Itoshi had stood with his fork. “You and mini-Itoshi know each other?”

“Mini— oh, yeah! We’re friends, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Well, he’d rather die before categorizing it like that. But I think we’re friends. Something like that, at least. Are you going to tell me now?”

Something like that. “No. You two roomed together?”

Isagi nods. “In the second selection, for a while. He’s a terrible roommate. Always out late, practicing. I’d have to drag him back to bed all the time. Tell me now?”

Kaiser forces his breaths to be steady, swallowing. “No. You close?”

If Isagi is suspicious about his line of questioning, he doesn’t show it. He thinks, drumming a hand on the table. “Not close. But I guess I’m one of the only people he actually talks to, at Bluelock. He helps me do my stretches if he’s feeling generous that day. Lets me do yoga with him. I’m not good at it. Half the time I end up falling on top of him. He’s pretty guarded. Took me ages to get him to speak to me, much less…”

Fucking hell, he could not take this. The image of Rin having his hands all over Isagi’s legs, helping his stretch, helping him fix his yoga poses like the intro to a cheap porno makes Kaiser want to scream. “Much less…” he prods, voice flat.

“Much less respect me,” Isagi finishes, and Kaiser can’t tell if that’s really what he was going to say or not. “Can you tell me now?” 

Kaiser bites the inside of his mouth. “Double spin on the opposite left corner of the intended target. Lighter kick, so less power and less speed. Can’t be used everywhere. So were you two fucking?”

Isagi nods, slowly. “Less power and speed, more torque. Makes sense…” Kaiser can see the exact moment he processes the question, face turning red and eyes widening to an almost comical degree. Kaiser does not find it as funny. “Were we what? Of course not, what the fuck? Why would you think that?”

Kaiser stares at him blankly. “You roomed together. You would drag him to bed—”

“—we roomed with, like, three other guys! And back to his own bed, not mine!”

“—You two did stretches together, you’d be on top of him during yoga—”

“—Ness helps you with your stretches!”

“—and you’re blushing enough to rival Kunigami’s hair right now.”

“I’m blushing because you’re accusing me of sleeping with someone.” Isagi glances around, as if anyone cared enough to overhear. “Of course I’m embarrassed.”

“So you weren’t fucking him?”

“No!” Isagi sighs, running a hand over his face. “Jesus, Kaiser.”

Kaiser frowns, feeling defensive. “You can’t blame me. The shit you were saying sounded pretty fucking suggestive.”

“I didn’t even mean for it to sound like that. I haven’t even done anything like that before.”

Kaiser blinks. “You haven’t had sex before?”

Isagi scoffs at him, but still clarifies, “I haven’t done anything before.”

He drops his fork, the utensil clattering to the table.

Isagi is quick to continue, taking over the defensive. “I mean, I’ve, like, kissed people before. And made out, just nothing past that. And I’m only in high school, that's perfectly normal.”

“Isagi,” Kaiser hisses, and the use of his family name instead of his given has Isagi blinking. “Do you mean to tell me that you haven’t done anything sexual before, and you were going to let me suck your dick? Just like that?”

Isagi winces at the wording. “Yes?”

Holy hell he was going to send Kaiser into cardiac arrest one of these days. “What the fuck is wrong with you.”

“Well I didn’t exactly know that's what was going to happen, exactly, when I walked in.”

“You could have said no, maybe?”

“Maybe I didn’t want to say no, Kaiser. Ever thought of that?”

Kaiser takes a second, putting his head in his hands for an inhale, and an exhale. Inhale. Exhale. “So,” he begins, opening his eyes and rerouting. “You wanted me to suck you off, then?”

Isagi goes through the five stages of grief before responding. “What—I— no! ”

Kaiser grins. “Well that’s what you just said. You wanted to lose your virginity to me. Your pure, untouched virginity to me, Michael Kaiser.”

Isagi squints at him. “Don’t say your own name like that, it’s obnoxious.”

Ness sits down next to him, nodding at him.

“I seem to remember you enjoying saying my name quite a bit three days ago, Yoichi,” he smirks, propping up his chin on his hand. Isagi blinks, looking between him and Ness. “Don’t worry about him, it’s just Ness.”

“I’m not just going to ignore him—”

“Why not? It’s Ness. Are we going to get back to the part about you and your fantasy of me taking your virginity?”

Isagi snarls. “Oh, you wanna play? Let’s play. Why don’t we chat about you being jealous over Rin. ”

“I was not— ”

“You were,” Ness chimes in, and Kaiser could kill him right now.

“You were jealous of him. You were…what? Pissed over him getting to me first? For fucking me better than you ever could?”

“You said you two never—”

Isagi grins, leaning over the table. “Oh, we didn’t. But you thought about it, didn’t you? You thought about his hands on me, and you just hated it, hmm? Is that how it went?”

Ness snorts, completely unfazed. “He knows you pretty well, Michael.”

Kaiser’s eye twitches. “Yeah. I couldn’t stand the thought of someone else touching what was mi—”

Isagi cuts him off, face red. “Oh my god, I’m not doing this with Ness here,” He stands, picking up his tray. “I’ll see you in practice.”

---

His Kaiser Impact sends the ball flying in a gorgeous curve straight into the bottom left corner of the net. Ness claps him on the back as he catches up to him, and Kaiser catches Isagi’s eye as they return to the center of the field. He’s pissed.

“Goal,” Noa states. “2-1, black jerseys.” There are seven seconds on the clock, so the next play is simply a formality. It’s a scrimmage. If Noa really cared about getting their team to dinner on time, he would have ended the game there, but he’s an asshole.

The red jerseys, the other half of their team, don’t look particularly enthused to continue, but they give it their all in the last seven seconds. 

Isagi curses when the buzzer goes off, huffing like a little kid.

Kaiser sees it before it happens. He recognizes it enough on his own face after having metavision up when he didn’t get enough sleep the night before, running on fumes. Isagi doesn't collapse, not like the Manshine game, but Kaiser can recognize the look on his face as his metavision drops, immediately blinking slowly. 

He staggers for a second when he tries to take a step, and Kaiser steps in, pulling an arm over his shoulders as he walks him off the field. No one else was close enough, so he supposes it’s gotta be him.

“Kaiser,” he slurs. “I’m fine.”

“You didn’t get enough sleep last night, did you?” Kaiser accuses, ignoring the looks he gets from Isagi’s Bluelock friends. “Your little metavision won’t work as well unless you’re operating at 100%. Remember that.”

“I’m jus’ tired. Where’re we going?”

Kaiser sighs, breaking away from the group headed to the locker room and passes through the doors to enter the main hallway. He doesn’t know where the Bluelockers sleep, so he heads to his own room. Isagi’s been there before, anyway.

“This isn’t my room,” Isagi notes. His head has begun to slump against Kaiser’s shoulder, knocking against it with every step in a way that can’t be comfortable.

“It’s mine, dumbass.”

“Need a shower.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes, unceremoniously dumping Isagi onto his bed. “You need sleep,” he corrects. “Can you get your shoes off?”

Isagi nods a yes to the question, but Kaiser crouches down and undos his shoelaces anyway, letting him kick off his cleats himself. He blinks at Kaiser blankly when he’s done, and Kaiser scoffs. “You need me to do everything, don’t you?” He pushes Isagi’s shoulder roughly, and Isagi falls onto the bed, curling up automatically, facing him. His eyes fall shut with no prompting, but Kaiser mutters, “you better be asleep by the time I get back,” anyway.

He leaves Isagi in his room and heads for the showers. 

---

Kaiser naturally flicks the lights on as he walks into his room, before seeing the bundle of blankets on his bed and wincing as he hurries to turn them back off. Luckily, Isagi barely shifts with the change. 

He stalks closer, tilting his head to peer at him. Isagi has never intimidated Kaiser. He doesn’t have a particularly strong build, and he’s at least seven centimeters shorter. But he couldn’t deny that he was ferocious on the field, eyes blazing and smile unhinged. 

He looks calmer now. He must have woken up at some point and wrenched the blankets over himself, pulled up to his chin. He’s curled up, just as Kaiser left him, making him look smaller than he already is. His face is smoothened out, eyebrows relaxed and mouth opened slightly. He looks like glass. Kaiser wants to reach out and touch him, trace the shape of his eyes and the shell of his ear, and he takes that as his cue to stop staring at him and get the fuck to sleep.

Isagi barely takes up half the bed, so Kaiser has no issues sliding under the covers on his side. Knowing Isagi, he’ll likely make a big deal about it in the morning, but Kaiser could deal with that later. 

Kaiser blinks at the ceiling. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s so out of his depth when it comes to Isagi Yoichi.

---

Kaiser is in the same position when he wakes.

He never moves in his sleep. He sleeps like a rock, as his mother used to say. He sleeps through everything and barely makes a noise, barely tosses or turns.

The same cannot be said for Isagi Yoichi.

Kaiser is still firmly on his side of the bed, but the main issue lies in how so is Isagi. There’s a leg thrown over one of Kaiser’s, and his left arm is seized by Isagi’s, clinging to him like a baby koala. His head is nestled between his neck and shoulder, angled so that every warm breath Isagi takes can be felt. It’s driving him a little insane.

It makes sense. Isagi runs warm, he always has. He made note of it long before they kissed, but Isagi’s hands feeling like fire against his skin as they ran down his abdomen almost a week ago was what really solidified it. It makes logical sense that Isagi would naturally gravitate to whoever was near.

He’s had past hookups do the same, as well as friends from grade school sleepovers. But Isagi isn’t a hookup, nor a friend.

Kaiser feels like he’s over heating, so he wrenches out the arm Isagi previously had a hold on. Isagi shifts, moving closer with the new real estate, and hikes his leg up further. He could wrap his newly freed arm around Isagi’s waist, he realises. Isagi’s halfway on top of him anyway, and the movement feels like what would be natural. Still, he doesn’t, letting his hand lay limply on the bed.

“Shit,” he mutters, the sound sinking into the silence of the room. He glances at his alarm clock, on what should have been Isagi’s side of the bed. 48 minutes until practice begins. He has time, but if he wants to get a decent breakfast, as well as start his usual warm ups before Noa starts telling him what to do, he should be getting up soon.

He rests his hand on Isagi’s upper arm, tracing at the skin under his sleeve. “Isagi. Isagi, wake up.” He squeezes his arm. “Yoichi…”

He stirs, barely picking his head up from his spot and managing to make eye contact. Kaiser watches as the memories of yesterday and the realization of his current location sinks into his eyes. Isagi, to his credit, does not make a scene. 

He flushes as he blinks sleep out of his eyes, but doesn’t freak out, instead calmly removing himself from Kaiser, faking composure. If it wasn’t for the red spreading delicately across his cheekbones, Kaiser would assume he truly held no shame about it.

“Good morning,” Kaiser says. His voice sounds scratchy. Isagi is still dressed in his jersey from last practice, and it should be repulsive but it really isn’t. He pulls back further so he’s sitting on his calves, the bedsheets pooling by his hips.

“Sorry,” Isagi mutters in response, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t norm—” he cuts himself off. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

He looks frustrated for a minute, eyebrows scrunching up. “And, um, thank you. I thought I was getting a hold on my metavision, but--”

“You are,” Kaiser interrupts. “I’ve seen you. Your vision is fine, but you aren’t getting enough rest, that’s the issue.”

Isagi blinks at him. “Oh.” His eyes are blue. Not the same icy-blue that Kaiser has seen everywhere in Germany, no. A deeper blue, something a little darker. They’re always watching Kaiser, always trained on him, studying. It’s too much; the attention feels suffocating. “Thank you,” he repeats.

He breaks eye contact abruptly, taking a second to compose himself before he feels okay enough to flick his eyes back to Isagi. “What?” He snaps. “Waiting for a goodbye kiss?”

“I—”

“Because as much as you’d like to pretend, Yoichi, we aren’t fucking dating. Don’t wait for something that won’t come. I brought you here out of convenience. Didn’t really have anywhere else to dump you; I didn’t think you’d be so clingy about it.” He smiles: the same, controlled smile he’s been practicing since grade school. “I kissed you to blow off steam, and you were just so desperate for it. If I knew you’d get all clingy about it, I wouldn’t have.”

Isagi looks at him. He hasn’t left his fucking bed yet, and he thinks the sight of him just sitting there, messy hair and shorts hiked up from his movements, will be burned into his retinas forever. 

It was a dangerous path — whatever he thought he was doing with Isagi. He couldn’t concentrate, he couldn’t think straight when it came to Isagi. The sooner he leaves, the sooner Kaiser can get over this...glitch in the system.

But Isagi isn’t leaving. Kaiser scoffs. “Do I need to make myself more clear? Have some fucking dignity and get the fuck out—”

“Do you think you’re unreadable, Kaiser?” Isagi asks. He doesn't wait for a response. “You think you can just drive me away? Piss me off so much so that we’ll never speak again? You think I can’t read exactly what you’re trying to do here?”

“I don’t—” He starts, but he cuts himself off as Isagi leans closer. For a brief, brief moment, Isagi raises his hand and Kaiser thinks he’s about to get slapped. But all Isagi does is twist a strand of blond hair, one of the shorter ones, and tuck it behind Kaiser’s ear. He can’t breathe.

“I know you well enough to know when you’re lying Kaiser.” Isagi smirks, a familiar curve to his lips, and Kaiser can’t help but think he might be corrupting Isagi as much as Isagi is corrupting him. “You say you don’t care but you act like a jealous little boyfriend the second I give someone else attention. You say you don’t care but you let me sleep in your bed with you instead of trying to find my dorm. You say you don’t care but here you are, trying to push me away.”

“I don’t do this, Isagi,” he hisses. It just wasn’t who he was. Kaiser was used to hooking up at clubs and fucking around with team photographers; he wasn’t used to feeling his heart squeeze every time he looked at someone. “I can’t do this type of thing. I can’t—”

“For God’s sake, Kaiser, I’m not asking you to fucking marry me.” Isagi’s mouth quirks up into a smile. “I just want you to kiss me.”

Kaiser does.

He doesn’t control the kiss this time. Isagi takes the lead, deepening it and bringing both of his hands to hold Kaiser’s face, skimming across his cheekbones like he’s something breakable. Fragile.

They pull away, but Isagi doesn't let him get far, resting their foreheads together. Kaiser thinks it’s kind of nice, sometimes, to give up control— to not keep such a tight leash on his emotions, to not keep his mask of composure intact.

He kind of likes it. He kind of likes Isagi as well.

Chapter Text

“So?” Kaiser asks, dribbling through the last cone and picking up the ball. “What do you think?”

Ness doesn’t answer until he’s done with the drill, meeting him on the other side. It’s a simple drill, just dribbling through the cones, made difficult with Bluelock's tech, considering the cones weren’t exactly stationary. “Kaiser. You’ve never dated anyone before.”

He squints, walking back with Ness to the first of the cones. “Dating? Is that what we’re doing?”

“Oh my god, Kaiser. You’re going to be a terrible boyfriend.”

Kaiser continues like he didn’t hear him. “Huh. I guess that is what we’re doing. Dating.”

“He probably has loads of more experience than you do.”

“He definitely does not,” Kaiser snorts.

“Romantic experience, weirdo. You’re the least romantic person I know. You don’t even stay the night when you fuck someone.”

“That’s—”

Ness rolls his eyes. “A personal preference, I know. But you also kick anyone out of your bed as soon as it hits 1 AM.”

They run through the drill again. “I hate making breakfast for people.”

“You’re a dick.” Ness glances around the room, presumably looking for Isagi. Kaiser finds him first. He’s known where he was the second he came in. “He,” Ness points, where Isagi is mindlessly dribbling the ball while talking to some guy with a headband who looks like Isagi put the stars in the sky. Kaiser can’t blame him for looking like that. He narrows his eyes at the figure anyway. “is not a dick. He’s a romantic.”

“He’s a menace,” Kaiser corrects, “who’s tricked everyone into thinking he’s some sweet little kid. If he’s expecting more from me, that’s on him. He knows what he’s getting into.” He bites the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t like this conversation. “Isagi!” 

Isagi turns, halfway across the field, eyes glancing every which way before landing on Kaiser. He tilts his head, confused, but still says a quick goodbye and makes his way over when Kaiser nods for him to. He and Kaiser don’t exactly practice together during free-practice, mainly only when Noa forces them to — which didn’t happen often, considering their usual (violent) reaction.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come over when I called,” he leers, as soon as Isagi is within hearing distance.

The curious look on Isagi’s face drops into a scowl. “Fuck you. I’m not a dog.”

“Bark for me.”

He narrows his eyes, scoffing. “I’ll make you my bitch during the Paris game.”

Kaiser hums, stepping closer just to make Isagi need to crane his neck a little more. He doesn’t step back. “You think so? I’ve only sat out on one game, Yoichi, don’t get your hopes up. I’ll—”

Ness clears his throat, and Isagi jumps. “I don’t know why I expected any differently.”

Isagi is far less confident with the realization of having an audience, faltering and stepping back. “You told him?”

Ness answers for him. “He doesn't have any other friends. Anyway, I’d like to apologize in advance for any dumb shit Kaiser pulls in the future.”

“...No problem.”

Ness continues. “He’s new to this. He’s never dated anyone before.” 

Isagi turns to him, blinking. Kaiser’s never been insecure about it — he’s never been particularly interested anyway — but the way Isagi’s looking at him makes him squirm. “You’ve never been on a date before?”

“That’s what ‘never dated’ implies, Yoichi.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

The words are barely said with any added inflection but Kaiser’s quick to defend himself. “I was scouted and started training at 15, I never had the time nor patience.”

“What about you, Isagi?” Ness asks.

He shrugs. “Dated a girl for, like, four months in tenth grade. Dated a guy in eleventh for a few more months. That’s pretty much it.” He turns to Kaiser. “I’m surprised I actually have more experience than you in something.”

Kaiser narrows his eyes, lowering his voice. “Trust me, I have enough experience to know exactly how to make you scream —”

Isagi swats his arm. “Shut up,” he says, but even the implication turns his ears red. It’s cute. “I mean, I kind of figured. But I didn’t think you hadn’t been on any before.”

Kaiser huffs. “It really isn’t a big deal.”

He hums, lost in thought. “It’s alright. We’ll get that fixed after Bluelock is over.” Kaiser blinks. Isagi snaps his fingers, looking past the two of them. “Oh shit, are these the new drills Ego added? Are you guys still using them?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before taking Kaiser’s ball and stepping past him, the holographic cones beginning to move.

We’ll get that fixed.

After Bluelock.

Isagi had high hopes for them. The thought makes Kaiser bite his lip to keep from grinning.

---

Free practice unofficially comes to an end within the hour, around 9 PM, and Kaiser frowns at the last player on the field.

Isagi had abandoned the dribbling drill a few tries into it, citing how “annoying” it was, instead of mentioning how much he sucked at it. For the past thirty minutes, however, he had been working on the move Kaiser had developed a few practices ago.

It was difficult. Kaiser had spent hours researching, studying baseball pitching techniques and modifying it to work for soccer. It’s practically certain to work when deployed, but the opportunity for the specific kick doesn't appear often in games. Isagi’s time would really be better put towards working on his subpar dribbling, but once Isagi decided to do something, Kaiser knew firsthand how he wouldn’t let it go.

Isagi steps back, getting a running start and kicking the ball. It pathetically lands a few meters to the left of its original position.

Kaiser begins making his way over, but he’s still half a field away from Isagi. “You won’t get it.” His voice carries, and Isagi turns with a glare already on his face. “Do you plan on getting dinner?”

Isagi glances around the field like he didn’t notice everyone leaving. “Fuck you. I will.” Kaiser can’t tell if he means I will accomplish the move or I will get dinner, but he assumes the former, knowing Isagi.

“If you skip dinner your weak ass won’t hold up metavision, and you’ll repeat Manshine all over again. Maybe I’ll let you face plant this time.”

Isagi resets the ball, grinning. “It’s sweet that you care.”

Kaiser huffs. “Fuck off. You won’t do it. There’s no point.”

The ball gets some air, this time around, but the kick is still weak. “Maybe you could do it again and let me get a closer look…”

Kaiser snorts. “And let you debut my move in a game before I can?”

Isagi rolls his eyes, running a hand through sweaty hair. “ Fine. You gonna fuck off so I can practice in peace?” Kaiser has recently come to the conclusion that Isagi looks good two hours into practice and more than a little frustrated. He wants to kiss the look off of him, but refrains. Isagi won’t give up until it’s late.

“ Fine! ”

---

Expectedly, Isagi doesn’t figure out the kick.

Kaiser’s temporary bedroom door’s slide open, Isagi stomping in like a child, a look on his face daring Kaiser to speak a word. Predictably, Kaiser does, tilting down the lid of his laptop, sitting up from his spot on his bed. “I thought I finally figured out how to lock these doors.”

“I added myself to the biometric scanner. You got a problem with that?”

He can’t help the smile from taking over his face. “I didn’t say that.”

Isagi trudges further into the room, kicking off his cleats. He’s freshly showered, hair still damp, and he takes a second to squint at his reflection in Kaiser’s mirror when he passes.

“You didn’t get that kick, did you? Wonder who saw that coming.”

“Shut up,” Isagi snarls, the expression coming off a lot less threatening with how tired he clearly looks. It’s cute. “I’ll figure it out.”

He stands at the edge of the bed, the opposite side from where Kaiser sits, tapping his foot, pausing for an invitation. “You waiting for something?” Kaiser finally asks, smirk growing.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” Isagi huffs, climbing under the covers without another word. “Can’t make anything easy on me, hmm?” He pushes at Kaiser’s shoulder until he’s leaning against the headboard, taking hold of Kaiser’s right arm and wrapping it around his shoulders. Isagi shifts restlessly until he finds a position he likes, curling up once he settles.

Kaiser swallows thickly, fingers fiddling with the hem of Isagi’s sleeve.

“What are you doing?”

Kaiser tilts his laptop screen back up, frozen on a still from one of last year’s U-20 games, one of the qualifiers. He does so in silence, not entirely trusting himself to not say something utterly stupid. He clicks play.

“Oh. I think I’ve—” Isagi yawns. “—seen this one. Ecuador wins, yeah?”

Kaiser nods, although he can’t recall a single thing about the game with Isagi being so close, eyelids fluttering sleepily and damp hair tickling his collarbone. 

“It was a quick game,” Isagi continues. “A few solid plays from Uruguay, though. What food do you like?”

He blinks. “Hmm?”

Isagi mindlessly traces one of the vines traveling down Kaiser’s free arm. “I’m trying to decide where to take you for our first date. I don’t know any German places in Saitama.”

“What?”

“It’s special,” he says, dragging the word out. “Your first date ever. I’m taking you on your first date.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

Isagi snickers into Kaiser’s shirt. “Only a little. It’s cute, though.”

“What is?”

“How you have no idea what you’re doing.” He drops his voice to a whisper. “Your heart’s beating really fast.”

Kaiser feels his face burn. “Shut up.”

Isagi laughs. The sound is wheezy and annoying but fucking hell, it’s so perfect. Kaiser flicks his arm aggressively, and Isagi lets out a petulant “ow,” stopping his ministrations and pulling his hand away from Kaiser’s tattooed one. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop teasing,” he says, confirming Kaiser’s theory that he knows exactly what he does to him.

“Get some sleep, stupid. I’ll wake you up in a bit.”

Isagi hums, quieting, and Kaiser can finally begin paying attention to the game again.

---

The Paris game isn’t looking good.

They’re down by two points, only halfway through the game. Mini-Itoshi and Shidou, the two Bluelockers notoriously bad at playing together, seem to have cleaned up their act just in time to play Bastard.

They get the ball again, sneaking straight through Grim and Gesner’s passing, and Kaiser doesn’t even have time to curse before he and his team are once again on defense.

Ness is the one who steals it back, but the play is risky, random, sending the ball careening to the middle of the field, by the sidelines. Kaiser knows a player is on standby in that area, so he moves to the optimal place to be passed to without looking back, thousands of opportunities and outcomes flooding through his brain with every step he takes.

He glances back, and fuck, he didn’t account for Isagi Yoichi to be the one closest to the ball. His metavision reroutes, but it’s too late.

Isagi sends the ball in a sharp curve, slow and steady in its movements. It’s slow enough that Itoshi has a chance to get back to the penalty area. He doesn’t see the absolutely beautiful torque on the ball, however. It bounces right at his feet, but before he has the chance to trap it, it hurtles into the right corner of the goal.

Kaiser turns to Isagi when the goal is called. Halfway across the field, Kurona jumps on him and Grim claps his back, but Isagi still makes direct eye contact with Kaiser, smirking.

Kaiser turns away with an incredulous grin, cracking his knuckles.

The momentum turns, and Bastard Munchen takes the win, two Kaiser-led goals later.

---

The adrenaline since the game ended has simmered down within Isagi, but he’s still restless, pacing around the halls of Bluelock. Kaiser hasn’t spoken to him yet, getting split up in the fray in the locker rooms, but that was almost an hour ago. He huffs, stepping inside the viewing room to wait him out.

As expected, he ends up getting immersed in the clips of the game already uploaded to the system; rewinding, analyzing plays, and scrutinizing frame-by-frame. He doesn’t notice Kaiser’s presence until he’s already lazily spinning around on the chair in the center of the room. 

“I didn’t think you’d take so long to find me.”

Kaiser’s response is immediate. “You were waiting up for me, Yoichi? Cute.” 

He can’t keep himself from grinning as he turns back around, rewinding the clip of Aiku the screen is paused on. Isagi rewinds, drops the speed, and lets it play, eyes barely focussing on the screen. He rewinds again, just for something to do, and repeats the process. The energy in the room is charged, and he knows Kaiser can feel it too.

“Finally scored another goal, hmm?” Kaiser finally says, and Isagi’s hand’s still on the console.

“Guess so.” He waits for Kaiser to expand, to bring up how Isagi stole his kick, how he achieved it what Kaiser didn’t think he would. Kaiser doesn’t, though, because he’s an asshole. He turns to face him, leaning against the console. “I’m surprised you aren’t mad.”

Kaiser laughs, the sound clear and ringing. “Oh, I’m seething. But you know I’ll get you back.”

“Will you?” Isagi asks, pushing off the console and stalking closer. He really doesn’t know if the desk chair will hold both of their weights, but Kaiser doesn’t stop him as Isagi straddles him. Kaiser’s hands naturally come up to steady him, resting high on his thighs, and he leans back to see Isagi completely, eyes running up and down the scene a few times before holding eye contact. Isagi swallows and finally gives in, whispering, “What did you think of the goal?” He’s never been patient, and Kaiser’s far too obnoxious to say anything without Isagi making him.

“Beautiful,” Kaiser answers, and Isagi preens. It really was a gorgeous shot, no one could deny, but he needed to hear Kaiser say it. Kaiser’s eyes scan Isagi’s face, slowly. “Fucking beautiful.”

A smile quirks at Isagi’s mouth, and he can’t do anything about the blush that’s still sure to arise after such a stupid line. “I thought you looked pretty good back there, too, in the midfield.” He pauses, leaning a little closer. “Have you thought about becoming a midfielder?”

Kaiser grins. “God, I hate you.” He curls a hand around Isagi’s neck, pulling him into a kiss.

Finally. Fucking finally. Isagi kisses back with fervor, breathing heavily as a hand hands travel up to Kaiser’s hair, fisting. The other twists at Kaiser’s shirt, pulling just enough so that Kaiser gets the idea that he wants it off. 

Unfortunately, Kaiser pulls back — not to lose the shirt — but to take hold of one of his wrists, humming. “Slow down a little.”

Isagi rolls his eyes, whispering against Kaiser’s ear, “You took so goddamn long, Kaiser.”

He doesn’t have to pull back to know there’s a smirk on Kaiser’s face. “I want—” Isagi lets his teeth graze at the skin of Kaiser’s ear, and he cuts off. He can hear Kaiser’s breath hitch as Isagi lightly bites at his earlobe. “I want you to remember this,” He finally says, voice scratchy. “You’re such a fucking tease, Yoichi.”

Isagi hums, reattaching their lips. Despite his nonanswer, he listens. The kiss is slow and deep, no other noise in the room save for their breaths mingling together every time they part.

Kaiser slowly slides a hand up Isagi’s thigh, leaving the other behind as it slips under his sleep shirt. It’s different from the first time they kissed. More exploratory, unpressed for time. No one’s waiting on them, they have nowhere to be. Kaiser’s hand glides across every ridge, every muscle, like he was attempting to memorize him; to map him out. He trails up his spine, slow enough to count vertebrae, twisting up Isagi’s shirt in the process.

Isagi shivers against the touch, arching his back. Kaiser smiles against his lips, and Isagi pulls back, eyes dancing across the look on Kaiser’s face for a moment. Sure enough, he smirks lazily back at Isagi, pupils blown and eyes hooded, staring with the same intensity he gets before matches.

Isagi tilts his chin upwards, coaxing Kaiser to lean back against the chair. “The angle’s off,” is his only explanation before he drops his head, kissing down the column of Kaiser’s neck.

He’s more respectful than Kaiser was about it; making sure to keep his deeper kisses under whatever Kaiser’s jersey would cover, for the most part. Maybe he’s just a better person, or maybe he just remembers all too well how quickly he had to change in the locker rooms and avoid the baths. Still, he takes care to make sure that the marks he leaves will bruise for days, biting into skin mercilessly. Kaiser’s feedback is vocal, and Isagi doesn't think he’ll ever forget what he sounds like. “ Shit, Isagi, fuck. You’re good at this, you’re so— mm— good at this.” Kaiser’s voice tends to take on a rougher quality, Isagi’s noticed. Deeper, dropping an octave. Isagi wants more. 

Isagi only notices he’s begun rocking against Kaiser when pulses of pleasure travel up his spine, but he doesn’t stop. As ill-advised as the first time they kissed was, Isagi still holds the same sentiment. He wants it to be Michael Kaiser.

Kaiser curses — something too specific in German for the translator to pick up — and his hands find Isagi’s hips, squeezing in warning until he stills.

Isagi pulls off, breathlessly complaining, “ Kaiser — ” before he’s cut off.

“Shh, shh, love, wait a moment.” Kaiser presses a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Isagi narrows his eyes at the placating gesture. So what if he hasn’t done anything sexual before? He isn’t a child, he knows what he’s doing. “Don’t treat me like I’m… fragile! ” He hisses, voice seeped in irritation. “You don’t have to treat me any differently than the first time we kissed, seriously.”

“I want to fuck you. Believe me,” Kaiser says, and Isagi startles at the bluntness of his words. “I want you begging underneath me, I want to hear you moan for me, moan my name, not having to worry about anyone overhearing. I want to fuck you until you can’t take a single step the next day without thinking of me.” He drops his voice, and holy fuck, Isagi can’t even think. “And if you keep doing that, we’re going to end up fucking. And we have practice tomorrow, and we live in a facility with thin walls, and there unfortunately isn’t a bed in this room.”

Isagi blinks at him, mind completely empty save for the words repeating over and over and over. 

“Once we’re out of Bluelock,” Kaiser promises, “and you sign with Bastard Munchen. And you take me out on that date. Then, I’ll fuck you. That sound alright?”

He nods, slowly.

Kaiser’s mouth quirks up, hands finding purchase on Isagi’s thighs. “But in the meantime—”

He moves to stand, taking Isagi with him. Isagi yelps, wobbling precariously. “What the fuck, oh my god Kaiser, what do you think you’re doing?”

He barely has enough time to clutch onto Kaiser's neck before he’s being spun around, getting dropped back on the chair, this time in Kaiser’s old position. He looks down at him from where he stands — leers, really — resting his hands on the armrests, leaning down. Isagi squirms under the attention, for barely a moment before Kaiser pulls back, yanking his shirt off in one clean movement and dropping to his knees. “Now where were we, last time we were here?”

Isagi’s mouth goes dry at the sight, gripping the armrest and swearing. “Oh my god,” he breathes.

Kaiser looks far more comfortable than one would expect, looking up at Isagi curiously, wearing a little grin on his face, like he knows exactly what Isagi is thinking. “Yoichi,” he returns. “You’re still wearing a shirt.” Isagi takes barely a second to lose it, dropping the Bluelock sleep shirt somewhere off to the side. “You’re eager. It’s cute.”

Isagi swallows, not responding. Kaiser was on his knees. Oh my fucking god, Michael Kaiser was on his goddamn knees for him. For Isagi. Fuck.

Kaiser sits up straighter, one hand resting on his thigh for leverage, the other rising up to tug at the drawstring of his shorts, undoing the knot. He’s purposefully slow about it, periodically flicking his eyes back up to Isagi, as if to make sure he was watching. As if Isagi would take his eyes off of him for anything in the goddamn world.

He taps twice against Isagi’s hips. “Lift,” he instructs. Isagi does, and soon enough he’s left in his boxers, and Kaiser’s eyes are sparkling like he wants to devour him. He leans back, though, like he has all the time in the world, resting his head against Isagi’s inner thigh. “I don’t think you know what you do to me.”

Isagi makes a surprised noise, voice coming out a little high pitched. “What I do to you? ”

Kaiser presses a kiss to his thigh and continues like he hasn’t spoken. “You drive me insane.” Isagi moves to fix a strand of dyed hair, tucking it behind his ear, and Kaiser grabs him by the wrist before he can pull away, pushing Isagi’s hand further into blond hair. “I feel like I lose control over pretty much everything when it comes to you.”

He winces, absentmindedly scratching at Kaiser’s scalp. “I’m not any more in control than you are. I’ve never…I’ve never done this before.”

Kaiser smirks up at him, prying his knees further apart, “I know. You don’t have to do much. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Shut up.” God, his face must be burning right now. He runs a hand across his face, leaning back on the chair to face the ceiling.

“Eyes on me,” Kaiser says, blinking slowly back at him once Isagi makes eye contact, mouth curving into a grin. He leans closer, doing nothing but breathing against him. Isagi can feel the heat through the thin material, and he shudders in want. “I want to see your face when I take you apart.”

---

Kaiser makes good on his promise. Isagi falls apart beneath him.