Chapter Text
Kurosawa had no idea what had happened that day, but ever since he turned thirty, Adachi had been blushing at random times while they were dancing. A tiny part of him wished to believe it was because of him, but a more realistic part told him to not get his hopes up. Adachi was famous. He could have anyone he wanted. Why would he want a man? No, the blushing was probably something unrelated. It was just very hard to convince himself of that since whenever it happened, Adachi would have trouble looking Kurosawa in the eyes. It was awfully cute.
And fortunately, it was not affecting his dancing. Adachi was improving at incredible speeds, starting to anticipate what Kurosawa wanted him to do. It made it a dream to dance with him.
Which showed when they went up on that stage for the third time.
They had been dressed to the nines, and Kurosawa had soaked up the sight of Adachi with his hair combed back. It transformed him from the cute and adorable man he was into someone who looked almost suave. It set Kurosawa’s heart racing even before they had taken the first steps of the foxtrot.
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An unexpected boon of his new mind-reading abilities was that he could pick the dance moves straight out of Kurosawa's mind, predicting exactly what he would do next, and leaning into it. It made their dancing smoother than ever, and quite fun.
The fact that Kurosawa also enjoyed it meant that Adachi could put aside some of the guilt he felt for reading his mind. But he did try his best to not lead Kurosawa on. To not give him the wrong impression. Which was really hard because a part of Adachi really wanted to have Kurosawa as his friend, and he was afraid of leaning too hard into the ‘not giving the wrong impression’ thing and ending up pushing him away. He did not want that. So he was doing a difficult balancing act.
It helped a lot that Kurosawa did not ever ask for anything Adachi could not give. Beyond the dancing, they went out to lunch together, and showed up for fitting of the outfits together. Spending time with Kurosawa was just so easy. And now the dancing felt that way also.
It clearly looked that way too, given that this time they got second place, up one place from the previous ranking. Excitement had thrummed through Adachi when he saw that. Maybe he could do it? Maybe he could get Kurosawa right through to the finals? That would be amazing!
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Things were going well. Amazingly well. Then they were asked to dance Tango.
For all that Kurosawa had fantasized about kissing Adachi, he had not really dared to follow that line of thinking to the natural next step. Had not truly considered whether he was physically attracted to Adachi. Until now. Pressed up against him in a passionate Tango, Kurosawa suddenly had an immediate and rather embarrassing reaction. Stepping away, he announced, “I think we should take a break. Fifteen minutes. Get some fresh air or rest your legs. I’ll be right back.” Then he fled to the nearest restroom.
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Adachi watched Kurosawa all but run from the room, but he was unable to do anything. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Could barely even breathe. What had that been? Such an incredibly intense feeling. It left Adachi feeling hot and something churned low in his gut. Something he had never associated with a person before. It had always been something he experienced alone at home, usually while reading something lewd. Not… this. Not like Kurosawa had clearly felt. About Adachi.
Yes, there was no doubt—Kurosawa had been aroused. By Adachi. By dancing with Adachi. Which, now that he thought about it, was probably not the strangest thing that could have happened. They had been pressed rather close together. Had moved in a very… suggestive way.
Blushing, Adachi hurried out of the room, to the nearest restroom, to splash some cold water into his face.
Opening the door carefully, to make sure nobody else was there, he didn’t hear anything at first, so he slipped inside. Only to freeze as he suddenly heard someone mutter quietly from inside one of the stalls, “Stupid, stupid, stupid! You’ll scare him away if he notices. There’s no way he’d ever want to kiss another man, far less do anything more. Pull yourself together.”
The sudden rattling of the lock jerked Adachi into motion and he slipped out of the restroom, hurrying back to the training room, falling down onto one of the benches there, staring out into the air. He’d known about Kurosawa’s infatuation with him for weeks now, but it had felt so innocent. So… sweet almost. So he had never considered what it meant for Kurosawa. How it must feel for him to be so close to Adachi almost every day, and know that it could never be. That he would never have for real any of the daydreams Adachi had seen in his mind. All the surprisingly domestic little scenes that had played out in Kurosawa’s mind.
Adachi had felt awkward witnessing them—like he was some kind of peeping tom, spying on Kurosawa’s inner thoughts—but he couldn’t avoid it given that they were dancing all the time. But now… He should have said something. Should have let Kurosawa know. Instead Adachi had used his ability to learn the dance moves faster. To get further. In a show he initially had wanted to be voted off in the first round. But he had been doing it for Kurosawa.
Which was a very weak excuse. Awfully weak. And still… The thought of confessing his deception, of seeing Kurosawa becoming embarrassed and horrified, of having him run away from Adachi… Why did that feel so uncomfortable? Why did it make something tie itself into knots in his chest? Why did it feel like he could not breathe when he thought he might never see Kurosawa again?
The sound of the door opening registered only faintly. Adachi was leaning forward, fingers gripping his own hair hard, pulling. He was staring down at the floor, but he didn’t really see it. Too lost in the mounting panic. Not understanding why, but feeling like the answer was so close he should be able to grasp it.
Suddenly there was a warm hand on his shoulder, squeezing carefully, and a soft voice sounding worried, asking him, “Adachi, are you okay?”
The concern and care that flooded through their connection broke something in Adachi, and he twisted around, grabbing Kurosawa’s shirt, pulling him down on his knees and wrapping his arms around him, almost sobbing into his shoulder. “I don’t want you to leave! I didn’t mean to hurt you! But I should have told you. I should have said something right away. I’m the worst!”
The confusion mounted, only tempered by a brief flash of hope, golden and crisp, and Kurosawa wrapped his arms around Adachi. “I am not planning to leave. And you haven’t hurt me. Not that I know of. Besides, you are one of the nicest people I know of. I can’t see you ever doing anything to hurt me. At least not deliberately. So, take a deep breath, and tell me what it is you think you should have said before, then let me be the judge of whether or not I feel hurt, hmm?”
Whether it was him just relinquishing the responsibility to Kurosawa, or it was old habits resurfacing, making Adachi try to sabotage himself, he did what Kurosawa asked—He told him. “I can read your mind. I can read anyone’s mind, as long as I touch them. And I’ve been touching you a lot. While we’ve been dancing! It’s… I know… how you feel about me. I should…”
Kurosawa’s thoughts had gone oddly silent. Then a thought came through loud and clear—Has he lost his mind? Should I call someone?
Making a sound halfway between a sharp laugh and a sob, Adachi shook his head, still clutching Kurosawa. “I am not crazy. You don’t need to call anyone.” He paused, but given what he had already said, he might as well tell the rest. “There’s an urban legend that if you are a virgin when you turn thirty, you’ll become a wizard. It seems… this is the ability you get. Or, possibly one of them. I don’t know for sure. It’s not like there’s lots of information out there.”
Kurosawa had a brief thought of—He’s a virgin!—But then he tamped down on that line of thinking fast, only to ask, “So what happens if you… are not… anymore? Does it go away?”
Adachi blinked his eyes open, staring at the short hairs at the nape of Kurosawa’s neck. That… was a possibility he himself had contemplated. Then he felt stupid for even considering sleeping with Kurosawa. The man had a crush on him. It would be cruel of Adachi to use him like that. Even if a tiny part of his mind insisted that Kurosawa would surely enjoy it. That it would surely make him smile that blindingly happy smile of his that always made Adachi feel weird and oddly restless. Besides, why would Kurosawa even bring that up unless he hoped…?
Realizing that he was trying to come up with excuses to accept an offer that Kurosawa had not even extended to him yet, Adachi groaned. Then his eyes flew open because the noise had made an image flash through Kurosawa’s mind, of Adachi on his back, making that noise in a completely different setting. He tensed up, and immediately Kurosawa did as well. Then it was his turn to make a small groan, apologizing. “Sorry, that was… I just… Being so close to you…”
But Adachi had just had a small epiphany. Seeing such a visual image of the two of them together… Yes, it had unsettled him a bit. Made him feel embarrassed. Awkward. Shy.
But what it had not made him feel was disgusted, or repulsed. Or any of the other things he probably should have felt if the idea of doing that with a man was something he was opposed to. In fact, if the idea had bothered him, merely the thought of another man having a crush on him should probably have made him pull away the moment he realized. Not this… slow… denial of it being an issue at all. Had he refrained from doing anything about it because…? Was he flattered? Someone as attractive as Kurosawa, lusting after Adachi… Well, it was flattering.
Before that line of thinking could progress, another thought bodily pushed it away—Since when did he consider Kurosawa attractive? Thinking back, probably since the first time he met him. He had just been too dense to realize what that meant.
A hysterical laugh wanted to break forth, but he managed to suppress it. What he did not manage to hold back was the confession that, “I’m probably bisexual.”
Kurosawa’s thoughts were a confusing tangle of emotions and brief flickers of half-formed images, before it settled on tentative hope. He clearly tried to rein that in, asking, “What are you trying to say?”
Scrounging up every ounce of courage he had, Adachi took a deep breath, then whispered against Kurosawa’s neck, “Can we try to date?”
Through their connection he could feel the goosebumps that his breath against Kurosawa’s neck caused. He could also feel the joy sparking clear and bright, and there was something suspiciously like a choir singing in the background. Kurosawa’s arms tightened briefly around him, and Kurosawa buried his nose in Adachi’s hair, answering, “Of course!”
They sat like that for a long moment, Kurosawa cycling through a bunch of different emotions, from disbelief that it was really happening, to a joy so bright and golden that it nearly brought tears to Adachi’s eyes, then over to worry that he might fuck things up, before going back to overflowing with happiness.
After slowly getting his emotions back under control, Kurosawa pulled back, putting a finger under Adachi’s chin and lifting his head up, meeting his eyes. “Does this mean…? Can I… kiss you?”
Contemplating it briefly, Adachi could not deny that he was curious. And it was the kind of thing people who were dating would do, was it not? Before he could mentally talk himself out of it, he gave a quick nod.
Kurosawa examined his face, and his thoughts suggested he wanted to be sure that he was not pushing Adachi. Then, slowly he leaned closer, eyes fluttering shut. Adachi did the same. Their lips met. It was… It almost tingled. And then Kurosawa’s mouth moved, his lips gliding over Adachi’s, and the tingle intensified. Fragmented thoughts reached him—So soft!—I love this!—I could do this forever!—but Adachi was not really in a coherent enough state of mind to really process that. He was kissing Kurosawa!
He forgot about where they were, and what the time was, and even the fact that the door was unlocked. It wasn’t until Kurosawa slowly, reluctantly, pulled away that it all came back. That, and his blush from earlier, because Kurosawa told him, “Amazing as this is, I think we should stop here, or I will no longer be able to control my thoughts.” He lifted Adachi’s hand, and gave the back of it a quick kiss. Then one more before letting go and scrambling up from the floor. He paused, looking like he was considering changing his mind. But he was right. This was not the place or the time to take anything further. Besides, Adachi was not sure if he was ready for that just yet. But the kissing had been amazing, and he needed to find an excuse to do that again. Soon.
Before that though, they took an extended break from dancing, and went to get lunch at a small cafe not far from the dance studio. And, given that they were dating now, Adachi felt justified in asking questions about Kurosawa, like what his favorite color was, and what kind of food he liked. Things Adachi felt he should know about his boyfriend. Were they boyfriends yet? How long did you have to date someone to count them as your boyfriend? He really needed to read up on these things.
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Fujisaki almost dropped a box of sewing pins when she noticed that Adachi’s fingers were brushing over Kurosawa’s hand where they were standing side by side, waiting for her to give them the outfits she was making for them for the next show to try on.
After that, she paid more attention to their interactions. It was not obvious, but there were small glances and shy smiles. Something had definitely changed between the two men, and her fujoshi heart really wanted to believe that it was more than just friendship.
Worried that she might be reading more into it than there was, she never said anything, just quietly observed them at any chance she got.
Their dancing had improved immensely, but that could just be down to Kurosawa-san’s excellent skills as a teacher. And for all that she frequently caught small gestures, it was never anything more than what could be observed between close friends. No, she had no evidence for her suspicion, and yet she felt sure that there was something more going on between those two.
And she was not the only one. Online, they had garnered quite a following of fujoshi and fudanshi fans who watched each dance and each little clip from their practice sessions avidly, discussing all the signs of their presumed relationship. When Adachi laughed at something Kurosawa said to him in the dance studio, everyone wanted to know what it was he had said, but unfortunately, the audio was too low, and Kurosawa had turned them around while speaking, so lip-reading was not an option.
The other same-sex dance pair, that came about by accident, had also garnered a following, but they were not quite as… intense about it as the followers of Adachi and Kurosawa. Fujisaki was not sure, but she thought maybe the show-runners had decided to milk this interest, as she had a feeling there was more focus on Adachi and Kurosawa than on any of the other remaining contestants in the most recent shows.
She was sure Adachi was not too happy about it, because for all that he was an idol, he was oddly shy and introverted when he was not performing on stage, always eager to leave most of the talking during interviews to the rest of his group. In her head, the difference between him and the other members, was that while most of the other guys were showmen, relishing the attention, Adachi was a singer first and foremost, completely focused on the music. He would probably have been perfectly fine with never giving an interview ever. And it seemed like Kurosawa was much the same.
She supposed that was a good thing, as it made her much less worried that Kurosawa was using Adachi for the attention being with him would garner him. No, honestly, with his looks and skills as a dancer, Kurosawa could have been an idol himself, but had chosen to become a dance teacher instead. Yes, it looked like they were well matched. And while she was not going to ask them while the show was still ongoing, she would be making some discreet questions later on, when there was no chance that anyone would remember that she was the one who had persuaded Adachi to come on the show and try to pressure her into revealing what she might know about his personal life. Plausible deniability and all that.
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It had taken Minato what he himself deemed embarrassingly long to catch on to Tsuge’s interest in him. To be fair, he had still realized it before Tsuge himself did. It was revealed in the small acts, like how he would catch Tsuge looking at him, appearing almost confused. Or the fact that when they had gone to buy some food from the konbini and Minato had picked up a box of cat food for the stray that lived outside his apartment, Tsuge had wanted to meet the cat, then went on to immediately befriend it and decide to adopt it. They had skipped the rest of the practice that day to take the cat to a vet that was open late, for a full checkup, and then they had gone to the nearest pet store so that Tsuge could buy anything he might need to care for a cat.
Minato was simultaneously flattered that Tsuge would do this so that he would no longer need to worry about the cat, slightly envious that Tsuge could just spend so much money without even batting an eyelash, and intimidated when he finally realized just how much money Tsuge had. The latter came about because Tsuge invited Minato with him home to help settle Udon in her new home. Which was a huge apartment in an affluent area.
Then, after he’d had some time to adapt to the idea that Tsuge was rich, he had been mildly baffled by the fact that Tsuge didn’t use the excuse he had made up to try to lure Minato into his bed. No, instead, he spent lots of time making sure Udon had everything set up just right, with her new cat tree, her food bowls and her water-fountain, and a litter-box tucked away underneath the counter in the laundry room. He even planted a small tray of cat grass. And then told Minato that he was welcome to come and visit Udon, since he had known her first.
It was only then that it dawned on Minato that it had in fact not been an attempt at getting him into Tsuge’s bed. After that, Minato paid more attention to Tsuge while they practiced, and eventually he realized that Tsuge’s gentleman act was not an act at all. He really was that proper and careful about his behavior, being far more genuine than most people Minato had gotten to know in the industry. But that was just it, was it not? Tsuge was not in the same kind of entertainment industry as Minato. Tsuge was a writer. He didn’t need to nurture his connections if he didn’t want to. He could leave those things to his publisher to deal with.
And the more Minato got to know who Tsuge really was, the more he liked what he saw. That was why, when they finally were voted off the show, in the eleventh episode out of twelve, Minato gathered up his courage and told Tsuge that he wanted to stay in touch. That he liked Tsuge, and didn’t want to give up the connection he felt that they had.
Tsuge had stared at him, looking adorably confused, clearly not understanding what Minato was saying. So he stepped close, put both hands on Tsuge’s shoulders, and leaned in, giving him a small kiss. When he pulled back again, Tsuge’s eyes had gone round as saucers, and a very obvious blush crept over his cheeks. For a long moment he said nothing. Didn’t really move either, and Minato started to wonder if he had broken something in Tsuge.
Then, in a flurry of motion, Tsuge hid his lower face behind his hand, looked off to the side, and muttered in a somewhat strangled tone, “I would like that too.”
Two days later they went on their first official date.
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Adachi couldn’t quite believe it—He and Kurosawa had made it to the finals. They were one of three pairs of dancers left. The other two celebrities that remained were an actress famous for historical dramas, and the race car driver.
Thinking back, to how he had hoped to be voted off right away, it felt almost ironic that he had made it this far. But he’d done it for Kurosawa’s sake, and even if they didn’t win, he felt like he had gotten something even better out of this—He now had an amazing boyfriend.
Adachi Kiyoshi, the eternal virgin, was now only one sentence away from finding out what it would be like to not be a virgin. All he had to do was tell Kurosawa that he was ready. Which he was. He had made up his mind earlier that week, but given that they had made it to the finals, he had also decided that he was going to wait until the show was over. Was it cheating? Technically, no. There was nothing in the rules about using mind reading to read the intentions of the lead right out of his head. Ethically though… Well, Kurosawa insisted he was fine with it, so Adachi had decided that, given that he had consent, it was probably fine. It wasn’t as if he was using another teacher or had lied about his skills before joining the show. It was just him and Kurosawa, dancing. Moving as one.
The final dance for the show was Samba. Fast footwork and complex moves meant that it was something Adachi would never have been able to do if it had not been for Kurosawa teaching him in their special way. And now they were to perform it in front of an audience of probably millions.
Kurosawa, with the top four buttons of his black and red shirt undone, courtesy of Fujisaki’s insistence that it would win them points, looked incredibly attractive, and Adachi found his eyes straying to the skin visible on his chest. It took effort to tear his eyes away and up, where he found Kurosawa looking at him with an arched eyebrow and a little smirk that sent tingles along Adachi’s spine.
Somehow, Fujisaki had managed to persuade Adachi that he too should leave some buttons open on his shirt. And, well, it was not like he had never worn somewhat revealing outfits on stage before, just… He had not been dancing in Kurosawa’s arms when he’d done that before. That somehow made a lot of difference.
As they walked out on the stage and took their positions, Adachi kept his eyes trained on Kurosawa’s, to avoid looking like a lecher. Unknown to him, their eye-contact as they started to dance had many people swooning due to the intensity it lent their performance.
Step, step, step, shaking his hips and swinging his arm up and out, then spinning into Kurosawa’s arms, only to spin out again, and into another set of step, step, step, his whole body moving with the music, getting flashes of praise from Kurosawa every time they touched, soaking up the sight of Kurosawa’s body with its graceful lines and lithe movements. The ruffles on the shirts hopped and trembled with the motion, and as Kurosawa spun Adachi one final time, ending with them back to front, Adachi’s head leaning back onto Kurosawa’s shoulder, they finally came to rest as the last notes played out.
Breathless and exhilarated, Adachi turned his head and smiled at Kurosawa, who looked at him at the same time. A camera clicked somewhere off stage, and ten thousand fujoshi hearts skipped a beat at the sight.
Walking off stage, to let the final couple dance, Adachi was still full of adrenaline and dopamine, and so he pulled Kurosawa out of view of everyone, to give him a firm kiss.
When they climbed the stairs to the balcony just as the music started and the couple on the stage started to dance, Kurosawa looked suspiciously dazed.
Twenty minutes later, after the last dance was complete, and a summary of the previous eleven episodes had been shown on a large screen, all three couples were called out on the stage again, for a brief interview before the winner was announced.
They had been prepared for this, so they had formulated answers that wouldn’t give away their relationship, but still made it clear that they were both very happy with how well they had meshed on the dancefloor, and that they intended to stay in touch once the show was over.
Then the votes started to roll on the screen, tallying up all the points from the judges and the votes from the viewers.
Adachi looked at Kurosawa, and found him looking back, a soft smile on his face. A cheer went through the audience, and they both turned to look at the screen again. Adachi blinked. Then blinked again. The numbers stayed the same.
They had won. By a decent margin. A giddy rush of joy made Adachi spin towards Kurosawa and pull him into a hug, laughing in happiness. “We did it! We won!”
Stepping back, Adachi was briefly lost in the blinding smile Kurosawa gave him, but then the presenter congratulated them, and Adachi tore his eyes away from his boyfriend.
The rest of the show passed by in a whirlwind of congratulations and confetti.
By the time they were back in the wardrobe, changing into their own clothes, Adachi’s mind was made up—He turned down celebrating with a bunch of people he didn’t really know, saying that he had to get up early the next morning for practice, then, once they were outside the building, he invited Kurosawa with him home. It was time to let go of his ability. Time to take his relationship with Kurosawa to the next level.
When he told him, just as they had entered Adachi’s apartment, Kurosawa had almost stumbled as he was bent over changing his shoes for slippers. Hiding his amusement behind his long sleeves, Adachi led Kurosawa deeper into his apartment. They made it to the hallway outside the bedroom before they started kissing. Then they left a trail of clothes as they fumbled their way inside the bedroom. With a pleased hum, they tumbled on to the bed.
Hours later, almost asleep in Kurosawa’s arms, Adachi was kind of glad that Kurosawa could not read his mind, because his thoughts were decidedly mushy and not far from what he’d seen in Kurosawa’s head earlier. There was no choir of angels, but if he had his wish, there would be many a sappy domestic scene in their future. And he was happy with that. Very happy.