#was ready to send them to Circle/Mission but then I realized Jou's outfit might not fly there so he's going to a show in Williamsburg

[alectoperdita]

Do I have a dozen things, including fic requests, to finish? Yes. But I only seem to want to start self-indulgent things that I may or may not even finish myself.

Anyway, inspired by those photos, here's Seto and Katsuya after six months of dating in the Old Friends universe.

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As soon as the elevator's doors shut, Seto's phone dinged with a message. He checked it, hoping against hope it was a cancellation of tonight's dinner plans.

No such luck for him. It was a message confirming the other party might even be early.

Movement on the edge of his vision distracted him before he could reply. He peered sideways at the elevator's other occupant, at Katsuya, his boyfriend now of six months. Katsuya also had his phone in hand, held aloft, and flipping the bird with the other as he snapped several selfies.

Seto stopped to watch him pose and make faces at his camera. It still boggled him sometimes: how long they'd lasted, how seamless the transition had been, how well they clicked.

In the mirror-finish of the elevator doors, their reflections stood side-by-side but they might as well be from two different worlds. Seto's navy-pattern suit was neat and pressed, a folded pocket square peeking out of his breast pocket, and shoes shined to a gleam. Every detail of his appearance managed and controlled down to the stitch. Katsuya, on the other hand, looked as if he recently rolled out of bed—Seto's bed—despite having taken as long as Seto to get ready.

Seto took his time giving his boyfriend the once-over, as was his prerogative, his eyes tracing the slopes of Katsuya's chest and midriff visible through his torn, sleeveless mesh top. The stretch of black, barely there fabric was broken up by bands of silver, heavy chains stringed around his neck, biceps, and wrists. His pants hung low on his waist, exposing his underwear's waistband, and boasted more straps than belt buckles Seto used to wear in his youth. The artfully tousled hair resembled his bed head after they had one or two invigorating rounds of sex, and his heavy eyeliner reminded Seto of when they first ran into each other on a fateful New Years Eve.

Their eyes locked through their reflections, and Katsuya pursed his lips to blow him a kiss.

He'd been caught staring. Ears now warmed, Seto tore his gaze away and typed a hasty reply to his dinner meeting.

As soon as he slipped the phone into his pocket, though, Katsuya immediately invaded his personal space. His chin rested on Seto's shoulder as his burly arms slung around his waist. Seto's eyes darted back to their reflections again. They were undeniably fetching tangled together, something that pleased Seto to no end.

"I'm not just for looking. You can touch," Katsuya mumbled against his heated ear.

"In that case, we're going right back upstairs," Seto grumbled.

Katsuya chuckled. "Down, boy. You're the one who worried about being late and rushing out the door."

As they said, business before pleasure. Pity.

Sooner than Seto preferred, they hit the ground floor. Katsuya dropped his arms, leaving Seto somewhat chilled and bereft despite wearing a suit in June, and swaggered off the elevator. Together, they crossed the atrium, where the black granite interior threatened to swallow Katsuya if not for the bright glimmer of his blond hair.

"You sure I can't convince you to come with me?" Seto asked. It was not the first time he'd even asked him. If it got Katsuya to change his mind, he wouldn't mind asking several times more.

"Hmmm. Depends. Where are you going?"

"Buddha-Bar."

Katsuya burst into laughter. It was music resonating within the high-ceiling lobby. "Tools go to Buddha-Bar."

He winced.

"Sorry, babe." Katsuya flashed an apologetic smile. In the middle of the lobby, he paused and spun to face him before gesturing to himself. "Plus, I doubt this meets their dress code."

Seto also came to a stop, taking the obvious invitation to ogle his scantily-clad boyfriend more. He couldn't even be mad at Katsuya, because the man was right on both accounts. The restaurant often attracted a crowd more concerned with appearing more cosmopolitan than they actually were, plus it'd would never seat Katsuya when he showed that much skin. Pity because he'd pay to sick Katsuya on tonight's dining party of financiers, all of whom certainly qualified as "tools" in Seto's book.

"They would if I bought them out," he said, blasé even as he stared a little too intensely at Katsuya's sculpted pecs.

Years ago, such an off-the-cuff comment would've pissed Katsuya off. But they were older now, close enough for him to recognize Seto's jokes even if he didn't always appreciate them.

Instead, Katsuya rolled his eyes and twirled around. Seto would've been annoyed if his broad back wasn't as delectable as his torso. Tonight, his boyfriend was eye candy from head to toe, front to back. Merely one of many reasons for Seto to trail behind him toward the exit.

"Hey, look at it this way. At least you don't have to go far, and it'll be an easy walk back once it's over."

Boots clomping, he shouldered past the glass door and onto the sidewalk. Dusk had not yet settled over the city, but the sun dipping behind the high-rises limned the urban landscape in light purple and orange. It was quiet, "quiet" for New York, the calm before the storm of bustling nightlife that descended on the neighborhood after dark.

They took a second to drink it in, then they were off again.

Seto lengthened his stride until he fell into place next to his boyfriend. In his opinion, any walk was vastly improved with Katsuya at his side. Katsuya gave him a sidelong glance before reaching across the small gap to intertwine their fingers. Seto squeezed his hand in return, finding solace in its warmth and weight. They drew glances as they approached the intersection, seemingly mismatched in their style of dress.

Katsuya peered up at him from under smoky eyelids. "You could always ditch 'em. Run away to Williamsburg with me."

Though he said it like a joke, Seto knew he meant it. As with almost anything involving Katsuya, it was tempting.

"Can't. I've been trying to schedule this meeting since last month."

"I know. I know. It was worth a try." Katsuya tilted his head, gesturing across the crosswalk as the light changed. "Alright, I'm headed that way."

Toward the subway. In the opposite direction of where Seto needed to go.

Even as their fingers started to separate like a taut string fraying, he squeezed them one last time. "Tell your sister and Mazaki I said hi."

"I will." Katsuya swooped in and caught his lips in a kiss over far too soon. When he drew away, his eyes twinkled with good-natured teasing. "Have fun dropping a Benjamin on an app and cocktail. I'm off to stuff myself with chili fries. You're always welcome if you get that bored."

With a wink and a wave, he was gone, a flurry of black and bronze lost to the streets of Tribeca.

Fifteen minutes into a round of pre-dinner drinks, Seto wished he had ditched and made the trek out to Brooklyn with Katsuya. But building a new theme park required constant injections of cash flow. As healthy as his company's coffers may be, it alone didn't suffice. Thus the need to wine and dine these bankers to see what loose change he could shake out of them.

Still, he fired a message to his boyfriend asking where he might find him later.