Mycroft had forced him to go "socialize", yet Sherlock was still standing in the archway of the administrative building on campus, wringing his hands together. Couples strolled by him, hand-in-hand with each other. Others stayed in groups, snickering with their friends.

"Mate! Sherlock!"

Sherlock's eyes fluttered closed in defeat of not being noticed by anyone as Geoff Lestrade raced up the set of stairs.

"I'm supposed to be telling people to go check out the rugby team table."

"Why?"

"Because people really want to donate to HopeWins," Lestrade rolled his eyes. All of the organizations and teams at the university were having a donor parade where each group set up a booth to donate money to their given foundation. "John Watson set up a kissing booth. A dollar per kiss. Everyone's in line."

Sherlock could feel his Adam's apple bob against his throat. John Watson? The John Watson?

"You should go check it out," Lestrade winked, and Sherlock could feel the embarrassment rising to his cheeks. Lestrade was one of the only ones who knew how interesting Sherlock thought John Watson was.

He was like the sun at twelve in the afternoon, glinting gold everywhere he went.

His eyes were like storms, like hurricanes, and Sherlock so badly wanted to drown in them.

He was talented, apparently in more ways than one, according to his countless girlfriends.

That was the problem.

John Watson, extraordinarily beautiful rugby captain, was completely heterosexual.

It broke Sherlock's heart in two...but he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could be able to piece it together again.

"Graham!" He called. Lestrade turned and glared at him.

"It's Greg--"

"Where's the rugby team booth?"

"Down by the Agricultural building."

"Thank you."

"Best of luck, mate," Lestrade winked again before Sherlock started down the sidewalk. He told himself again and again that this was an alright idea, and something good would come out of it, but he was Sherlock Holmes, the freakiest of the freaks at Baskerville University. He would probably be pounded into the football field if he even took one step into the line to the kissing booth.

He got there in five minutes time. The entire team, maroon uniforms and all, were crowded around the booth. In the middle was John, and he was collecting money, and then leaning forward and pecking each patron's lips.

Sherlock almost seethed, but stopped himself.

He stepped into the line.

He was the only boy standing there, and Sherlock promptly looked at his Converse.

Oh God. This was such a horrible idea. I'm such an idiot, he thought. The line kept moving faster and faster, and Sherlock's heart thumped with the beat. His fingers tore a bill from his jacket pocket, and he was so close to leaving.

But he looked up and John was right there. They locked eyes.

"Hey." His voice was like chocolate.

"Hello," Sherlock cleared his throat and tried to not to stumble over his own feet.

"Not one guy has been brave enough to do this."

"Well. I'm certainly not your normal guy."

John laughed, and Sherlock's brain shut down. "Yeah, you're really extraordinary, which you probably already knew."

"Extraordinary?" No one had called Sherlock extraordinary before.

"Of course. That deduction thing you do is--it's brilliant."

"That's not what people normally say."

"What do they normally say?"

"Piss-off."

John laughed. Sherlock had made John Watson laugh two times in the span of a minute. "And that coat your wear all the time, with the collar popped up."

"Yes," Sherlock was blushing, and he couldn't stop, and he was embarrassed, but he was talking to John Watson, and oh, wasn't that a miracle?

"I wish you had that coat on now so I could grab the collar and kiss you."

Sherlock wasn't sure if those words had actually come out of John's mouth. His lips were red and chapped from kissing so many people, and he had probably used that same line on each and every one of those girls.

"I--"

"You just have to pay this one time," John grinned as he took the money from Sherlock's trembling fingers. He leaned in, and Sherlock stumbled back.

"No, wait. Come here." John reached out a hand.

"I just..."

"I'd really like to kiss you, Sherlock Holmes."

Oh, that made Sherlock shiver. He stepped forward and John grabbed his hands. He was warm, so warm. John leaned forward. His lips met Sherlock's cupid bowed ones and lingered. The black-haired student grabbed the lapels of John's rugby jacket to hold himself steady, and John's tongue left the smallest of imprints on Sherlock's bottom lip. Sherlock almost passed out. John Watson was snogging him. It had to be all a dream.

"Close the booth," John was saying, his right hand pressed into Sherlock's hipbone. He kept sneaking kisses as the rest of the rugby team waved all of the remaining girls away. John pulled him behind the booth, and grabbed Sherlock's arse, pressing them closer together.

"Oh my God," Sherlock laughed against his golden mouth.

"You are absolutely stunning, Sherlock Holmes." John lowered his mouth to the creamy neck beneath him, nipping gently at the flesh. Sherlock was falling apart; he could feel himself withering away because of John Watson, the obviously not completely heterosexual rugby captain. It was so extraordinary. John Watson himself was extraordinary.

Sherlock realized he was whispering it against John's jawline. The rugby captain laughed softly and kissed Sherlock once more.

"Amazing, amazing," John mumbled.

"I'm really glad I came to this kissing booth," Sherlock joked.

"I'm glad you came, too," John laughed, and Sherlock was once again awed at how many times he could make John Watson laugh in a single minute.

"You can thank Geoff Lestrade for that." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I thought it was Greg?"

"Ehh," Sherlock thought about it a moment and then said, "Shut up and kiss me."

So John did.

a/n: well vote comment or fangirl. luv u guise.