Chapter Text
A man with a gaunt face and a gaze down his nose is the one to answer the door, but his greeting is warm and friendly. His way of speech is formal, even to his friends and (former?) coworkers.
When Yosuke shakes hands with him, his grip is almost as firm as Naoto’s. He smiles. “You must be the Detective Yosuke Hanamura I’ve heard so much about,” he says. “Feel free to call me Inoue.”
“O-oh. Yeah.” That I’ve heard so much about? Souji’s talked about him? “Um, just Yosuke is fine. I’m only a detective when I’ve got files in my hand, ha.” Damn it, Yosuke, that sounded stupid as hell, why did you say that? Are you just trying to make a fool of yourself?
Souji uses his incredible people skills to maneuver them away from the front of the main hall, toward a library/study-ish room. As they’re inching their way away from Inoue and into the other room, another man approaches them.
“Didn’t take you for a party person, kid,” he says, voice gruff. His eyes are deep-set and his face is scruffy, and he looks incredibly familiar—
“Holy shit, Detective Dojima?” Yosuke blurts, right when Souji is about to reply.
The two men turn to him, both surprised and, in the older man’s case, a bit bemused. “Haven’t heard that in a while… do I know you from somewhere?”
“U-um, my name is Yosuke Hanamura, I grew up in Inaba. I babysat your daughter, uh, Nanako? That’s her name, right? You wrote my recommendation letter for university!”
Recognition dawns in his dark eyes, and he leans back, looking Yosuke over completely. “I’ll be damned. Yosuke Hanamura.” He reaches out and clasps Yosuke’s forearm in a tight shake. “And what a man you’ve grown up to be! How’s your old man?”
Yosuke shrugs. “We kinda lost contact after I left home for school,” he admits. “But I’m sure he’s doing just fine, ruining Inaba’s small-town economy.”
“C’mon, kid, shouldn’t you show your pop some respect?” Dojima laughs. “But hey, you’ve got every right to be pissed at the guy. Hardly gave you free time between the work he had you do and your own part time jobs, huh?”
“Babysitting Nanako was basically my free time,” he says. “Really though, it was fine. She was the best. How is she, anyway?”
Souji steps right between them, glancing back and forth in confusion. “You both sound so familiar with each other?” Technically, it’s a statement, but the tone is that of a question, so Yosuke answers it.
“He lived in Inaba. I spent like, my whole angsty teenage life there. The letter of recommendation Dojima wrote is probably the only thing that got me outta there at all.”
“This is the ‘intimidating but awesome’ guy you mentioned?” Souji asks, as if he still can’t process what’s happening.
Dojima puffs his chest. “Intimidating but awesome? Sounds about right. You got the observation skills down, Hanamura.” He leans over a little and stage whispers: “So, what’d you do to get this one talking that much, huh? You didn’t get him drunk, did you?”
Yosuke blinks. “What? What do you mean? He’s hardly spoken.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Yosuke sees Souji blushing as Dojima says, “There’ve been nights when I can count on my fingers the amount of words Mr. Seta here’s spoken. Must be something about you.”
“Yes,” Souji replies, and Yosuke is too busy looking around at other party-goers to see the other’s soft smile. “There’s certainly something.”
Someone calls to Dojima across the room, and he tells them to have fun (they both ignore his wink) as he answers them. Souji shakes his head, as if still in awe about what just happened. He glances at Yosuke, blinks, then takes him by the hand and leads him down the hall, to what must be the living room. There, Yosuke spots Teddie, his lapel rose replaced with a red and yellow bowtie, chatting with a group of people Yosuke mostly doesn’t recognize. He does spot Naoto, with Rise on their arm.
Teddie, while laughing at something that a girl with short hair said, sees Souji and Yosuke between heads of the guests, and waves them over (‘waves’ being an understatement, as what really happened involved Teddie’s arm flapping in the air and someone’s head being whacked by it multiple times).
“Yo, Souji!” the short-haired girl greets him, and her beaming grin broadens when she shifts her gaze to Yosuke. “And you must be Yosuke, huh?”
“Um, yeah,” he says, because that’s probably a better introduction than he would have been able to give.
Luckily, Souji saves him from that hell-that-could-have-been; he puts a hand on Yosuke’s arm and tells the group, “This is Yosuke Hanamura. He moved here when Naoto hired him.”
All look to the individual, who nods. “He’s the best cold-case detective the department has seen,” they say.
“He works with Naoto in their office,” Rise adds. “To make a guess, I’d say his job is like, 60% detective, 35% mumbling to himself on the office floor, and 5% being a total dork about Souji.”
Yosuke’s about to fake a laugh and proceed to hide in the bathroom, because the first joke the group makes is about him, and they’re laughing at him, and this is the same as high school and college parties, he should have known it wouldn’t be any different—
“Better than Souji!” the tall, aggressive-looking blond man grunts, jabbing a thumb at the man. “I’ve heard kids talkin’ all about how ‘ooh, Mr. Seta has a date, he keeps fussin’ in the mirror!’ and ‘ooh, Mr. Seta kept textin’ durin’ the movie we watched, he was all smiley, he was totally talkin’ to his boyfriend!’ ” He shakes his head. “Lots of broken hearts now that you have a partner, Souji, lemme tell ya. Girls all in distress. Their friends tellin’ ‘em that hey, he’s gay anyway, it’s whatever, but he’s soooo cuuute!, and they’ve gotta see who’s taken ‘im.”
The woman beside the short-haired one, her cascade of black hair tied back with a red bow, snorts with laughter in a sound that’s the opposite of the petite giggle Yosuke would have expected. “Y-your girly voice!” she snickers. “It-it’s always! Ha! Always the best!”
“I do girly better than your girlfriend does,” he shoots back, to which the short-haired girl shouts something about how she cuts steak into smaller pieces now and doesn’t talk with her mouth full that much anymore.
Yosuke’s wide eyes dart to and fro between them all, astounded that any of them can keep up with the conversation. It isn’t even a conversation, really, just bits of a handful of conversations picked up and tossed around their group like some sort of bizarre vocal hot-potato. Perhaps he could have followed if he wasn’t still processing the fact that the joke Rise made wasn’t at his expense at all, nor was the light laughter that followed it. Judging by the current discussion they’re having, they all make jokes like that, and are all on both the giving and the receiving end just as frequently as any other. It’s obvious how good of friends they are, and how close, and it almost makes Yosuke want to back out and let them have their time, their party.
Until the short-haired woman throws her hands out as if clearing them all away from something and says, “We haven’t even introduced ourselves yet!” She frowns, pointing sternly at Yosuke, who blinks in surprise at the sudden attention. “ You need to be more assertive! You’ve hardly said a word and you just let us all go babbling on without including you, and without you knowing our names!”
“Don’t say that like you’re accusing him,” the long-haired woman says, a dainty hand on the other’s shoulder to calm her. She looks up at Yosuke. “I’m Yukiko Amagi. I run the local day care.”
“I help her a lot!” Teddie adds proudly, puffing out his chest.
“And I’m Chie Satonaka! Yukiko’s my fiance!” The short-haired woman holds up her hand and displays a thin gold band on her finger. “I’m the high school gym teacher, and I coach the gymnastics and the track teams!”
“Unfortunately, her braggin’ ain’t for nothing. They end up in the state finals just about every year,” says the tall blond. He points a thumb into his chest. “Kanji Tatsumi. I’m a teacher. Electives and stuff.”
“And also my boyfriend!” Teddie jumps up, wrapping his arms around Kanji’s shoulders and his legs around his abdomen. “He thinks I’m cute!”
“Whatever!” Kanji snaps, but his face is bright pink and, when he looks away, he’s grinning.
“Why d’ya say ‘unfortunately?’” Chie asks, planting her hands on her hips and leaning forward.
“Maybe it’s ‘cause ya never stop talking about your goddamn teams!” Kanji groans, rolling his eyes. “And ya play favorites in your classes ‘cause of it!”
Chie gasps. It’s melodramatic, but Yosuke doesn’t point it out. “Ex cuse me? I do not play favorites! I play dodgeball! There’s no favorites in dodgeball!”
“She’s right,” Yosuke agrees. “Just like there’s no crying in baseball. It’s a cardinal rule.”
A few others nod, almost sagely, in agreement. Finally. Something Yosuke has in common with the rest of them. They all agree: there’s no favorites in dodgeball. It’s hardly anything at all, but he’ll take it. Especially when Souji laughs, more than just a light chuckle under his breath, and the entire group practically gapes at Yosuke as if the glass of champagne in Rise’s hand had been water a few seconds ago and he’d been the one to make the change.
After a while, they’re all seated around a coffee table, with the three girls and nonbinary individual on the couch, Teddie perched on the arm of the chair Kanji is sitting in, and Souji and Yosuke on the floor, holding hands under the table. By this point, about half the group has gone through a little more than their fair share of champagne, leaving them tipsy at best. Yosuke can’t help but find them all a little ridiculous, the way a few glasses too many of alcohol has made them. To his delight, it seems as though his boyfriend, too, is a lightweight. Yeah, Teddie had told him one or two stories about some drunken endeavors, but witnessing it for himself? Totally different, and totally better.
For the fifth time in ten minutes, Souji leans against Yosuke and says, “Have I told you yet that you look absolutely incredible tonight?”
Yosuke has to force himself not to laugh, looking up at Naoto for help. They are, however, already occupied by their own date’s alcohol-induced flirtatiousness, and can only manage to spare him an identical SOS glance. Ah, so they’re both screwed (meant figuratively, but Yosuke wouldn’t be against literally).
Yosuke settles on wrapping an arm around Souji’s shoulders so he doesn’t sway as much and chides, “You shouldn’t have drank so much, Partner. You’re a grown man. Don’t you know your own limit?”
Souji rests his head on Yosuke’s shoulder and nuzzles—literally fucking nuzzles, good god—against Yosuke’s neck. “Don’t normally drink,” he murmurs, lips brushing against his skin and sending a shiver up Yosuke’s spine.
“He really doesn’t,” Kanji says, catching Teddie before he slips off the chair without looking. “Seta, like, never drinks.”
“You seem to bring out another side of him,” Naoto concurs, face red as they pointedly ignore Rise’s kisses on their cheek and jaw. “He’s a very reserved man, but part of me isn’t all too surprised that you’re the one to help him branch out.”
“Really?” Yosuke looks down at the man that seems to be beginning to doze on his shoulder. “Huh. I used to be like that, too, in college and stuff. Didn’t really socialize much.” He laughs a little to himself. “‘Course, not many people wanted to socialize with me, so. Kinda made that lifestyle easier for me.”
“That kinda surprises me,” Rise says, finally turning to face the group again. Naoto breathes a little sigh of relief. “You’ve always, y’know, seemed the kinda… the kinda type to like people lots. Or. Y’know. For people to like you lots. ‘Cause, like, since I met you, back, uh, in princet’s office, I just kinda, thought you were cool. Ish. Not really. You’re not cool. I lied.”
“Rise,” Naoto chides, “you don’t have to be embarrassed. Yosuke is, if I’m to be candid, a pretty cool guy.” They cast a small smile his way.
This has Yosuke in shock, staring wide-eyed at the two. “Wh—for real? You think I’m cool?”
“You’re ice cold, babe,” Souji mumbles, snaking his arms around his waist and kissing his shoulder. “Frigid. Tundra’s got nothin’ on you.”
“Shut up, you’re drunk,” Yosuke grumbles, for lack of anything else to say. Because he has absolutely no idea what to say in this situation. He’s… he’s literally never, ever been called cool before. Ever. Not even by his mom. Probably because he isn’t cool. He acts like it, yeah, pretends he knows he’s all that, but he knows he’s not. Maybe they’re just trying to make him feel more comfortable in the group? But, no, Naoto doesn’t lie, and Naoto knows Rise like the back of their hand (which they see often, considering all the typing and writing they do), so they’d know when she’s lying. They… they genuinely think he’s cool.
“ I don’t think you’re that cool,” Chie speaks up, twirling a strand of the sleeping Yukiko’s hair around her finger. “You’re, I dunno, lukewarm, at best.”
“Ignore her,” Kanji cuts in, speaking around Teddie’s hair, due to the fact the latter is now on his lap and leaning back against him. “Chie doesn’t think anything is cool.”
“False!” she hisses, voice low so her fiancé doesn’t awaken. “I think lots of things are cool. Dragons, for one. Judo. Sick kickboard tricks.”
“Shhhh,” Yukiko murmurs, dragging her fingers down Chie’s face. “Shhhhh. He’s cool. Shh.”
This is getting to be a little much. This many compliments at much, this much insistence? Yosuke’s not used to this. And he apparently can’t handle it, not quite yet, because his heart is threatening to break through his ribs and the way his lungs are desperate to hyperventilate isn’t helping matters, either. So he stutters out a “Th-thanks, guys,” and then babbles something about needing to take Souji home, get him water, food, sleep. Rise, Teddie, and Kanji say that he should stay a little while longer, but Naoto mentions the time, and that he’s being perfectly reasonable, don’t force him to stay if he doesn’t want to stay, you pushy fools. Yosuke mouths a silent thanks to them, receiving a nod in return as he helps Souji up and half-carries the sleepy man toward the door. Yosuke thanks Inoue for hosting a fun evening, wishes him the best of luck and a pleasant retirement as the man in question holds open the door for him and Souji. He points out a taxi he’d called a few minutes ago and paid extra to wait for a guest to need it, gracious host that he is, and hands Yosuke some cash to cover the fare home. Yosuke insists on paying him back, but he denies, shooing the pair out the door.
What a night.
As soon as they’re in the taxi, Yosuke heaves a heavy sigh, showing the driver the address in Souji’s contact information on his phone and giving him the time to type it into the GPS before it’s passed back to him. He takes the opportunity to text Naoto another thanks, and tell them that they were already in a taxi home. They reply quickly, thanking him for informing them. He doesn’t reply to that, because he knows nothing else needs to be said, and that Naoto isn’t one for unnecessary words.
At Souji’s apartment complex, Yosuke digs Souji’s key out from the pocket of his jacket and lets them in, whispering hello to his cats and then heading to the bedroom so he can ease Souji from under his arm onto the mattress. He then goes to the kitchen to pour some water, goes to the bathroom to grab some painkillers, places both on the counter because the cats won’t stop rubbing against his legs and purring and he has no choice but to pet them. Ten minutes and two lint roller sheets later, Yosuke makes his way back into Souji’s room to place the hangover helpers on his nightstand.
Souji grabs his wrist, very suddenly and with surprising strength for one that had been dozing only moments ago, and yanks him down onto the bed. Yosuke yelps, landing on top of Souji and then rolling to the side with momentum. He’s left blinking at the dark ceiling, wondering what exactly just happened, Souji cuddling against his side. ‘Cuddling’ being a loose term for ‘clinging.’ Yosuke doubts possible escape, especially when his boyfriend murmurs for him to stay the night.
“I should really go home,” Yosuke whispers, trying to extract himself. “I’ll probably need to take care of hungover Teddie.”
“Kanji’ll do it,” Souji mumbles. “You have to take care of a hungover me.” He kisses Yosuke’s jugular, and Yosuke’s certain that he can feel his racing pulse against his lips.
“Are you sure?” he finally asks, after a few moments of internal argument.
Souji nods. “I wanna talk to you a little. Tell you things.”
“You can do that tomorrow,” Yosuke points out, only to be hushed.
“I won’t want to tomorrow. I don’t really like talking about this.”
“All the more reason you should tell me tomorrow, when you’re not tipsy.”
A pause. “My parents weren’t around much. Worked a lot. But when they were, they were constantly pressuring me to study, to join extracurriculars, to work part-time, intern, all that. It was like they cared more about my success than they did me, their son, a person.” He hugs Yosuke closer. “I swore, when I moved out, that I’d never be like that. That I’d be an influence to kids that wasn’t all success this, future that. That enjoying your youth is enough, put yourself first, school and clubs and work second, because you’re only a kid once. I refuse to let kids’ childhoods go wasted the way mine did.” He sighs. “When Dojima mentioned that your parents were kind of the same way as mine, I just… I couldn’t not tell you anymore.”
Yosuke can’t think of anything to say to that. He runs gentle fingers through Souji’s hair and hopes that’s enough. With the way Souji relaxes, as if he’d been tense that whole time, he knows it is. They stay like that for a while, lying in each other’s arms, Yosuke idly playing with Souji’s hair, before Yosuke finally speaks.
“I’m glad you told me.” He kisses the top of Souji’s head, ruffling his hair a little. “Thank you for trusting me.”
Souji’s already more than half asleep, now, and it’s evident in his voice when he says, “When we adopt a kid, we’re gonna raise them right.”
Yosuke chokes. Splutters. Manages to say, “Y-yeah, we sure will, partner,” and buries his face in silver hair. He forces himself to calm down.
“I love you,” Souji breathes.
“I love you, too,” Yosuke replies, just before both of their breathing evens out in the gentle pattern of sleep.
Yosuke dreams of waking up to Souji’s pancakes, Souji’s good-morning kiss, and a small, faceless child’s grin.