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“Man, I can't believe Josuke pulled that shit,” Okuyasu groans, wiping his dripping wet hair out of his face with aggravation laced into the action. He's sopping wet from head to toe, his hoodie and jeans sagging on his fit body. Abdul withholds his amused laughter and guides Okuyasu into the house with a hand on his wet back, saying with a subtle smile, “Sometimes, a person's humor doesn't age quite as fast as the person.”
“Yeah, basically you're saying he was being a fuckin' child, right?”
Abdul shuts the door behind them and flicks on the overhead light. It bathes the entryway in illumination, lighting up the walls colored a soft blue and the floor now lined with carpet. The windows by the entryway are no longer loose and leak cold air in. Warm colored drapes are hung on each window. A coat hanger had recently been installed into the wall, where Abdul hangs his long coat. Okuyasu grumpily yanks off his shoes that drip heavily, and then opens the door to toss them onto the front porch.
“I'm saying he was just poking fun like you two used to do all the time,” Abdul answers, turning to see Okuyasu pulling his long wet hair back into a ponytail. Okuyasu eyes him, his brow knit. The twin scars (much like Abdul's) on his face wrinkle with his agitated expression. Sighing, Okuyasu drops his arms and nods.
“I'm just mad 'cause you were there. He made me look like an idiot.”
Abdul shakes his head and steps closer to the other man. For a moment, he gazes at Okuyasu, glancing across his handsome face and broadened torso—he had matured and grown in so many ways since he first met him back in 1999, it always amazes Abdul. He draws his arms around him and pulls him to his chest. Okuyasu sputters and complains, his rough voice raising, “Mo, your clothes..!”
“I don't mind,” Abdul says, squeezing him in his arms. Okuyasu sags against him, burying his face into his warm neck. Abdul strokes his hand down over Okuyasu's ponytail and says lowly, “You weren't the only one that was fooled. I followed him, too. How were we to know he was only joking about there being a Stand user? He was just messing around. I wouldn't get wound up over it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Okuyasu mumbles, “I just got mad for no reason. I guess I just wanted to have a chill time hanging with you and Josuke at the beach... But then he had to go and do that shit and ruin it.”
He pulls back and looks at Abdul with a slight frown, his broad hands resting on the Egyptian's sides, over his dampened sweater. Abdul searches his face and murmurs, “I didn't think it was ruined. I enjoyed it.”
A moment passes, of Okuyasu searching in his intense amber eyes, before a slight smile appears on his face, replacing the frown.
“I'm glad to hear that, Mo.”
Abdul raises a hand to gently run a cool, mechanical thumb down over Okuyasu's sharp cheekbone, gazing at him lovingly. He leans in, head tilted, and presses a soft kiss to his lips. Okuyasu clutches at his sides, eagerly returning it with a firm purse of his mouth. Abdul cups the side of his head, his thumb resting on his cheek with his fingers in his wet hair. They share a soft, chaste kiss with a slow pace, until Abdul pulls back to look at him with a smile on his full lips.
“Would you like to call Josuke and invite him over? We can make it up to all of us. Watch a movie, or you two can play video games?”
Okuyasu ponders it, worrying at his bottom lip, before he blushes—a cute sight on his scarred face. He brings his hand up from Abdul's side to clutch at Abdul's hand on his face. He brings it to his mouth and presses a firm kiss to the cool metal of it, his dark eyes narrowed with embarrassment. Abdul blinks, surprised at his boldness. Okuyasu mumbles against Abdul's fingers, “I want to be with you for a bit. Josuke can stew in his guilt for another hour or somethin'. I just wanna kiss you on the couch, Mo.”
Abdul laughs and nods. He smiles fondly at the other man and says, “First, let's get you changed into something dry.”
“Oh, 'let's', huh? You perv,” Okuyasu laughs jokingly, before pressing one last firm kiss to Abdul's knuckles. Lowering their hands, he keeps their fingers threaded together. Abdul chuckles and curls his other hand around Okuyasu's neck, resting over his wet ponytail, pulling him in closer to plant a kiss to his forehead.
“Hm, now that I'm thinking about it, we should get you into a hot shower, too.”
“Definitely,” Okuyasu remarks with a broad grin spreading over his face, his eyes narrowing like they tend to do when he's sporting a big, goofy smile. Abdul takes his hand and guides him towards the staircase that Okuyasu himself had rebuilt entirely. Now, it's sturdy and doesn't crack under heavy stress, an improvement of the shoddy state it had once been in—much like the man who fixed them.
Two hours later, long after the shared shower and kisses on the couch, Abdul is in the kitchen. He had left the two to their heated gaming to accept a call from his cellphone. It had turned out to be a rather important call, so he had stood in the kitchen for a long thirty minutes which consisted of discussion. By the time it came to an end, he had become frustrated by the length of it. Although, stepping back into the living room to see Okuyasu laying against Josuke, with his head on his chest, has the agitation melting away. Abdul smiles warmly, seeing Josuke stroke at his best friend's back with a hand, his other arm curled up under his head, propping it up. The video game's pause screen music plays softly, filling the silence of the moment.
Meanwhile, Okuyasu's father is curled up in a tight ball on the couch, bundled in a few quilts. He's dozing too—each exhale accompanied by a grotesque gurgle. Abdul is warmed by the image; he doesn't want to interrupt it. But Josuke notices his presence anyways, tilting his head back to look up at the other man. He smiles.
“Hey, he kinda passed out while you were busy.”
“Should I take him?” Abdul asks, crossing his arms loosely with a faint smile on his face. Josuke shakes his head, bringing his gaze back to the other man who slept against his side. Abdul watches as Josuke went back to stroking at Okuyasu's back, as well as his long black and white hair.
“Nah, this is fine. He's kinda comfy,” Josuke murmurs. Abdul scrutinizes Josuke's face, finding only warmth and adoration in his violet eyes and smiling plump lips. Abdul says nothing, and stands there for a moment longer before he decides that twelve at night is late enough for him too. He makes his leave to get ready for bed, and to additionally give Josuke some privacy.
When he finishes changing into his sleepwear (a plain black t-shirt and striped pyjama pants) and going through his nightly routine in the bathroom, he makes his way down the staircase to step into the living room again. This time, Josuke had fallen asleep himself. They lay together on the floor. Okuyasu's leg is thrown across Josuke's. Josuke is sprawled out lazily.
Abdul quietly crosses the room to switch off the TV, but leaves the game console on for them to deal with later. He's faced the aftermath of turning off a system without realizing Okuyasu hadn't saved his progress. Then he glances towards Okuyasu's father, who is still sleeping. Sighing, Abdul then speaks up, saying softly, “Boys. Wake up.”
Josuke jolts up, which in return sends Okuyasu rolling off of him to flop against the floor with a disgruntled noise of surprise. Abdul frowns. Josuke is always prone to lurching up whenever he's woken up. (He's seen that before in Jotaro and Polnareff.)
“Ah, shit, sorry, Oku!” Josuke sputters, reaching out to help him up. Okuyasu waves him off, sitting up and saying in a voice thick with sleepiness, “S'fine, whatever.”
“Do you want to take the guest bed, Josuke?” Abdul asks, offering a hand. Josuke grabs onto it and lets Abdul hoist him up. Josuke holds a hand out for Okuyasu too, but Okuyasu just ignores it and helps himself up from the living room floor. He tiredly brushes his hair out of his face. Josuke looks back at Abdul, smiling tiredly, and shrugs.
“If you guys are cool with that.”
“Yeah, we cool with that,” Okuyasu mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. Abdul nods and says, “Of course. This is your home as well, you know.”
Josuke smiles at Abdul and nods, blushing a bit with bashfulness. Okuyasu turns to his father curled up on the couch and steps up to him, speaking up gruffly, “Alright, pops. Up and at 'em.”
He holds out a hand. Abdul and Josuke watch as the green blob of Okuyasu's father shifts and grumbles before peeking out past the quilts. His father slowly unravels himself out of the blankets, and then reaches out a deformed hand to place it in Okuyasu's. Okuyasu patiently helps him off of the couch, grunting with strain when his father stumbles a bit and bears his weight on his son's hold.
“Alright, c'mon,” Okuyasu mumbles, before he began to walk his father around the couch and towards the staircase, after snatching up the quilts he used. Abdul smiles to himself, as does Josuke, watching the pair. They begin to follow. Abdul shuts off lights as they go and casts a glance towards the front door, using Magician's Red to double check it's locked.
The stairs don't creak when they ascend them. Josuke gives Abdul a quick hug and Okuyasu a pat on the back before bidding them both a goodnight and escaping into the guest bathroom to undo his pompadour and wash the makeup off his face.
Abdul watches from the doorway as Okuyasu patiently guides his father to his bed. It's a small bed with a creaky frame, but has a very nice mattress Okuyasu picked up just for him, to relieve any unnecessary discomfort his deformed father may have. Okuyasu tucks him in and leans in to smooch him on the forehead, but his father paps him gently on the face with a green hand, which has Okuyasu pausing and then chuckling. He leaves his father to it, turning to see Abdul standing there with crossed arms and a smile. While Okuyasu paces up to him with a lopsided grin, his father rolls himself up in the many blankets.
“C'mon,” Okuyasu whispers, grinning, as he slides his hands around Abdul's warm sides. Abdul continues to smile warmly, gazing down at the other man with loving eyes. He nods and takes Okuyasu's rough hand. He turns off the light to his father's bedroom and shuts the door behind them before he guides Okuyasu to their bedroom.
In the darkness of the room, Okuyasu feels safe. He feels content, happy, loved. He's spooning Abdul, nuzzling close to his broad back with his hand resting on his clothed chest. Abdul rubs slowly at his forearm with a loving caress. The comforting duvet is resting atop them, trapping their joined warmth which only adds onto Okuyasu's contentment.
With his eyes closed and his forehead pressed to Abdul's back, feeling the expansion and deflation of his torso with each breath, Okuyasu is soothed. He goes back in time, four years prior. Four years ago he slept in this same room, but on a bare mattress with cold night air seeping in through the poorly insulated window to the left of the bed. He would lay there, thinking about how alone he was. How his brother is dead, how he's stuck with his unresponsive, creature of a father. Sometimes he would lay there for a long time, wishing he had someone beyond just a friend, like Josuke or Koichi. He wanted someone who wanted him in return. He had convinced himself at the time that's a luxury he'll never have.
But now, a smile comes to his face, laying in the same bed. A bed with covers and pillows and soft blankets. The same room, but now with a carpeted floor, warmly painted walls, and a window that keeps the cold out, rather than invites it in. Those bitter, lonesome feelings replaced with warmth, with love, with happiness. Okuyasu nuzzles further into Abdul and says softly, “I love you, Mo.”
In return, Abdul huffs a soft laugh and murmurs lowly, a rumble in his chest, “And I love you, Okuyasu.”
He squeezes Okuyasu's hand that rests on his belly. Okuyasu throws his leg over Abdul's and wiggles himself closer, prompting another laugh from the Egyptian.