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"I don't dance," Ogata says, when Yuusaku asks him, flushed and smiling cautiously.
Yuusaku doesn't look hurt by the blunt rejection. "Not even at your best friend's wedding?" he asks, because he's a terrible brat and he knows that Ogata hates it when he says that.
But Ogata rises to the bait anyway. "Usami," he says stiffly, "is not my best friend." It's more reflex than anything, but he's drunk enough that he doesn't feel the need to swallow it down.
He's drunk enough, too, that watching Yuusaku cross the floor to dance with Takagi instead makes him scowl.
So what if Takagi is married, now, and for some incomprehensible reason seems to be pleased with that state of affairs? Takagi is married to Usami, which barely counts at all. Ogata has been nearly laughing at the absurdity of it all evening, because Usami is the only person he's ever met who's more eminently unmarriageable than himself.
And Takagi is... not dissimilar to Yuusaku. He's boyishly handsome and soft-hearted, the sort of man who smiles freely and flusters easily. He's beaming, visibly thrilled to be married to the love of his life.
Yuusaku says something, and Takagi flushes and smiles. They look nauseatingly normal together. Ogata is so distracted watching them that he barely notices Usami sitting down beside him, too-close, eyes fixed in the same direction.
"Cute together, aren't they?" Usami says, waggling his eyebrows theatrically. The fact that he doesn't seem even remotely put off by the sight of them dancing so happily together is an insult in and of itself.
Ogata grunts wordlessly in disapproval.
"You're no fun." Usami sighs and slings an arm around Ogata's neck, leaning heavily against his side. "Wanna go fuck in the bathroom?" he asks.
"Not really," Ogata says, and he finds that he means it more than he expects.
Usami laughs at that, raucous, and then gives Ogata a patronizing little pat on the chest. "Look at you, all settled down," he says, which Ogata thinks is rich coming from the one of them who just got married.
"Who's settled down?" he retorts, and Usami gives him a very stern look.
"I'm being an adult," Usami says. "You shacked up for subpar dick. We—" he sniffs importantly "—are not the same."
Ogata scowls at him. "It's good dick and you know it."
Usami's answering smile is immensely smug. "I do know," he says. "But since when do you feel the need to defend him, huh, Hyakunosuke~?"
Ogata chooses to not follow that line of thought. He shrugs off Usami's arm and heads outside for a smoke instead, and he counts himself lucky that Usami doesn't follow. Takagi's gotten him to quit, apparently. It's terrifying to think about.
It's cool enough outside to be comfortable even in formal wear, and Ogata props up against the side of the building as he smokes. He can hear the music faintly from inside the hall as a new song starts up.
It's a few bars in when he hears the door click open nearby.
"Ani-sama?"
Ogata doesn't answer, but Yuusaku finds him anyway, peeking around the corner moments later.
"There you are."
"Mm," Ogata allows. He smokes his cigarette down to the filter in silence, and Yuusaku lets him, leaning against the wall a comfortable distance away. When he stubs it out and turns to look, finally, Yuusaku is watching him with a dopey smile on his face, and Ogata raises an eyebrow. "What?"
"My brother looks so handsome in a tuxedo," Yuusaku says, utterly guileless, and Ogata chokes on a laugh.
"You can take it off of me later," he says. It's meant to be crass, to scandalize him, but Yuusaku just leans in close and puts his lips to Ogata's ear.
"Or," he murmurs, his fingers brushing Ogata's wrist, "we could leave it on?" He steps back, flushed from the mere thought of what he's suggested, but looking immensely pleased with himself.
Ogata thinks, not for the first time, that he's been an excellent influence on his little brother.
The music filters in over the low chirp of crickets, quiet but clear and crisp in the night. Yuusaku is smiling down at him in the half-light, his gaze soft and strange, drawing him out by the wrists from the shadow of the building.
"Are you sure about that dance?" Yuusaku asks, sweet and a little hopeful, and Ogata still doesn't understand the appeal, but he thinks of how Yuusaku had looked under the lights with Takagi. He thinks of the ugly thing that had curled in his belly at the sight of them smiling together, their hands clasped, and feels himself frowning.
"Just one," Ogata says, sternly, and Yuusaku's entire face lights up.
"Ani-sama!" he exclaims, in delight, tugging him forward into a loose embrace. "I knew you'd come around."
No you didn't, Ogata thinks, maybe petulantly. How could Yuusaku have possibly known, when Ogata hadn't even known himself?
But Yuusaku's arms are looping around his waist, drawing him close. Yuusaku nuzzles against his hair and guides him to sway in time with the wistful little tune, and—
Is that it? Are they dancing? He doesn't feel like he's doing much of anything, but he curls his arms around Yuusaku's neck and moves with him, and it's... comfortable, he supposes. They can hold each other like this whenever they want, theoretically, but they don't.
It makes Ogata realize how well he knows the shape of him, the exact way their bodies fit together. When Yuusaku draws back just enough to lean their foreheads together, it feels embarrassingly intimate, somehow. He's glad they're out here, where no one can see them.
"Thank you for indulging me," Yuusaku murmurs, formal but warm. His eyes are shut, his long, dark eyelashes fanned delicately against his skin. It puts Ogata in mind of watching him sleep.
He wants to kiss him, suddenly, and he swallows down the unbidden feeling.
"I know you don't like weddings," Yuusaku goes on, mouth quirking, as they circle in time to the music. "But this one isn't so bad, is it?"
"Sure," Ogata allows. He's had worse evenings than a giant party at Usami's expense, even if it had included dressing up and listening to sappy speeches. And at any rate, things are wrapping up now, and he'll be able to take Yuusaku back to their shockingly extravagant hotel room, and then they can drink champagne and fuck until the sun comes up. He's been looking forward to that part all night.
"They seem so happy," Yuusaku says, a little dreamily, and he draws Ogata closer. His voice hushes shyly, barely audible now. "I want... I want to make you happy like that, too, Ani-sama."
"I'm not marrying you," Ogata says, although there's no real bite to it. "That's illegal."
Yuusaku laughs softly, at that, but there's something thoughtful in the silence that follows. "If we could," he asks, carefully, very quietly. "Would you want to?"
Ogata doesn't know how to answer that, so he doesn't.
It isn't something they've talked about, because—well, why would they? But Ogata knows, too, that neither of them is especially inclined to go anywhere. He's loath to think of anything as permanent, but Yuusaku has been part of his new normal for longer than he cares to admit.
Usami was right, he realizes, and nearly barks out an ugly laugh. It's comfortable, this thing between them. He's settled down.
There's an easy lull before Yuusaku goes on. "I know it isn't your style," he says, and Ogata can hear the smile in his voice. "But I think you'd indulge me, if I asked."
"I wouldn't," Ogata tells him, but it doesn't come out quite so stern as he intends. "Even if you asked a hundred times."
And he can feel Yuusaku laugh against him, familiar and known.
"Then I'll have to ask a thousand times," Yuusaku says—and he's looking at Ogata now, smiling, his eyes glittering with amusement.
"I guess you will," Ogata says, and he thinks he can feel Yuusaku's heartbeat, slow and steady against his own. He leans in, and he shuts his eyes.
And they dance.