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Chamber hadn’t meant to get blasted. He hadn’t even really meant to drink. He usually took a measured approach to alcohol, sipping champagne or liqueur for the flavor and the status. But on this night, while on his way to his room for a half glass of red before bed - that amount is good for your health, he would swear to anyone he could corner - he had stumbled upon the usual suspects binge drinking in the common room. And, in one of his most glaring lapses of judgment he could recall, he decided to join them.
Their liquor was atrocious. As he cautiously found a spot between Phoenix and Gekko (not at all his usual drinking buddies), someone pressed a bottle of cherry soju into his hand, and he took sips straight from it between coughs into his shoulder and smalltalk with people who could barely speak. The peach soju they handed him afterwards was only better because he’d already lost his sense of taste to the cherry. He prayed no one over the age of 25 would walk in and see him or he’d lose his credibility as a tastemaker. Jett told him he was hating too hard: soju’s good and cheap and the flavors are cute and flirty. Cheap is part of the problem, he told her, scraping his teeth along his tongue to try to rid it of its thick coating. Whatever you say Chamber, you’re racking up bottles like the rest of us.
By the end of the night, Chamber was deep in the couch, bottle dangling from his hand. He set it next to the too-many others on the coffee table and took off his glasses to rub his eyes; the world was spinning and the pressure just made it worse, sending swirls of yellow and black light across his vision. He’d been abandoned by the rest of the crew, other than Yoru, but that was only because he was passed out on the sofa opposite him. He looked much younger while asleep, still and calm, no anger to darken his face. Chamber stared at him with half-closed eyes, since the wild motion of the planet around him wasn’t so intense if he focused on one spot. Perhaps he could fall asleep here, too, since at this rate he wasn’t going to make it to his bed.
Yoru stirred. Some happy corner of Chamber’s brain ginned up the idea that it was because Yoru felt his soft gaze along his body, and as he thought too long about what that could mean, his face grew warmer than alcohol warm. Then Yoru sat straight up, stood straight up, looking pallid and panicked. A visible wave traveled through his body as he tried walking to the door. Some sympathetic part of Chamber’s body started shaking too, his stomach churning.
Without a word Yoru more or less fell to the floor, not far from where he had been sleeping, and after a dry heave he puked everywhere, everywhere, how much had he had to drink that there was even this much vomit in him. His retching sounded painful; Chamber grimaced, watching Yoru try to get onto his hands and knees so at least it wasn’t spilling down the front of his shirt anymore. Chamber was pulled by a desire to help, but how, he didn’t know. Better to try something than nothing, he supposed. Though he was barely fit to walk, the twittering of lowered inhibitions was louder than anything else in his mind, and with a heave that took most of his strength, he stood and then knelt beside Yoru.
With a gentle touch he placed his hand on the small of Yoru’s back. Yoru clearly hadn’t realized someone else was in the room, and he jumped when he registered what was happening, but he was somehow still puking, not so violently now but still dribbling gross greyish bile. Chamber pattered his fingers around, hoping to comfort him. If Yoru didn’t appreciate it, he didn’t say anything (belatedly, Chamber realized that was because his mouth was full).
The spasms which had wracked Yoru’s body finally slowed, Chamber hazily petting his back. Yoru stayed in position until his elbows looked like they were about to buckle; Chamber helped him sit up straight. There was something about being slightly less drunk than Yoru that made Chamber feel like he was in control of his body again, although it probably didn’t seem that way from the outside. Yoru looked at Chamber, assessed him, and said, simply, “thanks,” still panting from the exertion. A string of spit dangled from his mouth until Yoru wiped it away with the back of his hand. His shirt and pants were vile. Chamber wrinkled his nose. He pitied whoever found the mess in the morning, since there was no way in hell either of them were fit to clean it up in their states. At least Yoru had managed to avoid the carpet - a small consolation.
Chamber found himself telling Yoru to come with him to clean himself off since he couldn’t go to sleep in his state and somehow, somehow, Yoru was nodding along, mumbling how he kind of felt better after vomiting; with drink-tingly arms Chamber lifted the other man up off the floor, at first trying to avoid the puke, then giving up since it was everywhere and just trying to limp along to whoever’s room was closer. They stumbled against each other, down the wide dark hall, and Chamber couldn’t help but laugh as their sides brushed, he couldn’t explain it to Yoru but he was laughing at something, just at the ticklish blush of it all, and then Yoru was laughing too, doubling over and into Chamber, barely able to raise his hand to the keypad at his door.
They weaved a wobbly path to the bathroom, and Yoru was quick to discard his top, throwing it into the sink. Even in his state he paused for a moment at the clasp of his pants, and Chamber, whose mind was beginning to unfog, offered to leave, though he had a worming worry that if he left, Yoru would slip and crack his head open in the shower. Yoru shook his head no, so Chamber told him to pretend he wasn’t there while he washed out the dirty clothes. He averted his eyes and clumsily pumped hand soap onto the darker spots on Yoru’s top. Something wet and heavy hit him in the side - a balled up pair of pants. He swiveled around to toss them back at the culprit, trying not to think about why they were so wet, but Yoru was already hidden behind the curtain.
When the shower creaked on, Yoru swore and groaned beneath the ice water. At least justice is swift.
While Yoru showered, Chamber sat at the sink, massaging soap into Yoru’s now completely soaked clothes. He was spreading the pants over the towel bar to dry when he heard Yoru call his name.
“You still there, Chamber?”
“I’m here, yes.”
“Could you help me?”
Chamber hesitated. “What do you need?”
“Can you help me with my hair?”
Suddenly, Chamber’s drink-soaked heart was racing, blood rushing to his cheeks. With the embarrassment and the soju still in his system he must be completely red. Whatever ability to think that he had regained in recent minutes disappeared into the steam.
“Are you sure?” It was the only response he could think of, if thinking was even what he was doing when the sound of his heartbeat overpowered his thoughts.
“Cham, just help me already.” He was whining.
Chamber stalled, playing with the button at his neck. Was he supposed to take his clothes off? Maybe since his glasses would be off too it wouldn’t be such a big deal since he wouldn’t be able to see. He started to giggle at some thought crossing his mind, maybe about the face Yoru would make, before the thought promptly escaped him. Ah, if only the sober Chamber were here to act on his behalf. Then he thought fuck it, kicking off his shoes and throwing his clothes into a pile at the base of the toilet.
“Hello?” Yoru called from inside the shower. “Chamber?”
“I’m here,” he said again, though this time he could feel his voice warble. “. . . Should I come in?”
“I already told you to get in here,” Yoru said with overlong vowels, and there was a bright spark underneath the alcohol drawl of his voice. Chamber folded his glasses and set them on the counter, and then, tensing and untensing his fists, he pulled the curtain aside. Yoru was facing away from the shower head, body without tension. At even the suggestion of his naked form beneath the water, the blush on Chamber’s cheeks darkened, and he turned to look away despite being half blind. He stepped over the lip of the tub and bit the inside of his cheek like he’d never seen someone nude before.
“What do you need me to do with your hair?” He stared at the back of a bottle of body wash.
“I dunno, Chamber, hey - I just needed an excuse to get you in here.” Startled, Chamber finally met Yoru’s gaze. He was squinting, trying to keep the water out of his eyes, and his wet hair made a fringe along his forehead, and he was smiling brilliantly, maybe the widest smile he’d ever tossed Chamber’s way. His voice got a little more quiet. “You okay with this?”
Chamber was, for a moment, rendered mute. There had been so many times he’d played out their imagined first encounter in his head, and in his fantasies he was always gallant, taking Yoru’s hand in his to make the tips of his cute pointed ears turn red, whisking him away to a dinner date or to his bed, planting a soft kiss on his lips that he couldn’t help but lean into. Instead, Yoru had flustered him out of speech, made him feel like a little boy again, one with a schoolyard crush he didn’t yet have the words to articulate. He always had a response, always always, and Yoru had somehow short-circuited him. Finally, he gasped, “Yes, Yoru, I - yes.”
“Then come be useful and wash my hair, okay?” Yoru leaned against the tile to let Chamber slip beside him, and he did, although he felt his brain lag as his heart jumped halfway out his chest. He stood still, the hot water hitting his back. Yoru turned around and handed him some kind of shampoo. “Use this, and stop hogging the water.” Chamber tried to apologize, though he wasn’t sure if the words he was thinking made it out of his mouth. He shifted to let some of the water fall onto Yoru, and, reaching up, he began to lather shampoo into Yoru’s hair.
Yoru visibly relaxed at the touch, even though Chamber’s movements were uncoordinated; idly Chamber thought that he acted like a cat, melting into a purr beneath his hands while he felt for the first time that so-soft hair and massaged his scalp. He brushed his thumb along the shell of his ear and Yoru shivered even under the warm water, and Chamber blushed again behind him at this intimate moment he was, for some reason, a part of. He was a complete mess: blind, fog and floaters clouding whatever vision he had left; overly aware of his body though unable to control it like he usually could; burning hotter than the water at the just-barely-an-inch between his body and Yoru’s. But for once Yoru was entirely pliant, humming something or other as suds raced down his sleek neck and down his back, shifting his shoulders from one side to another, even leaning into Chamber in a way that set the taller man aflame. Chamber’s hands lingered too long in Yoru’s hair, no more soap visible though he kneaded as if it were. Then Yoru turned around and Chamber felt his blush rising again as they were face to face, front to front, was there anything more intimate than this. . .
Suddenly they were leaning into each other, kismet initiating, Chamber ducking down slightly, letting the water run over his shoulders, sheltering Yoru from the spray, Yoru with his eyes shut, Chamber’s fluttering, his lashes laden with droplets, their lips meeting and it was slick and drunken but sweet and lovely how they came together for that first time, only pulling away when they couldn’t breathe at all.
“You taste terrible,” were the first words out of Chamber’s mouth, but his eyes were crinkled and his breath coming fast and his hands still in their place on Yoru’s shoulders.
“What’d you think, dumbass? That puke tastes like candy?” Yoru wrapped his arms around Chamber’s waist and they were warm.
“You’re right,” Chamber said, laughter bubbling over his voice, “and it is better than the soju,” and he planted a kiss on the bridge of his nose and pressed his cheek to the other’s and they were smiling, smiling, smiling.