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It had all started with a simple suggestion.
“Hey, we should go out Friday night!”
What an idiot. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
It seemed innocent enough though, all Yata had wanted to do was have a date night in which Saruhiko didn’t make him suffer through a horror movie, or worse, a sex scene. So naturally, he’d suggested they go out for once. More specifically, to a local bar, one that wasn’t too busy or popular, and just throw a few back. No big deal, he and Saruhiko had been dating for almost two months, and his boyfriend didn’t usually object to going places as long as there wouldn’t be a lot of people there. So when Yata brought it up over a study session, he was a bit surprised by the initial anxiety, which he rarely saw, cross his boyfriend’s features.
“You...want to go out drinking?” Saruhiko looked sideways, eyes squinting as he took in a shaky breath before clicking his tongue in irritation. “I...don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Yata only snorted, nudging Saruhiko lightly and rolling his eyes. “What? The biker’s too cool for the bar? C’mon, it’ll be a nice change!”
Saruhiko rubbed the back of his neck, leaning away from Yata on the couch and trying to formulate a response, or perhaps a decent enough excuse. It was at that point that Yata should’ve just dropped it. Oh, if only he’d known better. If. Only.
Weird as it may be, it was rare for Saruhiko to refuse him. Though he’d never actually admit it to Yata, the motorcyclist obviously had a weak spot for him. Yes, Fushimi Saruhiko, notorious at school for being campus’s biggest prick, was unknowingly at his boyfriend’s mercy. As long as it didn’t involve eating vegetables or socializing, Saruhiko would generally go along with whatever Yata wanted if he was pestered enough. He’d complain...a lot, but he’d do it.
“What’s up?” Yata moved his hand to grip Saruhiko’s arm as he asked the question, giving an encouraging squeeze. Yata had to take in a deep breath as he did so, trying not to get too distracted by the lean muscle underneath the trademark leather jacket his boyfriend always seemed to wear. Yata resisted the urge to chuckle, because really, two months had done nothing to calm the effect that Saruhiko had on him. In fact, it had gotten a lot worse. Saruhiko was such a tease too, even without trying. His boyfriend, in the whole two months he'd known him, had only worn jeans and long sleeve shirts, no extra skin showing. Ugh.
But, Yata figured he'd focus on the main issue for the time being.
“Nothing really, I just tend to not handle alcohol very well,” Saruhiko explained, trying to play it off with a shrug. Yata raised an eyebrow, amused as his boyfriend looked to the floor again.
“Seriously? It can’t be that bad!” Yata continued to laugh, concluding that his boyfriend was obviously just worrying too much or must’ve had a bad experience at some point. He scooted closer to Saruhiko until he was leaning on the other’s shoulder, smirk planted on his face as he reveled in the rare opportunity to mock his snarky boyfriend.
“Don’t worry dumbass, if you get a little tipsy I’ll take good care of you!” Yata laughed at the glare he received in return, knowing that it wouldn't last long, not after the final blow was delivered. Yata flashed his signature determined grin, threading his fingers through Saruhiko’s dark hair and lightly scratching at the scalp in encouragement. He could swear he saw Saruhiko’s cool eyes darken from the sensation, and he breathed a resigned sigh. Game over.
---
Fuck my life.
Yata had been thinking that for the past forty five minutes as he trudged along the sidewalk at an unbelievably slow pace, his boyfriend awkwardly slung onto his shoulder.
The night had started off just fine, they’d finished class early and met up in the parking lot as usual before speeding off into the distance on Saruhiko’s bike. They’d eaten dinner at their usual place, a cheap sandwich shop that gave Saruhiko a discount due to his Scepter4 status before heading to the bar. They’d gone to the one Yata had heard about, a place sort of far from campus, at least in relation to the other bars. Naturally, that meant it was almost completely empty, aside from some older gentlemen sitting in a booth towards the back. The place had a classic air to it though, the lighting dim and the old fashioned lamps hanging above casting a charming glow onto the bar and reflecting off the various bottles of alcohol. There were large windows on the sides of the building though, something that told Yata that the place was probably bright and open during daylight hours.
The bartender glanced up at them when they had entered, putting down the glass he’d been polishing with care. Lighting a cigarette, he greeted them warmly.
“Evening boys, what can I get you?” The bartender placed his hands flat on the bar’s surface, ready for orders to come his way. Yata grinned in response to the man’s welcoming nature, and requested a drink he liked, not feeling adventurous enough to try anything too new.
“Oh Saru, what do you want?” Yata turned to his boyfriend with a smile, noticing only briefly that he was hesitantly taking a seat on one of the stools.
“Whatever you’re getting,” Saruhiko said with a shrug. Yata only raised an eyebrow and threw a careless ‘whatever’ back at him, turning again to the bartender.
“Just two of those then, uhh…”
“Kusanagi,” the bartender interrupted Yata’s stalling with a smile, already moving underneath the bar to grab the mixer. Yata flashed a grin in return before scooting next to Saruhiko and proceeding to complain about the day’s classes.
It had mostly gone like that the whole time, Kusanagi occasionally coming into the conversation to ask about what they were studying or where they were from. Yata hadn’t minded any of the questions, answering happily while Saruhiko sipped his drink beside him. That was, until the man asked how they knew each other. Yata had of course, said they were just friends as he usually did. Better to do that than deal with people’s shit after all. But something about the bartender’s smirk told Yata that the guy was more perceptive than he looked. He hadn’t said anything though, so Yata tried not to worry. He’d simply turned his focus back to Saruhiko, who smiled at him as he listened to Yata’s ramblings. That face never ceased to do funny things to Yata’s stomach, and he tried his best to suppress the stupid grin threatening to flare up in return.
It was only after about an hour that Yata noticed Saruhiko’s body had started to sway. His words also started holding a light slur to them until he barely talked at all, only nodding distantly when Yata talked. Yata squinted, setting down his second drink and looking over at Saruhiko’s glass. The first one, of which was only half full.
What the hell?
Yata leaned closer to his boyfriend, reaching a hand out to grasp his arm. “Hey, Saru, are you—“
It was at that exact moment that his boyfriend fell back, passing out. Yata barely had enough time to catch him before he landed on the floor harshly. Kusanagi looked over the bar, concerned and surprised because really, who the hell passes out from half a glass?
“What the fuck? Saru! Saruhiko!” Yata tried to shake his boyfriend out of the daze, but was only met with light murmurs and incoherent mumbling. Fucking seriously?
Yata quickly apologized to Kusanagi between curses as he tried to wake his boyfriend to no avail. He eventually managed to pick Saruhiko up from the floor and sling him over his shoulder. After saying his quick goodbyes to Kusanagi, who’d only chuckled in amusement and wished them a safe trip home, Yata walked out of the bar, determined to get Saruhiko home to bed so that when he woke up, he could effectively tease the hell out of him. As he exited the bar though, a problem he hadn’t thought of was parked right in front of him.
The motherfucking motorcycle.
So there he was, moving at a snail’s pace on the sidewalk with his lightweight boyfriend and a giant black bike. It had been almost an hour, and his shoulder was starting to sting like crazy. He might as well have been a cheap circus act, what with his right hand attempting to wheel the bike forward and Saruhiko balanced awkwardly on his left shoulder. His hands were numb, his right one cramping up constantly due to dragging the bike’s weight. The soreness of his back was becoming nearly unbearable despite his strength. And sure, Saruhiko wasn’t exactly heavy, but he was still a human body and was certainly not helping the situation. In addition, he was tall, and Yata was painfully aware of the fact that he probably looked ridiculous walking on the side of the road trying to juggle a five hundred pound motorcycle and its inebriated driver.
Yata groaned loudly as cars raced past him to his right. He didn’t even really know why he was walking. He’d reasoned early on that his own apartment was way too far away, being already twenty minutes from campus. So naturally, he started in the direction of the dorms, which were only a few miles from the bar. It was still quite a ways to walk though, especially with the weight he was carrying. He wasn’t even exactly sure where Saruhiko lived, being that he’d never been. He’d asked only once, and had been met with immediate, almost panicked refusal from Saruhiko.
He didn’t have much choice at that moment unfortunately. Even though the bar had been farther away from campus than most, it was still relatively close, about an hour and a half’s walk. Well, normally.
Yata let out another frustrated sigh before stopping, taking another breather. It had been his tenth in the last hour, and it was not helping him make better time. While it wasn’t late yet, the sun had disappeared and darkness had fallen over the city. Yata straightened again before continuing forward, determined to make it to the dorms before it actually did get late. No way was he going to be on the side of the road all night.
Another thirty minutes of extra effort and brisk walking later, Yata started to feel hopeful. He could see the bright lights of campus coming up in the distance, and he was relieved to see that he was making good time despite the pain he was feeling in his joints. He could almost smile thinking of how close he was to taking a break. He was definitely going to kill Saruhiko when he woke up. Yata still wasn’t exactly sure what building Saruhiko lived in, but he was sure he could figure it out as soon as he was able to park the motorcycle in the dorm lot and relieve himself of its heaviness. He focused on the road ahead, picking up his pace once more against the protests of his muscles.
Then it started to rain.
Not noticeably at first. Yata had started feeling small droplets on his head which he’d initially chalked up to being falling leaves or twigs from the trees. Then the droplets got heavier and heavier until he realized, yeah okay, it was sprinkling. No big deal. Another ten minutes passed, and Yata started feeling cold as the light rain continued. He shivered, suddenly grateful for Saruhiko’s body heat against him. He eventually came to a stretch of road with no trees above it, and thus his shelter from the rain was gone, and he swore at that moment it started pouring. Not just a light rain on his scalp anymore, but huge droplets pounding on his skull and starting to completely drench him. At least he’d decided on a sweatshirt that day. Too bad he’d also stupidly decided on shorts as well.
Luckily, the frigid weather seemed to stir his boyfriend out of his drunken spell, and he raised his head from where it had been resting against Yata.
“Misaki? Mm…what? Where are we?” Saruhiko squinted as he looked around in confusion. Yata had taken the liberty of removing his glasses before they started the walk, knowing that Saruhiko would surely bitch at him if they happened to fall and break.
“Shut the fuck up, this is all your damn fault you lightweight bastard!” Yata’s response hardly retained any harsh quality, what with his teeth chattering from the cold in between words. He heard his boyfriend slowly click his tongue in irritation. Ah so you’re still sober enough to do that huh?
“I tried to tell you, you dint lishen…shtupid,” Saruhiko replied, voice still slurred from the alcohol. Yata was relieved that he was at least sober enough to hold a conversation.
Yata had managed to majorly haul ass since the rain had begun, and they were almost to the dorms. Yata thanked his lucky stars that the dorms were located at the edge of campus, and that he didn’t have to walk more inward to reach his destination, thus cutting the walk a bit shorter.
“Whatever asshole, which building is yours?”
Saruhiko groaned, obviously reluctant to give an answer but resigning anyway. “Cnt mis it…thers a giant blue shiiit banner n front.”
Sure enough, twenty minutes later Yata was standing in front of a building with a banner that read ‘Scepter4’ in bright blue. Only, the banner wasn’t giant. It was absolutely humongous.
“What…is this place?” Yata decided he didn’t care much though after a few seconds, more focused on placing the bike in one of the resident parking spaces in front of the building and hightailing it inside. After assuring his boyfriend that the bike was parked fucking fine under the tarp he kept in the side compartment, Yata was finally able to help his now standing boyfriend out of the rain and into the heated dorm.
The lobby was mostly empty aside from two guys, whom Yata assumed were Saruhiko’s hallmates, seated on the couch. They halted their conversation as he and Saruhiko entered, expressions growing confused as Yata breathed heavily from the energy exertion of dragging Saruhiko towards the elevator. They probably looked a mess, what with their clothes all drenched and tousled. Not to mention Saruhiko’s lack of glasses and peculiar posture as he leaned on Yata. One of the residents walked over slowly, running a hand through his ginger hair.
“Well Fushimi-san! Looks like you had a fun—“
“Andy shhudup,” Saruhiko interrupted with a glare. Yata’s eyes widened at the rude response, but he managed to conclude that this was the famous Domyouji Andy that his boyfriend always complained about. Despite Saruhiko’s harsh tone, Domyouji didn’t miss a beat, didn’t even falter a little.
“What? I’m just observing!” Domyouji laughed, turning his bright and amused gaze towards Yata. “You must be Yata Misaki! Fushimi-san here talks about you all the—“
“Andy—“
“It’s true! Isn’t it true Hidaka-san?” Domyouji finally regarded the other resident still seated at the couch. Saruhiko glared menacingly in Hidaka’s direction, almost daring him to agree. Hidaka just smiled guiltily, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I mean…you sorta do Fushimi-san,” he said quietly. Saruhiko just clicked his tongue in annoyance before ushering Yata into the elevator, mumbling something about idiots under his breath.
“Oh okay! Goodnight Fushimi-san!”
“Shut up.”
They’d reached Saruhiko’s room, located on the second floor, about five minutes later, mostly due to their slow pace. They were stiff from the cold, their clothes rubbing uncomfortably against their skin as they moved. Saruhiko pulled the familiar lanyard from his pocket, shakily turning the key in the lock and practically throwing open the door.
Saruhiko practically rushed to the bedroom, and Yata followed hastily. They did so despite their chaffing clothes, wanting nothing more than to just throw themselves on the warm bed. Saruhiko didn’t even bother turning the lights on, leaving the room dim. Yata still had some sense to stop them though, knowing it was better to get out of their wet clothes so they didn’t soak the sheets. He grabbed Saruhiko’s arm just before he fell onto the bed, and was instantly met with a glare.
“What?” Saruhiko tried pulling away, still noticeably shaking.
“I-idiot, we’ll get the bed all wet!” Yata began pulling at Saruhiko’s jacket, too cold to be embarrassed. Saruhiko yanked his arm away immediately, as if he’d been burned, and stepped back from Yata.
“It’s fine, I’ll just change in the—“
“Dumbass! Judging from your fucking hamper, I doubt you have any clean clothes!” And Yata was right, Saruhiko’s hamper, which was seated in the corner and still visible in the dark, was packed with dirty clothes. “It’s like you don’t even do laundry,” Yata said, moving again to try tugging at his boyfriend’s clothing.
“Ugh, it’s whatever! Who cares about the bed?” Saruhiko continued to protest as Yata pulled at his jacket. His strength was still inhibited due to the cold and the fact that he still wasn’t completely sobered up, and Yata managed to pulled the leather jacket off after several seconds of fighting.
“Ugh, stop being a kid,” Yata said as he pulled at the corner of Saruhiko’s long sleeved shirt. “What? You embarrassed or some—“
Yata’s eyes caught a flash of color from where he had pulled down the neck of the shirt, and he froze. His boyfriend did too, only momentarily before attempting to wrench away. Yata was faster though, and the shorter grabbed his boyfriend’s arms, keeping him in place as he violently rolled up the dark sleeves. Yata gasped as colored, shaded skin revealed itself.
He…has tattoos.
A lot of them too it seemed. Yata rolled up the sleeves as much as he could, inspecting the various images inked on his boyfriend’s skin. Some were black, some had splashes of vibrant color. Parts had solid outlines, while others just seemed to flow into each other expertly. Clocks, daggers, animal skulls, and all kinds of other designs made themselves known as Yata inched the sleeves up to the biceps, as far as they would go due to the material.
Yata huffed in frustration, bringing his eyes back up to his boyfriend’s face. Saruhiko looked…oddly worried, like a scared animal caught in the headlights of a car. He was on edge, probably waiting for Yata to yell or leave or…something. Did he think I wouldn’t…
Yata frowned, tugging again, this time weakly, at the shirt. “Off,” he whispered.
He saw his boyfriend take in a sharp breath before opening his mouth, maybe to protest. Yata cut him off before he could even utter the first sound. “I want to see. Please, Saruhiko?”
His boyfriend tensed, but nonetheless stepped back and removed his shirt slowly. They’d both forgotten about the cold by then, too fixated on each other. Saruhiko pulled the last of his shirt over his head, and it dropped to the floor with a soft, wet slap.
Yata exhaled as he was greeted with more detailed, exquisite art painted across his boyfriend’s torso. He moved forward, almost propelled by some unknown force, and ran his hands over every individual image on Saruhiko’s skin, eyes wide. His hands seemed to have a mind of their own as they roamed across Saruhiko’s exposed chest.
Saruhiko just stood there, stiff as a board while Yata continued to explore. Yata vaguely wondered how his boyfriend could possibly still be nervous, given Yata’s obviously enthusiastic reaction. He knew Saruhiko had his issues though, and communication was often necessary for things to come across clearly between them, even regarding simple things. He had to be careful though, because actually acknowledging his boyfriend’s obvious fear of rejection would only get him the cold shoulder.
“They’re so awesome,” Yata finally spoke, fingers still lightly trailing along the fine lines belonging to a gray rose on Saruhiko’s left pectoral. And as Yata figured would happen, his boyfriend heaved a sigh of relief, finally allowing himself to breathe shakily.
Yata laughed lightly, raising an eyebrow as his boyfriend finally met his gaze. “So this is why you never show skin…you idiot, teasing me like that.” Yata pushed Saruhiko playfully with that, watching as the taller rolled his eyes.
“In my defense, it has been cold,” Saruhiko said with a pout as he took a seat on the bed.
“Bullshit!” Yata joined him with a laugh, enjoying his boyfriend’s annoyed stare. His laugh died down as they looked at each other, and Yata reached out again to trace the lines of more tattoos.
They were close on the bed. Yata could see the cool blue of his boyfriend’s irises right in front of him even in the dark room, and the tickling of the other’s breath against his face. He finally noticed how much younger Saruhiko looked without his glasses, his face brighter and all the more alluring due to his beautiful facial structure. He licked his lips unconsciously, glancing at Saruhiko’s as they too seemed to part with expectation. They both paused just short of a kiss, eyes meeting one last time before a spark was ignited. They leaned in simultaneously, hastily, as if demanding the contact. It felt like electricity when their lips met, and Saruhiko made a satisfied groan against Yata’s mouth, as if he’d been waiting forever to feel Yata’s lips against his own. Yata responded all too eagerly, nearly jumping into Saruhiko’s lap with the force in which he propelled himself forward, hands tangling desperately in his boyfriend’s dark hair. The kiss was sloppy and inexperienced, teeth clacking together awkwardly and noses bumping as they kept readjusting the angle of the kiss. Saruhiko brought his hands up to caress Yata’s face and neck, delighted to feel the rapid pulse beating beneath his fingertips.
Yata’s breath was hot as it filled Saruhiko’s lungs, almost like life being breathed into him. He pushed Yata back, deepening the kiss from his end. Their lips were cold from the rain, but Saruhiko had never felt anything warmer, and he almost panicked from the foreign affection that swelled in his chest. They separated in short intervals to breathe before plunging back into the fire, reconnecting each time with more fervor than the previous. It was dizzying and intoxicating, yet absolutely euphoric all at once. Saruhiko briefly noted that it had a much more powerful effect than alcohol ever would, he was sure.
They pulled apart, gasping for air and still shivering from both the intensity of the kiss and the freezing temperature of their skin. Yata looked at Saruhiko in a daze for a few moments, leaning in to place one last, insistent kiss to his lips before pulling back and removing his soaked sweatshirt. He shook from the cold as the offending material fell to the floor, and he instinctively wrapped his arms around his now bare torso. He thought briefly that he probably looked like the matching blank canvas to his boyfriend’s fully painted one.
Saruhiko reached out tentatively, icy fingers tracing the outline of Yata’s exposed collar bones.
Still shaking, now also from anticipation, Yata decided to take his boyfriends roaming hands as an invitation. He leaned forward, falling into the circle of Saruhiko’s arms that seemed to naturally welcome him. Saruhiko inhaled, a new and sweet kind of serenity overtaking him as he allowed himself to fall back onto the bed with Yata in his arms, wrapping them up in as many blankets as possible.
Yata breathed against his neck, every once in a while leaving small kisses. Saruhiko just continued to breathe in Yata’s scent, tightening his hold as if Yata would disappear. He ran a hand along Yata’s ribs, an unspoken promise. They were both too exhausted to do anything more, but one day they wouldn’t be, and Saruhiko had no problem waiting. It wasn’t like there would ever be another option anyways.
“No one but Misaki…” Saruhiko trailed off as he buried his face into the chestnut hair.
“Huh?” Yata shifted his head, but was trapped under the weight of Saruhiko’s body. Not that he minded. He shrugged, he’d just ask his boyfriend in the morning, along with more questions about his tattoos and his dorm. He snuggled closer, happy for the warmth, before closing his eyes and allowing himself to drift off into peaceful sleep.