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There had been no traffic when they’d left Morioh, no traffic at the tail end of the morning rush, no traffic driving through the city. But now, two hours later and on a stretch of highway between small towns, they hit a complete standstill. Josuke observes their misfortune from the passenger seat with silent dismay; he had been hoping to ask Jotaro about finding a rest stop at the next exit to relieve his bladder. Putting it off this long hadn’t been his best idea; he’s past the point of slight discomfort now and squarely into a constant awareness of his need. He glances over at the other man, finds his face bare of emotion. Well, this is just great. Josuke rubs his thighs together, resolving himself to waiting. Maybe it will clear up quickly.
A half hour drags by, and Josuke swears they haven’t even moved a quarter of a mile. He’s been trying to think about what type of stand user they might encounter based on Jotaro’s vague intel, but it’s distracting him less and less from how badly he has to pee. He squirms in place, notices Jotaro noticing the movement. Embarrassing as it is, he’ll have to say something eventually. He squares his shoulders and bites the bullet.
“Jotaro-san? I know this is bad timing, but I really have to use the restroom.” Jotaro sighs, glancing over at him, and Josuke feels the weight of his resignation. All, God forbid this be happening right now. It makes Josuke feel guilty for having to pee in the first place.
“It might be a while before we can get off the highway. How urgent is it?” His face warms.
"Uh.” The traffic ahead of them looks stagnant. But even if he admits that it’s an emergency, what can either of them do about the situation? “I can wait,” Josuke mumbles. Jotaro nods in response, and they lapse into silence again.
It embarrasses him how much he finds himself fidgeting after that. No matter how Josuke sits, his bladder feels put upon. Mercifully, Jotaro keeps his eyes on the road, seemingly trusting that he can manage. They inch along. Jotaro’s foot on the break is gentler than before, probably out of consideration for Josuke, but the amount of duress it puts on his bladder feels the same. This was not how he thought today would go. Forget proving he’s dependable in high-tension situations; apparently he can barely manage waiting for the bathroom. Josuke grimaces and tries not to think about whether his bladder can possibly get any fuller. He hadn’t drank all that much today, had he? Some water with breakfast and the coffee his mom had offered him on the way out. Not nearly enough that he should feel this close to bursting now. He searches for another distraction.
“How’d we find out about this stand user?” He asks after a moment. His voice sounds stiffer than normal. Jotaro clears his throat, spares him a glance.
“The Speedwagon Foundation keeps tabs on any unusual disruptions that occur in lots of places. And this whole business with people turning up frozen like popsicles certainly fits the bill. They asked me to check it out since I’m close by.” In his anxious daze, only half of Jotaro’s words process in Josuke’s mind; he tries to come up with something else to say to continue the conversation. Maybe he can ask about his life in America.
“Does that kinda stuff come up oft-“ Abruptly, Josuke becomes aware of a wet warmth starting to saturate the fabric between his thighs. He goes silent, horror washing over him, and jams a hand between his legs. They’re already twisting together as he hunches forward, desperate not to wet the seat of Jotaro’s rental car. Within precious seconds, he manages to regain control of himself, but it feels tenuous. A whimpered noise of distress leaves him without his consent.
“Just hang on,” comes Jotaro’s voice, gruffer than it usually sounds. The gravity of his predicament being blatantly obvious even to Jotaro makes heat creep up Josuke’s neck and redden his face, especially as he switches on the turn signal to get over a lane. He chews on his lower lip and frets. It’s still half a mile to the next exit. His whole body feels trembly, like the sensation he gets just after an adrenaline rush, and his bladder is a heavy, pinching weight in his gut. He has to hold it. He told Jotaro he could wait, and making a mess is unthinkable. Josuke trembles, rocks back and forth, tries to breathe shallowly. There’s sweat on the back of his neck. At least Okuyasu and Koichi aren’t here. A dribble escapes him, and Josuke bites out a quiet “oh, God.” Jotaro’s looking over at him again, and suddenly he’s never felt more vulnerable.
“It’s going to be at least twenty minutes until we reach the next exit” Jotaro says after a long moment. His voice turns gentler. “There’s no point in hurting yourself, Josuke.” Astonishingly, Josuke’s eyes well up with tears at his words.
“But… the car, and…” And I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of you. His bladder threatens to rebel, and no amount of clenching his muscles manages to reduce the sensation.
“The situation was beyond our control.” Jotaro’s expression is sympathetic when Josuke looks over, and it makes his stomach squirm with displeasure. But he can feel a wet patch on the front of his pants, and his bladder is weakening, unable to prevent the next trickle he loses from becoming a weak stream. Josuke hangs his head self-consciously and gives up control. For a handful of seconds all he can feel is the warm overflow of urine in his seat; then the relief hits him, and he shudders with it. The tension bleeds from his frame slowly as his bladder empties until he’s finished. His entire lower half is left soaked through and ammonia-stained, pants clinging to his legs wetly. Josuke feels too wrung-out to bother crying.
“Sorry,” he mumbles into the silence between them. Jotaro doesn’t acknowledge it, but he does glance over to appraise the damage. Josuke resists the knee-jerk urge to curl in on himself defensively.
“Once we can, we’ll stop somewhere and clean up,” Jotaro offers. His calm acceptance of the situation helps to abate the worst of Josuke’s embarrassment.
In thirty minutes they’ll be at a gas station, and this will go from an affair drenched in humiliation to a minor setback that he can brush under the rug. But for now Josuke sinks back into his seat, his eyes on the road as his mind wanders. It’s a relief to not be in such a state of discomfort, wound up so tightly he’s fit to burst. So at least there’s that. And as for the stand user he and Jotaro are seeking out, it’s almost certain they’ll resolve things just fine.