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out of breath

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They’re playing a mash up of truth or dare, seven seconds in heaven, and strip poker involving lots of alcohol, when the bottle lands on Yamada. This means he has to drink everyone’s offering. The bottle had rolled his way too often for it to be coincidental, a buzz already forming in his head. Yamada places his poker cards facedown, a giggle half interrupted by his hiccup scattering the cards messily. “I swear,” he slurs, “all of you are purposely doing this,” but he starts accepting offers to drink anyway. There’s a glint in his eyes when he accepts Yuto’s cup. His eyes and smirk convey ‘feed me?’

Yuto tries not to think of Yamada’s hands touching his when accepting the cup.

Someone might have yelled “Get a room!” but Yuto is too embarrassed and preoccupied to care.

Chinen snorts, “Soon,” eyeing the path the bottle took; neck directed towards Yamada.

Straight after, everyone shows their hand. Keito throws his and cowers. “Please,” he moans, “Not me again.” His hands cover his eyes. Out of sight, out of mind. Or it was supposed to; nowadays, closing his eyes doesn’t make the booboos disappear, Keito realises mournfully. Everyone expects him to lose; Keito believes he’s going to lose. His losing streak is unbelievable.

Yuto winces as he scans the cards.

Oh ho,” Chinen sounds as smug as a sly cat with a canary in its mouth.

Yuto sighs, resigned. “What do you want then?” He asks, standing up. He’s fine so far. He is still clothed, minus a jacket that Yamada had won off of him and had used it for himself. Yuto blushes as he eyes Yamada wearing his jacket.

Keito had it worse.

Keito always had it worse.

“I don't want anything.” Chinen smiles, hands spread out placatingly. Yuto looks between Keito and Chinen. Keito barely has anything on but his socks and underwear because Chinen won them off way too often. Chinen had the devil’s luck, Yuto suspects. He shrugs when he realises that yes, Chinen is the devil.

“Sure you don’t,” Yuto humours Chinen. “We all know you’re that kind.” He hopes.

Chinen ignores his comments. “In the closet,” he demands, pointing to the closet and Yamada, “Yamada wants your pants.” He snickers.

There’s a round of ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s at Chinen’s innuendo. He hears a couple of snorts and sniggers and someone shouting “About time!” somewhere. And there were lots and lots of suggestive leers and wolf whistling.

“Play nice,” Hikaru tells them, and Yuto supposes that even the rounds of alcohol Yabu had fed him had loosened him up. Hikaru leans on Yabu for support, eyes closed and seeing coloured fogs under his eyelids, head lolling comfortably on Yabu’s chest.

Hikaru blinks awake when Yabu waves them away lazily, “Settle your unresolved business too.”

Not really, Yuto thinks, It's not 'unresolved business', but he doesn't vocalise his thoughts. “Come on,” Yuto prompts instead, flushed, pulling and supporting a half-drunken Yamada in their short walk to the closet. Yamada leans into him as trustingly and as affectionately as Hikaru had with Yabu earlier. Yuto slips an arm around his waist and grins at the intimacy of such an action.


Two’s a crowd in such a tiny closet; especially with Yuto’s long legs. They end up sitting how they always do – Yuto holding onto Yamada, affectionately nuzzling his nose on the crook of Yamada’s neck. Yamada giggles and pats his legs. “Your hair tickles,” he says, and Yuto’s affection makes Yamada want to touch Yuto too.

He abruptly turns around, and then they’re holding each other.

“If only there’s light,” Yuto bemoans, but they find each other’s lips anyway. They’ve spent too much together in each other’s embrace that sealing each other’s lips was as fluid as water lapping stones smooth. Yuto’s skin was cool to the touch, and brings relief to Yamada. He had had too much to drink; his face and limbs burning, and his heart hammering too fast. When they broke apart, Yamada comes up breathless and disappointed at their short kiss. But he still has Yuto on his hands; warmth radiates off Yuto’s skin where Yamada is still touching him.

“I’ve had too much to drink,” Yamada admits sheepishly into the crook of Yuto’s neck. His breath tickles.

Yuto barks a sharp laugh, “You’re only realising this now?” He wraps an arm around Yamada anyway, offering steadfast support.

There’re a few minutes of silence before Yamada breathes, “You could’ve stopped me.”

Yuto perks up. “Are you feeling sick?” He asks, quiet and concerned. Already, his hands are rubbing soothing circles on Yamada’s back.

“No, I just want to kiss you more.” He tells Yuto, and does just that.


“How was it?” Keito stutters, wrapping an arm around himself once the closet was unlocked. Behind him, there were unhappy shouts, Chinen being the loudest of them all. “I still see your pants on, Yuto!”

When they settled down, Yamada placates them, “It’s fine,” he tells the unhappy crowd. “I’m wearing his pants, anyway.”

Yuto’s ears burn bright red.