#hiyuimdad

“Yosuke-” Yu’s calm, rational voice began before Yosuke cut him off.

“What happened?!”  These sheets were a trap.  He wanted to rip them off but they were hopelessly twisted around his legs.  Also nudity.

“Calm down.”  Yu had both his hands raised, regarding Yosuke like a frightened stray.  But the line worked (as it always did, he thought grimly).  Against all logic, the ball began unwinding itself inside him, loosening its hold on his emotions.  

His blood was pumping.  He was panting like he’d just run a mile.  But Yu told him to Calm Down, which meant he had to.

So, he held his breath, let it out slowly, and blinked away the sting in his eyes. He looked down at his lap, his sheet-covered lap, ashamed and embarrassed and angry at his own nakedness, at Yu’s nakedness . . .

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Yosuke tried to let Yu’s voice guide him through his memory.  He knew this was important, that Yu would never do anything to hurt him, would never, and that staying calm and tracing his steps was the only logical step forward.  It was certainly better than freaking out.  

He took another deep breath.  He remembered all the sake, of course, but that would have been hard to forget.  He remembered the kitchen lights bothering his eyes, and Chie’s laugh, the sheen of Yu’s skin as it grew hot beneath his polo shirt.  He remembered . . .

“The game,” he croaked.  

Yu gave him an encouraging nod, set his eyeline carefully at Yosuke’s downturned face.  “Anything else?”

Yosuke put a hand over his mouth (it both tasted and smelled funny and he was not about to question why that might be).  “The . . .” he mumbled through his hand.  He clearly recalled leaning over Yu, whipped cream can shaken at the ready, the sound of its contents bursting in mounds over Yu’s neck.  “I . . .”  

The potent taste of Yu’s skin mingled with the sugar, gliding beneath his tongue.

The gasps rounding the table like a carousel.

Yu’s hand clenching the front of his shirt so hard the material was stretching out and the sound he could feel rumble in Yu’s throat as his tongue trailed over it again, needlessly, all evidence of the whipped cream long licked clean -

“I . . .”  Yosuke lowered his hand.  It was clear now.  Yosuke had done something . . . and Yu?  He’d done something back.

“It’s okay, Yosuke.”  It was not what Yosuke had been expecting Yu to say, so he looked up, the tears reformed and pooling at his eyelids.  Yu smiled at him, and then Yosuke could see tears in his eyes, too, shimmering off the light pouring into the room.  “We were drunk.  These things happen.  This doesn’t have to change anything, I promise.  And . . .”  He looked down and Yosuke felt misery swim up his throat.  “I’m sorry.  I should have stopped it, but . . .”  

But Yosuke got it.  He brushed a tear off his cheek hurriedly and scooted closer to Yu - Yu, who he’d just been trying to scramble away from minutes ago.  “Hey, it’s fine, like you said . . . like you said, it doesn’t . . .”  He tried to swallow down the sick feeling in his stomach and failed.  This was so not good.  

What had they done?  Nothing hurt, not at all (and Yu wouldn’t have done anything to hurt him anyway, he reminded himself again), but the thought of what might have transpired, what Yu had touched, what Yosuke had touched on him.  How they even ended up completely naked . . . the mysteries propounded, one on top of the other, until the weight was too much for his mind to carry at once.  

“Do you remember anything?  A-about what happened?”

When Yu looked up at him, Yosuke’s heart broke at the sorrow on his friend’s face.  He noticed the wet trail down his cheeks where tears had begun to fall and it made his own well up again.  He decided against reaching out to touch him, but the desire to do it wasn’t lost on him.  He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t more mad, actually; he should be furious.  But instead he felt vulnerable, confused.  More than anything, he needed his best friend more than ever.

Yu nodded his head hesitantly.  

Yosuke wanted to blurt out “TELL ME”, but the fear in Yu’s demeanor was palpable and Yosuke couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth at all.  He waited until Yu gathered his courage and found the words he was looking for.

“After . . . um, everyone left, you . . . we, uh . . .”  Yu took a deep breath and restarted.  “I was trying to put my shoes on, but then you grabbed my hand.  Everyone left, they . . . they didn’t even wait for me,” he let out a small laugh.  Yosuke could only remember pieces of this part, and most of it not at all.  “Once we were alone, we were kissing in the hallway to your bedroom.  I can’t remember who kissed who; it happened just like that.  The next thing I remember is being on-”  Yu gulped.

“. . . go ahead,” Yosuke urged through a whisper, as if he was teetering on the edge of some great precipice that only Yu’s voice could save him from.  

“On top of you.  Here.”  And by ‘here’, Yosuke assumed he meant literally - this bed.  Yosuke’s bed.  

That still left many questions.  How had it ended?  Who had done what?  If they’d gotten so far as to end up completely naked, then . . . “And after that?  D-did we really . . . ?”

Yu’s face flared red and he looked down, smoothing down a rough patch of hair on the back of his head.  He nodded.  “Yes.”  

Yosuke’s head swam.  “I see.”  

The morning sun was making the room hot.  He fell back until one of his arms could brace him, his other hand grabbing as much of the sheet as it could to cover him all the way to his ribcage.  Yu reached out and grabbed a share of the sheet for himself so Yosuke wouldn’t reveal him.  He looked just as lost and afraid, and guilty, so guilty.  

So, they had done it.  And the secrets and desires Yosuke had been trying his damnedest to suppress for close to a year had broken free at last.  All it had taken was a little booze and some whipped cream and for his inhibitions to take a night out and suddenly everything about him was exposed.  

It felt . . . well, familiar.  

“Heh.”

Yu looked back up at him, a question appearing across his face that remained unspoken.

“It just figures, you know?”  He smiled lopsidedly.  “I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you I like you for so long now, and it ends up coming out just like my dumb shadow.”

Yu gaped at him like a fish out of water.

“I mean there’s no denying it now, right?”  Yosuke continued, oblivious to Yu’s reaction.  “I sabotaged myself with that sake; I should have known I’d give myself away somehow . . .”  He sighed.  “Well, I guess the thing that matters most is that you-mmph!”

Yu’s mouth, smooth and sweet, reminded Yosuke of the strawberry sake.  He didn’t remember this, not as well as he’d liked to have, anyway.  As soon as he inhaled Yu’s scent, his brain snapped and succumbed to the sensation of Yu’s lips against his and the gentle tongue prodding his mouth open with practiced finesse.  If it had been like this in any way last night, it was no wonder neither of them could stop it.  

Before Yosuke was ready, just as he was prepared to throw Yu down onto the mattress and create new memories, Yu pulled back, panting.

“Sorry, what were you going to say?”