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"Tomo", not as in Friend - Chapter 4 - Explicit Yu Narukami Ver.
So, once upon a time I was going to write a fluffy story with makeouts and a cat, and I decided to compromise over Name Drama: AO3 and its nest of well-established P4 fandomers could get Souji as they were accustomed to, and FFN would get Yu because I like the name better.
But then things snowballed and I ended up taking the story much more seriously than I had anticipated, and before I knew it, I decided that Chapter 4 would just work a lot better with a sex scene.
Except FFN doesn't allow sex scenes.
Which meant that the actual version of this chapter that I had written, the true version of this chapter in my mind, wouldn't actually be posted anywhere.
So I'm posting this chapter here on DW, home of free speech and all that, to rectify the situation.
<- Back to Ch 3
Just as he expected, every potential customer noticed his bandaged hand and took a greater interest in staring at it than buying insurance from him.
When someone finally seemed interested enough to let him through the door and into the living room, Yosuke decided to get it out of the way by explaining with a laugh, “My roommate's cat attacked me.”
“Oh,” she said with a sympathetic nod. “It's no good when animals run wild in the house.”
“Right?” Yosuke said, but he already wasn't thinking about ill-behaved cats. He had been trapped into thinking about how naturally “roommate” came out, the same little white lie he'd been telling for years. But today when it passed through his lips it seemed cruel for some reason he couldn't put into words. It must have had to do with their fight last night.
His train of thought left him quiet just long enough to be awkward. The woman filled in the pause kindly with, “Why don't you have a seat? I'll make us some tea.” Yosuke sheepishly knelt at her traditional tea table and tried to force himself away from that train of thought. Trying to find the right angle for a sales pitch, his eyes fell on the pictures hung on their wall—a family portrait from what looked to be a decade ago with two children just on the verge of puberty, and an older one with a couple in traditional wedding garb, from before the woman had any wrinkles and looked quite beautiful.
Yosuke steeled himself to get ready to talk to her about how hard it would be if her husband died without life insurance.
Work these days was a lot of making very nice people worry about horrible things in the future. It had taken Yosuke himself over a year to fully process Saki's death, and she hadn't even really liked him. He didn't even want to begin thinking about Yu's death, about the loss of someone who not only liked him but loved him back. And here he was, planning to needle someone over the fear of losing someone they had loved for nearly as long Yosuke had been alive, just for his own monetary advantage. For all that it had eaten up his weekends and killed his back, working at Junes had been so much simpler. He had learned very shortly after taking this job that helping people buy things wasn't quite the same as selling something.
But it was a job. With a company that didn't demand too much overtime, in the same city where Yu had gotten himself apprenticed as a budding lawyer.
—Every train of thought seemed to lead straight back to Yu.
When he'd finished canvassing the neighborhood, he rode his motorcycle back to the office and fished his lunch out of the fridge. Yosuke hadn't been that surprised to find that Yu still packed lunch for him despite everything. He'd found a bowl of rice and two boiled eggs waiting for him that morning as breakfast, too. Yu seemed neurotically dedicated to ensuring that Yosuke ate filling healthy meals three times a day every day, even when he was apparently so mad at him that he'd silently left for work before Yosuke had woken up—at six in the morning.
After a few minutes in the microwave, Yosuke took the plastic lid off the bowl, revealing a layer of rice and a suspiciously unappealing fragrance. He pushed the rice over to reveal the tofu and pepper mixture underneath.
Tofu. Yu knew exactly how he felt about tofu. Yu knew his tastes better than he did, which was usually great. But at times like these, it meant that every meal was a personalized “fuck you” told through tofu and fish and ginger and whatever else it was that Yu could put in a meal that somehow made Yosuke never want to take a second bite.
But he was hungry and not optimistic about dinner, and normal-smelling tofu was low on his list of offensive foods, so he somehow managed to finish lunch by mechanically taking one bite after another.
It wasn't too horrible. After the first big fight back when they started living together, Yu had subjected him to a round of deep fried weird organ meats sprinkled with crumbled seaweed, and made sure to inform him after he had a bite in his mouth that it was bull penis.
So maybe Yu wasn't too angry with him this time. Or maybe he was saving the main course for dinner. Maybe Yosuke would come home and be served some disgusting red sea creature that looked like an alien bug enlarged to horrifying proportions.
Yosuke decided to do his own grocery shopping that afternoon after work. He bought some normal pork and normal carrots and normal bell peppers and hauled them home with the grim determination of a self-sufficient man who would not be cowed by his passive-aggressive cook/lover.
Tomo ducked behind the couch the moment he opened the door. Whatever. It was better if the cat was out of his way. Borrowing Yu's apron, Yosuke arranged everything on the counter and dug around for cutting boards and knives. Yu had gradually banned him from the kitchen during their apartment days—something about not cleaning the stove, or killing the engine of the blender, or some other hypervigilant gripe that amounted to Yu having a complex about controlling the kitchen—so Yosuke had never even touched the stove in this house before. With some amount of fumbling, he managed to get a decent pan and everything he needed.
Carried along by the momentum of being set up, Yosuke had already finished cutting the pork into thin slices before he realized that there was too much here for just one dinner.
I'll probably need lunch for tomorrow, part of him said.
I could share this with Yu, another part proposed.
He doesn't deserve it.
But imagine how much you'll mess up his evil culinary plans if he comes home and dinner's already completely taken care of.
He decided to offer it to Yu, and keeping it for lunch if the asshole decided he hated Yosuke too much to eat his food. Which would really hurt, Yosuke thought to himself sullenly. He didn't know what he'd do with himself if Yu was that furious at him.
But there's no way he's that mad at me, Yosuke tried to convince himself. Probably.
His stir-fry was almost done by the time he heard the garage door opening. He did his best to stay calm and look normal as an eternity passed before the door clicked open.
With the solid sound of his footsteps and the rustling of a plastic bag, Yu came into sight.
“Welcome home,” Yosuke said. “I made us dinner.”
Yu stopped in the hall. He looked at Yosuke. He looked at his apron. He looked at the food on the stove. And something in his blue plastic bag moved.
“Dude,” Yosuke said, unable to help himself, “what the heck is that.”
“I was going to make us steamed fish,” Yu said.
Yosuke tore his eyes away, but there was no escape from the sound of the fish intermittently flopping in the bag. “That's so disgusting. How is it still alive?”
“It's not,” Yu said, joining him in the kitchen. “They're post-mortem muscle contractions.”
“Thanks, partner. That's not creepy at all. I feel so much better.”
Yosuke heard him set the bag down somewhere and open a drawer. Yu came up next to him with a pair of chopsticks, close enough that their sleeves brushed. He plucked a piece of pork from the pan and popped it into his mouth.
As far as he could tell, Yu was still getting over his surprise, and Yosuke wasn't sure if intruding into his kitchen and forcing dinner on him had made Yu angrier or happier. Yosuke tried to act cool; Yu was so close that he could hear him chewing. Yosuke kept tossing the cooked food in the pan, not wanting to reach out and turn off the heat because it seemed like too much of a statement.
Yu swallowed with a thoughtful pause. Clicking his chopsticks together, he said—neutrally, like there was nothing wrong between them at all—“I think it could use more salt.”
That seemed like a good sign. Yosuke turned the heat off and reached for the salt, dumping a bit onto his hand, sprinkling it evenly across the food in the pan, and stirring everything to even it out. Yu helped himself to another sample and made a sound of approval. Without asking, he retrieved a single serving plate from the cupboards and set it on the counter next to the pan.
“I'm not sure what to do with the fish,” Yu said.
At the sound of Yu's voice, it seemed, Tomo had come out from hiding and sat watchfully at the kitchen entrance. Yosuke said, “You could feed it to your cat.”
“I don't know if Tomo likes sanma.”
“It's a cat. Does it really care what kind of fish it is?”
“Tomo is a connoisseur,” Yu said in a very serious tone of voice.
Yosuke gave a sighing laugh that said that after all these years, he still didn't understand Yu's sense of humor.
“We could see what he thinks, though. Why don't you offer it to him?”
Yu looked like he actually meant that. Yosuke wanted to say Why don't you do it? but he had a feeling he knew why. He looked over at the bag where the fish had at least stopped flapping. Why did his redemption have to involve touching a dead fish?
Cringing a little, Yosuke took the bag by its handles and faced Tomo, who watched him suspiciously. “Here,” Yosuke muttered, turning the bag inside out. Tomo took a startled half-step back as the fish dropped onto the floor with a wet smack. This was, Yosuke decided, one of the most ridiculous things he had ever been made to do, even counting that time he had to dig up vegetables from a field in Inaba. “Come on. It's yours, so just take it.” Reaching out with his left hand, Yosuke gingerly picked up the fish by its tail, gross and slimy and bony, praying it wouldn't move.
It moved.
Yosuke yelped and let it go in Tomo's general direction; Tomo, alarmed by the fish hurtling toward him, retreated to the safety of the living room.
As his heart stopped pounding, Yosuke became aware that Yu was laughing at him.
“Dude, that's not funny,” Yosuke squeaked indignantly, wiping fish slime off of his fingers on the closest towel within reach. Yu just shook his head as his shoulders continued to seize with laughter. “I'm not picking that up.”
Still laughing to himself, Yu crossed the kitchen and picked the fish up from the floor, carrying it with both hands to the sink as Yosuke gave him a wide berth. “I'll steam it tonight while it's still fresh,” Yu said, rinsing it off. “I can finish it myself, if you don't want any.”
“I'm good,” Yosuke muttered.
Yu chuckled to himself again as he took a knife from the knife block and nonchalantly started slicing off the fish's fins. Having no desire to watch, Yosuke nudged their dinner out of the pan and onto the plate, and brought to pan to the sink trying to avoid looking at the fish.
“Yosuke,” Yu said from beside him.
Bringing the faucet head over to his half of the sink, Yosuke couldn't help but see the quick motions of Yu's hands as he scaled the fish. Damn, and it'd take longer to wash without getting his bandages wet. “Hmm?”
“You didn't want us to have a pet, did you?”
Yosuke watched brownish oil wash from the silver pan in cloudy rivulets, the kitchen lights glinting harshly against the metal and water. The sight seemed very vivid to him as he managed to say quietly, “Not really.”
“I'm sorry,” Yu said. He silently scraped at the fish's scales while Yosuke simply watched the water run across the pan. He didn't elaborate. Yosuke didn't know what exactly he was waiting for Yu to say. It was just weird hearing him apologize, and over something that sounded so dumb when it was said aloud. Maybe he was waiting for the other half—I'm sorry, but...—that never came.
Instead, when he had finished scaling and moved onto gutting the fish, Yu said, “I realized that I've been taking advantage of your kindness, and I haven't been thinking of you as an equal when it comes to what I want.”
Where did that come from!? Yosuke numbly reached for the dish soap, squeezed it so hard over the pan that the rising foam touched the faucet, and immediately began running his mouth. “What are you talking about, man? I'm here because I want to be.” Yu shot him a quizzical look. “I mean—you're not taking advantage of anything, I decided to come with you all by myself.”
“But that's what I'm talking about,” Yu said. “I came here for myself, without thinking about how you'd do. Aside from Tomo, you also seem to hate your job. And I think if it were up to you, you would've stayed in Inaba with your family and our friends.”
“Partner, you know I have no idea what I want to do with my life. I'd never forgive myself if I held you back with my bullshit, too.”
“Still—” Yu said, voice trailing off as he tried to flick fish guts off of his fingers. Yosuke pushed the faucet over to Yu's side so he could rinse his fingers under the tap. “Thanks. ...But you're still doing it. You're always going along with what I want. I should've realized sooner that it was making you unhappy.”
“Partner, that's... that's really nice of you to say, actually...” Yosuke awkwardly passed the pan handle to his bandaged hand and picked up a scrubber with his left. “Um. I'm not exactly unhappy. Getting to have every day with you—it's amazing, you know?”
Yosuke could feel Yu turning to look at him, and he ducked under his bangs to hide his embarrassment as he scrubbed furiously at the pan.
It wasn't that long before Yu finally said, “I feel the same way, partner.”
If Yu had kissed him right then, Yosuke probably could have died. But he didn't, instead stepping around Yosuke, mumbling to himself, “I can't believe I forgot to get everything out before cleaning the fish.”
He watched Yu make himself busy around the kitchen, running here and there, fetching pots and turning green onions into neat rows of rings. It was crazy how fast he got things done. And Yosuke might have been a little unhappy with how quickly their moment had passed, leaving behind the usual distant and efficient Yu in its wake.
Yu finished arranging the fish, setting the oven timer, and coming back to the sink to wash his hands. He seemed to notice that Yosuke had simply been standing there with his arms crossed, and said to him, “We can start eating dinner. All that's left is to take the fish off the heat in fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen minutes?” Yosuke echoed.
“...Yes?” Still rubbing his hands free of soap, Yu turned his head to him with a questioning look, eyebrows half-raised in that expression that would forever mean What kind of trouble are you going to get us into now? I'm listening.
His eyes never leaving Yu's face, Yosuke turned the water off with one decisive shove of the handle as he leaned forward, grabbed him by one arm, and kissed him so hard that Yu had to catch himself against the back of a chair. He managed to catch an amused smirk just as Yu steadied himself and kicked it away, right in time for Yosuke to shove them both down to the table. It creaked and skidded under the force of their weight, which might've given Yosuke pause if not for Yu grasping roughly at his shoulders and his neck. Not even the stench of fish stubbornly clinging to Yu's hands could stop him—not with Yu pulling him in, and kissing him back just as fiercely.
“Yosuke,” Yu gasped in a rush against Yosuke's parted lips, his breath damp and hot, and his voice laced with an insistence that made Yosuke shiver. There wasn't a trace of amusement or distant calm, Yosuke realized with a fast-building thrill. No, Yu sounded downright needy, and it felt absolutely amazing. White-hot satisfaction crackled beneath every inch of Yosuke's skin, under his partner's pliant mouth and water-softened hands and the sudden press of warm, strong thighs jerking their hips flush – and fuck, how the hell was he so hard already? He would've felt pathetic if Yu hadn't been following right behind, but damn if that didn't feel amazing too.
It only made Yosuke want that much more. His one-handed struggle against a line of buttons finally paid off, and he greedily rewarded himself with Yu's exposed neck, which made Yu gasp again and sharply arch his back off the table, instantly convincing Yosuke to move right along with him.
That's when Yosuke looked up past Yu's shoulder and saw Tomo staring at them.
“Wait,” Yosuke blurted out. Yu looked at him with mixed confusion and impatience as he popped open the button on his pants. “I mean—wait,” Yosuke protested in a very dignified manner as his hands flew down protectively to his crotch. “I, I can't do this. Your cat's... watching us.”
Yu arced his neck around to look back at Tomo. “Hello, Tomo,” he said. Tomo blinked. “Could you give mommy and daddy a moment?”
“Partner,” Yosuke groaned while burying his head against Yu's shoulder. Yu's strength finally gave out, and they fell back against the table, Yu laughing at him for the second time that day.
If it had been any other day, he probably could have just lain there for awhile, repeating to himself that his partner had the worst sense of humor in the world. But fifteen minutes echoed in the back of his mind, and Tomo was still watching them with that strangely human-like face of his. (Plus Tomo was a guy cat, which somehow made it all worse.)
So he picked himself up off of Yu's warm body, and reached out to him.
“Come on.”
Yu took his hand, and Yosuke all but dragged him into the nearest room with a door: Yu's study, which might've been the only room where they had never fucked before. They looked at each other for maybe two seconds before Yosuke had Yu up against the closest wall, mouth on mouth and bodies crushed together like they had never stopped. He somehow managed to kick the door shut and Yu groped around for the light switch with the hand that Yosuke wasn't pinning in place by the wrist.
And he was about to do something—rip off his shirt, shove Yu to his knees, pull both of them down to the floor—something, when Yu said, a gravelly rasp by his ear, “My desk.”
“You sure?” Yosuke asked, even as he directed them over in a staggering tandem, because just the thought of messing up Yu's tidy, expensive work station for this was such a fucking turn-on. Yu yanked him down by the lapels, holding him where he belonged with a leg slung around his waist. They kissed hard enough that it nearly hurt and more stuff fell in their wake—papers, a stapler, and that was probably the wastebasket he just kicked over—but Yosuke was beyond caring and as far as he could tell, Yu couldn't be bothered either. Not with the way he practically ripped Yosuke's dress shirt out of his pants with one hand while scrambling for his own belt buckle with the other. And just like that, defiling Yu's study wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.
“I need you,” he slurred, his lips pressed to Yu's collarbone, while fingers that just wouldn't move fast enough fumbled with an unreasonable excess of clothing. He made some pathetic groan in sheer frustration, moving uselessly, all but trying to grind his way to more of Yu's skin through their pants. “I need you, right now.”
“I know,” Yu murmured, exciting and soothing all at once. (How did Yu always manage to be so calm?) His cool fingers snared around Yosuke's wrist and pulled him down into the confines of his briefs in one smooth motion. Yosuke froze for a moment, inhaling sharply as Yu held his hand firmly in place. “Me too.”
His fingers curled into a fist without a second thought and Yu sighed as Yosuke started to move, letting his grip around Yosuke's hand go slack. It looked incredible, his partner panting through parted lips at something so simple as Yosuke shifting his thumb in just the right way, and it felt even better. But that was only half of what he wanted. He didn't know how he did it in a mindless, frantic haze with only one free hand, but he shoved his pants and boxers halfway down all at once, and grasped blindly at Yu's loosened waistband to do the same. Yu kicked one leg out of his pants and let them dangle from the other, the former wonderfully bare against the back of Yosuke's thighs. Their hips ground together with just the weight of Yosuke's body. Yu dug his nails into his forearm and moaned—Yosuke barely managed to bite back one of his own.
It still wasn't enough.
He tore his hand away just long enough for Yu to protest, but Yosuke spat into his own palm and when he looked up Yu only watched, going wide-eyed and silent.
“I know what I'm doing,” he said with a smirk, and gathered them both in one hand, while Yu made some noise that Yosuke couldn't distinguish between a gasp and a laugh. He let his eyes slide closed at the new feeling, slick and hot and so close, both reveling in it and barely able to stand it. His hand moved faster without him even meaning to, and Yu pulled him close again, fingers in Yosuke's hair, under his shirt, tracing the outlines of his spine.
“Yosuke.” For a moment they only looked at each other, and shit, Yosuke thought, he loved it when Yu touched his hair, when Yu said his name, when Yu looked at him like he was the only one in the world, just like this. He knew Yu was doing it all just for him, and this, this was what he wanted. “Yosuke--”
Beeeeep. Beeeeep.
The forgotten timer rang out of nowhere and Yosuke froze—mid-gasp, mid-stroke, mid-everything—while Yu actually cursed, almost as surprising as the noise itself. If Yosuke wasn't so annoyed right then he might've laughed. Instead he groaned, and tried not to think about how he was going to end up jerking off in the bathroom because of some fucking fish.
“Should we—”
“Don't stop,” Yu told him vehemently, holding him fast and tight and biting his shoulder hard right through his shirt, and the timer was still going off but any question Yosuke could've come up with a second ago felt a million miles away. “Don't you dare stop.”
And Yosuke did laugh then, half fondly at Yu's utter seriousness and half in his own relief, but the sudden burst of lightness quickly gave way to a singular, blinding need. There was no way it was going to last and Yosuke didn't care at all, didn't care about anything but getting closer and getting off and feeling Yu get off. Yosuke kissed him brutally, again and again and again, happily ignoring the timer as he buried his face in the crook of Yu's shoulder, nipping at his neck and just breathing him in, so strongly he could taste his skin. And he didn't stop, not until he felt Yu's limbs go rigid, his neck and his shoulders practically contort, and a sharp cry tore from his lips just as he spilled thick and wet over Yosuke's straining fingers.
He meant to give Yu a little space to recover, but Yu seemed to have other ideas. He held Yosuke where he was, with his solid arms and strong thighs, and kissed the side of his face with heedless enthusiasm, completely missing Yosuke's mouth. And Yosuke, in absolutely no state to resist, let himself be held, moaning loudly into Yu's unbuttoned collar and rocking as fast as he could, desperately stroking himself until he was right there too, finishing hard against Yu's sticky skin.
He was still panting for air, and sagging bonelessly with an arm trapped between the two of them and not a single thought in his head, when he felt a nudge against his shoulder.
“Hey. Let me up.”
Yosuke blinked a few times, and very intelligently mumbled, “Wha—”
“I said, 'let me up.'” Before Yosuke could grasp what he was saying, Yu decided for both of them, shifting to sit up so that Yosuke didn't have much of a choice. “My fish is going to turn into mush.”
Just then, Yosuke registered that the timer still beeping, reminding them both of the world outside their impulsive tryst. And Yosuke watched in near-disbelief while in the span of about half a minute, his partner stood, fixed his pants, and cleaned himself up with some tissues that had conveniently fallen to a nearby spot on the floor. He leaned back on the edge of Yu's desk and struggled for something to say as Yu righted the wastebasket and leaned over to quickly peck Yosuke on the cheek, only to rush off to the kitchen.
Yosuke stared at the opened doorway after his fish-obsessed lover. Now by himself, he was starting to feel rather ridiculous for sitting around in Yu's study with his pants halfway down and a pasty mess drying on the back of his hand.
After a quick trip to the bathroom, Yosuke came into the kitchen—noticing that Tomo had been rubbing against Yu's legs, but darted back to the living room as Yosuke approached—and took the plate of stir-fry from the counter, bringing it to the table and picking at it while he watched Yu put his fresh steamed fish in a plastic container for tomorrow. When Yu finished, he came over to join him with a pair of chopsticks. He probably mirrored how Yosuke looked—disheveled and exuberant, quietly happy as he sat down and ate from the stir-fry.
It was a perfect moment to say “I love you.” Yosuke considered it while they ate, trying variations in his head—Partner, you know, I love you? / I fucking love you man. / Partner, fuck, I fucking love you.—but before he could make it any more crass, Yu said, “Yosuke, you know that you're incredibly important to me.”
Yosuke stomach squeezed and he couldn't swallow the food in his mouth. He could hear the but at the end of that sentence.
It was cruel, hearing his train of thought echoed but twisted like that.
He swallowed somehow and said, “Yeah?” wishing Yu would spill it rather than leave him with phantoms of everything he might say next.
Yu took his time, rethinking his words under the pretense of chewing thoroughly first. Yosuke always hated that—it wasn't like carefully chosen words could blunt the blow. Not when Yosuke knew him well enough to always sense exactly what he meant.
“I think I've told you before that until Inaba, I was never close to anyone. People were kind to me as a transfer student. But they already had their groups of friends, so once the novelty wore off, I attended club meetings and that was about it.”
With his chopsticks suspended in the air, Yosuke watched Yu with wide eyes. Yu took a piece of pork and stuck it in his mouth as he looked up to meet Yosuke's eyes for a moment, feigning confidence, before turning his eyes back to the plate of food which must have felt much safer.
“The worst was probably when I was fourteen, the trip that convinced my parents to leave me in Inaba the next time they had to work overseas. We spent that year in Hat Yai—in Thailand. I didn't know any Thai and my parents didn't want me to lose a year of schooling, so they sent me to a British international school there. It wasn't very good. I think everyone only went because they had to go somewhere, during some disconnected part of their life. You'd think it would have made me feel less alone, when everyone else was like me, but it didn't. I just fell into not caring like everyone else.”
Yu paused here, and Yosuke's mind tried to catch up with what was happening as he set his chopsticks down. It was clear, at least, that he had been forgiven. Yu rarely ever made himself vulnerable, much less talked about things that had caused him pain. What he couldn't figure out was why Yu was telling him now.
“I spent a lot of time with the stray cats,” he said, and it all made sense.
“Oh.”
Yu forced a smile. “They helped me get through.”
Some shadowy part of him couldn't help but blurt out, “But what about now? You seemed happy about—about us living together...” But Yosuke stopped himself before he said, Why do you need the cat now that you have me?
“I am,” Yu said. “I'm not saying that I need Tomo to get by. Just that... there's something nice about having a cat around. They don't care about where you are in life or what you say to them. Their love is simple. It's good to have sometimes.” Yu laid his chopsticks down against the plate, letting his hands rest on the table. “Yosuke...”
“Yeah?”
“You know that time back in high school, when we confronted Namatame?”
“The time you stopped me from committing murder?”
“The time we got into that fight, yes. And you came back.” Yu's socked foot brushed against his ankle under the table. “I think that was the first time I'd ever had a fight with someone and everything still turned out all right.”
Yu was being so open that it scared him a little. This whole day had been so weird, Yosuke thought, that tomorrow none of it would probably seem real, neatly tucked away in some strange pocket dimension where Yu would let him screw him on his desk and then talk about his secrets.
Keeping his mouth shut—not trusting himself not to say anything, in fear it would be something stupid to defuse the situation—Yosuke touched their feet together.
God, playing footsies under the table was so gay.
But it was nice.
Feeling a little like he was relenting in that moment, even though it had probably been clear to both of them for the last few hours, Yosuke said, “You can keep Tomo.” Yu visibly brightened—visibly enough for Yosuke, anyway. The little flash in his eyes always gave it away whenever he got what he wanted. He'd have to work on that in the courtroom. Yosuke kicked him lightly and added, “No more. Just Tomo. And get him to stop attacking my feet.”
“Tomo is enough,” Yu said. Then in a warm tone of voice, leaving no room to confuse it with his sense of humor—“...Thank you.”
It was crazy, how this guy he'd known from high school, familiar and mundane to him as an old shirt, could still give him chills like that.
Yu picked his chopsticks back up and continued eating. “Yeah, uh, no problem, partner,” Yosuke mumbled. He wished he could've found the perfect words to punch him right back in the heart. Instead, he opened his lame mouth and settled for, “I love you, you know?"
But then things snowballed and I ended up taking the story much more seriously than I had anticipated, and before I knew it, I decided that Chapter 4 would just work a lot better with a sex scene.
Except FFN doesn't allow sex scenes.
Which meant that the actual version of this chapter that I had written, the true version of this chapter in my mind, wouldn't actually be posted anywhere.
So I'm posting this chapter here on DW, home of free speech and all that, to rectify the situation.
<- Back to Ch 3
Just as he expected, every potential customer noticed his bandaged hand and took a greater interest in staring at it than buying insurance from him.
When someone finally seemed interested enough to let him through the door and into the living room, Yosuke decided to get it out of the way by explaining with a laugh, “My roommate's cat attacked me.”
“Oh,” she said with a sympathetic nod. “It's no good when animals run wild in the house.”
“Right?” Yosuke said, but he already wasn't thinking about ill-behaved cats. He had been trapped into thinking about how naturally “roommate” came out, the same little white lie he'd been telling for years. But today when it passed through his lips it seemed cruel for some reason he couldn't put into words. It must have had to do with their fight last night.
His train of thought left him quiet just long enough to be awkward. The woman filled in the pause kindly with, “Why don't you have a seat? I'll make us some tea.” Yosuke sheepishly knelt at her traditional tea table and tried to force himself away from that train of thought. Trying to find the right angle for a sales pitch, his eyes fell on the pictures hung on their wall—a family portrait from what looked to be a decade ago with two children just on the verge of puberty, and an older one with a couple in traditional wedding garb, from before the woman had any wrinkles and looked quite beautiful.
Yosuke steeled himself to get ready to talk to her about how hard it would be if her husband died without life insurance.
Work these days was a lot of making very nice people worry about horrible things in the future. It had taken Yosuke himself over a year to fully process Saki's death, and she hadn't even really liked him. He didn't even want to begin thinking about Yu's death, about the loss of someone who not only liked him but loved him back. And here he was, planning to needle someone over the fear of losing someone they had loved for nearly as long Yosuke had been alive, just for his own monetary advantage. For all that it had eaten up his weekends and killed his back, working at Junes had been so much simpler. He had learned very shortly after taking this job that helping people buy things wasn't quite the same as selling something.
But it was a job. With a company that didn't demand too much overtime, in the same city where Yu had gotten himself apprenticed as a budding lawyer.
—Every train of thought seemed to lead straight back to Yu.
When he'd finished canvassing the neighborhood, he rode his motorcycle back to the office and fished his lunch out of the fridge. Yosuke hadn't been that surprised to find that Yu still packed lunch for him despite everything. He'd found a bowl of rice and two boiled eggs waiting for him that morning as breakfast, too. Yu seemed neurotically dedicated to ensuring that Yosuke ate filling healthy meals three times a day every day, even when he was apparently so mad at him that he'd silently left for work before Yosuke had woken up—at six in the morning.
After a few minutes in the microwave, Yosuke took the plastic lid off the bowl, revealing a layer of rice and a suspiciously unappealing fragrance. He pushed the rice over to reveal the tofu and pepper mixture underneath.
Tofu. Yu knew exactly how he felt about tofu. Yu knew his tastes better than he did, which was usually great. But at times like these, it meant that every meal was a personalized “fuck you” told through tofu and fish and ginger and whatever else it was that Yu could put in a meal that somehow made Yosuke never want to take a second bite.
But he was hungry and not optimistic about dinner, and normal-smelling tofu was low on his list of offensive foods, so he somehow managed to finish lunch by mechanically taking one bite after another.
It wasn't too horrible. After the first big fight back when they started living together, Yu had subjected him to a round of deep fried weird organ meats sprinkled with crumbled seaweed, and made sure to inform him after he had a bite in his mouth that it was bull penis.
So maybe Yu wasn't too angry with him this time. Or maybe he was saving the main course for dinner. Maybe Yosuke would come home and be served some disgusting red sea creature that looked like an alien bug enlarged to horrifying proportions.
Yosuke decided to do his own grocery shopping that afternoon after work. He bought some normal pork and normal carrots and normal bell peppers and hauled them home with the grim determination of a self-sufficient man who would not be cowed by his passive-aggressive cook/lover.
Tomo ducked behind the couch the moment he opened the door. Whatever. It was better if the cat was out of his way. Borrowing Yu's apron, Yosuke arranged everything on the counter and dug around for cutting boards and knives. Yu had gradually banned him from the kitchen during their apartment days—something about not cleaning the stove, or killing the engine of the blender, or some other hypervigilant gripe that amounted to Yu having a complex about controlling the kitchen—so Yosuke had never even touched the stove in this house before. With some amount of fumbling, he managed to get a decent pan and everything he needed.
Carried along by the momentum of being set up, Yosuke had already finished cutting the pork into thin slices before he realized that there was too much here for just one dinner.
I'll probably need lunch for tomorrow, part of him said.
I could share this with Yu, another part proposed.
He doesn't deserve it.
But imagine how much you'll mess up his evil culinary plans if he comes home and dinner's already completely taken care of.
He decided to offer it to Yu, and keeping it for lunch if the asshole decided he hated Yosuke too much to eat his food. Which would really hurt, Yosuke thought to himself sullenly. He didn't know what he'd do with himself if Yu was that furious at him.
But there's no way he's that mad at me, Yosuke tried to convince himself. Probably.
His stir-fry was almost done by the time he heard the garage door opening. He did his best to stay calm and look normal as an eternity passed before the door clicked open.
With the solid sound of his footsteps and the rustling of a plastic bag, Yu came into sight.
“Welcome home,” Yosuke said. “I made us dinner.”
Yu stopped in the hall. He looked at Yosuke. He looked at his apron. He looked at the food on the stove. And something in his blue plastic bag moved.
“Dude,” Yosuke said, unable to help himself, “what the heck is that.”
“I was going to make us steamed fish,” Yu said.
Yosuke tore his eyes away, but there was no escape from the sound of the fish intermittently flopping in the bag. “That's so disgusting. How is it still alive?”
“It's not,” Yu said, joining him in the kitchen. “They're post-mortem muscle contractions.”
“Thanks, partner. That's not creepy at all. I feel so much better.”
Yosuke heard him set the bag down somewhere and open a drawer. Yu came up next to him with a pair of chopsticks, close enough that their sleeves brushed. He plucked a piece of pork from the pan and popped it into his mouth.
As far as he could tell, Yu was still getting over his surprise, and Yosuke wasn't sure if intruding into his kitchen and forcing dinner on him had made Yu angrier or happier. Yosuke tried to act cool; Yu was so close that he could hear him chewing. Yosuke kept tossing the cooked food in the pan, not wanting to reach out and turn off the heat because it seemed like too much of a statement.
Yu swallowed with a thoughtful pause. Clicking his chopsticks together, he said—neutrally, like there was nothing wrong between them at all—“I think it could use more salt.”
That seemed like a good sign. Yosuke turned the heat off and reached for the salt, dumping a bit onto his hand, sprinkling it evenly across the food in the pan, and stirring everything to even it out. Yu helped himself to another sample and made a sound of approval. Without asking, he retrieved a single serving plate from the cupboards and set it on the counter next to the pan.
“I'm not sure what to do with the fish,” Yu said.
At the sound of Yu's voice, it seemed, Tomo had come out from hiding and sat watchfully at the kitchen entrance. Yosuke said, “You could feed it to your cat.”
“I don't know if Tomo likes sanma.”
“It's a cat. Does it really care what kind of fish it is?”
“Tomo is a connoisseur,” Yu said in a very serious tone of voice.
Yosuke gave a sighing laugh that said that after all these years, he still didn't understand Yu's sense of humor.
“We could see what he thinks, though. Why don't you offer it to him?”
Yu looked like he actually meant that. Yosuke wanted to say Why don't you do it? but he had a feeling he knew why. He looked over at the bag where the fish had at least stopped flapping. Why did his redemption have to involve touching a dead fish?
Cringing a little, Yosuke took the bag by its handles and faced Tomo, who watched him suspiciously. “Here,” Yosuke muttered, turning the bag inside out. Tomo took a startled half-step back as the fish dropped onto the floor with a wet smack. This was, Yosuke decided, one of the most ridiculous things he had ever been made to do, even counting that time he had to dig up vegetables from a field in Inaba. “Come on. It's yours, so just take it.” Reaching out with his left hand, Yosuke gingerly picked up the fish by its tail, gross and slimy and bony, praying it wouldn't move.
It moved.
Yosuke yelped and let it go in Tomo's general direction; Tomo, alarmed by the fish hurtling toward him, retreated to the safety of the living room.
As his heart stopped pounding, Yosuke became aware that Yu was laughing at him.
“Dude, that's not funny,” Yosuke squeaked indignantly, wiping fish slime off of his fingers on the closest towel within reach. Yu just shook his head as his shoulders continued to seize with laughter. “I'm not picking that up.”
Still laughing to himself, Yu crossed the kitchen and picked the fish up from the floor, carrying it with both hands to the sink as Yosuke gave him a wide berth. “I'll steam it tonight while it's still fresh,” Yu said, rinsing it off. “I can finish it myself, if you don't want any.”
“I'm good,” Yosuke muttered.
Yu chuckled to himself again as he took a knife from the knife block and nonchalantly started slicing off the fish's fins. Having no desire to watch, Yosuke nudged their dinner out of the pan and onto the plate, and brought to pan to the sink trying to avoid looking at the fish.
“Yosuke,” Yu said from beside him.
Bringing the faucet head over to his half of the sink, Yosuke couldn't help but see the quick motions of Yu's hands as he scaled the fish. Damn, and it'd take longer to wash without getting his bandages wet. “Hmm?”
“You didn't want us to have a pet, did you?”
Yosuke watched brownish oil wash from the silver pan in cloudy rivulets, the kitchen lights glinting harshly against the metal and water. The sight seemed very vivid to him as he managed to say quietly, “Not really.”
“I'm sorry,” Yu said. He silently scraped at the fish's scales while Yosuke simply watched the water run across the pan. He didn't elaborate. Yosuke didn't know what exactly he was waiting for Yu to say. It was just weird hearing him apologize, and over something that sounded so dumb when it was said aloud. Maybe he was waiting for the other half—I'm sorry, but...—that never came.
Instead, when he had finished scaling and moved onto gutting the fish, Yu said, “I realized that I've been taking advantage of your kindness, and I haven't been thinking of you as an equal when it comes to what I want.”
Where did that come from!? Yosuke numbly reached for the dish soap, squeezed it so hard over the pan that the rising foam touched the faucet, and immediately began running his mouth. “What are you talking about, man? I'm here because I want to be.” Yu shot him a quizzical look. “I mean—you're not taking advantage of anything, I decided to come with you all by myself.”
“But that's what I'm talking about,” Yu said. “I came here for myself, without thinking about how you'd do. Aside from Tomo, you also seem to hate your job. And I think if it were up to you, you would've stayed in Inaba with your family and our friends.”
“Partner, you know I have no idea what I want to do with my life. I'd never forgive myself if I held you back with my bullshit, too.”
“Still—” Yu said, voice trailing off as he tried to flick fish guts off of his fingers. Yosuke pushed the faucet over to Yu's side so he could rinse his fingers under the tap. “Thanks. ...But you're still doing it. You're always going along with what I want. I should've realized sooner that it was making you unhappy.”
“Partner, that's... that's really nice of you to say, actually...” Yosuke awkwardly passed the pan handle to his bandaged hand and picked up a scrubber with his left. “Um. I'm not exactly unhappy. Getting to have every day with you—it's amazing, you know?”
Yosuke could feel Yu turning to look at him, and he ducked under his bangs to hide his embarrassment as he scrubbed furiously at the pan.
It wasn't that long before Yu finally said, “I feel the same way, partner.”
If Yu had kissed him right then, Yosuke probably could have died. But he didn't, instead stepping around Yosuke, mumbling to himself, “I can't believe I forgot to get everything out before cleaning the fish.”
He watched Yu make himself busy around the kitchen, running here and there, fetching pots and turning green onions into neat rows of rings. It was crazy how fast he got things done. And Yosuke might have been a little unhappy with how quickly their moment had passed, leaving behind the usual distant and efficient Yu in its wake.
Yu finished arranging the fish, setting the oven timer, and coming back to the sink to wash his hands. He seemed to notice that Yosuke had simply been standing there with his arms crossed, and said to him, “We can start eating dinner. All that's left is to take the fish off the heat in fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen minutes?” Yosuke echoed.
“...Yes?” Still rubbing his hands free of soap, Yu turned his head to him with a questioning look, eyebrows half-raised in that expression that would forever mean What kind of trouble are you going to get us into now? I'm listening.
His eyes never leaving Yu's face, Yosuke turned the water off with one decisive shove of the handle as he leaned forward, grabbed him by one arm, and kissed him so hard that Yu had to catch himself against the back of a chair. He managed to catch an amused smirk just as Yu steadied himself and kicked it away, right in time for Yosuke to shove them both down to the table. It creaked and skidded under the force of their weight, which might've given Yosuke pause if not for Yu grasping roughly at his shoulders and his neck. Not even the stench of fish stubbornly clinging to Yu's hands could stop him—not with Yu pulling him in, and kissing him back just as fiercely.
“Yosuke,” Yu gasped in a rush against Yosuke's parted lips, his breath damp and hot, and his voice laced with an insistence that made Yosuke shiver. There wasn't a trace of amusement or distant calm, Yosuke realized with a fast-building thrill. No, Yu sounded downright needy, and it felt absolutely amazing. White-hot satisfaction crackled beneath every inch of Yosuke's skin, under his partner's pliant mouth and water-softened hands and the sudden press of warm, strong thighs jerking their hips flush – and fuck, how the hell was he so hard already? He would've felt pathetic if Yu hadn't been following right behind, but damn if that didn't feel amazing too.
It only made Yosuke want that much more. His one-handed struggle against a line of buttons finally paid off, and he greedily rewarded himself with Yu's exposed neck, which made Yu gasp again and sharply arch his back off the table, instantly convincing Yosuke to move right along with him.
That's when Yosuke looked up past Yu's shoulder and saw Tomo staring at them.
“Wait,” Yosuke blurted out. Yu looked at him with mixed confusion and impatience as he popped open the button on his pants. “I mean—wait,” Yosuke protested in a very dignified manner as his hands flew down protectively to his crotch. “I, I can't do this. Your cat's... watching us.”
Yu arced his neck around to look back at Tomo. “Hello, Tomo,” he said. Tomo blinked. “Could you give mommy and daddy a moment?”
“Partner,” Yosuke groaned while burying his head against Yu's shoulder. Yu's strength finally gave out, and they fell back against the table, Yu laughing at him for the second time that day.
If it had been any other day, he probably could have just lain there for awhile, repeating to himself that his partner had the worst sense of humor in the world. But fifteen minutes echoed in the back of his mind, and Tomo was still watching them with that strangely human-like face of his. (Plus Tomo was a guy cat, which somehow made it all worse.)
So he picked himself up off of Yu's warm body, and reached out to him.
“Come on.”
Yu took his hand, and Yosuke all but dragged him into the nearest room with a door: Yu's study, which might've been the only room where they had never fucked before. They looked at each other for maybe two seconds before Yosuke had Yu up against the closest wall, mouth on mouth and bodies crushed together like they had never stopped. He somehow managed to kick the door shut and Yu groped around for the light switch with the hand that Yosuke wasn't pinning in place by the wrist.
And he was about to do something—rip off his shirt, shove Yu to his knees, pull both of them down to the floor—something, when Yu said, a gravelly rasp by his ear, “My desk.”
“You sure?” Yosuke asked, even as he directed them over in a staggering tandem, because just the thought of messing up Yu's tidy, expensive work station for this was such a fucking turn-on. Yu yanked him down by the lapels, holding him where he belonged with a leg slung around his waist. They kissed hard enough that it nearly hurt and more stuff fell in their wake—papers, a stapler, and that was probably the wastebasket he just kicked over—but Yosuke was beyond caring and as far as he could tell, Yu couldn't be bothered either. Not with the way he practically ripped Yosuke's dress shirt out of his pants with one hand while scrambling for his own belt buckle with the other. And just like that, defiling Yu's study wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.
“I need you,” he slurred, his lips pressed to Yu's collarbone, while fingers that just wouldn't move fast enough fumbled with an unreasonable excess of clothing. He made some pathetic groan in sheer frustration, moving uselessly, all but trying to grind his way to more of Yu's skin through their pants. “I need you, right now.”
“I know,” Yu murmured, exciting and soothing all at once. (How did Yu always manage to be so calm?) His cool fingers snared around Yosuke's wrist and pulled him down into the confines of his briefs in one smooth motion. Yosuke froze for a moment, inhaling sharply as Yu held his hand firmly in place. “Me too.”
His fingers curled into a fist without a second thought and Yu sighed as Yosuke started to move, letting his grip around Yosuke's hand go slack. It looked incredible, his partner panting through parted lips at something so simple as Yosuke shifting his thumb in just the right way, and it felt even better. But that was only half of what he wanted. He didn't know how he did it in a mindless, frantic haze with only one free hand, but he shoved his pants and boxers halfway down all at once, and grasped blindly at Yu's loosened waistband to do the same. Yu kicked one leg out of his pants and let them dangle from the other, the former wonderfully bare against the back of Yosuke's thighs. Their hips ground together with just the weight of Yosuke's body. Yu dug his nails into his forearm and moaned—Yosuke barely managed to bite back one of his own.
It still wasn't enough.
He tore his hand away just long enough for Yu to protest, but Yosuke spat into his own palm and when he looked up Yu only watched, going wide-eyed and silent.
“I know what I'm doing,” he said with a smirk, and gathered them both in one hand, while Yu made some noise that Yosuke couldn't distinguish between a gasp and a laugh. He let his eyes slide closed at the new feeling, slick and hot and so close, both reveling in it and barely able to stand it. His hand moved faster without him even meaning to, and Yu pulled him close again, fingers in Yosuke's hair, under his shirt, tracing the outlines of his spine.
“Yosuke.” For a moment they only looked at each other, and shit, Yosuke thought, he loved it when Yu touched his hair, when Yu said his name, when Yu looked at him like he was the only one in the world, just like this. He knew Yu was doing it all just for him, and this, this was what he wanted. “Yosuke--”
Beeeeep. Beeeeep.
The forgotten timer rang out of nowhere and Yosuke froze—mid-gasp, mid-stroke, mid-everything—while Yu actually cursed, almost as surprising as the noise itself. If Yosuke wasn't so annoyed right then he might've laughed. Instead he groaned, and tried not to think about how he was going to end up jerking off in the bathroom because of some fucking fish.
“Should we—”
“Don't stop,” Yu told him vehemently, holding him fast and tight and biting his shoulder hard right through his shirt, and the timer was still going off but any question Yosuke could've come up with a second ago felt a million miles away. “Don't you dare stop.”
And Yosuke did laugh then, half fondly at Yu's utter seriousness and half in his own relief, but the sudden burst of lightness quickly gave way to a singular, blinding need. There was no way it was going to last and Yosuke didn't care at all, didn't care about anything but getting closer and getting off and feeling Yu get off. Yosuke kissed him brutally, again and again and again, happily ignoring the timer as he buried his face in the crook of Yu's shoulder, nipping at his neck and just breathing him in, so strongly he could taste his skin. And he didn't stop, not until he felt Yu's limbs go rigid, his neck and his shoulders practically contort, and a sharp cry tore from his lips just as he spilled thick and wet over Yosuke's straining fingers.
He meant to give Yu a little space to recover, but Yu seemed to have other ideas. He held Yosuke where he was, with his solid arms and strong thighs, and kissed the side of his face with heedless enthusiasm, completely missing Yosuke's mouth. And Yosuke, in absolutely no state to resist, let himself be held, moaning loudly into Yu's unbuttoned collar and rocking as fast as he could, desperately stroking himself until he was right there too, finishing hard against Yu's sticky skin.
He was still panting for air, and sagging bonelessly with an arm trapped between the two of them and not a single thought in his head, when he felt a nudge against his shoulder.
“Hey. Let me up.”
Yosuke blinked a few times, and very intelligently mumbled, “Wha—”
“I said, 'let me up.'” Before Yosuke could grasp what he was saying, Yu decided for both of them, shifting to sit up so that Yosuke didn't have much of a choice. “My fish is going to turn into mush.”
Just then, Yosuke registered that the timer still beeping, reminding them both of the world outside their impulsive tryst. And Yosuke watched in near-disbelief while in the span of about half a minute, his partner stood, fixed his pants, and cleaned himself up with some tissues that had conveniently fallen to a nearby spot on the floor. He leaned back on the edge of Yu's desk and struggled for something to say as Yu righted the wastebasket and leaned over to quickly peck Yosuke on the cheek, only to rush off to the kitchen.
Yosuke stared at the opened doorway after his fish-obsessed lover. Now by himself, he was starting to feel rather ridiculous for sitting around in Yu's study with his pants halfway down and a pasty mess drying on the back of his hand.
After a quick trip to the bathroom, Yosuke came into the kitchen—noticing that Tomo had been rubbing against Yu's legs, but darted back to the living room as Yosuke approached—and took the plate of stir-fry from the counter, bringing it to the table and picking at it while he watched Yu put his fresh steamed fish in a plastic container for tomorrow. When Yu finished, he came over to join him with a pair of chopsticks. He probably mirrored how Yosuke looked—disheveled and exuberant, quietly happy as he sat down and ate from the stir-fry.
It was a perfect moment to say “I love you.” Yosuke considered it while they ate, trying variations in his head—Partner, you know, I love you? / I fucking love you man. / Partner, fuck, I fucking love you.—but before he could make it any more crass, Yu said, “Yosuke, you know that you're incredibly important to me.”
Yosuke stomach squeezed and he couldn't swallow the food in his mouth. He could hear the but at the end of that sentence.
It was cruel, hearing his train of thought echoed but twisted like that.
He swallowed somehow and said, “Yeah?” wishing Yu would spill it rather than leave him with phantoms of everything he might say next.
Yu took his time, rethinking his words under the pretense of chewing thoroughly first. Yosuke always hated that—it wasn't like carefully chosen words could blunt the blow. Not when Yosuke knew him well enough to always sense exactly what he meant.
“I think I've told you before that until Inaba, I was never close to anyone. People were kind to me as a transfer student. But they already had their groups of friends, so once the novelty wore off, I attended club meetings and that was about it.”
With his chopsticks suspended in the air, Yosuke watched Yu with wide eyes. Yu took a piece of pork and stuck it in his mouth as he looked up to meet Yosuke's eyes for a moment, feigning confidence, before turning his eyes back to the plate of food which must have felt much safer.
“The worst was probably when I was fourteen, the trip that convinced my parents to leave me in Inaba the next time they had to work overseas. We spent that year in Hat Yai—in Thailand. I didn't know any Thai and my parents didn't want me to lose a year of schooling, so they sent me to a British international school there. It wasn't very good. I think everyone only went because they had to go somewhere, during some disconnected part of their life. You'd think it would have made me feel less alone, when everyone else was like me, but it didn't. I just fell into not caring like everyone else.”
Yu paused here, and Yosuke's mind tried to catch up with what was happening as he set his chopsticks down. It was clear, at least, that he had been forgiven. Yu rarely ever made himself vulnerable, much less talked about things that had caused him pain. What he couldn't figure out was why Yu was telling him now.
“I spent a lot of time with the stray cats,” he said, and it all made sense.
“Oh.”
Yu forced a smile. “They helped me get through.”
Some shadowy part of him couldn't help but blurt out, “But what about now? You seemed happy about—about us living together...” But Yosuke stopped himself before he said, Why do you need the cat now that you have me?
“I am,” Yu said. “I'm not saying that I need Tomo to get by. Just that... there's something nice about having a cat around. They don't care about where you are in life or what you say to them. Their love is simple. It's good to have sometimes.” Yu laid his chopsticks down against the plate, letting his hands rest on the table. “Yosuke...”
“Yeah?”
“You know that time back in high school, when we confronted Namatame?”
“The time you stopped me from committing murder?”
“The time we got into that fight, yes. And you came back.” Yu's socked foot brushed against his ankle under the table. “I think that was the first time I'd ever had a fight with someone and everything still turned out all right.”
Yu was being so open that it scared him a little. This whole day had been so weird, Yosuke thought, that tomorrow none of it would probably seem real, neatly tucked away in some strange pocket dimension where Yu would let him screw him on his desk and then talk about his secrets.
Keeping his mouth shut—not trusting himself not to say anything, in fear it would be something stupid to defuse the situation—Yosuke touched their feet together.
God, playing footsies under the table was so gay.
But it was nice.
Feeling a little like he was relenting in that moment, even though it had probably been clear to both of them for the last few hours, Yosuke said, “You can keep Tomo.” Yu visibly brightened—visibly enough for Yosuke, anyway. The little flash in his eyes always gave it away whenever he got what he wanted. He'd have to work on that in the courtroom. Yosuke kicked him lightly and added, “No more. Just Tomo. And get him to stop attacking my feet.”
“Tomo is enough,” Yu said. Then in a warm tone of voice, leaving no room to confuse it with his sense of humor—“...Thank you.”
It was crazy, how this guy he'd known from high school, familiar and mundane to him as an old shirt, could still give him chills like that.
Yu picked his chopsticks back up and continued eating. “Yeah, uh, no problem, partner,” Yosuke mumbled. He wished he could've found the perfect words to punch him right back in the heart. Instead, he opened his lame mouth and settled for, “I love you, you know?"