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Yamato wasn't expecting to end up like this, locked in a closet with Sogo staring back at him.
It was Yamato's idea, though. Seven minutes in heaven seemed like a fun party game, and with Sogo this drunk, of course he'd oblige.
"Your time starts... now!" Mitsuki says from the other side of the door.
And Sogo is just... looking at him.
A lustful gaze certainly isn't the right way to describe it, but Yamato thinks it isn’t entirely wrong, either.
"You want me so bad, don't you?" Yamato says with a smirk, breaking the silence.
Somehow, that makes Sogo even redder, as if it were possible. And then he buries his face in his hands, mumbling something incoherent, but sounding vaguely like a denial.
"What was that?"
"Nnnh, nothing..." he whines, moving his hands from his face in favour of suddenly wrapping his arms around Yamato's torso, causing him to freeze in place. "I want this."
"You want what?" Yamato asks, attempting to steady himself. "My stomach?"
"Noooo........" Sogo giggles. "Hugs...."
Sogo might be the clingiest person Yamato's ever known.
No, drunk Sogo might be the clingiest person Yamato's ever known.
Usually, Yamato will rip Sogo off him and pass him off to someone else, but that's not an option when they're locked in here. Not if he doesn't want Sogo to end up sad and whining for the next six minutes.
And so, Yamato sighs and wraps his arms around Sogo as well. "Alright, Sou. You're so needy."
"I'm not..."
"You are."
"Mmm... sorry..."
"Don't say sorry."
"I don't wanna."
"Then why did you?"
"People get mad."
If Yamato were in his right mind, he wouldn't continue this conversation.
"I'm not mad," he finds himself saying softly.
"Not you."
"What?"
"What?"
"God, you are so drunk."
Sogo whines at that, pressing his face further against Yamato's chest.
"He was so mad at me... I never... when I went back..." Sogo mumbles, slurring his words so badly that it's a miracle Yamato still manages to make it out. "Like I was little..."
"You felt like you were little again?"
"Mmhm... in trouble... but I'm not... still get attacks... though."
Okay, now Sogo's lost him. And he’s concerned Yamato deeply.
"Attacks...?"
"Anxiiiiety..." Sogo slurs, "sucks..."
"Anxiety attacks?"
"No... don't... don't tell anyone..." Sogo says, starting to giggle somehow. "But it's bad... Yacchan..."
Yamato sucks in a breath at the nickname, and just then, Sogo moves his arms from around his torso to drape around his neck. Hee stares at him with that same fucked up gaze from before.
Yamato's hands are around Sogo's waist. He doesn't quite remember how they got there.
"You... you were right..."
"Right how?"
Sogo leans in, looking at Yamato with half-lidded, unfocused eyes, and a blush that might not just be from the booze.
"I do want you so bad..."
Well, damn. This would be the most action Yamato's gotten in a while.
Sogo would never in a million years do this if he were sober...and the brief thought crosses Yamato's mind that he should stop him.
Except he doesn't, no.
What he ends up doing is different.
Quite the opposite.
What he ends up doing... in a cramped and uncomfortable closet, is locking lips with a drunk Osaka Sogo.
Because what the hell, he won't remember in the morning anyway.
Sogo is a pretty shitty kisser, but Yamato can't bring himself to care. The little noises he makes as he holds Yamato by the shoulders, keeping him pinned against the wall, kissing him deeply, are more than enough to make up for it.
And when they part for air, Sogo says breathlessly, "I've never kissed anyone before."
"Yeah, no shit."
"Wha's that supposed to mean?" Sogo mumbles, and his head dips forward a little, as if he were about to pass out. Then his lips land on Yamato's neck, kissing him clumsily, and running fingers down his spine over the fabric of his shirt, making him shiver.
Just as Yamato's about to reply, Sogo's legs give in, almost without him realizing, and Yamato catches him, guiding them both to sit on the ground as Sogo continues mindlessly kissing him all over his neck, his chin, and then he's crawling into Yamato's lap and pulling at his shirt to get his lips on his shoulders.
And Sogo's hands are underneath Yamato's shirt now, caressing him as he continues planting kisses all over his chest, his neck, his chin, until Yamato grabs him by the jaw with a thumb hooked below his ear and holds him in place, locking their lips again. Tongue in his mouth and holding him *still*, for fuck's sake.
Sogo makes little, muffled sounds of enjoyment before tearing away again and aiming for Yamato's chin. Yamato tilts Sogo's head back up and leans in in a motion too swift for a drunken Sogo, causing them to topple over, with Sogo's back against the ground, and Yamato on top of him, kissing him hard and listening to Sogo's moans in response, as he continues running fingers down Yamato's spine, though this time underneath his shirt.
And when they part for air again, both panting heavily, Sogo, pointing at his lower lip, commands breathlessly, "Mmm, bite me, Yacchan..."
Yamato obliges, leaning in and nibbling at first, before biting hard, hearing another muffled noise of pleasure from Sogo that's almost as intoxicating as the booze.
And then Sogo's hands are on Yamato's shoulders, trying to flip him over. Yamato could easily overpower here, but he takes pity, and lets himself be turned around, giving in to Sogo's whims.
Sogo's back to kissing his neck, and sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. Once, twice, three times, Yamato allows it, and then he's grabbing Sogo's face and locking their lips again, and giving him another bite.
Sogo moans again, plucking Yamato's hands off his face and interlocking their fingers together right when—
"Time's up!"
Mitsuki opens the door.
Sogo rolls over onto his back, giggling. Yamato freezes.
Mitsuki closes the door.
"Well, that was... fun." Yamato says, sitting up. "Now get up."
Sogo continues laying limp on the floor, giggling with his eyes barely open.
Yamato sighs, and grabs Sogo by the arms, helping him up off the ground. He steadies Sogo with one arm and opens the door with the other, spotting Riku, who's standing in place, a cup of tea in his hand, staring at them, mouth agape.
"Hi, Rii-chan..." Sogo says as Yamato leads him to his room.
Yamato helps Sogo to his bed, and once he collapses on it, Yamato brings a trash can over right beside it, and then leaves, heading to his own room to pass the fuck out.
-
Sogo wakes up with excruciating nausea, a pounding headache, and an ache in his lower lip.
Maybe he'd bruised it on a bottle.
Sogo climbs out of bed, nearly tripping on the trashcan that wasn't there before, and heads for the kitchen.
And just like every night spent drinking...
Sogo doesn't remember a thing.
"Sogo, you're up!" Mitsuki says too loudly, causing Sogo to wince. "Ah, sorry, here."
Mitsuki puts a bowl down on the table. Eggs over rice. Probably what he ate to assuage his own hangover too.
Sogo sits down, fights down the nausea, thanks him, and starts to eat. Worst case scenario is last night he said more stuff about his past that would concern everybody. That's usually how it goes.
Not a great outcome, but at least he knows how to brush off their concerns and reassure them that he's fine, what with having done it a few times before.
Still... drinking always leads to this. Why hasn't he learned?
Ah, regrets aside, at least the food seems to be helping ever so slightly.
"Morning," Yamato says with a yawn, walking into the kitchen. "Crazy night. What's for breakfast?"
Riku walks in now, making himself some tea while Mitsuki passes Yamato a bowl. Yamato mutters something about Mitsuki having already cured his hangover, and they're all talking too quietly for Sogo to make out the specifics. It's probably better this way, given that anything louder might make his head hurt so bad he throws up.
Yamato sits next to Sogo and starts to eat. Sogo eyes him for a moment, tired eyes, a painful hangover. His eyes drift down to his neck, then, and he sees a couple bluish bruises.
And Sogo feels his cheeks get hot.
"Yamato-san, are—are you gonna cover those up?" Sogo asks, before putting more food in his mouth so he doesn't blurt something stupid.
Before Yamato can reply, Riku chimes in.
"Is that from when you were kissing Sogo-san in the closet last night?"
Sogo chokes on his food, falling into a coughing fit.
Yamato puts a hand on Sogo’s back, patting it likely because he was choking, but god, it just makes Sogo start to tremble.
Once he can breathe again, all he can ask, ever so eloquently, still staring at his food, is, "What!?"
"Yeah, it is," Yamato says nonchalantly. "Anyways."
"I—I'm feeling a little sick, excuse me," Sogo says, barely hearing the sound of his own voice as he gets up and heads for his room, shutting the door behind him and starting to pace.
Sogo kissed Yamato.
Not just kissed. Made out with, clearly, if the hickies are any indication.
While drunk.
While very drunk.
His stomach hurts.
This is bad. This is really bad. How could Sogo do something like this? He knows how he gets when he's drunk, to a certain extent at least, and he still... he still...
In a second, Sogo goes from pacing to hyperventilating and throwing up into the trash can beside his bed.
There goes all that food.
Panic attacks don't usually make him throw up, but the hangover...
God.
He can't breathe.
He can't breathe and his stomach hurts so bad, and he's shaking all over and drenched in sweat, and he thinks he hears a knock at the door but he can't speak, all that comes out is a whine when he tries, and then there's hands holding his hair back from his face as he throws up, and gentle reassurances he can barely hear over his gasps for air, but it helps. It helps a little, but it helps.
And when he's done throwing up, Yamato is wiping his face clean with tissues and handing him a water bottle.
Sogo takes it, rinses out his mouth, spits into the trash can, and then drinks half the bottle in one go. "Sorry," he says between gasps for air. "I—I—I'm sorry, I'm—I'm—I'm okay now, I—I'd like to be alo—alone."
"I can't leave you alone, because you're just gonna lock yourself in the bathroom for hours. Some of us gotta piss, you know."
He's right. Sogo thought locking himself in the bathroom was the surefire way nobody would get all worried, but in reality, he was hogging it when he shouldn't have been, which was just putting a bigger burden on everybody else—
"Sou, up," Yamato says, yanking him by the arm. Sogo stands, and lets Yamato guide him to sit on his bed rather than the floor. Then, he leaves for a second, Sogo thinks—his eyes are closed, he can't tell. Then he comes back. It smells less like vomit, now. "I replaced the trash can, 'cause I don't trust you not to throw up again."
"Sorr—sorry."
"Everybody throws up when they're hungover, it's chill," Yamato says, sitting across from Sogo and putting a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. A nice form of pressure compared to the headache and stomach ache he has going on right now.
"I... I... I..."
It's so hard to talk. It's so hard to breathe.
"Ss... sorr... sorr—"
He can't even get the word out. He's going to pass out. He's going to die.
"Are you sorry for kissing me?" Yamato asks.
Sogo nods.
"Well then you don't need to be, because it was fun."
"But the—the—the bruises—"
"I gave you one too," Yamato says, pressing a finger to Sogo's lower lip, and Sogo lets out an involuntary squeak at the sudden contact, and the pain of the bruise. "It's not a big deal."
"I—I—I'm still sorry."
"For what now?"
"That—that I don't remember."
"We were drunk, I wouldn't expect you to. It's okay."
"Okay, okay, okay," Sogo says, still breathing shallowly, "Sorry."
Yamato sighs. "Now what is it?"
"For...for have... for having a... a panic attack..."
Yamato doesn't say anything for a moment. And then, next thing Sogo knows, he's wrapped up in Yamato's arms, being held tight with a hand on his head and a hand on his back.
Sogo freezes for a moment, but then he lets himself relax into the hug, feeling the steady flow of Yamato's breaths, and letting that guide him to a calmer state, slowly but surely.
And when Sogo's heartrate returns to slightly above normal, and he doesn't feel so near to death, he pulls away slightly, and opens his eyes, looking up at Yamato, who's still got a hand on his back and a hand in his hair.
They lock eyes only for a moment, because then, Yamato's gaze drops to Sogo's lips, causing Sogo's cheeks to flush again.
Sogo steals a glance at Yamato's lips as well, if only to try and jog his memory, though it fails. He can't help but be ever-curious of what it felt like...
"Um..." Sogo starts, not sure exactly what his intention was, aside from breaking the silence.
Yamato's gaze flicks back up to his eyes immediately. He clears his throat. "You feeling better?"
Sogo clears his throat too. "Ye—yeah. Thank you, Yamato-san."
"No problem," Yamato says, slowly removing his hands from Sogo, almost as if he were trying to savour the feeling. Sogo shuts his eyes. No, surely not. "Next time maybe I can kiss you when you're less drunk," he says, and he pats Sogo on the shoulder, and then the door opens, and shuts, and when Sogo opens his eyes, he's by himself.
...
Well, Sogo's heart rate is definitely back up now.