mess up my bed with me, kick off the covers
Title: Souji Seta's Conscience
Author: veterization
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: Souji/Yosuke
Warnings: Tents. Kanji's raging homophobia.
Word Count: ~4,400
Summary: The what if of the camping trip. Souji and Yosuke are very much alone.
Souji can't help but wonder what ironic twist of fate has been granted upon him by whatever is snickering down at him from the vortex of the sky and stuffed him into the same tent as Yosuke.
Unspeakably alone.
From outside the tent's shadow, Souji hears a few stray crickets chirp in the nighttime. Not even insects have joined the two-man group gathered in the boys' tent.
Souji is perfectly well aware that there were supposed to be more boys. Many more boys. Maybe even hordes of boys being rowdy and noisy, loud enough to make a ruckus that would even disrupt the supposedly drunken Morooka. Souji weighs the pros and the cons of having a sizable group sharing the tent with him and Yosuke, and decides that both are meek options if he'd had high expectations piled up for the school camping trip. Yosuke is an undeniably dimwitted homophobe, so far away from open-minded about his sexuality that Souji can't help but wonder if Yosuke was the victim to the infamous touchy uncle when he was younger and forever scarring his very, very heterosexual brain.
Still, despite all of his homophobic glory, Yosuke doesn't seem all too disturbed by the thought of sharing a tent with his companion alone.
Souji wonders why this uncharacteristic trait has spontaneously manifested.
Either Yosuke has realized that the absence of the rest of their schoolmates has created copious amounts of space in the tent for only two individuals, therefore figuring that the generous bits of space separating them would be a fairly healthy buffer acting as a constant aegis against all potential homosexual advances, or Yosuke is once more proving the never-failing obliviousness of his blind eye. Souji really wishes he would get that eye fixed. That, or Yosuke simply hasn't picked up on Souji's endless hints based not on the fact that Yosuke has been subconsciously shunning the thought of hinting, but rather because Souji needs to find more effective ways of hinting and lay off of the subtlety.
Either way, when Souji squints through the darkness, he can tell that the faint outline of a Yosuke readjusting his position is far from a thoroughly concerned, irked Yosuke. There is no concern. Souji doesn't know whether to be relieved that he hasn't had to dampen down a particularly nasty bout of homophobia or in turn, concerned himself because Yosuke feels there to be no need to find Souji anything to be frightened of. Not that he wants his partner to harboring hidden fear for him. But rather because he likes knowing that his intense and ever-developing homosexual infatuation on Yosuke is not neglected and forgotten and stomped into the ground by Morooka's stomping feet, forever dooming his future in conquering rabid homophobia.
Souji is suddenly pulled from his thoughts by the unmistakable sound of Yosuke's stomach voicing its grumbling protest to the vacancy inhabiting it. No one had eaten dinner that night. He would love to feel vindication out of the fact that Yosuke had made it perfectly clear that Chie and Yukiko would pay damages for the horrendous cooking incident - if their ultimate outcome could even be considered a product of cooking - but the hunger is overtaking his satisfaction, and if Yosuke's grimace is any indication, the other boy is also starting to feel the dull pain of not eating a tasty dinner, or rather, a dinner at all.
However, Souji doesn't know whether to be delighted by his convenient distraction or bothered, because the repetitive litany of you're alone, you're alone, you're very much alone is drowning out all previous thoughts of hunger. If Yosuke possesses the power to pick up on a few thoughts now and then, Souji knows that his friendship is just about defiled. He knows that of all places his mind could have wandered, and dear lord, there are a lot of places, the worst is where it had ended up steering itself. And now that he's thinking about Yosuke, he won't be able to stop.
Souji crosses his legs and glances at the cheap lamp beside him. It's small and flickering like a candle in the wind, but the effects it's managing to cause on Yosuke's face would be a photographer's heaven. Just enough illumination to lick up Yosuke's cheekbones, the faint light turning his hair golden as though he's a boy on a beach directly underneath the bright sun's spotlight, not a boy sitting in a stuffy tent with his friend with very questionable content running through his mind.
Souji swallows on a dry tongue that he thought a moment ago, for sure, was much wetter.
He almost feels like they should be going to bed, not to obey Morooka and be good kids, but rather to put an end to this tension. Souji's almost completely positive that this tension is unrequited, only radiating off of Souji's body and stopping several feet away from Yosuke like a barrier of anti-gay is separating them cleanly.
Just do something already.
For a second, Souji thinks he's speaking aloud, and when Yosuke doesn't even acknowledge him, rather staring at his tummy in childlike disdain, he gulps down a few prayers of thanks. He's a silent type compared to the always outspoken Yosuke, but he has his vacuous moments just like anyone else where he lets loose a few repressed words and regrets it come the next moment.
You're alone.
Alone.
Souji doesn't know when his conscience became so encouraging when it came to his usually well-suppressed gay endeavors with Yosuke. Yosuke doesn't go for that stuff. Yosuke sees a rainbow and thinks it's an omen of death. Yosuke treats Kanji like he's the second plague, complete with unpleasant physical side effects. And while the sole of Souji's shoes may not leave a trail of rainbows as he walks, he doubts he's doing a completely impeccable job at hiding all of his less than natural urges for Yosuke.
He looks at Yosuke, a little critically, and starts questioning his ability to observe and pick up on common sense. Souji's opinion of his astuteness lowers a little, and then's reminded of the thorny matter at hand of him and his friend being very much alone when a cricket chirps cheerily again.
He feels like he should be taking advantage of the situation. It's not like everyday he's thrust in an opportunity like being ideally cornered in the same tent as Yosuke during the darkest hours of the night without anyone to disturb them. And Yosuke's guard is down too. His hands are at his sides and his eyes are half-lidded, whether from exhaustion or hungry depression, Souji isn't sure, but there's a very tranquil way about his position that gives Souji the impression that tackling him would be an easy feat to accomplish if he angled his body the right direction and pounced quickly enough. It's not until Souji realizes that he's acting mildly tiger-in-Africa-seeking-out-weak-prey that he stops his elaborate thought process and tries to go through his plan of The Seduction of Yosuke Hanamura in a saner manner.
Just grab his hand.
It's lying there, palm down, fingers relaxed, against his knee, as though it's waiting for someone to grab it. Then again, Yosuke's lips look like they're waiting for someone to kiss them and his hips look like they're waiting for someone to straddle them, and Souji is starting to thing that there's some personal bias at work here. He dismisses the hand-holding idea based on the undeniable effeminate aura to it that even though Yosuke likes women, especially womanly women with curves and curls, he doubts the boy would appreciate the consideration to make his flirtations less homosexual.
Just grab his face.
Souji is starting to wonder if the darkness is having its way with his brain. He's not one to beat around the bush, but he's mildly frightened of how freakishly bold his own mental suggestions are starting to sound. He's pretty sure that Yosuke would be scurrying out of the tent with the ferociousness and speed of a particularly large gas-guzzling car, leaving a pretty and precise Yosuke-like hole in the tent's side if Souji started caressing his cheeks. Souji promptly removes that option from his mind as well just to avoid the possibilities of shock and trauma and Yosuke screaming and Morooka crashing their tent and getting both of them and maybe half of the school expelled based on their stupidity.
Not only would Dojima kill Souji Seta, but Souji Seta would also have to buy all of the school complimentary lunches for ruining their school career right before exams before his ultimate death by poisoned instant meals planned by Dojima and perhaps even Nanako, all because of Yosuke. And Yosuke probably wouldn't want that entire burden on his shoulders.
So for the consideration of Yosuke, Souji keeps his hands to himself.
Tell him you want to see his rare Persona ability. Or rather, feel it.
Souji blinks, and can't help but wonder when a serious ordeal like solving the Inaba murders and using his Persona for the greater good turned into sexual innuendo. He worries his lower lip at the state of his mind and tries to blame the fatigue and hunger he has yet to be seriously affected with. Nevertheless, he keeps his mouth firmly shut and for once, even though he's been playing the leader role since day one, waits for Yosuke to tell him what to do. He hopes and wishes and prays that Yosuke slumps into a sudden slumber without another word, thus also encouraging Souji to fall to the peace of his only dreams, not having to worry about awkward moments or one-sided sexual tension still growing steadily in the dark, dark corners of his mind.
Just tell him you want to kiss him.
No no no no.
Just lean over and do it already.
Souji actually leans in and halts at an awkward, cumbersome sixty degree angle. There's a distinct rustling at the entrance to their tent, and before Souji can feign convincing sleep for what he assumes is a clumsy Morooka crashing tents and vomiting in corners, Kanji is staggering in and seating himself down in front of the two boys as though they've been expecting his presence patiently.
Kanji stares for a few seconds, as though he's waiting for a dismissal, and Yosuke's growling stomach breaks the silence once again.
"Dammit, I'm so hungry." He bemoans, as though the other boys can fix his problem or are in any better states, and then launches into a slightly accusatory inquisition regarding Kanij's presence in their tent, and as glad as Souji is that he's not the only one not too thrilled about filling up their tent's people capacity with uninvited guests, he somehow feels as though Kanji's behind is not moving any time soon and isn't planning on doing so to accommodate Souji and Yosuke's preferences either.
As Souji's chances to be alone in a tent with Yosuke dwindle down the drain like his appetite for curry, there's a small pang of begging to be indulged in courage tickling at his stomach. Souji ignores it and settles himself onto his back, waiting for Kanji and Yosuke to follow.
It's not a very strategically placed tent, now that the rather noticeable rock protruding into the tent Kanji had blabbed about earlier comes to his attention and the slight slope he feels under his back also comes into his mind. Yosuke is close, and Kanji is close, but Yosuke is considerably closer, close enough for Souji to smell his aftershave as he props himself up on his elbow and finds a comfortable position.
There's silence, silence indicating the direct implication of speechless slumber, but still, there's an undeniably prominent portion of Souji's brain that hopes that Kanji will snooze off in minutes and stay that way while Yosuke will have difficulty even closing his eyes. Time passes, and crickets chirp.
He glances over at Yosuke, lying on his side and curled slightly in on himself, his jacket still hanging over his shoulder and catching the curve of his waist. They've forgotten to turn the light off and it still manages to hit Yosuke in such a way that brings out the soft spots of his creamy complexion, the slight furrow to his eyebrows, the twitch in his thumb as he tries to relax into slumber. The way his body catches the light, swallows it down, curves against it in just the right way to make some of the developing muscles through his shirt cast light shadows down the rest of his arm. It's all very noticeable, and Souji doesn't even find it particularly dirty until his eyes inevitably settle upon his thighs and stay there.
The soft, gently cast shadows barely do Yosuke's form justice, but his legs still fold over each other in the right manner that allows the slight bulge in his crotch to catch light and accentuate the curves of his kneecaps and calves. Solid and firm, even without feeling them Souji can assume that what touching them would do to his fingertips. It's not that Yosuke never touches Souji, because despite his fear of lessening the proximity between him and other boys, he never puts any meaning into it. He claps him on the shoulder, he taps his knee, he does everything with the utmost aura of comfort, as though touching Souji is simple. Natural.
Souji's eyes gravitate up to Yosuke's face, up his slender hips and past his relaxed shoulders. His lips are peaceful, phlegmatic in what looks like a symbol of comfortable sleep pulling him from consciousness. Souji wonders what Yosuke would do if he was aware of his friend's eyes so attentively examining him, not so much critically, but more so in awe. When he's not babbling his mouth or moping about the murders, his face completely untroubled, his expression is almost content.
There's a single stray strand of hair licking his cheek, and Souji's thumb itches to brush it behind his ear. They're a reasonable distance apart, but Souji can still make out every detail on Yosuke's face. There's a twitch, far from unnoticeable, in his pants, and Souji swallows. His hand slithers down his chest as discreetly as possible to palm himself, praying that both parties sharing the tent with him are slumbering now. His fingers jerk to an nonrhythmic stop as Yosuke's voice, itchy at best, penetrates the silence. Souji sucks in a sharp breath and quickly folds one leg over the other, not caring about the slight crush of his erection in the process.
"Kanji," Yosuke says, and props his elbow up on the floor and his jaw on his palm, peering through the darkness at Kanji's distinguishable figure, "don't you have more space on your side?"
Souji glances between him and Yosuke, a fairly sizable distance of at least two feet separating them. He mildly wonders why Yosuke is unhappy with the spacing arrangements and prays that Yosuke hasn't caught on to Souji's wandering hand from a few moments ago. There's another curious twitch in his pants and Souji strategically attempts to squeeze his thighs together.
"I can't sleep over there, my back's gonna break."
Kanji's protest is followed with a pause on Yosuke's part, and Souji hopes that the conversation is over. His hopes are downtrodden, however, when a second later Yosuke opens his mouth once more and starts steering the conversation in a direction that Souji can already smell the dangerous aftermaths in.
"What I mean is... are we gonna be safe alone with you?" Yosuke mumbles apprehensively, and Souji feels Kanji gets up in fierce indignation before he actually does. Souji bids a good night's sleep goodbye and watches as Kanji starts rambling like a man on trial, hands flailing.
"I already told you guys I'm not like that!"
"Then why are you getting all hot and bothered about it? That's just more suspicious!" Souji's plan to pretend to be deep in the realms of sleep are also stomped the life out of as Yosuke gets to feet as well and Souji feels the necessity to join him even though if there's anything Yosuke is at the thought of a potentially gay man sharing a tent with him, it's hot and bothered. The quiet words hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite reverberate through his mind as he stares at Yosuke, hoping that their close-knit teamwork over the past few months will grant him a temporary telepathic link into Yosuke's mind ordering him to please shut his mouth before he says something very, very stupid.
By the look on Kanji's face, they've already passed the phase of stupid miles ago.
Kanji is out and running from the tent to prove his masculinity and solid heterosexuality at expense of causing a ruckus in the girl's tent before Souji can calmly talk him out of it, Yosuke instantly blabbering apologies and words of supposed innocence on his part. Souji glances at him. Yosuke glances back. Sleeping seems to be out of the question.
Simultaneously, they settle themselves onto the floor once more and exchange several more glances. It's not that either of them are all that concerned about Kanji's threats, considering that neither of them made any movement to run after the crazed boy and still aren't shouting warnings out their tent for Kanji to get his ass back inside the tent now or faster than now. It's just that they're both very aware of King Moron's inebriated presence outside of the tents, and they both realize that if Kanji is caught red-handed Kanji will most likely be pointing fingers at Souji and Yosuke as well for riling him up.
"...can't exactly sleep now." Yosuke says.
Souji nods.
Just put an arm over him.
Souji ponders it. They're close enough that doing just that wouldn't be all too awkward on his arm, but Yosuke certainly wouldn't approve. There is no reason, no plausible reason, for Souji to be doing any arm-slinging, whether it's his attempt at a friendly, mate-like pat or a one-armed cuddle. Just because they're not sleeping doesn't mean this is his hand's cue to start wandering in areas that Yosuke would certainly not permit his hand to wander in.
Just hug him.
Now that he examines him, Yosuke is sitting in such a manner that would make pulling him against his chest so easy that it's almost irresistible. Souji bites back the idea, however, because no matter how convenient Yosuke's position is, it doesn't make the idea itself any smarter.
"Are we just gonna sit and wait for him?"
It takes Souji a second to realize that Yosuke is talking to him and he glances over, shrugging. He doesn't like the idea of him and Yosuke dragging the clattering lantern with them outdoors to trod around aimlessly in search of Kanji at the risk of running into teachers. Also, that'd be another fantastically blatant punch in the face for his plans, so he instead lets his hand crawl a few unnoticeable inches toward Yosuke's and stops right before their fingertips brush.
"I don't think he's coming back." Souji says, and Yosuke glances at him, also shrugging in defeat.
Or you could just kiss him.
Quite frankly, smothering himself with a pillow seems like a healthier option. But it would be so easy. Just to lean in the slightest of centimeters so he could pick up the leftover tinge of curry on Yosuke's breath when he exhales, cup his chin with his fingers and tilt his head so their lips angle against each other at just the right places, let their noses bump innocently before pushing their mouths together with a tenderness he rarely ever shows when they're fighting shadows in battle.
Yosuke's his partner. Yosuke's even said it out loud before. They work in tandem, always watching the other's moves, always picking each other up, always battling through the same mindset. Souji finds it almost difficult to believe that Yosuke wouldn't want this too.
He thinks of the incident with Kanji, with Yosuke's discomfort at the thought of even sharing a tent with a closet homosexual, his instant repulsion at the slightest of implications. The optimistic side of Souji can admit that it's a little suspicious of Yosuke, almost even more so than Kanji, but the much more logical side of him sees exactly what Yosuke most probably wants everyone to see. A boy with his head wrapped up in the thoughts of bikini-clad girls with long hair and curvy hips, a large smile and an even bigger chest, homophobic by nature of his teenage hormones. Nothing suspicious about it.
Souji's hand is moving before his mind can tell him to not. His palm rests on Yosuke's knee, light and tentative the first few moments, before the pressure increases and his fingers squeeze. Yosuke looks up and stares at him expectantly. Souji waits, and even the crickets seem to silence themselves.
It's come down to either fight or flight. He can run out the tent proclaiming his everlasting and devoted love to women much like Kanji, never looking Yosuke in the eye again, or he can keep going. Slowly but subtly, he can make his intentions clear.
Souji's hand is moving before his thoughts can finish themselves again. Two fingers, inching up. Gently going on a hesitant crusade to the midpoint of Yosuke's leg. It has yet to respond under his invasive touch, whether to twitch or shudder or even jerk away. But even though there hasn't been acceptance, there hasn't been an obvious rejection yet either, so Souji's hand covers Yosuke's entire thigh in an almost possessive manner and is rewarded with Yosuke's breath hitching audibly in his throat. He wants to memorize the feel of his body, his flesh, even through the thin layer of fabric that makes up his pants. A part of him wants to know Yosuke's figure better than his own, and if Yosuke would let him, Souji's hands would be like sweaty adhesive to his body, as if a blind man is trying to map out every curve and nook of his skin.
"Souji-"
Yosuke has enough intelligence to stop himself as a single finger on Souji's hand brushes the illegal territory dipping from his thigh to his groin, running along the seam of his pants. If he goes for gold it'll be too late to turn back, and the fingertip of his index finger is so close to brushing against his goal that it'd almost be sinful to turn back. Souji musters up the courage to stare wordlessly through the darkness at Yosuke's face. Parted lips, slightly flushed cheeks, and the undeniable hint of pleasure tugging on his entire expression.
His other hand gravitates toward his face, his thumb brushing over his cheekbone, his jaw, the temple in his forehead. Yosuke tenses under his touch, but Souji's ministrations are so light he wonders if Yosuke can even feel them. He pushes back that single strand, still glistening golden in the lantern light, and tucks it behind his ear like a fussing mother, except softer. Slower.
Yosuke shifts his knees, just a bit, so Souji's fingers slide into the dip of his inner thigh. It's hardly a remarkable movement, but there's heat coiling up in Souji's stomach at the feel of Yosuke encouraging his fingers in the subtlest of ways, and it hits him, impulsively, that this move was all Yosuke. Not that his fingers didn't have a role in the whole action, but still. It was Yosuke. Yosuke had encouraged him. His partner.
Souji swallows and feels Yosuke's throat parrot him a second later, his friend's lips still parted in speechless silence. He wants the initiation Yosuke's giving, he craves his acceptance, and he wants his approval, but his fingers don't, and they seem to have developed a steady mind of their own, rubbing slow but cautious circular patterns through his pants. Yosuke squirms, and a single sound escapes his lips. Souji doubts it was intentional.
"Oh."
Souji is dipping in, faster than he has been all night, blowing the tendrils of caution he had possessed and maintained so delicately just a mere ten minutes ago away from his mind. His lips are close, so very close to Yosuke's, and if only he nudges in one milimeter more and steals that breath that he knows Yosuke is having difficulty keeping in, he might just -
"S-souji-"
"Hey, are you guys still up?"
It's Chie.
Yosuke pulls back as though he's been scalded, and Souji almost expects a long, hissed diatribe of homophobia. But Yosuke's mouth seems to be dried of all potential to speak coherent thoughts, his eyes focused on the warm patch on his thigh Souji's hand had previously claimed. He's staring like it's the last thing his eyeballs will ever see, and Souji wishes Yosuke would tilt his chin upward just so he could analyze at least a corner of his expression to see if his face is one of shame, anger, pain, or rather, thought.
There's a long, much too lengthy pause. Souji isn't intent on inviting in a party that probably includes both Yukiko and Kanji alongside Chie when Yosuke is still in the depths of what looks like internal denial or rumination over what exactly just happened, and Souji himself is still deciding whether or not he wants Yosuke to forget about this by morning or dwell on it until the topic is addressed. Yosuke looks up for a nanosecond, staring at the tent wall as though he had imagined Chie's inquisitive voice. Souji can't help from looking straight at him even though he knows that he should probably be responding to the awkwardness of the moment by staring fixedly at his feet.
He can't stop himself, however, when he catches sight of Yosuke's unchangeable expression as though it's etched into his features. And even by just one glance, Souji can make a solid conclusion.
He's thinking about it. He's thinking about what happened.
He's thinking about me.
Souji's hand slides back into the confines of his own personal space. He crosses his legs. Yosuke invites in Chie with some reluctance.
Souji's pants are still twitching, but by now, he thinks that Yosuke's are too.
Author: veterization
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: Souji/Yosuke
Warnings: Tents. Kanji's raging homophobia.
Word Count: ~4,400
Summary: The what if of the camping trip. Souji and Yosuke are very much alone.
Souji can't help but wonder what ironic twist of fate has been granted upon him by whatever is snickering down at him from the vortex of the sky and stuffed him into the same tent as Yosuke.
Unspeakably alone.
From outside the tent's shadow, Souji hears a few stray crickets chirp in the nighttime. Not even insects have joined the two-man group gathered in the boys' tent.
Souji is perfectly well aware that there were supposed to be more boys. Many more boys. Maybe even hordes of boys being rowdy and noisy, loud enough to make a ruckus that would even disrupt the supposedly drunken Morooka. Souji weighs the pros and the cons of having a sizable group sharing the tent with him and Yosuke, and decides that both are meek options if he'd had high expectations piled up for the school camping trip. Yosuke is an undeniably dimwitted homophobe, so far away from open-minded about his sexuality that Souji can't help but wonder if Yosuke was the victim to the infamous touchy uncle when he was younger and forever scarring his very, very heterosexual brain.
Still, despite all of his homophobic glory, Yosuke doesn't seem all too disturbed by the thought of sharing a tent with his companion alone.
Souji wonders why this uncharacteristic trait has spontaneously manifested.
Either Yosuke has realized that the absence of the rest of their schoolmates has created copious amounts of space in the tent for only two individuals, therefore figuring that the generous bits of space separating them would be a fairly healthy buffer acting as a constant aegis against all potential homosexual advances, or Yosuke is once more proving the never-failing obliviousness of his blind eye. Souji really wishes he would get that eye fixed. That, or Yosuke simply hasn't picked up on Souji's endless hints based not on the fact that Yosuke has been subconsciously shunning the thought of hinting, but rather because Souji needs to find more effective ways of hinting and lay off of the subtlety.
Either way, when Souji squints through the darkness, he can tell that the faint outline of a Yosuke readjusting his position is far from a thoroughly concerned, irked Yosuke. There is no concern. Souji doesn't know whether to be relieved that he hasn't had to dampen down a particularly nasty bout of homophobia or in turn, concerned himself because Yosuke feels there to be no need to find Souji anything to be frightened of. Not that he wants his partner to harboring hidden fear for him. But rather because he likes knowing that his intense and ever-developing homosexual infatuation on Yosuke is not neglected and forgotten and stomped into the ground by Morooka's stomping feet, forever dooming his future in conquering rabid homophobia.
Souji is suddenly pulled from his thoughts by the unmistakable sound of Yosuke's stomach voicing its grumbling protest to the vacancy inhabiting it. No one had eaten dinner that night. He would love to feel vindication out of the fact that Yosuke had made it perfectly clear that Chie and Yukiko would pay damages for the horrendous cooking incident - if their ultimate outcome could even be considered a product of cooking - but the hunger is overtaking his satisfaction, and if Yosuke's grimace is any indication, the other boy is also starting to feel the dull pain of not eating a tasty dinner, or rather, a dinner at all.
However, Souji doesn't know whether to be delighted by his convenient distraction or bothered, because the repetitive litany of you're alone, you're alone, you're very much alone is drowning out all previous thoughts of hunger. If Yosuke possesses the power to pick up on a few thoughts now and then, Souji knows that his friendship is just about defiled. He knows that of all places his mind could have wandered, and dear lord, there are a lot of places, the worst is where it had ended up steering itself. And now that he's thinking about Yosuke, he won't be able to stop.
Souji crosses his legs and glances at the cheap lamp beside him. It's small and flickering like a candle in the wind, but the effects it's managing to cause on Yosuke's face would be a photographer's heaven. Just enough illumination to lick up Yosuke's cheekbones, the faint light turning his hair golden as though he's a boy on a beach directly underneath the bright sun's spotlight, not a boy sitting in a stuffy tent with his friend with very questionable content running through his mind.
Souji swallows on a dry tongue that he thought a moment ago, for sure, was much wetter.
He almost feels like they should be going to bed, not to obey Morooka and be good kids, but rather to put an end to this tension. Souji's almost completely positive that this tension is unrequited, only radiating off of Souji's body and stopping several feet away from Yosuke like a barrier of anti-gay is separating them cleanly.
Just do something already.
For a second, Souji thinks he's speaking aloud, and when Yosuke doesn't even acknowledge him, rather staring at his tummy in childlike disdain, he gulps down a few prayers of thanks. He's a silent type compared to the always outspoken Yosuke, but he has his vacuous moments just like anyone else where he lets loose a few repressed words and regrets it come the next moment.
You're alone.
Alone.
Souji doesn't know when his conscience became so encouraging when it came to his usually well-suppressed gay endeavors with Yosuke. Yosuke doesn't go for that stuff. Yosuke sees a rainbow and thinks it's an omen of death. Yosuke treats Kanji like he's the second plague, complete with unpleasant physical side effects. And while the sole of Souji's shoes may not leave a trail of rainbows as he walks, he doubts he's doing a completely impeccable job at hiding all of his less than natural urges for Yosuke.
He looks at Yosuke, a little critically, and starts questioning his ability to observe and pick up on common sense. Souji's opinion of his astuteness lowers a little, and then's reminded of the thorny matter at hand of him and his friend being very much alone when a cricket chirps cheerily again.
He feels like he should be taking advantage of the situation. It's not like everyday he's thrust in an opportunity like being ideally cornered in the same tent as Yosuke during the darkest hours of the night without anyone to disturb them. And Yosuke's guard is down too. His hands are at his sides and his eyes are half-lidded, whether from exhaustion or hungry depression, Souji isn't sure, but there's a very tranquil way about his position that gives Souji the impression that tackling him would be an easy feat to accomplish if he angled his body the right direction and pounced quickly enough. It's not until Souji realizes that he's acting mildly tiger-in-Africa-seeking-out-weak-prey that he stops his elaborate thought process and tries to go through his plan of The Seduction of Yosuke Hanamura in a saner manner.
Just grab his hand.
It's lying there, palm down, fingers relaxed, against his knee, as though it's waiting for someone to grab it. Then again, Yosuke's lips look like they're waiting for someone to kiss them and his hips look like they're waiting for someone to straddle them, and Souji is starting to thing that there's some personal bias at work here. He dismisses the hand-holding idea based on the undeniable effeminate aura to it that even though Yosuke likes women, especially womanly women with curves and curls, he doubts the boy would appreciate the consideration to make his flirtations less homosexual.
Just grab his face.
Souji is starting to wonder if the darkness is having its way with his brain. He's not one to beat around the bush, but he's mildly frightened of how freakishly bold his own mental suggestions are starting to sound. He's pretty sure that Yosuke would be scurrying out of the tent with the ferociousness and speed of a particularly large gas-guzzling car, leaving a pretty and precise Yosuke-like hole in the tent's side if Souji started caressing his cheeks. Souji promptly removes that option from his mind as well just to avoid the possibilities of shock and trauma and Yosuke screaming and Morooka crashing their tent and getting both of them and maybe half of the school expelled based on their stupidity.
Not only would Dojima kill Souji Seta, but Souji Seta would also have to buy all of the school complimentary lunches for ruining their school career right before exams before his ultimate death by poisoned instant meals planned by Dojima and perhaps even Nanako, all because of Yosuke. And Yosuke probably wouldn't want that entire burden on his shoulders.
So for the consideration of Yosuke, Souji keeps his hands to himself.
Tell him you want to see his rare Persona ability. Or rather, feel it.
Souji blinks, and can't help but wonder when a serious ordeal like solving the Inaba murders and using his Persona for the greater good turned into sexual innuendo. He worries his lower lip at the state of his mind and tries to blame the fatigue and hunger he has yet to be seriously affected with. Nevertheless, he keeps his mouth firmly shut and for once, even though he's been playing the leader role since day one, waits for Yosuke to tell him what to do. He hopes and wishes and prays that Yosuke slumps into a sudden slumber without another word, thus also encouraging Souji to fall to the peace of his only dreams, not having to worry about awkward moments or one-sided sexual tension still growing steadily in the dark, dark corners of his mind.
Just tell him you want to kiss him.
No no no no.
Just lean over and do it already.
Souji actually leans in and halts at an awkward, cumbersome sixty degree angle. There's a distinct rustling at the entrance to their tent, and before Souji can feign convincing sleep for what he assumes is a clumsy Morooka crashing tents and vomiting in corners, Kanji is staggering in and seating himself down in front of the two boys as though they've been expecting his presence patiently.
Kanji stares for a few seconds, as though he's waiting for a dismissal, and Yosuke's growling stomach breaks the silence once again.
"Dammit, I'm so hungry." He bemoans, as though the other boys can fix his problem or are in any better states, and then launches into a slightly accusatory inquisition regarding Kanij's presence in their tent, and as glad as Souji is that he's not the only one not too thrilled about filling up their tent's people capacity with uninvited guests, he somehow feels as though Kanji's behind is not moving any time soon and isn't planning on doing so to accommodate Souji and Yosuke's preferences either.
As Souji's chances to be alone in a tent with Yosuke dwindle down the drain like his appetite for curry, there's a small pang of begging to be indulged in courage tickling at his stomach. Souji ignores it and settles himself onto his back, waiting for Kanji and Yosuke to follow.
It's not a very strategically placed tent, now that the rather noticeable rock protruding into the tent Kanji had blabbed about earlier comes to his attention and the slight slope he feels under his back also comes into his mind. Yosuke is close, and Kanji is close, but Yosuke is considerably closer, close enough for Souji to smell his aftershave as he props himself up on his elbow and finds a comfortable position.
There's silence, silence indicating the direct implication of speechless slumber, but still, there's an undeniably prominent portion of Souji's brain that hopes that Kanji will snooze off in minutes and stay that way while Yosuke will have difficulty even closing his eyes. Time passes, and crickets chirp.
He glances over at Yosuke, lying on his side and curled slightly in on himself, his jacket still hanging over his shoulder and catching the curve of his waist. They've forgotten to turn the light off and it still manages to hit Yosuke in such a way that brings out the soft spots of his creamy complexion, the slight furrow to his eyebrows, the twitch in his thumb as he tries to relax into slumber. The way his body catches the light, swallows it down, curves against it in just the right way to make some of the developing muscles through his shirt cast light shadows down the rest of his arm. It's all very noticeable, and Souji doesn't even find it particularly dirty until his eyes inevitably settle upon his thighs and stay there.
The soft, gently cast shadows barely do Yosuke's form justice, but his legs still fold over each other in the right manner that allows the slight bulge in his crotch to catch light and accentuate the curves of his kneecaps and calves. Solid and firm, even without feeling them Souji can assume that what touching them would do to his fingertips. It's not that Yosuke never touches Souji, because despite his fear of lessening the proximity between him and other boys, he never puts any meaning into it. He claps him on the shoulder, he taps his knee, he does everything with the utmost aura of comfort, as though touching Souji is simple. Natural.
Souji's eyes gravitate up to Yosuke's face, up his slender hips and past his relaxed shoulders. His lips are peaceful, phlegmatic in what looks like a symbol of comfortable sleep pulling him from consciousness. Souji wonders what Yosuke would do if he was aware of his friend's eyes so attentively examining him, not so much critically, but more so in awe. When he's not babbling his mouth or moping about the murders, his face completely untroubled, his expression is almost content.
There's a single stray strand of hair licking his cheek, and Souji's thumb itches to brush it behind his ear. They're a reasonable distance apart, but Souji can still make out every detail on Yosuke's face. There's a twitch, far from unnoticeable, in his pants, and Souji swallows. His hand slithers down his chest as discreetly as possible to palm himself, praying that both parties sharing the tent with him are slumbering now. His fingers jerk to an nonrhythmic stop as Yosuke's voice, itchy at best, penetrates the silence. Souji sucks in a sharp breath and quickly folds one leg over the other, not caring about the slight crush of his erection in the process.
"Kanji," Yosuke says, and props his elbow up on the floor and his jaw on his palm, peering through the darkness at Kanji's distinguishable figure, "don't you have more space on your side?"
Souji glances between him and Yosuke, a fairly sizable distance of at least two feet separating them. He mildly wonders why Yosuke is unhappy with the spacing arrangements and prays that Yosuke hasn't caught on to Souji's wandering hand from a few moments ago. There's another curious twitch in his pants and Souji strategically attempts to squeeze his thighs together.
"I can't sleep over there, my back's gonna break."
Kanji's protest is followed with a pause on Yosuke's part, and Souji hopes that the conversation is over. His hopes are downtrodden, however, when a second later Yosuke opens his mouth once more and starts steering the conversation in a direction that Souji can already smell the dangerous aftermaths in.
"What I mean is... are we gonna be safe alone with you?" Yosuke mumbles apprehensively, and Souji feels Kanji gets up in fierce indignation before he actually does. Souji bids a good night's sleep goodbye and watches as Kanji starts rambling like a man on trial, hands flailing.
"I already told you guys I'm not like that!"
"Then why are you getting all hot and bothered about it? That's just more suspicious!" Souji's plan to pretend to be deep in the realms of sleep are also stomped the life out of as Yosuke gets to feet as well and Souji feels the necessity to join him even though if there's anything Yosuke is at the thought of a potentially gay man sharing a tent with him, it's hot and bothered. The quiet words hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite reverberate through his mind as he stares at Yosuke, hoping that their close-knit teamwork over the past few months will grant him a temporary telepathic link into Yosuke's mind ordering him to please shut his mouth before he says something very, very stupid.
By the look on Kanji's face, they've already passed the phase of stupid miles ago.
Kanji is out and running from the tent to prove his masculinity and solid heterosexuality at expense of causing a ruckus in the girl's tent before Souji can calmly talk him out of it, Yosuke instantly blabbering apologies and words of supposed innocence on his part. Souji glances at him. Yosuke glances back. Sleeping seems to be out of the question.
Simultaneously, they settle themselves onto the floor once more and exchange several more glances. It's not that either of them are all that concerned about Kanji's threats, considering that neither of them made any movement to run after the crazed boy and still aren't shouting warnings out their tent for Kanji to get his ass back inside the tent now or faster than now. It's just that they're both very aware of King Moron's inebriated presence outside of the tents, and they both realize that if Kanji is caught red-handed Kanji will most likely be pointing fingers at Souji and Yosuke as well for riling him up.
"...can't exactly sleep now." Yosuke says.
Souji nods.
Just put an arm over him.
Souji ponders it. They're close enough that doing just that wouldn't be all too awkward on his arm, but Yosuke certainly wouldn't approve. There is no reason, no plausible reason, for Souji to be doing any arm-slinging, whether it's his attempt at a friendly, mate-like pat or a one-armed cuddle. Just because they're not sleeping doesn't mean this is his hand's cue to start wandering in areas that Yosuke would certainly not permit his hand to wander in.
Just hug him.
Now that he examines him, Yosuke is sitting in such a manner that would make pulling him against his chest so easy that it's almost irresistible. Souji bites back the idea, however, because no matter how convenient Yosuke's position is, it doesn't make the idea itself any smarter.
"Are we just gonna sit and wait for him?"
It takes Souji a second to realize that Yosuke is talking to him and he glances over, shrugging. He doesn't like the idea of him and Yosuke dragging the clattering lantern with them outdoors to trod around aimlessly in search of Kanji at the risk of running into teachers. Also, that'd be another fantastically blatant punch in the face for his plans, so he instead lets his hand crawl a few unnoticeable inches toward Yosuke's and stops right before their fingertips brush.
"I don't think he's coming back." Souji says, and Yosuke glances at him, also shrugging in defeat.
Or you could just kiss him.
Quite frankly, smothering himself with a pillow seems like a healthier option. But it would be so easy. Just to lean in the slightest of centimeters so he could pick up the leftover tinge of curry on Yosuke's breath when he exhales, cup his chin with his fingers and tilt his head so their lips angle against each other at just the right places, let their noses bump innocently before pushing their mouths together with a tenderness he rarely ever shows when they're fighting shadows in battle.
Yosuke's his partner. Yosuke's even said it out loud before. They work in tandem, always watching the other's moves, always picking each other up, always battling through the same mindset. Souji finds it almost difficult to believe that Yosuke wouldn't want this too.
He thinks of the incident with Kanji, with Yosuke's discomfort at the thought of even sharing a tent with a closet homosexual, his instant repulsion at the slightest of implications. The optimistic side of Souji can admit that it's a little suspicious of Yosuke, almost even more so than Kanji, but the much more logical side of him sees exactly what Yosuke most probably wants everyone to see. A boy with his head wrapped up in the thoughts of bikini-clad girls with long hair and curvy hips, a large smile and an even bigger chest, homophobic by nature of his teenage hormones. Nothing suspicious about it.
Souji's hand is moving before his mind can tell him to not. His palm rests on Yosuke's knee, light and tentative the first few moments, before the pressure increases and his fingers squeeze. Yosuke looks up and stares at him expectantly. Souji waits, and even the crickets seem to silence themselves.
It's come down to either fight or flight. He can run out the tent proclaiming his everlasting and devoted love to women much like Kanji, never looking Yosuke in the eye again, or he can keep going. Slowly but subtly, he can make his intentions clear.
Souji's hand is moving before his thoughts can finish themselves again. Two fingers, inching up. Gently going on a hesitant crusade to the midpoint of Yosuke's leg. It has yet to respond under his invasive touch, whether to twitch or shudder or even jerk away. But even though there hasn't been acceptance, there hasn't been an obvious rejection yet either, so Souji's hand covers Yosuke's entire thigh in an almost possessive manner and is rewarded with Yosuke's breath hitching audibly in his throat. He wants to memorize the feel of his body, his flesh, even through the thin layer of fabric that makes up his pants. A part of him wants to know Yosuke's figure better than his own, and if Yosuke would let him, Souji's hands would be like sweaty adhesive to his body, as if a blind man is trying to map out every curve and nook of his skin.
"Souji-"
Yosuke has enough intelligence to stop himself as a single finger on Souji's hand brushes the illegal territory dipping from his thigh to his groin, running along the seam of his pants. If he goes for gold it'll be too late to turn back, and the fingertip of his index finger is so close to brushing against his goal that it'd almost be sinful to turn back. Souji musters up the courage to stare wordlessly through the darkness at Yosuke's face. Parted lips, slightly flushed cheeks, and the undeniable hint of pleasure tugging on his entire expression.
His other hand gravitates toward his face, his thumb brushing over his cheekbone, his jaw, the temple in his forehead. Yosuke tenses under his touch, but Souji's ministrations are so light he wonders if Yosuke can even feel them. He pushes back that single strand, still glistening golden in the lantern light, and tucks it behind his ear like a fussing mother, except softer. Slower.
Yosuke shifts his knees, just a bit, so Souji's fingers slide into the dip of his inner thigh. It's hardly a remarkable movement, but there's heat coiling up in Souji's stomach at the feel of Yosuke encouraging his fingers in the subtlest of ways, and it hits him, impulsively, that this move was all Yosuke. Not that his fingers didn't have a role in the whole action, but still. It was Yosuke. Yosuke had encouraged him. His partner.
Souji swallows and feels Yosuke's throat parrot him a second later, his friend's lips still parted in speechless silence. He wants the initiation Yosuke's giving, he craves his acceptance, and he wants his approval, but his fingers don't, and they seem to have developed a steady mind of their own, rubbing slow but cautious circular patterns through his pants. Yosuke squirms, and a single sound escapes his lips. Souji doubts it was intentional.
"Oh."
Souji is dipping in, faster than he has been all night, blowing the tendrils of caution he had possessed and maintained so delicately just a mere ten minutes ago away from his mind. His lips are close, so very close to Yosuke's, and if only he nudges in one milimeter more and steals that breath that he knows Yosuke is having difficulty keeping in, he might just -
"S-souji-"
"Hey, are you guys still up?"
It's Chie.
Yosuke pulls back as though he's been scalded, and Souji almost expects a long, hissed diatribe of homophobia. But Yosuke's mouth seems to be dried of all potential to speak coherent thoughts, his eyes focused on the warm patch on his thigh Souji's hand had previously claimed. He's staring like it's the last thing his eyeballs will ever see, and Souji wishes Yosuke would tilt his chin upward just so he could analyze at least a corner of his expression to see if his face is one of shame, anger, pain, or rather, thought.
There's a long, much too lengthy pause. Souji isn't intent on inviting in a party that probably includes both Yukiko and Kanji alongside Chie when Yosuke is still in the depths of what looks like internal denial or rumination over what exactly just happened, and Souji himself is still deciding whether or not he wants Yosuke to forget about this by morning or dwell on it until the topic is addressed. Yosuke looks up for a nanosecond, staring at the tent wall as though he had imagined Chie's inquisitive voice. Souji can't help from looking straight at him even though he knows that he should probably be responding to the awkwardness of the moment by staring fixedly at his feet.
He can't stop himself, however, when he catches sight of Yosuke's unchangeable expression as though it's etched into his features. And even by just one glance, Souji can make a solid conclusion.
He's thinking about it. He's thinking about what happened.
He's thinking about me.
Souji's hand slides back into the confines of his own personal space. He crosses his legs. Yosuke invites in Chie with some reluctance.
Souji's pants are still twitching, but by now, he thinks that Yosuke's are too.