zukkokya | FIC - Theme [Yoko/Ohkura]

I intended this to be a hundred words. No one in my head listens to me anymore. XD

Title: Theme
Pairing: Yoko/Ohkura
Word Count: 895
Rating: PG-13

Yoko’s not difficult to find while he’s going through a game obsession. The music from his ubiquitous PSP always travels at least twelve feet in all directions. So, after Ohkura walks down the beach and through the field without luck, he returns to the ryokan, where from the bottom of the path he can already hear the battle sounds of Monster Hunter.

Yoko is in the room he’s sharing with Hina and Maru, cross-legged on his crumpled futon in pale blue shorts and a black T-shirt. His hair is a scruffy mess, pillow-beaten and finger-combed, and it’s clear just from that that he hasn’t been to the beach with Yasu and Maru or played soccer with Subaru, Ryo and Hina. Instead, he’s by himself in the shade of his room, relaxing in his own way.

Ohkura steps over Hina’s duffel bag and crouches next to Yoko.

He watches a dinosaur tromp up beside Yoko’s sprinting character and let out a roar that makes the PSP vibrate.

“Sit,” Yoko says. “Shh.”

Ohkura sits with his legs straight out in front of him, leaning his weight back on his hands. He doesn’t mind waiting. He simply watches Yoko’s face, bathed in the flickering glow of changing color on the screen. Yoko glances sideways at him for half a second, but he doesn’t seem to mind, judging by his small, shy grin.

Ohkura finds himself smiling. The circles under Yoko’s eyes are still dark – and they’ll stay dark as long as Yoko consistently stays up until dawn hunched over his video games – but somehow, he also looks well-rested. His body is relaxed, his eyes clear.

Without hesitating, because this is their break without cameras and they’re not meant to think about sordid details like implications, Ohkura rests his head on Yoko’s shoulder. Not under the pretense of watching the game – he shuts his eyes as soon as Yoko’s shoulder warms his cheek. He just wants to be there.

Seven minutes later, Yoko puts the PSP aside.

“You asleep?”

Keeping his eyes closed, Ohkura says, “No.”

They stay like that, quiet, listening for and sometimes hearing shouts from Hina and hollering from Subaru.

“Last night – ”

“Nuh uh,” Yoko says. “No drama talk.”

Ohkura grins sheepishly. “Sorry.” He turns his face into Yoko’s neck and improvises a kiss while he’s there.

“It should just be what it is,” Yoko says.

“Mm.” Ohkura grazes Yoko’s back with his fingertips. “Okay.”

Yoko catches his hand and, after a moment of stillness during which he seems lost, pulls Ohkura’s arm around his waist so he can splay Ohkura’s fingers on his thigh. When Ohkura feels the heat of Yoko’s skin under his palm, he opens his eyes and gives Yoko an amused look. Oblivious, Yoko puts his hand over Ohkura’s, placing his fingers in the spaces between Ohkura’s.

“Peacock,” Yoko says proudly in English.

Ohkura snorts into a surprised chuckle.

Yoko repeats, “Cock,” and sends Ohkura into a short fit.

When Ohkura calms down, he senses Yoko looking at him and turns his head on Yoko’s shoulder to stare straight up back at him. The expression on Yoko’s face surprises him, rare and sincere as it is. Ohkura feels his heart climb up into his throat at the thought that a look like that could actually be meant for him.

Then Yoko says, “I want to keep you,” with a slight tremble in his voice.

Ohkura closes his eyes again. “Don’t kid yourself,” he murmurs into Yoko’s warm shirt sleeve, “you’re mine.”

Even if he was expecting to end up on his back for that, he expected Yoko’s familiar tickling ambush, not – not –

Yoko kisses him once, lightly, softly, bent over on his knees with Ohkura’s face between his hands. After his initial surprise wanes, Ohkura fans all of his fingers through Yoko’s hair to gently hold the back of his neck.

“Brat,” Yoko murmurs.

Ohkura grins. Sticks his tongue out.

Yoko says, “Bad strategy,” and orally demonstrates for Ohkura how it can be used against him.

Centimeters away, sunlight pours in through the open sliding door leading to the porch. As Yoko changes position to get closer, his elbow dips into the light. It’s only a quick taste, though, before Yoko draws it back.

Once Yoko is actually lying on top of him, Ohkura is struck dumb. The heat and weight are both familiar, as is the sound of Yoko’s nervous quick breathing.

But.

“What about when we go back?”

Yoko answers him immediately, “What about it? There’re five other guys in the group for the fans.”

“Six,” Ohkura corrects him quietly.

“Yeah, six,” Yoko smiles. “So they lose out on me. Their loss.”

Ohkura responds to the jab with a sour twist of his mouth. Yoko giggles.

“Besides,” he continues, “we won’t be obnoxious or obvious about it. It’s not like I’m going to start writing sex scenes for us into Eito skits.”

Ohkura grins.

“You want me to try, don’t you?”

Ohkura nods.

Yoko makes a face. “You think you have influence because you’re sleeping with the writer?”

Ohkura nods. Stops.

Yoko coughs. Says, “Would you, ah. Wanna sleep with the writer?”

Ohkura nods, slow and deliberate, his fingers tightening on Yoko’s neck. When Yoko exhales, Ohkura can feel his heartbeat strong and rapid underneath his fingers.

Into Yoko’s mouth, he whispers, “Kimi,” and feels the sunlight starting to warm his hands.