A/N: So, I still think this one is kind of cute. It was fun trying to write a sort of wandering, uncertain narration from Flynn's PoV while he's a bit tipsy. ^^
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.
Finals were over. They celebrated with beer Yuri brought home from work and a huge sushi platter that Flynn picked up after his last exam. It was a quiet party of relief, a small reward after a semester of hard work, and they were happy enough to spend it on their couch, TV tuned to a movie neither cared about, joking and laughing over the dialog, drinking and snagging choice pieces as the action progressed.
Yuri was the first to set aside his chopsticks after a few beers made them too much of a bother. He snatched up pieces between drinks, poking ones he wanted to claim next and laughing as Flynn shooed his hand away from the platter—if you want to eat them, then stop drinking and eat! Yuri raised the stakes of the game, aiming for pieces that Flynn was about to pick up with his chopsticks. He poked them, calling dibs, fingers squashing pieces when he jabbed at them with too much enthusiasm. Laughing, he ate his misshapen spoils as Flynn grumbled, trying to hide a smile as he shoved Yuri lightly aside with his shoulder. It was impossible to actually be mad at Yuri when he was like this. Happy. Beautiful.
Flynn snuck a glance at him, at the smile that curved up the corners of his lips, the movements of his jaw and throat as he took a drink, the muscles of his arms, the way his tank top sagged a little to show off his chest, the worn-out jeans that hugged his thighs. Flynn turned his eyes away and took a long drink of his own beer. Have to deal with that sooner or later. Not tonight, though. Another day.
The next time they reached for the same piece, Yuri missed, fingers closing around the empty spot beside it as Flynn snatched it up. He heard his phone chime from behind the cluster of empty cans that had accumulated on the table. Thinking that the piece was safe in his chopsticks, Flynn reached for his phone. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yuri lean over and lick the side of the sushi.
"Dibs!" Yuri grinned triumphantly.
He sat back, mouth hanging open at the audacity. "You can't lick it if I already have it!" That was just cheating!
"You didn' touch it! Fair game." He smiled, smug, unwilling to listen to reason or rule. Cheater.
"Ugh. Fine. Take it."
He dropped the piece into Yuri's palm and stood up to reach his phone. There were more empty cans on the table than he'd realized. It was a good thing they both had tomorrow off. He dropped back into his seat on the couch, nestling against the armrest as he checked the text he'd just gotten.
"Sodia sent her congratulations on finishing up the semester."
Yuri snorted. "Not to me." He took a drink of his beer, interest in the remains of the sushi platter waning without Flynn competing for pieces.
"No. Probably because you won't try to make friends with her. You two have so much in common. I keep saying you should give her a chance." He started typing a reply, noting absently: "Maybe I should have invited her tonight. There was more than enough sushi."
All of a sudden, Yuri swayed, leaning in close. He nearly toppled right over, only catching himself by stretching a hand over Flynn to brace his weight against the armrest. Flynn felt something wet trail up his chin, over the corner of his lips, and briefly touch his cheek. Stunned, it took him a moment to realize that Yuri had just licked him. He turned his head to gape at his friend.
"Dibs." Yuri was grinning at him, eyes too bright, almost glassy. Flynn could smell the alcohol on his breath, thick and sharp.
"Did you just...?"
Surprise rolled slowly across Yuri's features before giving way to his grin. "Oops," he said with a shrug. "Surprise!"
He hadn't backed off, was still basically pinning Flynn in place, and Flynn couldn't stop staring at him. Yuri couldn't have meant anything by it...right? He was drunk. Surprise—I licked you! Bet you weren't expecting that!
Surprise—I like you.
Maybe?
Why?
Flynn licked his lips. Catching the thin trail of saliva startled him again. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and watched Yuri finally back off, sagging against the couch. He regretted his last couple of drinks. Shouldn't have had so much. His thoughts were bright, darting fish, hard to catch and too slippery to hold onto. Had Yuri been joking? He had to have been joking. Why would he call dibs on Flynn? Just playing around? Just being Yuri? Teasing?
Tease.
Flynn clenched his hands around the seat cushions to hold himself in place. He could still feel warmth against his lips, breath tickling his skin.
"What was that all about?"
"Called dibs," Yuri said, taking another swig of his beer. How many drinks? How many beers? How much meaning to anything he did, anything he said? "'s how it works. Now you gotta...gotta get un-jinxed to go out with somebody else." He laughed once, sharply, grinning at nothing over the top of his beer. "Surprise."
"That's not the same."
Yuri shrugged. "I don' make th' rules."
"You got them mixed up. You're drunk. A jinx is—"
"Think I'm lying 'cause I'm drunk?" He stood up, unsteady on his feet, and frowned down at Flynn before turning his face away. His cheeks were flushed. All because of the beer? "'s th' truth."
He started to walk off, arms up like a tightrope walker as he took exaggerated care to step over Flynn's feet in the narrow space between couch and table. Flynn stood up after him, misjudged, bumped into him, caught at Yuri's arm to steady them both. They stood together, swaying, warmth bleeding through their clothes, mingling. Yuri's eyes still too bright, set in a sullen expression.
"What's the truth?" Flynn asked. Hope or alcohol that made him giddy, dizzy, made his head spin? Hope or alcohol or Yuri held close, breath over skin, need for warmth against his lips?
"I called dibs."
Surprise—I want you.
"You called dibs...so, I'm yours now?"
Yuri sighed, closed his eyes, nodded. Flynn held him steady when he swayed on his feet. "Yeah."
Surprise.
He was drunk. He was serious. He could be confused. He'd said he wasn't lying. Flynn had to answer him. Drunk. Was calling dibs permanent?
"Maybe it's time for bed."
Yuri's shoulders slumped, but he let Flynn lead him to his room. He collapsed onto his bed, allowed himself to be rolled aside so that Flynn could free the blankets and cover him up. Flynn knelt on the floor in front of him, staring into gray eyes that peeked over the top of the covers, brightness welling, ready to overflow. 'Oops,' he'd said. An accidental confession? They'd both been drinking. What would it mean in the morning? Could Flynn answer him? Should he?
A taste of warmth against his lips.
"Yuri?"
"Mm?"
"Can I call dibs, too?"
He didn't say anything, didn't move as Flynn gently tugged the blanket down. His lips were pink, parted. Soft? Breath mingled, sushi and beer, humid, not quite pleasant, enticing for the promise of closeness, of connection. Flynn pressed his lips to Yuri's.
"Dibs," he whispered against them.
Yes. I want to be with you, too.