LIRA: Wow. I haven't written a real Digimon fic in so long. It's weird to be doing one of my odd conversation-intros.
IORI: Yeah, yeah. At least I received a break from your whining. Anyway, we would like to point out that Lira does not own Digimon, nor is she making any money from writing fanfics for the series. All of the rights are still in the hands of Toei and their various affiliates.
LIRA: The formalities out of the way… This is a taito fic. It's my entry for the taito ML's Halloween fanfic contest. We all know that Halloween isn't exactly celebrated in Japan, but it could be assumed that the kids from Digimon heard about the holiday, and anyway, what's wrong with a little creative license? Of course, I might also want to point out that this was an idea I came up with at one in the morning. I wasn't planning on writing a fic for the contest; I didn't think I had time. I'm glad I decided otherwise. Enough babbling, though; now for the fic.
-
THE RIGHT OUTFIT FOR THE JOB
--by: lira-chan--
-
By his own admission, Yamato had no idea what was going on. He didn't know what Taichi had planned; when he had arrived at his own apartment earlier that afternoon, he'd found a note tacked to the door. The note merely said for Yamato to "Meet me at my apartment at six tonight. Don't be late." It was signed with the informal "Taichi."
Yamato had been forced to wonder, upon reading the note, what Taichi thought he was doing. Of course, the next instant, Yamato had remembered that it was Taichi he was talking about. Taichi never thought anything out, not if he could help it. Honestly, Yamato wasn't even surprised that Taichi just assumed Yamato would show up, and on time, too. How would Taichi know if Yamato even got home by six? What if he had been late getting home? What if Yamato had never received the note? Why hadn't Taichi just called, like a normal person with a telephone might do? The answer? That Taichi was Taichi, of course. Taichi would do what he wanted, when he wanted to do it. Most of the time, it wasn't worth the bother of trying to convince Taichi otherwise. If necessary, Yamato tended to ignore the brunette boy instead.
In this instance, though, Yamato opted not to ignore the person who was both his best friend of half his lifetime and his sort-of boyfriend. If he had ignored Taichi, he wouldn't have been walking up to the other boy's apartment door at five of six on a perfectly normal Monday afternoon. Upon arriving at Taichi's floor, Yamato reached out his hand to knock on the door--
--but before his knuckles even contacted with the wood, the door swung silently open. There wasn't even a creak to accompany the smooth movement, and what Yamato could see of the apartment, through the now-open door, was cloaked in shadow. It appeared that none of the lights were on in the Yagami residence. If Yamato hadn't known better, he would have assumed no one was home. The door had opened for him, though, so of course Taichi was there.
"All right, Taichi, come on out," Yamato called quietly, when the boy in question didn't bother making his presence readily known. That Taichi wasn't where Yamato could see him… That was odd. Taichi was always a very in-your-face person. Sneaking about wasn't really his style, or so Yamato thought.
"Taichi…?" he called again, after a few beats had passed without any change from within the apartment. A minute more and a small, exasperated sigh escaped Yamato's lips. He just wanted to know what was going on. He didn't want to be playing games.
His mind made up, Yamato took one bold stride into the apartment, carrying himself over the threshold. He stepped with confidence, but as soon as he was inside, his steps seemed to falter. After that first move, Yamato walked more slowly, more carefully. He could tell that Taichi was up to something, and he was almost afraid to find out what it was. He was sure he could handle whatever silly surprise Taichi had concocted… He just really wasn't in the mood for the game.
He padded inside, toeing off his shoes just to the side of the door. The action only took a few seconds, but while he was slipping off his shoes, he felt a faint puff of displaced air, and then the square of light from the open door was cut off. Someone - obviously Taichi - had shut the door carefully behind Yamato. Yamato hadn't seen the merest glimpse of movement, and when he backed to the door and tried the handle, he found that it was locked. Not a big deal; he was inside the apartment, and unlocking the door again would be simple enough. Rather, Yamato was swiftly becoming irritated. He considered himself a patient person, but… He didn't really like surprises. He was used to Taichi's… General behavior… But it wasn't really his thing.
He didn't like unsolved mysteries either, otherwise he very well might have turned around, unlocked the door, and gone home right then. Instead, he quieted his internal grumblings and walked farther into the darkened apartment. He knew his way around Taichi's apartment as well as he knew his way around his own home; there was no fear of stumbling or of his hurting himself in the dark. He passed into the next room, and only then did he catch sight of the dim red glow coming from a room farther in.
Yamato shook his head, and proceeded towards the faint glow. It was coming from beneath the door to Hikari's room. Yamato reached the door only a moment after identifying it as Hikari's, but paused with his hand on the knob. He knew Taichi was up to something - did he really want to go barging into the room? Never mind that it was Hikari's bedroom, anyway. The smart answer was probably "no," but…
Yamato twisted the handle in one swift move and eased the door open. Nothing happened right away, and he realized, feeling foolish, that he'd been holding his breath. He was becoming jumpy; if Taichi didn't show his hand soon… Yamato shook his head; with the door open, he could see the source of the light. Someone - probably Taichi - had taken Hikari's lamp and done… Something. Yamato thought that the ordinary bulb might have been replaced with a colored one, but from where he stood, he couldn't be sure.
Almost forgetting his paranoid worries, Yamato drifted into the room, moving closer to the lamp. His fingers were already reaching for the shade, to check the bulb, when he noticed a chair that he didn't recall belonging in Hikari's bedroom. Distracted, he turned away from the lamp and redirected his attention to the chair.
On the chair, the uniform from one of the local high schools - Yamato was fairly certain it was from the one Hikari attended - had been spread out. It was draped over the back and the seat of the chair, to afford the most effective display. The uniform had been ripped and torn in many places, in a manner that almost made the tears look artful… Save for some discoloration on the uniform Yamato had missed, at first, because of the unusual lighting in the room. He didn't even wonder why he hadn't flipped on the overhead lights - not in Hikari's room, nor in the hallway. Wouldn't that have been a smart move?
Nevertheless, Yamato's thoughts had traveled far, far away from apartment lighting. Unless he was very mistaken, the… Splattering? …On the uniform was a dull red-brown. It looked almost black in the red light, and Yamato was utterly certain what the stains were. They were bloodstains. The shredding of the uniform was no longer artful, but very, very worrisome. If this was Hikari's uniform… What if something had happened to Hikari!
All of the blood had drained from Yamato's face; Yamato was in a state of shock. His complexion had gone decidedly chalky, paler than normal, and his teeth were held uncomfortably tightly together, lips twisted in a painful grimace. His stomach was churning unpleasantly, and then the light glinted wetly off of something metallic amidst the folds of the fuku, and Yamato thought he saw the handle of a knife--
When the hand descended on Yamato's shoulder, he would have been lying to say he hadn't screamed. Nevertheless, he would still be utterly insulted by Taichi's assertion, later, that Yamato "screamed like a girl."
Even while uttering quite the eardrum-threatening scream, Yamato jerked where he stood, stumbling as he moved violently in an attempt to get away from whoever was touching him. A second later, the overhead light came on, and the hand on his shoulder hadn't even been budged by Yamato's attempts to dislodge it.
"Easy, Yamato," Taichi said, in a surprisingly good-natured and almost conciliatory tone. The effect was utterly spoiled by the near-smirk gracing the brunette's lips.
Yamato only glared; he was still rediscovering his voice. It seemed to have deserted him.
"I was hoping you'd… Ah… React well, to the costume… But I wasn't expecting anything that extreme!"
Wait a second… Costume!
"Taichi…" Yamato said slowly, voice chill. "By 'costume'… What, exactly, do you mean?"
At least Taichi had the grace to look almost sheepish. His half-smirk even faded to a more uncertain-looking smile. Maybe he was actually feeling guilty over his prank? Yamato hoped it wouldn't be too much to wish for.
"I'll have you know," Yamato pointed out, continuing - and probably sounding far more wounded than he had intended, "I was only worried that something had happened to Hikari!"
"Of course, of course," Taichi murmured, in what was obviously a none-too-heartfelt attempt at soothing Yamato into talking reasonably.
Yamato scowled for a moment more, before his foul mood deflated considerably. As much as he insisted that he wasn't really one for surprises, he was really beginning to wonder exactly what was going on. For Taichi's sake, it would be best if an explanation was forthcoming.
"So," Taichi continued, before waggling his eyebrows in what he doubtlessly assumed was a thoroughly suggestive manner. "I bet you're wondering what this is all about, huh?"
Blandly, "Of course I am, Taichi. But if you don't feel like telling me… I could always go home. I think I've had enough excitement for one night, anyway."
Taichi started to make a face, before seeming to think better of the move. The eyebrow-waggling had ceased, though. Yamato considered it to be a fair compromise.
"You know what Halloween is, right?" Taichi prompted, by way of beginning his explanation. "I know it's not a big thing around here, but some friends of mine thought it would be kind of cool to throw a Halloween party. After all, you can never have too many excuses to throw a good party. But since it's a Halloween thing and all, you've got to come in a costume."
"Don't tell me," Yamato interrupted the other boy, traces of amusement creeping into his dry tone of voice and further dispelling his lingering irritation. "That's your costume."
At that, Taichi managed to look utterly affronted. "Of course not! That one's yours. I've got mine on the bed in my room. So you like it, right?"
Apparently, the nonplussed and only mildly disapproving look on Yamato's face at that particular revelation wasn't enough to clue Taichi in. There was a long and only slightly uncomfortable pause, before Taichi seemed to cotton on to the fact that Yamato wasn't utterly pleased with Taichi's forethought.
"So what's the problem?" Taichi asked, hints of accusation and something surprisingly like hurt coloring his voice. More than that, though, Taichi sounded impatient. Things must not have been going the way he had planned.
"Taichi," Yamato said slowly, and with the air of speaking to a particularly young and particularly dense child. "That is a girl's high school uniform. Whatever led you to believe that I would, by any stretch of the imagination, consent to wear that? You aren't serious, are you? You didn't even ask me whether or not I wanted to go to your friends' party!"
"You came here, didn't you?" Taichi asked in counter, the challenge in his tone and the upward tilt of his jaw indicating that according to Taichi's logic, stepping into the apartment was just as good as accepting an invitation. "You can't go without a costume. If we don't hurry up, we're going to be really late, and I'm not trading costumes. Anyway, the fuku would be too small on me."
Yamato could only glare - rather sullenly - in response. There wasn't much real venom in the look, though, and he could already feel his resolve crumbling. There were worse fates than being dolled up as a high school girl for a party. Sure, Yamato couldn't think of too many at the present…
But if he was completely honest? The thought of going to the party with Taichi… It had its appeal. The costume might have freaked him out at first, but when Yamato really got down to it, his arguments against donning the thing were precious few. Now that he was no longer fearing for the safety of Taichi's baby sister, Yamato wasn't repulsed by the concept of the costume. Sure, it was a skirt… But… Well, he'd be damned if he told Taichi so, but he thought he could pull the thing off. It would be embarrassing as hell walking around in public, but Yamato would be lying if he tried to deny the slight thrill he felt, running up and down his spine, at the thought of walking around that party in a bloody, battered fuku, one hand nestled in the crook of Taichi's arm…
Okay, he was definitely taking that particular thought a little too far. Of course, it had led him to a question he now considered to be quite important. Edgily, "If I… Do wear that… What will you be going as?"
"The guy who did that to you, of course," Taichi supplied promptly, and this time the self-satisfied smirk he flashed was undeniable. Yamato could only smile and shake his head in response.
"Okay, okay, you've sold me," he admitted, holding up his hands and shaking his head a bit more, as if he couldn't believe what he was about to go through with.
"Great!" was Taichi's only response. "Hurry up and get changed, then! I'll be right back - I have to go put on my costume, too."
With that, Taichi was out the bedroom door once again - almost before Yamato could blink. After Taichi's hasty exit, he did stand in place for a few seconds, blinking dimly, before shaking his head yet again and moving closer to his "costume." He turned off the red lamp and closed Hikari's door. Only then did he return to the costume and the prospect of donning it.
When Yamato emerged from Hikari's bedroom, Taichi's bedroom door was open, but the light inside was off. Yamato wasn't left wondering where the boy had gotten off to, though; a new light was on in the entranceway, as evidenced by the warm glow at the end of the hall. A bit more self-conscious-ly than he might have liked, Yamato edged down the hall and out into the open where Taichi was already waiting.
"Well?" he asked, and the effort it took to keep his voice even was immense. Somehow, it was horribly important for Taichi to think that Yamato looked the part. Even in Yamato's head, he skirted about the prospect of thinking the words "for Taichi to think I look good."
Yamato waited somewhat anxiously as the taller boy's gaze slid up and down his body, surveying the effect of the costume Taichi had selected now that it was gracing the body of the person he'd selected the costume for. Yamato could practically hear the thoughts going through Taichi's head. The boy's expression made them just that plain. Yamato didn't miss the self-satisfaction, either. It would have been foolish not to expect Taichi to pride himself in having come up with the concept for their costumes.
While Taichi looked him over, Yamato glanced over the other boy's costume. He already knew what he looked like; he'd taken a minute to adjust everything in front of Hikari's mirror. Yamato was actually mildly surprised to find that Taichi knew what size of clothing and of shoes he wore. Everything fit surprisingly well, and he would be perfectly willing to bet that while the uniform came from Hikari's school, it did not come from Hikari. Yamato only hoped that the clothes were clean.
After all, he'd spent a full few minutes eying the panties critically and very warily, before giving in and putting them on with the rest of it. He was hoping that their presence among the articles comprising his outfit merely hinted at an unexpected attention to detail on Taichi's part. After all, the shoes were perfect, and Taichi had included the schoolgirl socks as well. The skirt was a bit shorter than Yamato had thought, and with all of the rips and tears, he was feeling a bit too exposed for his liking… But he did think he looked the part.
So did Taichi. The uniform Taichi wore looked suspiciously familiar, but was obviously not from the school Hikari attended. If Yamato remembered, he would have to ask Taichi how the boy had come to possess their "costume" outfits. Taichi's also boasted a few artful rips and tears - many fewer than on Yamato's fuku, for all that Taichi's clothes had more fabric to work with - but no blood was present on Taichi's clothes. Taichi's hair was somehow even messier than usual. It was true that Taichi's costume wasn't as elaborate as the costume Taichi had chosen for Yamato, but it was also true that they would look like a set.
"You look almost perfect," Taichi finally said, after quite the pause.
"Almost?" Yamato asked. He was fairly certain that he'd spoken too quickly to have masked the edge to his voice. Part challenge, part disbelief, part hurt; if Yamato was playing the schoolgirl, he'd be damned if he was anything less than absolutely perfect. "What's wrong?"
"Come here," was all Taichi offered to explain the imperfection. Before waiting for Yamato to move, Taichi was at the other boy's side. Briefly, he fiddled with the fake knife Yamato had attached to his midsection, where a large portion of fabric had been ripped away completely. When Taichi was satisfied with the way the knife looked, he pulled something from his pocket and proceeded to apply cosmetic cuts and gashes to Yamato's various areas of bared skin. The final touch was a bit of blood at the temple and smeared across the face.
"There," Taichi said unnecessarily, after stepping back. He again surveyed his work - less thoroughly the second time through, but with more reason for his look of satisfaction. "I think we're ready."
Yamato only shook his head, not having the words for a smart response. He didn't argue, though, and in minutes, he and Taichi were out the apartment door and on their way to the party.
Despite himself, almost, Yamato was in high spirits when he and Taichi arrived at an apartment two of Taichi's university-aged friends shared. They entered the place together, Yamato's hand tucked up with Taichi's arm in exactly the manner he had imagined. On their way, Taichi had even tried to play the part of the gentleman - never mind that this gentleman had butchered his girlfriend. Taichi even managed to coax a few laughs out of Yamato, proving that even the walk to the party could be entertaining.
Once inside, though… Taichi paused just inside the front room of the apartment, and Yamato paused with him. Yamato took a few moments to survey the room and its various decorations with a critical yet distanced eye. The black and orange motif seemed a bit overdone, but Yamato didn't exactly disprove. He noticed a stir among the clusters of people standing about talking and drinking, even beyond the brief lull in chatter resulting from Taichi and Yamato's entrance. Apparently, the owners of the apartment were coming over to chat them up.
"Taichi! Yamato!" the shorter of the two - the one dressed like a pirate - called, even as he forced his way between a pair of people and rushed ahead of his roommate to greet the newcomers. Yamato was taken slightly aback; he knew that these were friends of Taichi's, but had he been introduced before? The two looked familiar, but their names didn't spring to mind, and Yamato felt inwardly chagrined.
"Hey," Taichi offered back in greeting, somehow managing to sound both warm and casual at once. If the air of easy familiarity Yamato didn't share with the others wasn't enough to do it, the fact that Taichi bypassed introductions entirely was almost assured to close Yamato out of the brunt of conversation. The fact only made him feel worse about forgetting names; he thought his memory was fairly good.
"We were wondering when you'd--" the pirate began, before a slap to the back of his head from his friend caused him to cut off abruptly. It also knocked his pirate hat askew, and the man dropped the thread of conversation entirely in favor of readjusting his hat while displaying quite the put-upon expression.
Yamato honestly hadn't the faintest idea as to what the taller gentleman's "costume" was supposed to resemble. Even as he was scrutinizing the outfit and half-listening to conversation, the man picked up where his friend had left off. "What my… Friend… Here is trying to say is that we're glad you showed up after all. Nice costumes, by the way."
"Not everyone took us seriously about the costumes," the pirate pointed out, rather glumly. He was fingering his belt, through which a sword of some sort - possibly one he had constructed - had been slung. Yamato could tell just who did take the costume plan seriously.
"So whose idea was this?" the taller of the two asked, gesturing at Taichi and Yamato. "You come as a set."
Yamato opened his mouth, prepared to accredit the costumes to Taichi and slip in a bit of an underhand compliment; Taichi spoke before he could utter a word.
"Mine." Taichi shrugged. "Yamato looks better, though. I spent more time on his."
"Mmm," the costume-fanatic-pirate hummed, leaning closer. Jokingly, if a bit absent-minded-ly because of the scrutiny he was affording Yamato, "It's a good thing you didn't try and save that one for yourself…"
A glance to the side afforded Yamato an eyeful of one of Taichi's most indignant looks. Obviously, Yamato could be seen in public in a skirt, but Taichi could not. He wasn't at all surprised. He was a bit embarrassed, though. He was receiving more scrutiny than he'd expected; it forced him to admit that he'd been hoping that their status as a "set" would make him less of a spectacle.
"They are great costumes," the taller pointed out again, blandly, while his shorter pirate companion finished his visual examination of Yamato's outfit and started to reach a hand towards what Yamato believed was his thigh.
He let out a rather undignified squeaking sound and bumped against Taichi as he tried to evade Taichi's friend's continued probing. A few other miscellaneous people had drifted away from their groups to eye the new arrivals, and Yamato was all too painfully aware of just how many eyes were on not him and Taichi, but him alone. The feeling of eyes on his back, on his legs, on his ass-- It was all becoming almost too much. He was beginning to seriously regret taking Taichi up on the whole costume party thing.
"If you don't mind… Could you not…" Yamato spluttered, trying to find a non-insulting way to tell the guy to keep his hands to himself. He was still a person, not a department store mannequin. His hand on Taichi's arm tightened convulsively, and he forced himself to take a deep breath.
Definitely more attention than he'd wanted. Whether or not he could "pull off" the "look" Taichi had achieved, he was not enjoying this part of the party.
"I know the costumes Taichi made are great and all," he finally managed, tersely, "but I think this is enough of the spotlight for me."
He pointedly ignored the quiet snort from Taichi at that particular turn of a phrase; he was sure the brunette didn't believe that Yamato understood the concept of "too much attention," what with the band and all. At least Taichi refrained from actual commentary; Yamato might have pointed out certain wild-haired brunettes whose philosophies were all too similar to the ones certain… People… Were condemning.
"Taichi…" Yamato did add, more quietly but still with a certain tension to his voice. Now, he was groping for a diplomatic means of retreat.
"…All right. We'll both talk to you two a bit later, huh? So, Yamato - want to get something to drink?"
Yamato was only mildly surprised by how… Well… Diplomatic Taichi sounded. He'd paused only a moment or two, before sliding into his goodbye as if he'd planned it all along and following that up with a perfectly casual-sounding suggestion of getting drinks.
"All right," Yamato acquiesced, despite not being overly thirsty. Anything to move farther into the house, and to hopefully dispel the lingering feeling of eyes on him. Not to mention general feelings of awkwardness.
At the words of agreement, Taichi moved to lead Yamato to a table of refreshments. There was a cooler filled with cans of beer underneath the table; Taichi rummaged around in the ice and produced a can for himself, before seeming to think better of his manners. He offered "his" can to Yamato; Yamato politely declined. Taichi just shrugged, popped the tab, and took a swig. While the brunette was doing so, Yamato disentangled his arm from Taichi's and poured himself half a plastic cup of punch. He drained the cup much faster than he'd expected.
"You're not comfortable," Taichi said bluntly, in between swigs of beer. There was no depth to the statement; it was more a simple observation than anything else, even if it seemed so astute - especially for Taichi! - that it shocked Yamato into craning his head around so fast his hair practically whipped against his face. He knew that he'd blundered through that conversation, but the extent of his possible embarrassment hadn't sunk in all the way.
"I guess not," Yamato admitted, trying to play it off as nothing while also being honest. Even as he spoke, he reached again for the ladle in the punch bowl, refilling his cup. He drank hastily, in what was probably an all-too-obvious attempt at forestalling further questions.
"Loosen up," Taichi murmured. His tone wasn't deliberately soothing, but the slight drop in volume was enough to make the words almost… Confidential. Yamato shrugged, somewhat uncomfortably, and gulped his punch.
"All right," he agreed, again trying to sound amiable. He titled his cup back again, and suddenly it was empty. He filled it again. "How do you want me to do that?"
Taichi's mouth opened - Yamato watched it happening - but he closed his mouth again on whatever words of wisdom had first come bubbling up. He then shook his head once - an almost abortive movement, something not traditionally Taichi, something that might hint at a lack of… Something… On Taichi's part. Then Taichi's arm snaked out, and Yamato's refilled - and half-drained, yet again - cup of punch vanished from his hand. He was almost surprised to see Taichi's fingers curled about the plastic cup mere seconds later.
"Why don't we play a game," Taichi suggested, offhandishly. He placed the cup of punch back on the table, not caring that it would surely be lost to Yamato before they attempted to find it, and gestured about the room. "The guys thought it would be fun - you know, good for a laugh or something - to have some real, traditional Halloween games. Let's give it a shot."
"Taichi…" Yamato began, moving away from the table and swaying slightly in shoes he was unaccustomed to. He caught himself, and then tried again with what he'd begun to say. "Taichi, you know I don't like games like--"
"Yamato," Taichi cut the other boy off, swiftly, but not especially harshly. "I told you to loosen up. Come on; just one game. It's not a party if you aren't doing something fun."
Taichi finished off the last of his beer, dropping the empty can into a nearby trash can. Yamato had to wonder - at least in his head - at Taichi's idea of "fun." He was sure drinking made the list, and yet Yamato wasn't saying anything about that. At least he'd been drinking something non-alcoholic.
"Fine," he agreed, tersely. His lips were pressed into a tight line, and were going pale and almost white from the pressure. "You can pick."
Given the license, Taichi took Yamato's arm and led him through the crowd. They looked around for a few minutes, before Taichi caught sight of a big bucket raised up on a table. A handful of other partygoers were crowded around it, and he didn't hesitate to steer Yamato and himself over.
"So how do you play?" Taichi asked one of the guys by the bucket. For once, he didn't try to play down his ignorance. Yamato was almost relieved; it would surely be painfully uncomfortable, trying to play some foreign game after Taichi refused to even ask for directions.
"I think this is called bobbing for apples," the raven-haired boy Taichi had caught the attention of replied. "It's a pretty simple concept, but actually… Kind of funny. No idea who came up with the idea, though. The point is to grab one of the apples. I guess you get to eat it, then. Some prize, huh? The catch is that you can't use your hands. You have to catch the apple with your teeth."
"Thanks," Taichi said first - actually thanking the guy for his help, never mind that his words were brusque. He turned to Yamato then; Yamato, too, had heard the explanation of the game. "There. Not too hard, right?"
There was a bit of a challenging glint in Taichi's eye when he met Yamato's gaze. It was the sort of look that never failed to make Yamato just the slightest bit nervous.
"I guess not," Yamato agreed, trying to be diplomatic.
"So - you first."
Yamato considered arguing, but he wasn't exactly surprised by Taichi's "suggestion." After a few seconds of contemplation, he gave the idea up. He'd agreed to one party game. He might as well get it over with. They had to wait a few minutes, of course, but when the other people realized that they were waiting, they made space for Yamato, and it was his "turn" almost before he realized it.
He did have to remind himself not to think too much about how unsanitary the entire process was, though.
Warily, he moved his hands behind his back, crossing his lower arms and tilting them to clasp his hands together. He then leaned forward over the bucket, ducking his head down slowly and singling out an apple. He made a pass at it with his teeth, but when he tried to close them down on the fruit, it bobbed under the water before popping up again a bit to one side of his face. Calmly, he merely tilted his head and gave it another shot. He bit quite delicately for the apple, thinking that if he didn't snap too hard, he'd have a better shot. Yet again, the apple evaded him. On his third try, he attempted to employ a bit of tongue in the process, but only succeeded in getting a mouthful of punch. The apples apparently weren't floating in water; instead, it was more of the fruity concoction Yamato had been drinking mere minutes before. He wasn't surprised; it was probably meant to simulate blood.
He made a half a dozen more passes at the apples in the water, before withdrawing his torso from the vicinity of the bucket. He didn't want to spend too long, when there were people waiting - plus, he could still feel eyes on him. The eyes of the other players, and… Taichi's eyes. He shivered uncomfortably and uncrossed his arms, shaking his head and then wiping his mouth absently with the first two fingers of one hand.
"Giving up already?" Taichi teased.
"Of course not," Yamato replied, with a quiet sort of dignity. "I'm just giving you a chance to try it. I'll go again after, if no one else objects."
The other players were quick to vocalize their assent with Yamato's "plan," leaving Yamato feeling certain that Taichi would have to do as he requested. The brunette merely shrugged, lifting his arms up behind his back and moving for the bucket.
Yamato crowded up close with the others while Taichi was taking his turn. Taichi's way of going about things was the complete opposite of Yamato's. Taichi lunged at an apple with every pass he took, and his teeth did scrape skin a few times before the apples went under and bobbed away from Taichi's questing mouth. Taichi took two or three times the number of "tries" Yamato had used, but was done in about the same amount of time Yamato had taken. He hadn't been successful, either, but the look on his face upon turning away from the bucket…
Taichi's eyes still held a challenge, and he was looking almost… Smug. Without really realizing what he was doing, Yamato tilted his head slightly to the side. Taichi might be up to something, but he'd already promised another go at the bucket.
Again, Yamato crossed his arms with care and leaned down. He made a few delicate attempts, before beginning to grow annoyed with the game as a whole. On his next pass, he pushed the apple along with his tongue, until it bobbed up against the side of the bucket but didn't go under. Finally, he gave a nip and lifted his head partway. Rather to his surprise, Yamato realized that his teeth had actually closed upon something. He lifted his head somewhat higher. He hadn't caught the apple, exactly…
Rather, Yamato had caught the stem. It was clenched in his teeth, the apple still dangling along with it. He straightened the rest of the way, turning towards Taichi and a few of the spectators, not sure whether his go "counted" or not. He knew he was probably looking quite perplexed, and an apple was still dangling from his mouth.
Taichi shook his head, upon meeting Yamato's eyes. He looked almost… Irritated? Disbelieving? Amused? Yamato wasn't sure. He couldn't ask; his mouth was full, so to speak. The next moment, though, Taichi was reaching out. A second later, and Taichi had the apple in his hand. He brought it to his lips, took a bite, and then lowered his arm partway yet again.
"I don't really think that counts," Taichi pointed out then, in an utterly calm, almost offhand manner. "I don't really know the rules, though. I guess that's still pretty good. Apple?"
Taichi shrugged before offering the fruit to Yamato, along with that single word, "apple." Yamato spent about a minute eying the apple as if he'd never seen one before. Finally, he did reach out to take the fruit from Taichi's hands. He shook his head, and took a decisive bite as well, just because Taichi had done the same thing moments before and it seemed like a good idea to mimic the move.
Yamato chewed his mouthful somewhat slowly, still standing rather close to the bucket where other "players" had returned to their bobbing. He was holding the apple a few inches away from his face, just below his chin, and when Taichi again moved to take the fruit from his fingers, Yamato saw no reason to resist. Still chewing, he watched as Taichi took another, bigger bite. Taichi did so with relish, almost, and Yamato's response was to shrug indifferently. He swallowed, and smiled slightly.
"It's not such a big deal, Taichi," he said mildly, slipping his hand back around one of Taichi's arms, just above the elbow. He tugged gently, indicating that he wished to move away from the progressing game. "Come on."
Taichi remained stationary for a moment, and then gave in to Yamato's gentle yet persistent tugging. He only took a few steps before stopping again, however. This time, he turned Yamato about to face him, and pressed the apple back into one of the blonde boy's hands.
Somehow, Yamato wasn't all too surprised when Taichi's head ducked down, in a more leisurely version of his apple-lunge. He wasn't surprised when Taichi's hand - the one not wrapped around both the apple and a hand of Yamato's - slid against his cheek. He wasn't even surprised when lips brushed against his, surprisingly gentle after the half-lunge Taichi had executed in the direction of his face. The kiss that resulted from that first brush of lips was insistent, but not overly forceful. Yamato wasn't at all surprised that he returned the kiss. Doing so was only natural.
After a few moments more, Taichi broke away from Yamato and straightened. If Yamato hadn't been aware of the eyes before, he would have felt them then - felt them on his back, felt them itching at his skin and trying to get underneath, felt them scrutinizing him like a slide underneath a microscope. Taichi, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice at all.
"Come on," Yamato said again, repeating his words from hardly two minutes earlier. The second time, though, his voice was more terse, and higher in pitch, his slight nervousness and discomfort coming through loud and clear. Yamato tugged on Taichi's arm again, before wrapping one of his own arms about it. He didn't like the sensation of being watched at all.
Almost surprisingly, Taichi responded near-instantly. They moved off from where they stood, drifting without purpose so that they gravitated towards the refreshments table. There were still some eyes upon them, but as they moved purposefully through the crowd, the penetrating gazes fell away and became less intense. Yamato shrugged uncomfortably, as if trying to readjust the lay of his skin, and grabbed for another cup of punch upon stopping beside the table of refreshments.
"What was with that?" he hissed, able to ignore the fact that it wasn't exactly a typical question to follow being kissed because of his acute embarrassment. He wasn't a "public displays of affection" sort of guy, exactly. Or… He thought he might be, depending on the circumstances, but he wasn't a fan of exhibition, nor of surprises. The kiss… Just felt rather too much like both of those things.
Taichi's brows furrowed, his face falling into an expression Yamato wasn't well acquainted with. Yamato found himself believing that Taichi really didn't understand the question - he could tell readily that Taichi hadn't been expecting it.
"You were too pleased with yourself, and you weren't," he said, a bit gruffly and all too illogically. He shrugged then, and it was almost enough to convince Yamato that Taichi was uncomfortable. Almost. "Plus, you look good." Taichi sounded almost uncomfortable, in saying that, too. Was it hard to admit…? "Maybe it's just the fuku." The look Taichi offered then was half smirk, half leer, and Yamato was rid of all disconcerting feelings that Taichi wasn't being himself.
"Didn't know you had a thing for necrophilia," Yamato snipped.
"Don't be an ass," Taichi returned, just a hair too good-natured-ly, before sobering just slightly. He did reach under the refreshment table to grab a beer at the same time, though. "Yamato…" Taichi popped the tab on his second beer, and took a swig, as if bracing himself. Lower, "You really do look good." He snaked his free arm around Yamato's waist, and Yamato actually couldn't tell whether Taichi was trying to make a joke with the move, or trying to be… Dare he assume it? …Sensitive. "You look fuckin' fantastic."
Yamato laughed shortly, at that. A bubbling little giggle-laugh that escaped his lips without his express permission, before the rest of it could be choked down and suppressed. He was… Actually… Really quite flattered. Or…
He'd still be damned if he admitted that he kind of liked the costume. He wouldn't lie, though. He thought he looked good - he knew he looked good. And Taichi thought he looked good… The thought was almost enough to bring on another all too hysterical-sounding giggle.
Rather than release the threatening laughter, Yamato leaned against Taichi, as if he could soak up all of the complements inherent in Taichi's thoughts through that simple physical contact. He twined one arm upward, guiding Taichi's face into a tilt that would best facilitate another kiss, however brief.
"You look pretty damn good yourself," he admitted, with just the slightest hint of pride.
All things told… He wasn't surprised at all. Not by… Anything. The Halloween costumes were somehow patented Taichi, the game had been rather Taichi-esque as well, and the kiss… It was just… Something he'd kind of been half-hoping for, without really thinking such a thing consciously, not even in his head. And it was definitely a Taichi sort of thing to do, what with all of the people around.
"So… I don't suppose you'd object to offering our goodbyes, and getting out of here?"
At that, Taichi laughed, a sound that could be nothing save for agreement. Yamato didn't even smack the brunette boy when, as they were walking towards the entrance of the apartment, Taichi slipped in a quick grope at his ass. Again, a patently Taichi move. Yamato thought he might want to hope that flushing wouldn't become a "patently Yamato move." He didn't think the red would be all too flattering.
True to their "plan," they said goodbye to Taichi's university buddies, and headed out of the apartment complex and onto the street.
-
On the way back to Taichi's apartment - their destination by unspoken agreement - Yamato walked with one side pressed against Taichi, the boy's arm a warm and welcome weight about his shoulders. Their strides were long yet leisurely, and while it would be a bit longer before they arrived back at Taichi's building, Yamato was surprisingly content. They'd walked in silence for the past five minutes or more, but the silence was a comfortable, even welcome, one.
"You really don't like the public thing though, huh?" Taichi asked after a minute or two more. He wasn't speaking very loudly - a stab at politeness? - but his words were rather brash. Subtlety was never Taichi's thing, of that Yamato was sure.
"I…" Yamato started, prepared to say that he didn't. He paused, and trailed off, taking a minute to really think about it. "I don't know. It felt as if everyone was staring at me, even before our little… Display."
Yamato waved one hand vaguely, feeling somehow dissatisfied - more dissatisfied than embarrassed, even, never mind what he was admitting.
"So now is public, right?" Taichi continued, voicing a new question. "So now is a bad time."
"Not… Exactly…" Yamato answered, slowly, haltingly, beginning to catch on. His steps slowed, and he turned more toward Taichi. Leaning up slightly, he pressed his lips to Taichi's. The kiss was a brief one, but not disappointing. Yamato wrapped his arms about Taichi's shoulders, and remained leaning there for a minute or two even after their mouths broke apart. Finally, he did release his hold on Taichi, turning back to face forward again.
"So let's get home," he said, a bit brusquely. "Where is Hikari, anyway?"
It was just an innocent question, just simple curiosity. The look from Taichi, though… Taichi was definitely looking way, way too smug. "She's at Miyako's. My parents won't be back until tomorrow, either."
Yamato shook his head, as if in disbelief despite the fact that Taichi's obvious thoughts did not shock him at all. He wrapped one arm back behind Taichi's back, and made as if to walk off. Taichi moved with him.
"You asked me about public affection…" Yamato murmured mildly, musingly. He trailed off, only taking the thought back up when Taichi offered a sound of assent. "I think I have a question for you, too. Tell me… How much of this, exactly, was planned from before the moment when you tacked that note to my door?"
"How much?" Taichi echoed, with an air of innocence that could be nothing if not feigned.
Yamato shook his head again, silently indicating that he no longer expected - nor wanted, really - an answer.
"I don't think I want to know," he clarified aloud, still shaking his head gently. They were almost back to the apartment by then. "I'm impressed."
"So long as that's the case," Taichi answered easily, casually. They walked up to his apartment building, and he let them both first inside, then over to the elevator.
Yamato didn't answer; he was quiet as they rode the elevator up to Taichi's floor. They walked into the apartment, Taichi turning on the light in the hall as they went, and still Yamato didn't speak.
When Taichi glanced over at him slantwise, though, he did offer a small yet warm smile. They spent a handful of long minutes kissing extensively with Yamato's back against the frame of Taichi's bedroom door. His arms slipped around Taichi's neck and into the boy's thick hair, and he somehow managed not to squeak when Taichi's hands slid up under the uniform skirt. They did break away from the wall, though, hard as the action might have been. They made it all the way into Taichi's bedroom, and somehow, the entire evening wasn't surprising, not a second of it.
No, things weren't surprising. Things might be described as "right," or "excellent," or even "fuckin' fabulous." Things might even be described as… Sensational. Nevertheless, things were right. Things were perfectly, believably right, And Yamato wasn't surprised at all, because he rather reckoned that some part of him had expected something of the sort all along.