A/N: A response to a meme prompt, requesting Yosuke and Naoto engaging in Socially Awkward Dork bonding. Friendship fic.
"Your bicycle is a deathtrap," Naoto informed him.
Yosuke didn't respond, being preoccupied with trying to extricate himself from the trashcan and wondering how many Topsicle wrappers were stuck to his head this time. The record was eight, an occasion which had left Souji threatening to attack his hair with a pair of scissors.
Outside, he heard the sound of shoe against metal. "You should also wear a helmet. Particularly with a bicycle that appears to have been ridden over a landmine."
"Nngh," Yosuke managed. When he finally pulled the trashcan back at an angle that allowed him to thud gracelessly against the sidewalk, Naoto was staring balefully at his bike and prodding at it with her foot.
"You are going to end up in hospital," she muttered, then gave him a stern glare. "Trash is soft. Concrete is not."
Unfortunately, Naoto had a point. To say the bike had seen better days would be the understatement of the year. Yosuke could throw it in the television, ride it into battle against a dozen Shadows and let Kanji use it to smash them to bits, and still never be able to tell.
Of course, he wasn't going to admit this to Naoto. "Like you'd know. My bike's a work of art." Yosuke ran a hand through his hair - no wrappers, but a couple of Topsicle sticks were snarled in the back - then climbed to his feet and attempted to lift the frame. The seat wobbled unhappily.
Naoto gave him a look; the one that usually preceded the word 'imbecile'.
"It's not that bad," he tried. At least the paintwork was okay. "It's orange," he added. Orange was a great colour.
"That's rust," Naoto pointed out.
"And it's a chick magnet," Yosuke continued, ignoring the fact that she might be right. "Which is why you stopped to not help me! I know how much you love girl stuff, Naoto-kun."
For a brief moment, Naoto looked like she might try to wrap the bike frame round his neck. She took a deep breath. "In order: it isn't, no, and shut up. I stopped," she explained, very slowly, "because we are going to fix that contraption before it kills you."
"... We are?"
Naoto folded her arms, suddenly looking very awkward. "Yes. I... I dislike things that do not work properly." She grimaced. "Such as your bicycle."
Yosuke had tried making repairs already; or he'd thought about it at least, and Naoto wouldn't know much about mechanics anyway. "Detectives don't fix bikes. Girls don't either."
If the second jab had hit home, Naoto handled it well. She tipped up her chin and glared him in the eye. "After school, at the back of Junes. I'll bring my toolkit."
"Wow, Naoto." Yosuke smirked. "You really need to work on your pick-up lines."
This ended the conversation as expected: with Naoto balling her fists, muttering something unrepeatable under her breath, then stalking away down the street.
Naoto still showed up at Junes that afternoon, however, carrying a black case in her hand. Meanwhile, Yosuke remembered to bring his bike, its stand, and the clips and bolts he'd torn off in crashes then shoved in a box in his bedroom and attempted to forget about.
"So, where do we start?" he asked, fixing the bike to the stand.
"Anywhere. The bicycle is a disaster."
Yosuke winced. "Come on, Naoto. Me and this bike, we've been through a lot together. Treat it as a friend."
"Bicycles," Naoto reminded him, "do not have feelings." She stepped back, hand on hip, and narrowed her eyes at the bike. "The frame clearly requires realignment. The seat post is seized, explaining why you keep falling over the handlebars - which also need new grips. The rear tire and inner tube need replacing and we will check the spoke tension."
"Nothing major then," Yosuke muttered.
"And a new chain would be wise. I've brought a spare that we can adjust to fit. You will need to buy the tire, grips and tube. And a helmet." List complete, Naoto knelt beside the bike and began inspecting the seat post.
Yosuke had figured they'd just make a few repairs, maybe patch up some punctures. "Is this worth it?"
She shot him a glare. "Of course," she insisted, then removed her coat, opened her toolkit and pulled out a hex wrench. Yosuke had a sudden urge to twirl it.
"You know, I could just save for my motorcycle." He rolled his eyes, then sighed. "I'd have it already if people didn't keep spending my money. I'm gonna have to buy one used and fix it up."
Naoto hesitated, wrench still in hand. Her head tilted slightly to the side. "... Why do you want a motorcycle?"
Yosuke should have had an answer to that question - except he'd never really asked it. Who wouldn't want a motorcycle? Pulling tricks, the open road, riding with the wind in your hair... who could resist that?
Naoto, probably, because all she did was talk about helmets.
He gave up the search for a Naoto-friendly answer and picked what seemed like a decent reason. "Well... girls like motorbikes, right?"
She turned back to the seat post and began removing the bolts. "I wouldn't know."
"Huh. Yeah, maybe not." He paused. "But I bet they do."
She hummed thoughtfully. "You wish to be in a relationship?"
In the past, the word had made Yosuke shiver. Now it sounded... okay, he guessed, but far-fetched. "Fat chance of that. I'll settle for one girl in Inaba to look at me instead of squealing over Souji."
"He's very popular," Naoto said, in the sort of tone that suggested she knew full well that Souji was currently juggling three girls at once.
With a quiet sigh, Yosuke sat down beside her and stretched out his legs. "Yeah. Transferring schools sucks, but somehow he still ended up the big dog. I must've screwed up somewhere."
"I am also a transfer student. I... do not possess a wide social circle."
"Naoto, you get more love letters than Risette."
"Letters from people who know nothing about me," Naoto muttered, fiercely attacking the next bolt.
He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess they wouldn't. You're a social fail. You bombed out in your first day at school." He'd taken solace in that at the time; it'd meant there might still be some hope for him among Yasogami High's female population. Less competition.
"You are hardly one to talk," Naoto snapped. "There are first years who mock you."
Yosuke cringed. "... There are?"
"A few. Rolling around in trashcans does not help matters."
"... Probably not. But we'll fix that - and the motorcycle will blow them away." He grinned, images of black leather jackets, amazing stunts and crowds of girls flitting through his head. Everyone would be sick with jealousy--
"Yosuke-senpai?"
--even Souji. He didn't have a motorcycle. Didn't like them, either; kept saying Yosuke would break his neck and that he'd spend every hospital visit laughing at him. Yosuke figured he didn't--
"Yosuke-senpai, are you listening?"
--mean it, given he'd brought Chie soup after she fly-kicked herself into the river during training and caught a cold. Okay, Yosuke definitely hadn't liked that at the time. But deep down, Souji was a good guy, even if he did steal all the girls and he--
A bolt bounced off his forehead. "Ow!"
"The can of oil." Naoto gave him a stare flatter than a Junes soda. "I need it."
Yosuke passed the oilcan to her, then sighed and ran a hand through his hair - remembering a little too late that his fingers were now covered in grease. He winced. "Don't throw stuff at me, Naoto. I'm delicate."
"Then you will need to be careful on your future motorcycle and make certain to practice proper maintenance." Naoto paused again. "I... I will assist you." Another pause, this one even longer, while she frowned intently at the concrete beneath them. "I would like to assist you."
Yosuke blinked.
"Why?" he asked, voice a higher pitch than he'd thought possible, then swallowed hard. "You... er, you don't like-- I mean, I'm single, Naoto, but that would just be... " Super-gay and really weird and... even more super-gay.
Naoto gave him a long, confused look - Yosuke could almost see the cogs turning inside her head - just before her cheeks turned a furious shade of red. "N-nonono, absolutely not, Yosuke-senpai, that isn't--" She broke off and tugged at the brim of her cap. "I like motorcycles."
"Oh. Right. Of course." He hesitated. "Wait, you do?"
Naoto nodded, her face gradually returning to its usual colour. "Very much. My grandfather has offered to purchase me one after graduation." The oilcan set down, she picked up the bolt by Yosuke's legs. "I take it you're surprised."
"No kidding! You're... you're proper."
"In some respects." Her expression turned wistful. "I used to ride dirt bikes at the estate until Yakushiji-san complained about the lawn."
Faced with the image of the Detective Prince pulling wheelies on a dirt bike, in a laced-up shirt, pressed plaid trousers and a full-face helmet, Yosuke ran out of useful words. "Wow."
Suddenly, Naoto frowned. Her voice was quiet. "Ah... don't tell anyone, please. It's not appropriate for detectives..." She grimaced. "Or for girls."
"You shouldn't worry about the last part." Realizing that might be tactless even for him, Yosuke attempted to clarify. "I mean, you're pretty cool. For a girl. I keep forgetting you're one."
There wasn't a response and Naoto looked as blank as usual, save the red tint to her cheeks - but the brief, rigid nod she gave him suggested he'd said the right thing.
Both fell quiet. Yosuke watched her begin removing the bike chain. So far, he hadn't done much to help.
After a minute or so, she lifted her head. "I, I used to make gadgets and repair things. Like old watches."
"That's really dorky, Naoto. Even for you."
She stiffened. "And bright red giant headphones aren't?"
Yosuke fiddled with his headphone cord and pretended not to hear. "Well, maybe you can help me. Motorcycles are great... but I don't know where to start on fixing one up. I'm not even sure how they work." Gripping imaginary handlebars, he jerked forward for emphasis. "After you start the switch, they just go."
"Combustion," Naoto said, as if stating the painfully obvious.
Yosuke sensed an impending lecture.
"You see, the combination of--"
Yep, he was right - and as Naoto began to explain the intricacies of the internal combustion engine with the precision and emotional investment of a thousand-page physics textbook, Yosuke tuned out and imagined doing wheelies outside Junes.
"--the exothermic reaction between fuel and oxygen in the air. The resulting high temperature gasses apply direct force to-- Yosuke-senpai, you are not paying attention at all."
"Of course I am!" Yosuke lied. Naoto turned away, glowering and muttering something about appreciation for the first law of thermodynamics, and continued threading the new bike chain through the gears.
Feeling a little guilty, Yosuke tried to make amends. "Hey... you can ride it too, if you like. The motorcycle. Since you won't have one for a while."
Naoto blinked. "... Really?"
"Yeah, why not?" After all, nobody else he knew liked them. "Just not when I'm using it to cruise for chicks."
It sounded way more stupid when he said it out loud. For once, Yosuke was grateful for Naoto's underdeveloped sense of humour. "Thank you, Yosuke-senpai. In exchange, I will teach you the basics of mechanics," she told him, glancing away from the chain and meeting his gaze. "On two conditions."
"Hey, come on! I already said you could ride the bike!"
Heedless, Naoto continued. "First, you must buy a helmet. Studies show that those who wear helmets are sixteen percent less likely to incur serious head injuries than those who do not."
Helmets again. He'd end up with hair like Souji. "But I--"
"Second, I will take the bike out first time. You may ride pillion."
"No. No way, Naoto-kun. Riding pillion's for girls." Yosuke tapped the brim of her cap. "You do it."
Naoto choked. "No!"
"Why?"
"Because it's... " She stopped short, turned her head away and glowered at nothing in particular.
Naoto excelled at both sulking and brooding - to the point that with her, there was actually a difference between the two. Even Yosuke could tell that this was definitely a sulk. Smiling, he added 'making her agree with me' to his mental list of Stuff That Pushes Naoto Shirogane's Buttons (a short collection containing gems such as 'calling her useless', 'joking about her height' and 'sticking gum wrappers to her hat')
Except he'd started feeling felt guilty again. Hanging out with Naoto had been... well, not as bad as he'd expected. Only one lecture and a lot of talking about motorcycles. Besides, being ignored was really boring.
"We can toss a coin," he told her. "Decide that way."
"I... I suppose that's an acceptable compromise." Naoto had begun flipping a spanner in her hand, fairly dexterously, but kept losing her grip.
It made Yosuke want to twirl wrenches again. "Remind me to show you how to do that properly."
She raised an eyebrow. "I recall you nearly dropping your knives on your feet on multiple occasions. Chie-senpai and Kanji-kun used to place bets on precisely when you would lose a toe."
"Yeah, well. I recall you almost impaling Teddie with a lightsaber."
Naoto spluttered. "I-I did no such thing. I simply miscalc-- it was my first time summoning Sukuna-Hikona and the bear would not shut up about scoring!"
Yosuke chuckled - then promptly stopped when something wet landed against the back of his neck. Above him, the sky was covered in dark clouds. "Uh-oh. Guess we'll call it a day."
"Hmm? Oh, I see." Watching the rain begin to fall, Naoto nodded and rose to her feet - then looked down. "I apologize, Yosuke-senpai. I did not complete the repairs. Tomorrow, perhaps."
"You helped tons, seriously. And... I meant what I said. You're pretty cool, Naoto-kun." Yosuke shrugged, and brushed his hair behind his ears. "When you're not lecturing me."
"And your company is... not as excruciating as expected. When you aren't teasing me."
Flashing a quick grin, Yosuke began to detach the bicycle from the stand. "Thanks, Naoto. From you, that's actually a compliment."
She frowned. "Yosuke-senpai, it would be wise to stand up before--"
Naoto's warning came too late. The bike fell from the stand and landed directly on top of Yosuke, pinning him against the concrete. "Ow!"
Fortunately, the bike wasn't heavy. Less fortunately, his right foot was wedged under the handlebars, his knee was somehow jammed through the frame, and when he tried to move his leg he both felt and heard his pants tear on the chain.
Looking vaguely bemused, Naoto tipped her head. "How exactly did you manage that?"
"It's the bike's fault!" Yosuke glared at the seat and kicked the front wheel with his free leg. "And I hope it knows it!"
Naoto coughed. "Bicycles do not have--"
"Just help get this thing off me," muttered Yosuke, lashing another kick at the wheel.