Genre: Romance, Humour, YAOI (boy on boy, people!)

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

WARNINGS: YAOI (don't like, don't read!), sexual situations, language, drunkeness

A/N I would just like to point out that this is my first Junjou Romantica story, and having only been in the fandom a couple of months, I'm worried that I haven't got a firm enough grasp on the characters. They're both very hard to write (especially Hiroki drunk, considering it doesn't really show it in the anime/manga) so I hope they're not too OCC! XD

This is an one-shot!

Drowning Sorrows

(Part 1/1)

Hiroki Kamijou was sat at the bar feeling thoroughly sorry for himself. After a disastrous day at work - where he had been terrorized by students, crushed by books, and snowed in my paperwork - all he had wanted to do was go home, snuggle under a duvet, and be thoroughly worshiped by his boyfriend. Except Nowaki was at work - as he had been for the last couple of months straight - and the apartment was depressingly empty, filled only with his books and empty containers of ice-cream (which Hiroki would never admit to eating).

It wasn't that he was needy or anything, but was seeing his long-term boyfriend more than once a week wasn't too much to ask, surely? He normally wouldn't even mind - he was a busy man himself, after all - but he hadn't so much as seen Nowaki in weeks, instead exchanging small texts and quick phone calls, like his boyfriend was on the other side of the world and not actually living with him. It was strange, disconcerting, and if he was totally honest with himself, he really didn't like it.

In fact, he was feeling a bit neglected. He didn't feel like the most important thing in his boyfriend's life anymore - he felt out of his depth, lonely, and almost irrelevant. He was fed up of seeing Nowaki's back as he climbed out of bed at the crack of dawn, and he was fed up of going to sleep alone, curled up around his pillow. It reminded him so much of the year Nowaki had been in America that it caused an ache in his chest, growing every day that Nowaki ignored him, and pointedly refusing to go away.

But the other man was working so hard, and seemed to enjoy his job so much, that Hiroki couldn't even complain. What could he say? You should stop saving people's lives because I'm desperate and lonely without you? Even if he could, his pride would never have allowed him to.

So he suffered in silence, dutifully leaving Nowaki out food when he made dinner, and making idle small-talk over the phone, instead of saying what he really wished to. He gritted his teeth whenever the younger man mentioned his precious senpai - pushing down the jealously bubbling in his throat - and tried to sound as supportive as he was capable of, burying himself in his own work, and trying to ignore the way Nowaki didn't even notice his mounting unhappiness.

It was a technique that had been working well up until the last few weeks, when work itself had become so stressful that his life had become a constant stream of misery. He wanted to call Nowaki, to complain about his day - how Miyayi had dumped all his work on him while he was dallying with his sexual terrorist, and his students were all having mental breakdowns over finals - but as usual, his boyfriend was still in work and infuriatingly unreachable.

So, unable to bring himself to go back to an empty apartment for the hundredth day running, he had come to a local bar, with every intention of getting completely shit-faced and probably crying himself to sleep in a drunken stupor. Nowaki wouldn't be there to see him in such a humiliating state, so why not? He deserved a little bit of fun.

He was just finishing his fourth drink, however, when his phone beeped, signalling a text. He started, surprised, because there weren't many people who text him. Akiko, maybe, when he needed his help on a novel, or his mother, when she wanted to complain about something. So he was absolutely gob-smacked to find it was actually his absentee boyfriend, who had apparently realised he was missing.

That was a good sign, he supposed. At least Nowaki still remembered who he was.

From: Nowaki

Sent: 10:35

Ive finished work. Where r u? Ur not in the house bt I guess u no tht. R u out wth Usagi-san? xxxxx

Oh my god, it was a miracle. Nowaki had actually finished work before two in the morning, and wanted to see him - except it was the one night he'd decided to go out and drown his sorrows. Absolutely typical.

To: Nowaki

Sent: 10:38

No. I'm in bar next to our grocery store downtown.

He swirled his whiskey around his glass, watching as it swished from side to side, and wondered whether he should have offered to go home. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Nowaki - because there was no point in denying (even to himself) that he really, really did - but he wanted Nowaki to come to him. He didn't want to look like a lonely housewife waiting at home for his husband every night, even if that's what he pretty much had been doing for the last few months. He still had his pride, dammit.

His phone beeped a moment later.

From: Nowaki

Sent: 10:39

Y? What happened? Is something wrong? xxxxx

Hiroki let out a sigh, cursing his traitorous heart for doing back flips over Nowaki's concern. It was Nowaki's fault he was drinking in the first place! He wanted to feel more angry, but when his boyfriend was so unwavering nice all the time, he couldn't help but melt like an ice cube on a summers day.

Yes, he really was pathetic.

To: Nowaki

Sent: 10:43

No. Just a long day, that's all. I needed a drink.

Slumping over the bar slightly and feeling the beginnings of a headache, Hiroki clutched slightly at the polished wood, wondering why he was only feeling worse. Wasn't drink supposed to make people feel better? It was a well-established fact. So why wasn't it working?

Stupid Nowaki, it was all his fault really.

From: Nowaki

Sent: 10:44

Ill make u feel better Hiro-san! B there in a min! xxxxx

Eyes blurring as he surveyed the latest text, Hiroki let out an exasperated groan. Seriously, did Nowaki have no shame? Who (aside from thirteen year old girls) put rows of kisses at the end of a text? And was he illiterate? The idiot couldn't even spell properly.

And so - out of spite more than anything, for making him feel or girly, insecure and confused - Hiroki text rather rudely back, subconsciously hoping that Nowaki would respond in kind. He wanted an excuse to have an argument, to get everything off his chest, but it was always so difficult when Nowaki was so sweet all the time, the asshole.

To: Nowaki

Sent: 10:48

Your spelling and grammar is atrocious.

Hiroki had barely pressed send, before a text was beeping back at him.

From: Nowaki

Sent: 10:48

xxxxx

Hiroki took one look at the row of kisses, and rolled his eyes. Sometimes he almost wished Nowaki would argue with him - give him a reason to rant and rave. Because usually when he freaked out at Nowaki, his boyfriend would smile and hug and comfort him, which only made it even more infuriating. He couldn't be nasty to someone who was just so goddamn nice - sometimes it actually made him feel guilty. Because Nowaki didn't deserve his temper tantrums. He deserved someone nice and kind and tall…just like him.

Feeling even more depressed where his train of thought was taking him, Hiroki hailed the bartender and ordered another drink, only vaguely registering that he was bordering on the drunker side of tipsy, and that he should probably stop, before he reached the point of no return. But he was tired, irritated, and not really in the mood for rational thinking, and so downed his drink in one, coughing slightly as the stinging sensation caught in the back of his throat.

God, he was pathetic - he couldn't even drown his sorrows properly.

He was just on his last disgusting gulp, when a hand clasped tightly on his shoulder. He jerked, surprised, and half-turned, expecting to see Nowaki. But the man stood behind him - grinning from ear to ear - was not tall, dark and handsome, but smug, blond, and horrifically familiar. Hiroki spluttered, eyes widening, and choked on the remains of his drink, clasping hands at his throat as he flailed.

"Well, look who it is!" Shinoda cried, watching with raised eyebrows and undisguised amusement as Hiroki struggled to regain control of himself. "Fancy seeing you here!"

Hiroki blinked, his brain slowly catching up with events, and groaned. Loudly. Just when he thought his day couldn't get any worse, he had to meet him. One of the men he had so mindlessly fucked when he'd been hopelessly in love with Akiho - before he'd met Nowaki. He didn't even remember it, because he'd been drunk then too, apparently. All he remembered was waking up next to him the next morning and being stalked by him for several weeks afterwards.

He couldn't believe his bad luck. Why was Shinoda here?

"You!" he croaked, voice lined with venom. Or he hoped it was, at least. The effects of the alcohol were making it harder and harder to talk. "What are you doing here?"

"Getting a drink. Unwinding after a hard days work." Shinoda shrugged casually, sounding sarcastic, and added, "Is that alright with you?"

Hiroki turned back to the bar in pointed dismissal, and ordered himself another drink. "No. Go away."

The man grinned - a sharp, ferocious grin - and leant up against the bar, shaking his head playfully. "Now, now, I'm only being polite," he chastised, cocking his head. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Nooo," Hiroki replied, his words slightly more slurred than he'd intended. Had he already downed his latest drink? When had that happened? And why was his mouth moving without any consent of his brain? It was like an out of body experience - watching himself talk without being able to do anything to stop himself.

"I have a boyfriend now," he announced, simply because he felt like it. He wasn't sure why he told Shinoda that - especially considering it was something private he didn't like to share, not even with his own parents - but it seemed important somehow. He wanted Shinoda to know.

"Really?" the other man replied, and Hiroki dimly registered he should feel insulted that Shinoda was so surprised. He had his flaws, certainly, but it wasn't like he was unattractive. Why was him having a boyfriend so hard to believe?

"Yes," Hiroki sniped, sounding smug, and defensive, and a little bit drunk. "He's amazing. He's tall, and kind, and clever, and a paediatrician, and he's amazing in bed…" He dribbled off, startled by Shinoda's astonished expression, then frowned. Whoops. He was sure he wasn't supposed to say that. There was a voice in the back of his mind - very probably his pride - practically screaming at him to simply stop talking, but the flood gates were open. There was no going back. "Way better than you," he added, just for good measure.

Shinoda simply stared at him for a long moment, as though attempting to process the word vomit that was spilling from his ex-lover's mouth. It took him a good minute to recover himself, which is when he asked, "How much have you had to drink?" sounding a little bit amused and a lot suspicious.

"Um," Hiroki began, attempting to cast his mind back to his previous drinks and having his mind come up strangely blank. Hmm. He must have had more than he originally thought. He ticked off a few fingers, before simply giving up, and admitting, "I dunno."

Shinoda arched an eyebrow, and there was something victorious in his expression as well; Hiroki was reminded of why he hated him. Smug git.

"Looks to me like you're drowning your sorrows," he said, crossing his arms, "So your life can't be that brilliant. Is the wonderful boyfriend neglecting you?"

"No!" Hiroki responded instinctively - sharply. His face flushed, until he could feel the heat prickling from his cheeks, because that had hit a little too close to home. It wasn't like he was love-struck teenager or a lonely housewife, waiting and pining for his lover to return to him, but…but…he missed him. He missed Nowaki's laugh, his smile, his warmth, and his kisses - the hot slide of his body, and the aching fullness of his cock. The thought of Nowaki leaving him, growing tired of him, made him feel weak and dizzy - like he was going to cry.

He had obviously had far too much to drink.

But before he could do anything even more embarrassing, like wail like a small child, he heard the all too familiar call of, "Hiro-san!"

He whipped round in his seat, silently cursing himself for being so painfully uncool, and almost toppled sideways, the momentum causing his head to spin and his world to tilt alarmingly. He was caught by Shinoda, who looked both amused and unimpressed, and helped him regain his balance, positioning him back on the stool. Hiroki batted him away, feeling irritated - because he was slightly drunk, not a freaking invalid - just as Nowaki appeared beside him, looking bright, wind-swept, and very delicious.

"Yum," Hiroki said a bit dazedly, gazing at his boyfriend and trying to get his spinning head back under control. Shinoda gave him an odd look.

"Hiro-san!" Nowaki greeted, shooting his boyfriend such a wide smile that Hiroki was almost blinded my it's radiance. It was short lived, however, because Nowaki took one look at the older man swaying on his stool, and frowned, gasping, "Are you ok?"

Before Hiroki could retort that he was just fine, thank you very much, Shinoda decided to intervene. "He's just had a bit too much to drink," he explained, stepping forward and offering his hand. "It's nice to meet you. You must be the wonderful boyfriend."

Nowaki took the hand, looking politely confused, and said, "I'm Nowaki. Sorry, who are you?"

"Oh, just call me Shinoda-san. I'm Hiroki's ex-boyfriend, I suppose."

"He's not my ex-boyfriend!" Hiroki all but shrieked, looking disgusting by the very thought. He slumped over the bar slightly, because he was starting to feel sick, and for some unfathomable reason, announced, "We had sex once and I don't even remember it."

Nowaki blinked, looking alarmed, and Hiroki dimly registered that that had perhaps not been the best thing to say. He just couldn't stop himself - the words just kept on flowing.

"You were drunk," Shinoda helpfully supplied, looking far too amused for Hiroki's taste. He gave him a pointed look, from his mussed hair and flushed face, and added, rather unnecessarily, "Like now."

"I'm not drunk," Hiroki argued, waving a lazy hand, and feeling sick with the effort, "I have it allllll under control."

Nowaki looked at him for a moment, frown deepening, and reached down to help him out his seat. Hiroki slumped straight towards him, and clasped at his boyfriend's slender waist, his legs feeling shaky and uncoordinated as he tried to stand. He groaned, and pressed his face against Nowaki's arm, the soft smell of cleanliness and cologne and Nowaki, making him feel increasingly dazed.

He didn't know when he had passed slightly tipsy to absolutely paralytic, but he had a feeling it was a while back. How embarrassing. He was going to hate himself in the morning.

"Come on, Hiro-san," Nowaki breathed, placing a gentle kiss on the top of his head and clasping a supporting arm around his shoulders. "I think you've had enough. We should go home."

Hiroki nodded eagerly, because that meant sex, surely? It had been a while, and he was deprived. Deprived, and drunk, and very horny. So he said just as much, announcing, "That means we're going to go home and have lots of sex, right?"

Shinoda snorted, his eyebrows rocketing into his hairline, and even Nowaki blushed slightly, giving Hiroki a soothing pat on the head. "No," he said softly, fingers brushing through Hiroki's brunette strands, "We're going to go home and you're going to go to bed." He kissed his temple, seemingly realising that the older man was too drunk to make any attempt to stop him. "With a big glass of water."

That meant sex, right? They were going to have sex?

'We bloody well better do,' Hiroki thought, as he was tugged out the door, away from Shinoda, and into the back of a taxi.

He was drunk, horny, and a little bit lonely, goddammit.

Before Hiroki was quite sure what had happened, he was being helped into bed by an infuriatingly careful Nowaki, who stripped him of his clothes - although unfortunately, not in a sexy way - and pulled him into his pyjamas. He wiped his face with a wet cloth and actually poured him a glass of water, putting by the bedside, and attempting to tuck his lover under the bed sheets.

Normally Hiroki would protest at Nowaki treating him like such a child - he had his pride, after all! - but at the moment he was drowsy, dazed, and honestly, it felt pretty damn nice.

The only problem was, despite his care and attention, Nowaki was silent, his face focused and determined, his eyebrows tipped slightly into a frown. It made something in Hiroki's stomach squirm, because Nowaki always used to be happy when he was with him - why wasn't he anymore? Something wasn't right, and even in his drunk induced haze, Hiroki wanted to find out why.

He grabbed a hold of his lover's sleeve, just as Nowaki turned back towards the door, and pulled him down onto the bed in a gesture he would have never tried sober. "Nowaki…" he began, his chest rising and falling rapidly, because what if he was right? What if Nowaki had gotten tired of him? He would cry. Like a fourteen year old girl.

"Hmm?" his boyfriend replied, frown deepening, dipping his head forward until his breath was fanning across Hiroki's lips.

"Are you angry at me?" Hiroki blurted, the words falling out of his mouth in a tumble. In the morning he would be ashamed of his words, cursing himself for sounding so needy, so desperate, but he just couldn't help himself. He had to know. "You didn't say anything in the taxi."

Nowaki shook his head and ran a gentle hand through his boyfriend's hair. "No, I'm not angry," he replied, with a small smile, but there was still something shuttered and strained about his expression. He didn't look angry, but he didn't look happy either.

"Then what…?"

"I just…" Nowaki began, before giving his shoulders a gentle shrug. "I don't like meeting people like that."

Now Hiroki was very confused. The words sounded strange and disjointed to him, and he cursed himself for having so much to drink, because this was an important conversation, and he actually wanted to understand some of it! "People like that?" he asked.

Nowaki let out a breath and placed a soft kiss on the edge of Hiroki's mouth. "People who you've slept with," he confessed, and his grip tightened on his boyfriend's wrist. "You're mine, and…I don't like knowing that other people have touched you."

Oh. OH! That was all.

Hiroki let out a very loud sigh of relief, and closed his eyes, relieved laughter bubbling in his throat. "It happened before we met," he croaked, glancing back up from his boyfriend from under his eyelashes, and taking a long, bold lick of his lips. He grinned, feeling high and relieved, and added, "Don't worry, you're definitely the best."

Nowaki smiled back at him, a wide genuine smile, and Hiroki's heart somersaulted in his chest. Stupid alcohol, making him feel all fluffy and affectionate. He really had to stop drinking. Bad things always happened when he did - like getting BL novels written about him.

"Really?" Nowaki asked, looking hopeful, eyes shining, and suddenly Hiroki's brain seemed to short circuit.

If he was sober, he would have scoffed, dismissed the blatant compliment fishing, and maybe even have smacked Nowaki for good measure. But as it was, he was feeling woozy, and happy, and decided that maybe - for once - he could be generous. Indulging his boyfriend just a little bit more, he replied honestly, even flirtatiously, "Yes, and the biggest."

He was so far past drunk, it wasn't even funny.

"Hiro-san!" Nowaki gasped, unable to restrain a laugh. He looked a lot happier now, obviously reassured. He patted Hiroki on the head. "You're so adorable when you've had a few drinks! No wonder Usagi-san can get so many details out of you."

Hiroki shrugged, feeling a bit giddy, like Nowaki's mere presence was intoxicating him. But it was probably just the alcohol. "You say I'm adorable all the time," he pointed out, sounding far more smug than he was entirely comfortable with.

Nowaki nodded earnestly. "You are."

Feeling a lot more confident - even relieved, in a floaty, distant sort of way - Hiroki smiled, leaning up slightly and planting a swift kiss on the edge of his boyfriend's mouth. "Come to bed, Nowaki," he whispered, causing his already flushed face to glow an even brighter shade of magenta. Even drunk, apparently he was still easily embarrassed. "I've missed you."

Nowaki responded with a quick kiss of his own, but pulled back moments later, detangling himself from Hiroki's arms and shifting off the edge of the bed. "Not tonight, Hiro-san," he said gently, brushing back his boyfriend's hair, "You've had a lot to drink and you need some rest. Just try to sleep."

Hiroki opened and shut his mouth for several seconds, unable to quite grasp the emotions that had flooded him in his alcohol induced daze - hurt, angry, indignation, and sheer disbelief. Nowaki was refusing to have sex with him? Why would he do that? He had someone else, didn't he? He was having an affair!

"Are they good in bed?" he snapped, lurching upwards and almost tipping off the bed with the sudden momentum. He clasped at his head, reeling, and struggled away as Nowaki tried to aid him, because he was not going to be touched by a two-timing, two-faced, heartless liar.

Nowaki didn't seem to be following his train of thought, however, because he simply stared in bewilderment, oblivious to his boyfriend's drunken assumptions. "What do you mean?" he asked, looking so lost Hiroki had to restrain from punching him in the face. "Hiro-san, what are you talking about?"

"Liar!" Hiroki shrieked, feeling a bit delirious. He picked up his pillow, red in the face, and whacked Nowaki over the head with it, because well, that's how he handled rejection. With anger and violence, because otherwise his boyfriend would see how hurt he was, and his pride couldn't handle it. He hit Nowaki several times, as the other men merely raised his hands to shield himself, his shrieks of, "Hiro-san!" only making Hiroki all the more determined to silence him.

It carried on in the same vein for several minutes, with Hiroki using the pillow as a bludgeon and Nowaki cowering away, until the movement made the older man feel too sick, the world tilting around him, and he was forced to stop - collapsing against the headboard of the bed, and panting, face flushed, feeling woozy and sick to the stomach.

"Why won't you have sex with me?" he croaked, surprised to find he was gasping, either from the exhilaration or the urge to cry, he wasn't sure. He wanted to stop - his pride was screaming at him to - but he couldn't, the usual filter between his brain and mouth utterly failing him. "We haven't been together for weeks, and you ignore me when you come home…"

Nowaki blinked at him for a moment, as though very surprised to hear that Hiroki was actually bothered, and moved back towards him, now sure he wasn't going to be greeted with a pillow to the face. "You know I've been doing a lot of extra shifts since one of the doctor's went on maternity leave," he explained, encircling Hiroki's wrists in his large hands and looking him directly in the eye, his gaze intense and unblinking. "I don't ignore you, you're usually asleep. I don't want to wake you, Hiro-san, you look so cute when you're sleeping."

Hiroki made an 'oh' sound, but he wasn't finished, not yet. "So you're not avoiding me? You're not bored of me?"

"No," Nowaki replied earnestly, his palm resting against Hiroki's jaw, where he could probably feel his pulse fluttering madly beneath his fingertips. "Never. I love you, Hiro-san. I'm sorry, I'll try harder to spend more time with you."

Hiroki nodded, almost unable to speak, because he was feeling frighteningly emotional. The heavy weight over his chest had lifted, and he felt warm and fuzzy instead, content with Nowaki's body pressing comfortingly against his side.

"Now go to sleep," Nowaki insisted, which actually seemed like a very good idea, because Hiroki's eyes were dropping, and he felt like a dead-weight, heavy and boneless. "I'll have to show you how much I love you in the morning."

Hiroki drifted off thinking, really, that was a very good idea. He was just sad that he probably wouldn't remember it in the morning…

- END -

A/N You know, when I start writing these things, I usually have a plot in mind - but the more I write, the more I tend to forget what it is O_o Sorry about that! I was going to write porn on the end, but it would have taken me forever to write. Maybe I'll do just a porno one-shot of the next morning…XD

Anyway my first Junjou Romantica fic, what do you think? Please R&R!