Chapter Text
Yuzuru has never been particularly fond of formal affairs such as these- all the rich folk mingling and faking niceties for the sake of politics he’d be better off without- but at least they’re familiar and easy to navigate. Or, they are when he has Tori to serve and complain with when no one else is watching. It’s somewhat enjoyable, at a push, that these events are a gateway to the most casual conversations Yuzuru can have with his bocchama- a reminder that they’re both still teenagers, forced into their upkeep of airs and graces, reliant on the familiarity and comfortable companionship the other provides the way only two people raised to be intrinsically involved in each others’ lives can be.
That’s why, with the master of the Himemiya household calling his eldest child away and insisting servants need not accompany, Yuzuru has found this current event to be more intolerable than most. Admittedly, Eichi has been purposefully catching his eye every few seconds since Tori departed, and Yuzuru won’t deny his companionship would be appreciated over standing alone at the side of the room and contemplating every feasible way he could murder the obnoxious old lady loudly bad-mouthing the Himemiyas without being apprehended or even suspected. Because the more he’s pondering the idea, the more tempting it’s sounding to the part of Yuzuru’s brain he does his best to suppress.
Eichi knows better than to approach Yuzuru at what he’s been privy to him mockingly term ‘Passive-aggressive Pimp Parties’. With his status, there is utterly no reason why he should go out of his way to speak to a butler without his master present when so many guests await his mandatory platitudes. Whilst the vast majority of attendees are aware of the existence of fine, they do their best to ignore the heir to the Tenshouin and Himemiya families’… hobbies, meaning Yuzuru’s involvement in such endeavours is overlooked as well. Here, he is not an idol. Just a butler. He doubts those aware of fine even remember he’s a member.
It’s of no bother to Yuzuru. He genuinely couldn’t care less for the good opinion of a single person in this room. Eichi technically included, although… well, he’s always going to be a somewhat different case due to proximity. Yuzuru knows the version of Eichi behind the strained smile and pompous laugh he’s forced to enact here. In turn, Eichi knows the version of him who isn’t so willing to enact practiced restraint in such bloodcurdling environments.
Yuzuru tries not to think too hard on precisely how well Eichi has learnt his idiosyncrasies. It’s entirely shameful, no matter how many equally—if not more—embarrassing aspects of Eichi he’s borne witness to.
Speaking of shameful… Yuzuru mentally retracts his previous musings. Apparently the esteemed heir to the richest conglomerate in Tokyo does not know better than to approach a servant on standby at one of the largest annual business parties in the country.
“Yuzuru, I need to sit down, now. I’m so bored of small talk I think I’m about to pass out where I’m standing. And god, these little glasses people keep handing me are not helping. Is champagne supposed to make you dizzy when you blink?”
Right. How could Yuzuru forget that Eichi’s favourite pastime is being the most impossible person alive. Yuzuru hates how obvious it sometimes is that Eichi was raised in such a similar, privileged environment to Tori. He disguises his immaturity far better, but it’s constantly bubbling beneath the surface, threatening to break through at the slightest provocation. Such being either Yuzuru’s presence or the empty champagne flute Eichi leaves on the table as he leans his weight against Yuzuru’s side.
Typically, Yuzuru would remind Eichi of their status and surroundings and, with well disguised politeness, tell him to fuck off. But it would seem that all of high society are as idiotic as they appear and have been serving alcohol to Eichi all evening thanks to his recent coming of age, completely oblivious to the mountain of medications Eichi takes daily that Yuzuru knows are incompatible with alcohol.
Today, it seems he’s indulging Eichi’s whims. If only because, most unfortunately, Yuzuru cares a great deal more for his wellbeing than he tries to let on.
Yuzuru leads him to the vacant chaise longue at the side of the room and doesn’t make any effort to push Eichi’s weight off him, even though he knows he should- for both their sakes.
“Eichi-sama. Did you take all your medication this evening?” Yuzuru asks. It’s not conversational, but no one would care enough to listen in to the specific tone he’s allowed to use with the Tenshouin heir. Hopefully.
“Hm? Oh, no, I didn’t. I’m not the idiot you always hurry to take me for, Yuzuru. I knew I’d be expected to join in the toasts today, so I read up on alcohol compatibility,” Eichi says, and he sounds surprisingly sober compared to the scene he was attempting to make just a moment ago.
Yuzuru is unsure whether to scold him for negligence of his health, or praise him on the preservation of his health. He’s truly uncertain which outcome is most likely to cause harm to Eichi, given he has been societally coerced into drinking.
Eichi snaps him out of his thoughts with a light, breathy laugh. It’s not the forced formal one he usually reserves for these occasions, and Yuzuru once again wonders how much of Eichi’s actions are being dictated by drunkenness and how much is simply his contrary nature.
“It’s written all over your face how much you want to scold me, right now. Do I need to remind you that I’m your senior and superior here, no matter how aware you are that I don’t personally mind your bossy tendencies.”
Yuzuru’s about to open his mouth and protest that particular slanderous remark, but Eichi- ever prone to talking himself breathless- continues.
“It truly is a comfort to me in any other setting to know you’ve grown to allow yourself to be a little more human around me, but we are in a very specific public setting. Say, won’t you grab me another drink? For the act, of course.”
Eichi throws in a wink at that, because he’s an utter hypocrite. Nonetheless, Yuzuru knows his role too well to miss the bone thrown for him to catch.
“Of course, Tenshouin-sama. I’ll be right back,” he says, loud enough that anyone nearby could hear nothing but politeness. He still ensures Eichi receives a somewhat icy glare as he stands and heads to the bar.
It is mildly infuriating both that Eichi believes he’s naive or unpracticed enough that he would for a moment forget his crucially important role in life, but also that Eichi’s presence has a horrifying effect of making Yuzuru relaxed enough to allow even the smallest of slip ups in his constantly high alert mind.
That in itself is a somewhat amusing concept. To think Yuzuru spent his first year of knowing Eichi analysing his every move; scrutinising each action, wary of his intentions and all too aware of the power he held and the mind he possessed, capable of irreparable destruction when combined.
Now, Yuzuru thinks, as he turns back to look at Eichi, drink acquired, he knows that the true intent behind Eichi’s actions is often quite child-like. He longs to be amused; to be happy; to shine brightly as an idol and to watch others do the same.
Yuzuru hands the drink to Eichi. His motives in life are quite sweet, when Yuzuru compiles them together like this. Or, at least, they would be if the amusement Eichi sought didn’t so typically come in such a sadistic, twisted form. His opportune timing serves to remind Yuzuru of this very fact.
“Hey, Yuzuru,” Eichi says, beckoning him closer to him. Yuzuru sits once again and finds lips ghosting warm breath over his ear almost immediately. He fights down the shiver his body threatens to exude. “How much would I have to pay you to walk over to the lady in the pink shawl and send her flying? She’s so aggravating. Constantly making snide comments about people’s lifestyles, appearances, status. Ugh, I can’t stand her. Watching her hit the floor would bring me so much joy I think I might actually propose to you, arranged marriage be damned.”
Ah, yes, Yuzuru almost forgot about that, as do most people over in ES and the Himemiya residence alike. Both involved parties are so uninterested in each other that the engagement is only ever mentioned out of necessity. Or because Eichi wishes to jest about it.
“It’s amusing you believe a proposal from yourself is something to be desired rather than avoided, Eichi-sama,” Yuzuru says, hoping Eichi can see a glint of mirth in his eyes.
“Oh, I’m heartbroken,” Eichi says, eyes widening and eyebrows tilting down into an expression Yuzuru can only describe as ‘puppy-dog’. It’s a relief he’s no fan of dogs. “Here I thought you were finally growing charmed by my twisted humour and entirely too sickly complexion.”
Although it’s phrased as a joke, Yuzuru doesn’t miss the self-deprecation for what it is. He also knows his next comment will throw Eichi onto the defensive- a move he likes to enact more than he admits to himself.
He releases a sigh.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re bewitchingly beautiful and you know it. Or are the thousands of fans who remind you daily not enough to convince you unless I admit so, too? Either way, you have to be a certain type of gorgeously attractive to be an idol as desired as you are.”
Eichi’s cheeks darken a little, but he doesn’t lose his composed demeanour. Hm. Yuzuru can’t deny a passive interest in seeing which buttons of Eichi’s to press in order to elicit some more extreme reactions.
“Oh? I hadn’t realised you were aware of your own sex appeal as an idol.”
Yuzuru furrows his eyebrows. This specific type of deflection had not been anticipated. He’s more than aware of the fact Eichi finds him attractive. It’s a fact he’d rather not ponder more than he absolutely must, however.
“Being aesthetically attractive and having sex appeal are two separate concepts. I’ll remind you that I am the least popular member of fine, as well. Quite the contrast to your own standing in our unit.”
“Being the least popular member of the most popular unit in Japan is still very fucking popular,” Eichi says against Yuzuru’s ear. Hearing Eichi swear is not unheard of, but it most definitely is in their current environment. Yuzuru wishes his brain was wired just a bit more normally than for the curse spilling from Eichi’s mouth to make his stomach perform a heated flip. “Surely you know our fans call you the attraction of the group. I don’t think they’re implying it as innocently as they do Tori’s cuteness.”
“I think we should move on from this topic, Eichi-sama. It’s hardly appropriate for our environment.”
Eichi chuckles lowly, but the sound is just careless enough to be audible to those nearby. Yuzuru’s jaw tightens, awareness of his surroundings increasing once more. Just as a precaution. It’s a necessary one when Eichi downs the water Yuzuru obtained and leans against Yuzuru’s side that fraction more.
“You’re too smart to think politely asking me to change the topic will be enough to deter me. If you really want to move on, threaten me,” Eichi says, as casually as one might discuss the weather. Yuzuru’s breath catches in his throat. Eichi’s eyes burn holes through his own. This gaze is entirely inappropriate for their current environment, veiled with desire as it is. Yuzuru’s half tempted to make good on Eichi’s wishes and pin his wrists behind his back, biting a harsh remark in his ear that he is more than willing to follow through on.
Given the words that have just spilled from Eichi’s lips, Yuzuru doubts that will do anything to dampen his awakened arousal.
A hand grazes the side of Yuzuru’s thigh and Yuzuru feels the burning heat spread through his own insides. He desperately calms his head, stamping out the flames threatening to consume his body. This is Eichi. They are at a public, formal affair. Eichi has been drinking champagne.
Of course, the champagne is not the only cause for this behaviour. Yuzuru’s not entirely ignorant of the way Eichi looks at him; touches him; talks with him, no matter how much he tries to remain purposefully oblivious to the intent behind his gaze. Still, Eichi is Eichi, and Yuzuru is hardly the only person this sort of attention has been directed at. He’s never entertained the idea that this is anything more than passive desire and light-hearted flirting with no intention behind it.
It still may be just that tonight. The heat simmering in Yuzuru’s abdomen would do well to acknowledge as much. He still doesn’t know just how much champagne Eichi has had, and the combination with whatever medication is still in his system could be firing sparks in directions they wouldn’t typically be aimed.
“My apologies,” Yuzuru says when he’s confident his voice can remain level and light, “but I believe you’re too exhausted tonight for even me to be cruel enough as to threaten you.”
“I’m not tired,” Eichi says, statement punctuated by a well timed yawn. He pouts a little and finally shuffles back to support his own bodyweight. “And you’re not the naturally evil predator you’re always attempting to paint yourself as. Your instincts and training don’t eradicate the fact you make the efforts and decisions to be helpful, gentle, and kind.”
Yuzuru glares at a non-existent spec of dirt on the floor. This topic is stiflingly more uncomfortable than any jokes about sex-appeal he’d been so eager to move on from. The last thing Yuzuru needs on top of his other stressors tonight is to rethink how Eichi feels towards him. Neither of them have the liberty to even entertain any ideas, so it’s completely pointless to muse.
But Yuzuru wants to know. Needs to know for his own sanity, no matter how devastatingly little can ever be mentioned or enacted.
Even if they were two different people with different roles, Yuzuru can’t help but pause and ask himself: Eichi? Really?
As much as Yuzuru lightheartedly mocks him and bemoans his more troublesome tendencies to others, he cannot deny that he finds Eichi utterly and infuriatingly captivating. He truly is gorgeous- ethereally so- and his mind is fascinating and intelligent; quick-thinking, amusing, tactical, cunning, unfortunately compatible with how Yuzuru’s own brain works, which is an aspect he prefers to ignore.
Despite his best wishes for the night, given he was doomed to be alone with Eichi ever since Tori was whisked away, Yuzuru has entered a state of indulgence in his own brain in the form of allowing himself to think about Eichi Tenshouin and the interactions he has with him. He allows himself to admit- only in the fragile sanctity of his own mind- that it’s pleasant to be teased light-heartedly and, for lack of a better term given this is Eichi, good-naturedly. And, despite at least partial awareness of Yuzuru’s true nature, Eichi isn’t afraid of what he’s capable of doing to him. Of what Yuzuru sometimes desperately wishes to do to him.
Eichi knows Yuzuru is a violent mutt restrained by a muzzle in the shape of his duties, reinforced with the determination of his own mind. If anything, Eichi tries to unclasp the straps; tempts the danger to be unleashed, to use for his own purposes or to feel its ferocity firsthand.
Perhaps it’s the lingering desire Eichi holds for his inevitable end to at least entertain him. Yuzuru would kill him, if he asked. It’s a strange thing to think, with how oddly much Yuzuru has come to admire the enigma beside him, but it is precisely because he’s grown to like him that he would be willing to do so. It would serve to create a more intimate affair, as opposed to the impersonal nature of his butler facade.
Yuzuru has been stuck in his head for too long, and the physical sensation of Eichi’s head tipping onto his shoulder, stray blond hairs ghosting Yuzuru’s neck as the weight settles, brings him back to his body and reminds him of yet another infuriating aspect on the matter of Eichi Tenshouin.
He does, unfortunately, have desires. Because as much as both his environment and own willpower have tried to train him out of experiencing any sort of want or need, Yuzuru has never managed to overcome his bodily reaction of physical desire- merely ignore it when required and secretly dwell on it in extremely rare moments of complete solitude. Eichi is a subject of certain desires, and it’s pointless attempting to erase the history of his own memory when Yuzuru knows well that he’s fantasised about roughly pinning Eichi to the nearest surface and having his way with him; allowing himself full reign of the freedom to be himself that Eichi wants from him.
The way his fingers have been gripping the couch beneath his hand so hard that nails have torn through the fabric is just one more reminder that Yuzuru is still not as perfectly unfeeling and unbothered as his duties require him to be.
There’s a more pressing issue, however. Eichi has dozed off on his shoulder, it seems. Whilst Eichi losing consciousness at formal events isn’t new to Yuzuru- nor is falling asleep against him- being allowed to remain unconscious in front of such a societally important audience will upset and embarrass Eichi greatly, so Yuzuru shakes him awake.
“Ah,” Eichi says, face flushing with the shame Yuzuru predicted. “I apologise- it seems I was a little tired after all.”
“Perhaps now is the time to retreat to your room for the evening, if you’ve fulfilled all your duties?” Yuzuru suggests. A small part of him will be grateful for the reprieve no longer babysitting Eichi will bring. A larger part of him wants to be honest and admit that he isn’t looking forward to the absence of his company.
“Mm, I believe I have. Won’t you escort me? It would be rather unfortunate if I make a tired and tipsy fool of myself,” Eichi asks him. Yuzuru is growing less and less sold by the tipsy act. It only seems to reappear when Eichi remembers the fact he’s been consuming champagne. Although, the liquid has indeed passed his lips, and Yuzuru isn’t personally versed in the feeling of consuming alcohol, so he won’t disregard it as a contributing factor to Eichi’s behaviour just yet.
Yuzuru stands and offers Eichi a hand to help him up. Eichi obliges, but interlinks their fingers for a moment longer and more intricately than the assistance requires. Yuzuru pretends not to notice.
They pass by a few familiar faces and Eichi pauses to bid them farewell, more familiar with their names and businesses than Yuzuru has bothered to be. The act goes on full force in company, and Eichi is giggly and leaning against Yuzuru’s side through every short-lived interaction. Yuzuru has no choice but to drag him out of the room, entirely aware that Eichi is aiming for this outcome.
It’s with an arm guiding Eichi's waist that Yuzuru finally leads them out of the crowded hall and into the elevator that will take them to Eichi’s suite. He absently wonders where in the building Tori is, and whether he’s expected to return to his side tonight. Chances are he won’t be required, but Yuzuru glances at his phone whilst Eichi swipes his access card, just in case.
Hm. All clear. There’s nothing preventing Eichi from monopolising his time. Yuzuru doesn’t know whether to consider that a blessing or a curse.
Eichi doesn’t speak for the entire journey. Yuzuru can feel his gaze, though, hot and heavy as it is now there are no potential onlookers. He wishes he had just a slightly clearer picture of what Eichi’s game is tonight, but, unfortunately, Eichi remains just that bit too much of a mystery for Yuzuru to entirely unravel.
When the elevator pings and Eichi grabs Yuzuru’s wrist to pull him out, Yuzuru realises that the silence had been a sign. Eichi was scheming, and now Yuzuru’s caught on to his trap a second too late to escape. His only route out is to battle through whatever conniving trick Eichi has up his sleeve.
That secret is revealed as soon as they cross the threshold of Eichi’s room. He pulls the door shut, pushes Yuzuru gently in the chest (Yuzuru lets himself be pushed, back against the door as he waits to see just what Eichi is about to do), tilts his chin up with two cold, gentle fingers, and kisses him.
Yuzuru… pauses.
And then his instincts finally kick in.
He grabs the lapels of Eichi’s jacket and hauls him off, staring in complete bewilderment as his brain tries to process what has just happened.
For possibly the first time since his military training was hammered into his muscles, Yuzuru has no idea how to physically react to Eichi’s bold advance. Yuzuru wonders if he’s lost his mind.
Eichi is frowning, clearly disappointed at his lack of reciprocity.
“You know, I haven’t actually had any champagne since my first sip,” Eichi says. As if that is the hold up here. As if that is the cause of Yuzuru forcibly restraining him at arm’s distance. “It was so mouth-drying and entirely tasteless that I watered a plant and have been replacing my drinks with lemonade when no one’s paying attention all evening.”
“I’d suspected something of the sort. A drunken Eichi-sama wouldn’t act like this,” Yuzuru says, choosing to stick to the less dangerous of the two potential topics here.
“Oh? You’ve thought about how I’d act whilst drunk? Or should I be more offended that you were certain this was a sober decision?”
Trust Eichi to immediately return to the matter Yuzuru wants to avoid.
“The way you look at me is hardly subtle.”
“I could say the same to you, you know,” Eichi says, gaze more heated than it has any right to be. Yuzuru strengthens his grip, keeping Eichi’s face from coming any closer to his own and risk him spotting the red that’s threatened to bloom on his cheeks.
If Eichi isn’t about to come to his senses any time soon, Yuzuru has no choice but to drag him to them, heart beating five times faster than usual or not.
“I could list at least a thousand reasons why this is a terrible decision for you to make.”
“I’m well aware of that,” Eichi says. “I’m not asking you for a relationship, or a wedding ring, or any sort of commitment to anything. You know neither of us are in a position to want that. We are in a position to be young adults and act recklessly for one night, making regrettable teenaged decisions we never have to speak of again.”
“You’re not a teenager anymore,” Yuzuru says, because pointing out that contradiction distracts him from having to explain that he doesn’t think it could be a one-off, regrettable, unspoken affair.
“I will kiss you to shut you up if you interrupt with something so pointless again,” Eichi says, smile as sweet as anything. Yuzuru is strong enough to stop him if he tried. He’s not convinced he would. He stays silent.
No matter what Eichi says- no matter what excuse he devises to make it sound okay- Yuzuru’s position will always be more precarious than his- he can’t-
“I can hear you thinking,” Eichi says, and he brings his hand up to Yuzuru’s chest, idly playing with the buttons on his shirt. Yuzuru can feel the chill of his hand through his clothes and it sends heat rushing through his veins.
Yuzuru has never experienced anything akin to this before. Never thought he would get the chance to. It feels addictive, and Yuzuru only grows more convinced that he won’t want to stop if he allows his control to slip even the smallest bit.
“I want you,” Eichi says, voice low and quiet and sending a shiver down Yuzuru’s spine, “and you want me, right? So tell me I’m wrong and to get off you and I will. Or, indulge yourself for one single night in your life. I’m someone who won’t tell- my reputation is at stake too, after all- and I’m already aware exactly what your inclinations are. I’m stood here in front of you asking you to snap. Let yourself have this, Yuzuru.”
Yuzuru shakes his head. “You’re aware you’re asking me to break everything- perfectly trained restraint, abstinence from anything I desire, refrain from enjoyable or improper acts- just for you?”
Eichi shrugs. “I’ve always been selfish.”
A thread of hesitance snaps at the words. Yuzuru releases Eichi’s jacket and grabs his waist, thumbs brushing over the curve of his hipbones. He shakes his head, trying to dispel the lightheadedness holding Eichi like this has induced.
“You’re not as selfish as you paint yourself. If you were, you’d be using your self-proclaimed knowledge that I want you to convince me, not trying to persuade me to succumb by easing my guilt and protecting my reputation.”
Eichi pouts, and the expression is as adorably immature as always. Yuzuru can feel his grip tighten a fraction, bringing Eichi closer as it does.
“Don’t start sweet-talking me only to deny my request and leave me alone all night,” he says, looking aside as if unbothered by Yuzuru’s potential disinterest. It’s bait. Eichi’s ever fond of dangling it, and Yuzuru has been his target tonight from the very start.
And Yuzuru- well, he’s been the foolish fish after all, because he wouldn’t have said that to Eichi had he not regrettably made up his mind and reached the incorrect decision.
“I will kiss you to shut you up if you interrupt with something so pointless again,” Yuzuru says, an imitation of Eichi.
The realisation dawns on Eichi’s face and his eyes darken. Yuzuru feels him grow lax in his grip.
“I still think you should’ve tackled that lady earlier-“
Yuzuru makes good on his threat and connects his lips to Eichi’s. Eichi immediately sighs into the kiss and grabs Yuzuru’s jaw, keeping him there so he can’t escape. Yuzuru is long past doing something so intelligent.
Yuzuru pushes Eichi backward, because there’s a bed a short distance from the door, and Eichi’s been stood up for a long time tonight, and, okay, if he’s going to be this ridiculously stupid, he might as well follow through with the idiocy and leave the both of them regrettably content.
Eichi realises his intentions and breaks them apart, only to drag Yuzuru towards the bed, throw himself onto his back on top of the covers, and look up at Yuzuru in a way he can only describe as wanton.
This is Yuzuru’s last chance to bail. If he follows Eichi onto the bed, there’s no backtracking. He knows what his role demands he do…
Eichi blinks up at him, mouth slightly open, hair splayed on the pillows under his head, jacket falling open to reveal the perfectly fitted hug of his waistcoat and tailored slacks. Yuzuru’s mouth runs dry and his stomach lurches with desire.
With a quickness he usually reserves for threats, Yuzuru finds himself over Eichi, hand gripping his chin, kissing him once more. He feels a sigh fall into his parted lips, breathing a borrowed life into him that is only his to steal for this one, idiotically spent evening.
He’d better make it more than worth it.