Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s half past three in the fucking morning, and Yuu’s pretty sure he’s not going to live through this. 

There isn’t enough time or coffee or money to buy coffee in order to survive finals and Yuu prays for the sweet release of death. 

“Kill me,” he’s blank, staring hard at his study guide in hope of the answers filling themselves in for him. 

It takes Yoichi a moment to respond, and Yuu almost checks to make sure he hasn’t betrayed him and dozed off already. Already, he thinks, like they haven’t been sitting here since eight. 

“What’s in it for me?” is what Yuu gets out of the half-yawn, half-sentence that Yoichi finally manages. 

“I’ll be dead,” Yuu offers.

“True,” Yoichi agrees idly, shuffling hopelessly through pages and pages of what look like history notes before giving up on finding whatever it is. “Okay,” he shifts, crossing his legs and tucking them underneath him in his seat, turning his attention to Yuu. “How do you want me to do it?”

“Take this,” he flicks his pen in Yoichi’s direction, “and jab it through my –“

“Hey, um –”

They’re both decidedly startled when they’re interrupted, and Yuu wonders who the hell else could possibly hate themselves enough to be spending their entire night here. Even the library aide had admitted defeat and gone back to her dorm, presumably trusting that they wouldn’t destroy the place in her absence. Jury’s out. 

“Do you have any notecards?” is what follows , and Yuu finally bothers to look up from philosophy bullshit to blonde hair and blue eyes and oh my god –

“Yeah, one sec,” Yoichi smiles politely and digs through his bag, and Yuu’s glad that unlike himself, Yoichi doesn’t seemingly lose the ability to be friendly past, like, 10 p.m.

He hands over the notecards and the boy mutters an impassive “thanks” before he’s gone, and Yuu watches Yoichi watch him go.

He taps his pen against the textbook of whatever unimaginable math class he's in—Calculus II, Yuu thinks; meanwhile, he’d dropped pre-cal within weeks in favor of something less soul-crushing and only barely managed to scrape by the basics with Yoichi and Mitsuba's help, because fuck math—and he glances at Yuu with a flash of something in pale, tired eyes, and Yuu knows they're on the same page.

Yoichi is the one to say it, straight-faced in a kind of pleasant, whimsical whisper that only he can pull off: "He's pretty." 

"That he is," Yuu agrees, and he's too damn loud, because the guy hears it and glances up (curiously, he wants to think) from the clutter of books and stray notes splayed over the table he’s claimed for himself two rows back. 

Yuu winks right at him, and Yoichi pretends to busy himself like he doesn't want to be involved in the inevitable train wreck – because, Jesus Christ, Yuu is trying to flirt. (Disaster guaranteed, or your money back!)

His eyebrows knit together for less than a fraction of a second, an unreadable expression flashing across his features before vanishing like lightning as he returns to studying. 

Yuu props himself up on his elbow over the table and tilts his head in Yoichi’s direction, and he complies, leaning in to hear Yuu’s assessment. 

He counts off on his fingers. ”Banana Republic button-up, iPhone 6s, iced coffee from Starbucks… this dude’s loaded." 

“Honestly,” a smile plays on Yoichi’s lips, “who drinks iced coffee in November?” 

“Who the fuck drinks iced coffee period?”

Yoichi scrunches up his nose in agreement; he’s a tea drinker anyway.

”What do you think he drives?” Yuu grins, playful with the tiniest hint of malice.

Yoichi hums in thought. ”A Lexus. Black – no, silver.”

“Nice,” Yuu laughs, finding it fitting, “do you think he'll be my sugar daddy?"

"I want him," Yoichi objects, defiant and child-like. Like Yuu’s stolen one of his toys from the playground.

"Fuck no. I just started hitting on him, like, two seconds ago. Wait your turn."

“That wink? You’re embarrassing," Yoichi tells him, "he thinks you're dumb."

"You're dumb," Yuu huffs back, and Yoichi doesn't bother to contend it, but he smiles in just that way and Yuu’s wide awake now.

He’s got an idea. A shameless one, he’s aware. But it’s 3 a.m. and his bloodstream is, like, 93% caffeine at this point and honestly? Whatever.  

"Okay, so. Hear me out," Yuu shifts in his chair and washes down the embarrassment he might’ve felt with the last of his coffee—cheap coffee, from the gas station on the corner, not the seven dollar watered down latte bullshit the rich bitch™ is drinking. "Let's share him.” 

Yoichi blinks at him, and Yuu studies the way he reacts – thoughtful as he glances from Yuu to the boy and then back again. 

“You’re suggesting –“

“Yeah.”

“Seriously?”

“Uh huh.”

He folds his hands under his chin, leaning above the table with an endearing sort of nonchalance that makes Yuu a little nervous. 

“So,” his eyes are the brightest they’ve been in hours when he smiles again, “what did you have in mind?” 

Yuu feels himself relax—he hadn't even realized he’d tensed up anticipating Yoichi’s response—and he leans back in his chair as he easily returns the smile.

“The floor’s all yours,” he announces, crossing his arms patiently. 

Yoichi’s eyes widen for only a moment before he swears under his breath in defeat, accepting the challenge. He’s a formidable opponent, he is, and he’s an invaluable ally when it comes to charming snakes. 

Yuu can’t measure up, doesn’t hold a candle to Yoichi – he’s magic.

And he’s at his best right now, Yuu thinks; sugar-sweet and giddy from the caffeine, the sleeves of his school sweater stretched over his palms, and his hair is messed up just right from running his hands through it while going over Yuu’s math with him.  

The grin that graces his features is effortless, warm and lovely like sunlight, and his voice chimes like bells through the space between them. 

“Do you want to study with us?” is all it takes. 

Like a bee to honey.

***

It’s 4:02 a.m.

Their names are Yuu and Yoichi, they’re wearing pajamas in public, and they’re exponentially more interesting than his political science book. Who’d have guessed?

“No way,” Yuu says in disbelief, again, glancing between the two of them. “You’re pre-law, Yoichi’s a med student, and I haven’t even picked a fucking major yet.”

He doesn’t know what to say, but Yoichi beats him to any response he might’ve come up with. He frowns at Yuu, disapproving and offended for him.

“Don’t say that like it’s such a bad thing,” he chastises him like it’s routine, and Mika suspects that it is, “and it’s not like I’m trying to be a doctor, just an RN.” 

Mika makes a face. “I wouldn’t be able to handle that. I can’t stand blood.”

“Priss,” Yuu mutters, but he’s grinning even when Yoichi kicks him underneath the table. 

“Behave yourself,” Yoichi tells him, but he doesn’t sound like he means it, not really.

“I’m totally serious,” Yuu presses on, and Mika notes the shit-eating-grin he’s wearing, “who’s making the payments on your pretty silver Lexus?”

Mika leans across the table, smiling back at him as sweetly as he knows how. “It’s a Mercedes, and it’s white.”

“Unbelievable,” Yuu laughs, and it’s hardly mean-spirited. He and Yoichi share a look that’s not meant for him, and he pops the last of the M&M’s in his mouth. 

“Go get more food,” Yoichi all but whines, flicking Yuu’s forehead. Yuu tries and fails to return the favor, with Yoichi easily swatting his hand away. 

“That’s not fair, why do I have to do it?”

“Because I did last time and you ate it all!”

“That’s –“ Yuu falters, a pout forming, “a good point.”

“Mika wants more M&M’s,” Yoichi says.

“Yeah, well, Mika can buy his own damn M&M’s.” 

“Your friend is an idiot,” Mika tells Yoichi when it’s just the two of them. 

Yoichi puffs his cheeks out the slightest bit; not angry, but vaguely defensive. Territorial, even. But it’s entirely fond, and his expression says he’s a dumbass, but he’s my dumbass, and Mika doesn’t know why it makes him smile. 

“So you’re a pair of idiots, then?” 

“You’re asking if we’re dating?” Yoichi calmly clarifies, unfazed enough to disconcert Mika a bit.

“Essentially, yeah.”

“Why, are you interested?”

Mika noticeably hesitates before he composes himself, twirling the straw around his empty cup. “You’re annoying,” is the best he comes up with.

“Maybe,” Yoichi laughs, amused. “But you don’t really think so.”

Mika folds; it’s impossible to play the better hand when Yoichi’s ace is the entirety of his personality. “How,” he asks, genuinely awed, “are you doing that?”

Yoichi smiles like he’s won something, all sunshine, and Mika feels like he’s been honey-trapped and knows that it was probably only partly intentional – the other side of the story is just Yoichi in general and, really, it’s not his fault if Mika’s weak.

“You’re like,” Mika stares at him, bewildered but not unpleasantly so, “a fucking incubus.”

Yoichi laughs at that, hard, and it’s the best sound Mika’s heard all night; it rings cheerfully through the room and Mika doesn’t miss the way a blush dusts his cheeks.

He tries to warn Mika, he really does, but he’s still in the middle of a fit of laughter so he just kind of waves his arms around in a vain attempt to let Mika know that Yuu’s tossing a bag of fucking M&M’s at his head. 

“Miss me?” 

Mika frowns at him.

“I did,” Yoichi says brightly, and Yuu flaunts a bag of chocolate covered pretzels over his head.

“You’re only saying that because I’ve got food,” he remarks while Yoichi hopelessly reaches for the bag.

“The sun’s gonna be up soon,” Mika notes, glancing down at his unfinished study guide as Yuu drops the pretzels into Yoichi’s hands.

“I know,” Yuu says, and then he – he siphons a Red Bull into a Java Monster without spilling a drop (it’s literally horrifying). “I think I’m dying.”

“You’re going to die if you drink that,” Yoichi points out, and Yuu stares him down while he sips at it. 

“At least we’re miserable together,” Yuu declares once he’s halfway through the bottle and Mika thinks he’s developing tachycardia just by association. “I think an all-nighter where we accomplished virtually nothing is deserving of, like, some sort of friendship pact.” 

“It is,” Yoichi agrees, “that’s why we’re going to make a blood oath after your heart explodes.”

Mika winces, and Yoichi smiles apologetically. 

“Sorry. Forgot you have a thing.”

“It’s gross.”

“Priss.”

Yuu’s swimming in his liquid heart attack again when Mika glares up at him, and he takes the opportunity to scribble his number down on one of the notecards Yoichi gave him.

He holds it out for Yuu, who looks skeptical. 

“It’s – you know,” Mika says, “if you’re still alive tomorrow.” 

“Today,” Yoichi corrects him. 

“Christ,” it dawns on Mika then how fucked they are, “it’s 5 a.m.”