Work Text:
The way Junpei saw it, they had 9 problems:
1.) They had been dumped in the middle of the Nevada desert, with no food or water and no way of knowing what direction civilization might be in.
2.) They had a serial killer tied up in the back of their car.
3.) The Nevada desert was hot. Really hot.
4.) They had no way of proving that Ace—Gentarou now, he supposed—was a murderer. It was their word against the word of a high-profile CEO, and Junpei had a feeling he knew how that one would end.
5.) They were in the middle of a desert in Nevada, which was in America, and none of them had a passport or any sort of identification. Hell, he wasn't sure any of them spoke English.
6.) Clover's driving was terrifying.
7.) The desert was terrifying.
8.) They hadn't seen any sign of Akane or Aoi; it was like the two of them had managed to disappear into thin air. Junpei needed to talk to them at least one more time, just to prove to himself that all of this had really happened. (And maybe punch Aoi in the face while he was at it, but that would just be a bonus.)
9.) Fucking Nevada.
There was also the matter of Alice, who had somehow managed to squeeze herself into the backseat with the three of them, and was currently staring out the window and fanning herself with one hand. Junpei had decided to ignore her, for the sake of his sanity if nothing else. If he refused with all his might to believe that they'd actually taken in a thawed-out Ancient Egyptian hitchhiker, maybe he could make it true by sheer force of will.
“So, uh, Clover,” he said. He tried to push himself a little further away from Light (because wow, they were close). “Do you have any idea where you're going?”
“Are you doubting me, Junpei?” Clover pressed the gas pedal down even harder. The car rattled alarmingly as it sped across the dirt.
“Clover, it's you.” Trying to get untangled from Light forced him to press up tighter against Alice, who was a woman, a stranger, and very nearly naked. Junpei sighed and resigned himself to being draped across Light's shoulder for the foreseeable future.
At least the robe was soft. Junpei wasn't quite sure why whoever made it had decided it needed a layered collar, but he wasn't complaining. It made for a nice soft spot to lean against on the planes of Light's bony shoulders.
“Rude! And yes, I do have a plan.” She pointed out the windshield and across the desert.
“Both hands on the wheel,” Seven moaned, sounding rather ill.
Seven had better not throw up, Junpei thought with a shudder. Being covered in vomit was only way he could imagine this trip getting any worse.
“Spoilsport.” Clover pouted into the rearview mirror. “And anyway, if you were a little more attentive you'd have noticed that there's tire tracks leading that way. They must have been left by the trucks bringing the supplies for the game in.”
“Or the participants,” Lotus muttered.
“Huh.” Junpei leaned forward, resting his arms against the center console as he peered out the windshield. Here and there he could maybe see a faded imprint in the dust, but he certainly wouldn't have been able to follow the trail—not at this speed, anyway.
“It's faint,” she said, “but you can see it if you're paying attention. Shut up, Light.”
“I didn't say anything,” Light said mildly.
“You were going to.”
Seven rolled his window down with a groan, shoving his head and shoulders as far out as he could manage. The change in the air was immediate; dry desert heat rolled through the car, completely overpowering its air-conditioning system. Junpei ripped off his vest in one quick, awkward movement, then unzipped his hoodie and slipped out of that too. Triple layers worked fine for late-night college classes or being stuck in a sealed-shut freezer room, but it wasn't so great as desert wear.
“Do we have to have that down?” Light grimaced and tugged at the collar of his bizarre robe. “I'm sweltering in this.”
He had to be suffering the worst out of all of them; the rest (except Lotus and Alice, who already couldn't be wearing anything better suited to the heat) at least had a few layers they could toss aside: Clover's fuzzy jacket was thrown over the central console and even Seven was down to nothing more than his overalls and undershirt. Light already had spent hours stuck inside a tight, sweltering box, and now he was baking in layers of thick black cotton.
“Trust me,” Junpei said. “It's better than the alternative.”
“Is the alternative Seven throwing up or me wearing the clothes I came here in?”
Junpei thought for a moment about the gore-splattered figure he'd found on the shower floor, the way the blood and bone and bits of brain had soaked through his shirt and turned the jacket's fabric a sick dark shade. “…Both.”
“Don't worry,” Clover said, her voice taking on the sing-song tone that meant Junpei wasn't going to like whatever came out of her mouth next, “you don't have it as bad as it could be. At least you're not wearing plaid.”
“What's wrong with plaid?” Junpei snapped. He knew he shouldn't have answered—nothing good came of rising to Clover's bait—but the last thing he needed right now was someone judging his clothing. He wasn't the one in a bizarrely-patterned cultist's robe, after all.
“Oh?” Light asked, his lips turning up into a smug little grin. “Junpei's wearing plaid?”
“Junpei's been wearing plaid,” Clover replied with relish, “and capri pants. It's astounding.”
“Oh, come on! Lotus is wearing…” Junpei paused for a moment, not quite able to come up with the words to describe her outfit. “That, and you're going after my clothes?”
“I,” Lotus cut in, “got kidnapped on my way home for work. What's your excuse?”
His first thought to ask what the hell kind of job Lotus had, but his self-preservation instincts cut in just in time. He settled for leaning back against his seat, arms crossed, and giving everyone in a car a glare. “Plaid's practical.”
“Don't worry.” Light's voice was mild, but his smile was positively evil. “I'm sure you look lovely, Junpei.”
Fuck. Junpei definitely wasn't blushing. They were in the middle of a desert—it made complete sense that his cheeks felt hot.
After a moment, he sighed and tossed his extra clothes into the back of the trunk, ignoring the yelp when they landed on Ace.
They had a long, long drive ahead of them, and who even knew what they'd do once they stopped.
-
They hit roads eventually. The first bump of their wheels hitting asphalt was shockingly unfamiliar; Junpei jolted out his half-asleep state with a gasp, pulling his head from Light's shoulder and blinking in confusion at his surroundings. Other than the road's sudden presence, not much had changed. The red-toned dirt stretched out around them for what had to be miles. He could see the faint outline of what might have been farmhouses off in the distance, though what there was to farm out here he couldn't imagine.
Lotus had fallen asleep in the front seat, and Seven was passed out on the other side of Light, his head still half-out the window—apparently the change in terrain hadn't been enough to wake them. Fair enough; it had been a long night. Alice was every bit as perky as she'd been when they first saw her: she was staring out her window with a joyous expression on her face, completely ignorant of everyone in the car. Junpei considered asking what she was thinking about, but decided against it. She clearly knew some amount of Japanese, at least. She could join their conversations if she really wanted to.
Light was sitting straight up, his clouded eyes half-open and his hands held neatly in his lap. For a moment Junpei thought he must be sleeping too, but then he blinked slowly and smiled down towards the general direction of Junpei's face. “Sleep well?”
“Oh, yeah.” Junpei went red. “Sorry for leaning on you.”
Light laughed softly. “Don't worry about it. I didn't mind.” He leaned in closer, then, until his mouth was nearly brushing the curve of Junpei's ear.
“Um?”
“Tell me,” he said, so quietly he was almost inaudible, “how is Clover?”
“Oh.” Junpei blinked, tension fleeing his veins. Of course Light would be worried about his sister; he couldn't just glance over and check for himself, and if he asked she'd surely lie. “She's doing… okay.” He kept his voice just as quiet, glancing over Clover as he spoke. “She looks tense. And tired. Her knuckles are almost white on the wheel, and she's just staring straight ahead. I think she could use a break soon.” Not to mention the fact that she hadn't noticed them talking. Normally she'd pick up on that right away, even over the rattle of the engine and the rush of the wind.
Light nodded slowly. “Thank you. We all should stop soon, I think. We'll need to find a place to rest and buy gas—can you keep an eye out for me?”
“Buy gas?” Junpei frowned. “Aren't we going to turn ourselves in? I thought we'd want to find the police as quick as possible, not pass them by.”
“I know a little bit about small-town police,” Light replied in a tone that screamed don't ask. “They're slow, and useless, and hesitant to involve anyone higher-up than themselves. We want to make it to a decent-sized town before we go to the authorities, even if that means a delay. Finding the FBI straightaway would be preferable, but…” He shrugged. Junpei could feel the plastic of the prosthetic dig into his side with the movement. “I don't know enough about the United States to know whether that's possible.”
The heat had only grown stronger as the sun rose, and by now Light was looking positively miserable. His hair clung limply to his face, his skin was even paler than Junpei was used to seeing it, and his breathing came shallow and quick. He'd never admit it, but he probably needed a break just as much as the rest of them.
Junpei nodded, realized Light wouldn't be able to see it, and cleared his throat nervously. “All right,” he said. “That makes sense. I'll let you know.”
Light grinned a little wider, and there was something knowing in the curve of his brow. “You just nodded, didn't you?”
“Maybe I didn't,” Junpei said, “and you're just making completely off-base assumptions.”
“That would make a better excuse if we weren't sitting so close.” Light lifted his flesh-and-blood arm and pressed it lightly against the back of Junpei's neck. “Your hair's very long. From here, I can hear it against your collar when you move.”
“…Seriously?” Damn. That was just unfair. Shame Light had spent so much of the Nonary Game locked in a coffin; they'd probably have breezed through it in half the time if they'd had him. Another thing to blame on Santa, he supposed, for all the good it did him now. “Poor Clover. I bet she never gets away with anything.”
“You know Clover—she's very resourceful. Once she taped socks to the bottom of her sneakers to try and muffle the noise so she could sneak out to a friend's house.”
He could tell from the look on Light's face that he was enjoying the memory: his smile had gone softer, less teasing. His eyes weren't open, but his head was tilted as if he were staring off into the distance.
“Okay,” Junpei said, “I'll bite. Did it work?”
“I didn't hear a thing.” A pause, and then Light's grin turned positively demonic. “At least, not until she knocked a bookshelf over trying to cross the living room. I think she forgot she didn't need to turn the lights off to be stealthy.”
“Oh my god.” Junpei bit down a laugh, stifling it with the palm of his hand. He wanted to ask how old Clover had been, but he wasn't sure what he hoped the answer would be: would it be funnier to imagine a tiny little five-year-old crouching on the carpet with socks taped to her feet, or a teenage Clover trying the exact same trick?
A distant flash of color caught his eye, and Junpei glanced out the window just in time to see the neon glow of some sort of sign appear on the horizon. A group of squat buildings were clustered close around it.
A town. A truly miniscule town, from the looks of it, but right now that didn't matter a bit to him. He'd sleep in a tent if it meant getting out of this car for a little while.
Junpei leaned forward, resting his elbows on the center console. “Clover, see that sign?”
She blinked heavily and shook her head as if to clear the cobwebs from it. “I… yeah, I do. We need to avoid it?”
“The opposite, I think.” Light cut in smoothly, turning the idea over as if it hadn't been his to begin with. “We should take the opportunity to stop there—who knows when we might see a town next?”
“Stop and do what?” Clover's fingers tapped against the steering wheel as she spoke; Junpei could see her scowl reflected in the rear-view mirror. “We've got no money. Unless we find someone who's really into collecting novelty watches, the only things we can afford to do are shoplift and siphon gas.”
“I know how to siphon gas,” Seven said blearily. Junpei jumped at the sound, nearly slamming his head against the car's roof—he hadn't realized his seatmate was awake.
Apparently Seven had mistaken his shock for disgust because he continued on, a bit defensively, “Not that I have, I mean. But I was called to the scene for it a couple times, back then, and it really doesn't seem like it would be that hard to do.”
Clover snorted. “And then what? It's a one-stoplight sort of place, if that. I'm pretty sure they're going to notice a car full of tired sweaty Japanese people pulling up to their town and making off with their gas.”
Junpei cringed as he imagined that scenario play itself out: no, officer, we're only stealing this because we need it, promise. Please don't look in our trunk, the man we've got tied up and gagged is there for a very good reason.
“We could haggle?” he offered. “Lotus's jewelry might be worth something.”
Seven laughed. The noise shook through the car, rattling the windows. “If we try to pawn Lotus's jewelry, she'll have nothing left to wear.”
“Shut it, ugly,” Lotus snapped from the front seat.
Seven's mouth snapped shut like a mousetrap and his face went pale. “Eh? How long have you been awake?”
She stretched, leisurely, as if she were a cat. “I only woke up just this second.”
Junpei could imagine Lotus being secretly part-cat—it would explain a few things about her personality. The only question was whether the feline half was a house cat or a tiger.
“How do you even know what I said, then?”
Lotus scowled and turned around in her seat to glare at him. “I didn't. But I heard my name coming out of your mouth, and that was enough.”
The two glared at each other for a moment. Despite Seven's size and the scars on his face that turned even the slightest scowl into a terrifying grimace, Junpei definitely thought Lotus was the scarier of the two.
Light sighed. The twist to his face looked positively murderous. (Not, frankly, that Junpei could blame him for wanting to strangle someone. Locked in a coffin for hours, then locked in a car with all of them… Junpei would be sharpening his axe right about now if he were in Light's situation.) This close, Junpei could see the way his eyes opened just the barest sliver when he was annoyed, a curve of clouded gray under his milky-white eyelids.
“Lotus,” he said, his quiet voice cutting through the babble of conversation like a knife, “if it's not too much trouble”—sarcasm dripped from his every word—“please check the glove box.”
Lotus's face scrunched up in confusion, but she popped it open without a word of complaint. She pulled out a driver's manual, a sheaf of papers that looked like they might be proof of insurance, a half-emptied box of tissues, a fast-food wrapper crumpled up and smeared with dried ketchup stains (that one she took out very carefully, paper clenched between thumb and forefinger as if the barest touch might burn her), and, lastly—
“Holy shit,” Lotus breathed, pulling out a folded wad of cash from the bottom of the glove compartment. “This is…” She counted the bills with quick, shaking hands. “This is a good eight hundred, right here.” She shook her head, eyes wide. “Holy shit,” she said again.
Light smiled and nodded, looking completely in control. Probably only Junpei was close enough to see the way his shoulders slumped in exhausted relief at her words. “I thought there might be some money in there, given that these cars were most likely used by the contractors working to bring the facility back into shape.”
“That,” Junpei said, “or it was left there by Aoi for us to find.”
Light nodded. “That's definitely also possible.”
“So what?” Seven asked. “We've got enough to buy a couple sandwiches? Fat lot of good that's going to do us.”
“Speaking of fat…” Clover muttered under her breath, but it was Lotus who really reacted.
“Eight hundred dollars, you idiot,” she snapped, “not eight hundred yen.”
“That's”—Junpei did a quick mental calculation—“something around eighty thousand yen, right?”
Light nodded in agreement, and Seven let out a low whistle. “Holy shit,” he said.
Seven and Lotus really were alike in a lot of ways. Not that Junpei would ever say so; he valued his life too much to just throw it away.
“All right, then,” Clover said, “I'm stopping. Any objections?”
And, for once, they all managed to be in agreement.
-
Clover came to a screeching halt in front of the gas station, then peeled a handful of bills off of the roll and made her way into the tiny storefront. Junpei wasn't sure how or why a kid her age knew so much about driving, but right now asking about it was the furthest thing from his mind—he just wanted out.
The air outside was baking hot, even worse than it had been in the car, but at least he could stretch his legs a little. He paced back and forth along the length of the car, feeling his knees protest with every movement he made.
Light stood next to him, leaning just a little bit against the door of the car. He could have almost been asleep, if not for the miniscule back-and-forth movements of his head.
He was keeping an ear out for danger, Junpei realized, protecting them all in his own way. He wasn't sure what sort of danger Light was actually expecting in a little town like this, but the thought was still somehow reassuring. Junpei was on edge himself—they all had to be, after what they'd been through.
“Hey.” Lotus ran a hand through her limp hair. The heat had to be getting to her too, even if she was a bit better dressed for it than the rest of them. “I'm going across the street, okay? I'm going to see if we can get ourselves a place to stay for the night.”
“You know where to go?” Seven asked, a touch skeptically.
Lotus jerked her finger towards the neon sign across the street and the building next to it. “I don't need to be fluent to know that the sign there means hotel. I'll let the money do the talking.”
It certainly wasn't the best idea Junpei had ever heard, but it also wasn't the worst. Right now they were a little low on options.
To his surprise, it was Alice who stepped forward. “I'll come with you, okay? I know some English.” Her smile was picture-perfect, and she looked completely untouched by the sweltering sun.
All-ice, huh? Junpei thought. I wonder if she even feels the heat.
Lotus looked suspiciously at her for a moment, but then nodded. “All right. Let's go.”
With that, it was just Light, Seven, and Junpei himself left—and, of course, their passenger in the back seat.
“Should one of us go dump some water down Ace's throat or something?” Not that he was fond of the guy, but letting someone die of thirst seemed like stooping to his level.
“Later,” Seven said. “Once we're somewhere he can't make a break for it when we untie him.”
Lotus and Alice made their way back across the street just as Clover stepped out of the gas station. Clover's arms were weighted down with three plastic bags, handles straining with the weight of all she'd shoved into them. Junpei could see bottles of water, energy bars of some sort, and what looked like handfuls upon handfuls of candy bars.
That was what they got for letting the teenager wander in on her own, he supposed.
“Did you get what you needed?” Light asked as she approached. His expression was as calm as ever, but a little bit of the tension had fled his frame with her return.
“Yup!” Clover rustled the bags together, perhaps out of excitement or perhaps to let Light know she was carrying them. “Forty dollars on the pump, as much food and water as I could carry out, and”—her grin took on a viciously gleeful edge—“I'm pretty sure I learned the English word for dumbass.”
Wonderful. Just what they needed: a multilingual Clover.
“Well, we've got good news too. Alice and I talked to the front desk, and they've got three rooms for us—two doubles and a single. Barely even cost us two hundred all together.”
Junpei had a feeling that was either far too cheap or grossly overpriced, and he was a bit scared to find out which. Still, right now a real, actual bed—not a cot in a medical bay, not a sliver of worn-down car seat—was about the best thing he could imagine.
Alice's lips quirked into a quiet smile. “The woman gave us a warning,” she added. “Said if we got too loud she'd have us all thrown out.”
It took Junpei a moment to catch on, but when he did his cheeks flushed bright red. Of course she'd have to go and assume that. The way they looked, the size of their group…half the town was probably already gossiping about a Japanese prostitution ring setting up shop in the local hotel.
Seven looked as though he were about to say something, but a glance at the expression on Lotus's face stopped him. A wise move, in Junpei's opinion.
Light huffed out a breath of laughter. “Well, then, I suppose the only question is who's taking what room.”
“I'll guard Ace,” Seven said immediately, “but I'm not sleeping in the same bed as him.”
“Fair enough.” Lotus tossed a thin plastic card at Seven. For a moment, watching it arc through the air, Junpei wondered what symbol might be on it. Then Seven caught it and turned it back and forth and the only thing stamped on it was the logo of the hotel.
Junpei sighed quietly, hoping none of the others would notice. Of course it was only a hotel key—there would be no puzzles waiting for them on the other side of the door it unlocked, no screens to hold their wrists to on threat of death.
Only nine hours had passed inside the replica ship, but the real world already seemed so strange in comparison. His mental compass, the thing that pointed him towards normal, had gone and reoriented itself somewhere deep in the bowels of that groaning ship.
“So that's one double gone and five of us left. Who takes what?” Lotus looked at them each in turn, ever businesslike. No matter how callous she could be at times, he would always appreciate that side of her.
“Light and I should get the other double.” Clover tucked her head in, glaring, just daring them to try and disagree. “We need to catch up.”
The words went unspoken, but he could them in her eyes: I want to make sure he's okay.
Lotus looked her up and done, half-lidded gaze as unimpressed as ever. “Sorry, Clover, but that's not happening.”
“Huh?” Junpei blinked. He would've thought that would be the obvious choice: give the two of them some time in private, time they both obviously needed—
“Think about it. If Clover and Light get a double, and Seven and Ace get a double, who does that leave?”
Junpei thought about it. And then he realized. “Augh.”
“Exactly.” Lotus nodded, and Alice stifled a giggle behind her hand.
“Yeah, okay. Sorry, Clover, I'm with Lotus on this one. I'm not sharing a bed with those two.”
“You're a man, aren't you?” Clover snapped. “Take the floor!”
“That's not the point—”
The sound of Light's laughter cut them all off. It started slow and more than a bit mocking, but soon it grew into something more genuine. He pushed his sleeve against his mouth as if to hold his voice back, only for it to spill through the fabric and across the parking lot.
“…I know you can't tell, man,” Seven said finally, “but we are all staring at you.”
It was true: even Clover was looking at Light as though she were afraid he might finally have broken.
“I'm sorry,” Light said, still breathless with laughter, “it's only… here we are again, arguing over who goes through which door.”
Junpei couldn't hold back his own bark of laughter, though he was sure his voice sounded a lot more bitter than Light's. “That's… yeah, okay. We're all acting ridiculous right now, aren't we?”
It was, after all, just a simple, normal door, nothing at all like the ones they'd gone through during the Nonary Game. There would be no puzzles or dead bodies waiting for them on the other side and nothing preventing them from moving freely. If any of them wanted to see each other during the night, they would only have to step across the hall.
He hadn't even realized how anxious he'd felt until Light started laughing. Fuck.
“Look,” Junpei said, “Light and I can take the single, okay? Clover, you and Alice and Lotus take the other double.” When Clover hesitated, he looked instead towards Lotus. “They gave you extra keys, right?”
“Huh?” Lotus frowned. “Uh, yeah, they did.” She fanned out the cards left in her hand—five total, not counting the one she'd already thrown to Seven.
“Give the spare to Clover, then. If she wants to stop by, she won't have to knock or anything.”
Light nodded. The look on his face was… well, it was probably presumptuous of him to call it one of respect, but at least he wasn't sneering at Junpei's suggestion. “I can accept that compromise.”
Clover held out a moment longer, her gaze darting between Junpei and Light, before the tension finally eased from her body. “Fine,” she said, holding her hand out for a key, “but if you let him get hurt, Junpei, I'm not going to forgive you!”
“I am an adult—” Light protested.
“I'm not his keeper—” Junpei snapped at the same time.
They both stopped. Clover glared up at Junpei, clearly waiting for some sort of real answer.
“All right, whatever. If we get attacked by, I dunno, fucking jackalopes or something in the middle of the night, I'll make sure to fend them off.”
Seven snorted out a rough laugh. Lotus muttered “Jackalopes?” softly to herself. But it was Clover whose approval he was waiting for, and Clover who finally rolled her eyes and said, “Fine, okay, I guess that works.”
Without another word, she dumped her grocery bags into the backseat of the car. That taken care of, she stomped over to the gas pump and began refilling the van.
“Well,” Light said quietly into the silence left behind by her departure, “I certainly hope you don't snore.”
“If you elbow me,” Junpei started—then realized that Light was by far the least likely of all his companions to elbow him in his sleep.
Light's smile grew. Junpei flushed a deep, agonized red.
It was going to be a long night.
–
By the time they made it through the door of their hotel room, Junpei was fully ready to collapse into bed or strangle someone. Maybe both.
Getting Ace past the front desk had been, surprisingly, the easiest part of it all; the fight had long since gone out of the man, and he'd done nothing more than shuffle along with his head down as Seven put a heavy arm around him and guided him through the lobby. Seven had babbled nervous platitudes at no one in particular—My friend, sorry, had too much to drink, doesn't know how to hold his booze—until Lotus elbowed him in the side and Clover reminded him that no one here except them could understand what he was saying. (The wordsyou idiot were very much implied.)
There was a brief flurry of action once they finally found their rooms: Seven pushing Ace inside with a glare and a half-whispered threat; Clover passing snacks from her bags to Junpei and Seven and especially Light until everyone's arms were laden with soda and candies, then leaning in when Junpei least expected it and reminding him that he'd better not kick Light in his sleep tonight; Alice disappearing into her room only to emerge a few minutes and a rapid-fire flurry of English later to announce she'd ordered a pizza.
Finally, more to escape the chaos than anything else, Junpei pulled his key from his pocket and turned to face their hotel door. Theirs was room 216—the women were one down in 214, and Ace and Seven were across from them in 215.
Two plus one is three, Junpei thought, and three plus six...
He stopped himself with a muttered curse once he realized what he was doing. He would not spend the rest of his life counting the digital root of every number he saw. And he especially would not take comfort in knowing that their room's was nine.
“You ready?” Junpei asked, as if it were a numbered door he were opening instead of a normal one. At his side, Light nodded.
He slid the card through the reader, turned the handle and stepped inside. The door closed behind them with a soft click—no creaking metal, no sudden beeping—and Junpei forced his heart to keep still.
The hotel room was nothing fancy. The curtains were a faded color that might once have been pink or tan, the wallpaper was peeling in six or seven places, and the furniture was made mostly of particle board and plastic. It seemed clean enough, though, and it was very definitely not on a boat.
Right now, Junpei's standards were as low as they'd ever been.
He paused in the doorway for a moment suddenly unsure—what if he did snore in his sleep?—and Light brushed sideways past him to lean against the wall. With a fond sort of sigh, he dumped his armful of junk food onto the thin carpet, then stood once more and pressed his good hand against the wall.
“Um?” Junpei asked.
“I apologize, you'll have to take care of those for me.” A slight twist to his mouth that might have meant mockery or embarrassment. “I can't orient myself with my hands full.”
With that, he began moving slowly about the room, one hand pressed to the wall. He took each step carefully and let his feet press slowly against any obstacles that might be in his way.
It took Junpei a moment to realize what he was doing, if only because it was so different from the Light he'd seen before—back on the ship, he'd stepped into each new room as if he already knew it like the back of his hand. In a way, he probably had. The memory of that first game had to be burned bright into the minds of all who played it.
Still, watching Light make his way through the hotel room this was surprisingly pleasant. It felt like he was being entrusted with something Light had never let him see before.
After only a moment or two too long of staring, Junpei remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He scooped Light's downed snacks up along with his own and dumped them both on the rickety nightstand next to their bed.
“If we want to drink the sodas, we should do it soon,” Junpei said. “There's no fridge here or anything.”
Light snorted. “Right now, caffeine is the last thing I need.” He paused for a moment, ear turned towards Junpei, then added, “while you're up, check the sheets for blood, would you?”
“Blood?” A full-body shiver ran its way down Junpei's spine. “You don't think this is some kind of… murder hotel, do you?”
A day ago he'd have thought the idea preposterous. A day ago he would have also laughed himself sick at the thought of a murder boat.
Light huffed out a tired sigh. Junpei was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to take comfort in being condescended to, but the derisive sound was familiar; it brought Junpei back to solid ground. Light wouldn't bother with snobbery if any of them were actually in danger. “Droplets of blood, not big puddles of it. Pinprick-sized blood stains on sheets are a sign of bed bugs.”
This time, Junpei shuddered for an entirely different reason. He stripped off the comforter with college student efficiency, then looked up and down the off-white fabric. “Nothing.”
“Good.” Light nodded. He'd stopped in front of the door to the bathroom. One hand rested lightly on the door frame. “If you don't mind, I'm going to take first shower.”
“That's fine.” If anything, it was a relief—Light still looked unsteady, exhausted, like the slightest breeze might blow him over. A little bit of running water might do him some good. “Just don't use up all the hot water.
“I make no promises,” Light said with a devilish grin, and before Junpei could protest he'd slipped into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.
Junpei sighed, leaning his head against one of the bed-bug-free pillows, and didn't relax until he heard the sound of running water start up.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Light was an adult; he could start a shower for himself. But his brain kept replaying the look in Clover's eyes (the one that begged watch out for him) when she stared up at Junpei in the parking lot and the naked terror that had overtaken Light's face when he finally burst from that too-cramped coffin.
Light wasn't his responsibility. Hell, in all practical terms he barely knew the man. And yet… Junpei groaned, turning over so his head pressed into the pillow. And yet he felt protective of him just the same.
Goddamn it.
-
Junpei was nearly asleep by the time the water shut off. Evening light filtered through the threadbare curtains, bathing the room in orange and gold and the promise of night soon to come. It would have been easy enough just to roll over and give himself completely to sleep.
Still, he was filthy. No one deserved to share a bed with him when he smelled like this. It was with that thought in mind that Junpei pushed himself into something resembling a sitting position and waited for the door to unlatch.
When it did, Junpei's breath caught.
Light walked out of the bathroom with nothing more than a threadbare towel wrapped loose around his waist, his pale grey hair plastered to his head and still dripping wet. Rivulets of water ran down his forehead and cheeks to pool in the curve of his collarbone. He'd left the heavy black robe crumpled on the floor of the bathroom—no surprise there, Junpei wouldn't have wanted to put it back on either—and apparently he'd left his prosthetic arm with it. His left arm ended in a smooth stump just below the shoulder: a pale white scar and a patch of puckered-tight skin were the only signs left of whatever injury had damaged his arm so badly he'd needed it removed.
He'd known before that Light was thin, but he'd never realized just how thin; it was easy not to notice when he was wearing a perfectly-tailored suit or being dwarfed by those ridiculous heavy robes. Junpei could count every one of his ribs and see the gaunt sharpness of each of his joints.
Suddenly, he understood why Clover had shoved so many snacks into his hands.
Still. Despite that, or maybe because of it, there was something bizarrely attractive about Light. He was confident and proud without being an asshole about it (or at least he wasn't that much of an asshole about it; he had a biting tongue, sure, but he wasn't vicious with his words the way Aoi had been), he held himself with a deliberate sort of grace Junpei could never even hope to emulate, he'd shown a strength that was as impressive as it was terrifying when he was defending Clover. He was a bit of an odd guy, sure, but as far as he could tell that had been an unstated requirement for playing the Nonary Game—there wasn't a halfway normal person among their lot.
Fuck, Junpei thought tiredly. He'd found Akane and lost her again only hours ago. The last thing he needed right now was to be harboring a helpless, impossible crush on one of his fellow players. Hell, he knew just enough about Light to know how very out of his clumsy, broke-ass mediocre college student league the man was.
And yet. And yet. None of that changed the fact that he really enjoyed the sight of Light in a towel.
Light paused a moment at the doorframe. He turned his head slowly, as if scanning the room, though what he could be searching for Junpei had no idea.
Junpei felt vaguely that he should break the silence, but somehow that felt—embarrassing. Rationally speaking, Light couldn't possibly know he'd been looking at him (couldn't possibly know the way he'd been looking at him), but… well, Light was horrifyingly intuitive sometimes. If anyone could read Junpei's most awkward thoughts, it would be him.
Without warning, Light's face twisted down into something closed-off and stony. Like marble, Junpei thought as panic crawled down his spine. Light knew somehow, he'd caught on to exactly how much staring Junpei was doing, and any moment now he was going to start laughing at him.
“Junpei?” Light called out. His shoulders were tense and his voice was the furthest thing from the mocking lilt he'd expected. It sounded just this side of panic, as if Junpei were about to up and disappear on him—
Oh, he realized. Shame and relief sank through him in equal measure.
Light didn't know what he was thinking. Light didn't even know he was here.
Junpei cleared his throat and watched as Light locked onto the sound of his voice in the still room. “I'm over here,” he offered. “Just… drifted off for a moment, sorry.”
“Ah.” Light's shoulders sunk in what was undeniably relief. His expression smoothed into something almost pleased for a second before the familiar unbothered mask slipped back onto his face. “You breathe too quietly.”
Only when I'm being a massive creep. He snorted for Light's sake, trying to fight down the blush on his face. (Not that Light would know it was there, but it was the principle of the thing.) “Sorry about that. I'll try to pick up a head cold while we're here, just for you.”
Light laughed. “You start sniffling in the car and I might just throw you out of it. Seven's moaning was bad enough.”
He made his way towards the bed as he spoke, towel dipping low on his bony hips with every step he took. Junpei tried to swallow very, very quietly.
“By the way,” Light added, “did Clover leave us with any of the money?”
“Yeah, she shoved a bit at us when we walked upstairs. Why?”
“Well, seeing as someone”—Light's sudden grimace might not have been directed at him, but it was still pretty terrifying—“saw fit to murder a man with my clothes, I don't have anything but those robes and I am not putting them on again. I was hoping you'd seen a place that sold clothes somewhere nearby.”
For a moment, Junpei almost told him not to bother with it. They were set up in their hotel already, night was already starting to fall… there was no reason it couldn't wait until morning.
Then, a split second later, his mind caught up with his mouth and offered him a very detailed image of what waiting would mean: Light, slipping under the sheets with nothing but a towel (if even that), Junpei laying a scant few inches from his pale, sprawled-out body…
His cheeks went even redder than before, and he made a strangled sort of noise somewhere in the back of his throat.
Light turned to face him, looking confused. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” Junpei managed, “totally fine. Just thinking. I, uh”—he cast his mind back desperately to the streets they'd stood in front of before. Would anything be open still?—“I'm pretty sure the gas station sold some shirts and shit like that. I'll run out and grab some stuff, be back in a minute.”
“It's not that urgent,” Light said to Junpei's retreating back, sounding a touch bewildered, but by then it was already too late. Junpei had already grabbed the wad of cash, stuffed their key into his pocket, and turned towards the door.
“It's no problem!” he called out behind him, doing his best not to look backwards. “I need some new stuff too, it'll be fast.”
Before Light could make any more comments—or worse, come to any conclusions—Junpei was out the door.
He paused in the hallway a moment and waited until his cheeks felt a little less burning-hot before he made his way down the stairs and across the street.
-
When Junpei stepped inside the gas station, he had some half-formed idea of buying Light a particularly ugly shirt as some sort of passive-aggressive revenge. As it turned out, though, each of the souvenir shirts the little place sold were equally and impressively ugly in their own special (horrifying) way, so that plan was a bust from the start.
Clover could say all she wanted about his choice of clothing. At least he'd never buy one of these things if he hadn't been kidnapped, held hostage, and forcibly separated from all his normal outfits first.
After a minute or two of deliberation, Junpei finally decided on a bright orange t-shirt emblazoned with a cartoon lizard of some sort and a sickly green tank top covered in text Junpei couldn't read. He'd give Light first pick of the lot, just because he was generous that way. There were no shorts among the gas station's meager offerings, but there were several pairs of swim trunks for some fucking reason (was there even water anywhere out here?), so he grabbed a couple pairs of those as well. He couldn't imagine them fitting properly on Light, but right now that was a secondary concern; anything had to be better than massive sweltering cult robes.
The purchase itself was almost disappointingly easy—turned out money really was a universal language—and far too soon for his comfort Junpei was facing the prospect of entering their hotel room again.
He stood in front of the door for a long moment, trying not to imagine what (who) was waiting on the other side. The longer he stood here, though, the greater the chance that Lotus or Clover would step out of their room and decide to interrogate him.
That idea was enough to push him into motion. Junpei slid the card into the lock (you don't have three people, some panicked, instinct-driven part of his brain screamed out) and stepped inside once more.
Light was sitting on the bed, trying to bite off the wrapper of one of the many snack foods Clover had left them with—something cheese-flavored, if the pictures stamped across it were any indication. His long legs brushed idly against the floor and the towel around his waist framed more than it hid from this position.
Coming back so soon had been a bad choice. Coming back at all had been a bad choice.
Light tilted his head up at the sound of the door opening and the rustle of the plastic bags in Junpei's hands. “You found something, I take it?”
“Terrible tourist clothes. Don't get too excited.”
Light made a low, frightened noise in the back of his throat. “If you say it's terrible, I know it must truly be bad.”
He wasn't wrong, but Junpei still felt a flash of annoyance. Being mocked for his—admittedly a bit thrown-together, but what was college if not a time to experiment?—outfit made him feel like a child. Now more than ever, he didn't want Light to be thinking of him that way.
No way to explain that without making an even bigger fool of himself, though, so he settled for throwing himself onto the bed next to Light and dropping the bag into his lap. “High words for someone who's never even seen my outfit.”
For a moment he worried that might be crossing a line, but Light only laughed. “Clover's a wonderful judge of fashion—I trust her completely on the subject. She got scouted twice the last time we visited Tokyo together.”
“Wait, seriously?” There was a thought to behold: Clover, a fashion icon. Clover, a public figure. Clover, a role model to impressionable teenagers. Junpei shivered.
Light nodded. “It surprised me as much as anyone. I never realized how much attention she paid to her appearance.” Here, his voice turned self-deprecating. “For obvious reasons, I think.”
Junpei didn't know what to say to that.
Light let his hand wander into the bag and came out with a handful of t-shirt. “You weren't kidding.” His tone turned bright again just as quickly as it had dropped into something solemn. He ran two fingers along the front of the shirt. “Is this a frog on the front of this one?”
“A lizard. Some American species, don't ask me which. The other has words on it, but you'll have to ask Alice if you want to know what it says.”
“Something incredibly insulting, knowing your luck.”
“I… wouldn't be surprised.” It would fit with the general tone of his life, both within the last few hours and overall.
After a moment of deliberation, Light grabbed the green tank top and laid it on the bed next to him with a smile in Junpei's direction. “If it is something awful, at least I can blame you. There's no excuse for that lizard.”
Junpei sighed as he reached for the other shirt—with that attitude, he hoped Light's choice said something truly ridiculous—only to be stopped by Light's hand on the back of his. He tried to politely pull away, assuming he'd rested it there on accident, only for Light's long fingers to circle around his wrist when he tried.
“Um?” Junpei asked. Not his most eloquent, but under the circumstances it was the best he could do.
Light's hand trailed up his forearm, past his elbow and to his shoulder. It rested against his collar for a moment before moving up his neck and over his chin to press against Junpei's lips.
He knew he should pull away. He could stammer out an excuse and escape into the bathroom, let Light laugh at him when he wasn't here to hear it. And yet, heart hammering in his chest, he stayed still and frozen as Light pulled his fingers away and pressed his lips to where they'd been.
Light's mouth was on his, soft and warm, and Junpei… well, Junpei was officially incredibly confused. Reason had fallen away somewhere behind him, and all that was left was—this. A strange reality where he played deadly games and spoke to living ghosts and someone like Light might be interested in him.
Nowhere to go but forward, he thought, and opened his mouth to Light.
Light made a deep hoarse sound in the back of his throat and then his hand was in Junpei's hair and he was kissing him properly. His teeth caught the edge of Junpei's lip and pressed down, not enough to hurt but enough to send a shiver down his spine. He moved in closer until he was nearly in Junpei's lap, until Junpei could feel the heat of Light's bare skin through his own shirt.
It was all Junpei could do to keep up, all he could do to bite down on the gasps and quiet noises that were building in the back of his throat. He leaned forward—stupidly eager, like he'd never been kissed before—and ended up with one hand cupping the curve of Light's shoulder and the other pressed against his bare thigh just below the towel.
Only a few inches higher and he could slip his hand beneath the fabric, trace his fingers across the smooth skin of Light's inner thigh. Let his hand wander just a bit higher and wrap his hand around Light, bring him close in long slow strokes until he was crying out against Junpei's mouth.
He wondered how Light would look when he was on the edge of an orgasm: whether he'd open those pale grey eyes of his at all, whether he'd cry out or bite his lip, if he'd pull his hand tight in Junpei's hair when he finally came.
He wanted to find out. It was a stupid, reckless idea, but at this moment he couldn't care less. Junpei slid his fingers that first inch under the soft, threadbare cotton, felt Light's breath hitch in his throat at his touch…
And then he remembered, and pulled away from Light like he'd been burned.
The noise Light made actually sounded disappointed, as if—as if this were half as exciting (embarrassing, overwhelming, unbelievable) for him as it was for Junpei. He paused for a moment, hand still wrapped in Junpei's hair, before he pulled back and moved away. A few inches, nothing more, but the meaning of the distance was clear.
Rather than disappointment, Junpei's first thought was wild relief. Light had gotten caught up in the moment, that was all; he was thrilled to be alive and well and Junpei was simply the closest person around to share that with. As far as rejections went, it was an impersonal one. He could deal with that.
That thought lasted as long as it took for him to look over and see the blush spreading across Light's marble-white cheeks.
“If I…” Light stopped, swallowed. He tilted his head down, letting his hair fall across his forehead and over his eyes. “I… apologize. If I misread you, I mean.”
“What?” Junpei asked, and then: “Oh.” He scrambled for words; his tongue tripped over itself in his haste to speak. “No, no that wasn't—I didn't mean to—”
Stop, he told himself. At this rate, he'd end up saying something hideously embarrassing. He took a breath, waited until his heartbeat didn't feel like a jackhammer pounding away in his chest, and started again.
“It's not… it's not that I don't want to.” He swallowed. “I would—or, I mean, I wouldn't mind.” Fuck, he was so bad at this. “It's just that Clover has the other key, and I said she could stop in any time she wanted, and I don't think either of us would want her to walk in on… um.”
Her brother having sex with the weird guy she spent a good third of a day locked in various rooms with, his brain helpfully supplied.
“Oh!” Light pressed his hand against his mouth. His cheeks looked even redder than before. “That's… I'd completely forgotten about that.”
After a moment, Light started laughing. For all Junpei had spent the last hour dreading exactly that, he found he couldn't be offended. It didn't seem like Light was laughing at him, for one; he didn't sound mocking at all. If anything, he seemed almost happy.
“Thank you,” he said through breathless laughter. “I think Clover and I both would have died of embarrassment if she'd walked in on… well, us.”
“Wouldn't want that,” Junpei said. “We've got enough to explain to the police without adding a pair of bodies to it all.”
“Mm,” Light agreed. “And Lotus would certainly complain about the smell when you tried to load us back into the van.”
For Junpei's part, he'd barely moved since Light first started kissing him. He felt as though he was on unsteady ground. Any movement might be the one to topple him from the half-understanding he was clinging to.
Light had noticed Junpei's little crush; when exactly, he didn't know. For all he knew, Light might have caught on before Junpei realized it himself. He'd decided to act on it here, in this hotel room a half a world away from anything either of them knew because… why? Because he felt like it would have been his first guess, followed closely by because he thought it would be funny and because it was so far removed from normal life as close runners-up. But the way Light spoke to him now said otherwise. Even now he was smiling faintly, close enough to Junpei that he could easily reach out and grab him once more if he wanted. It all added up to a sum he didn't quite understand—not yet, at least.
“So,” Junpei said, because if there was one thing the Nonary Game had taught him it was that there was always more information to be gathered. “What now?”
The question seemed to bring Light back from whatever reverie he'd been caught in. “Well, for starters, you might want that shower.” He grinned lazily, tilting his head in Junpei's direction. “You taste like dust.”
Junpei snorted. “Not my fault you interrupted me.” A shower did sound good. Maybe it would even help clear his head a bit. Still, Junpei hesitated—he had a feeling that if he left the room now, the moment would be lost and, with it, his chance of getting a straight answer from Light. “What happens after, though?”
Light frowned, shoulders rising in a defensive motion. “I won't come after you in your sleep, if that's what you're worried about.”
“What?” Junpei asked, completely baffled. “I said I was interested, didn't I? I just meant… once we make it back to Japan”—he very carefully did not say if—“what happens then? Are we even going to see each other again?”
The tension bled from Light's shoulders as quickly as it had appeared. “Well, we certainly won't see each other, I can tell you that.”
“Goddammit, you know what I mean.” It was all he could do not to throw a pillow at Light's face.
He held his hand up in a placating gesture. “I do, I do, I'm sorry. I just couldn't miss the opening. You're too fun to tease.” He sighed, and was quiet for a moment. “I didn't mean to snap at you. If you'd like, I'd certainly be interested in keeping in touch after all this is over. As friends or—otherwise, if you want.” Light smiled quietly to himself. “Clover approves of you already, so that's one less thing to worry about.”
Clover approves of you already. That was almost more of a shock than the kiss had been. Clover knew? Clover approved? He knew she didn't hate him anymore—hell, they'd made for pretty good teammates in some of those rooms, and you couldn't come out of something like the Nonary Game without a certain fondness for the people you worked alongside—but there was a difference between Clover offering some sort of tentative friendship towards Junpei and Clover accepting the idea of him dating her brother.
He thought back to the van, and the way Clover had looked at him when he offered to share a room with Light. What was it she'd said, again? If you hurt him, I'm not going to forgive you.
Junpei groaned and let his head drop into his hands. Clearly she'd been a step—no, a few dozen steps—ahead of him this whole time. “If that's how Clover acts towards people she approves of, how does she treat the ones she doesn't?”
“You do not want to know,” Light said, his voice caught somewhere between amusement and remembered horror.
“Yeah,” Junpei agreed. Then, quieter: “Okay.” He rubbed his hands across his face, trying to force some sense of reality back into his head, then looked over at Light. “So… you're serious about this, right? I'm not going to make it back in Japan to find out you have some—I dunno, boyfriend who's a professor in classical literature or something stashed away waiting for you.”
“What?” Light burst into sudden laughter.
Junpei scowled. He could feel his cheeks heating up. “Half a day ago, the closest thing I ever had to a real relationship kidnapped me and used me to close a time paradox. Cut me a little slack.”
Light's smile slid from his face. “Ah. Fair enough. Well, rest assured: blind amputees don't exactly make for the most eligible bachelors in Japan. There's no boyfriend, professor”—a hint of laughter slipped back into his voice—“or otherwise. And anyway,” he added, “is it so impossible to believe I might actually be interested in you?”
It was, a bit, but Junpei wasn't about to start listing off all the reasons why; he wasn't quite that self-sabotaging.
“You're clever,” Light said, his fingers coming to rest against Junpei's leg. The room suddenly felt a few degrees warmer. “And kind, and you refuse to give up. I haven't decided whether you're brave or simply bullheaded just yet, but I'm feeling generous so I'm counting it as a positive.”
“How nice of you.” He'd been aiming for sarcastic, but the words came out breathy, half-strangled.
Light leaned in even further, close enough to leave Junpei's heart pounding with the memory of the last time this had happened (only a few minutes ago, though already it felt like a lifetime), but he only pressed his lips against Junpei's forehead in a soft, chaste kiss.
“Go clean up,” he said, sounding rather fond. “It's late, and I want to sleep some before we get on the road again.”
“Okay.” Junpei swallowed, nodded, and leaned in to press an answering kiss to the fringe of Light's hair before he could lose his nerve.
He dashed into the bathroom as fast as he could, not wanting to give himself the opening to say anything stupid. (Well, anything more stupid; he'd certainly managed his fair share of inane babble already.)
Junpei stripped his shirt and shorts off, leaving them in a pile beside Light's clothes and arm, then hopped into the bath and turned the water as cold as it would possibly go.
If he was sharing a bed with Light tonight, he was going to need it.
-
When he finally stepped out of the bathroom, all the lights in the room were off and the plastic bag of clothes was waiting for him next to the door. He shrugged into the stupid lizard shirt and mismatched swim trunks, glad it was too dark to see the animal's face leering up at him, then slowly and carefully made his way towards the bed.
Should have been a snake on the shirt, he thought. Would've fit perfectly.
Light was already under the covers, curled up around a pillow and by all appearances fast asleep. His silver hair looked bone-white under the pale light of the moon. Junpei couldn't help but be impressed—exhaustion or no, he'd expected him to be a little twitchier about falling asleep in strange places given recent events.
Well, there would be enough time in the morning for them all to have their freak-outs. It was waking up in strange places that was the worse of the two.
Taking care to stay as quiet as possible, Junpei lifted his end of the covers and slid into bed. The sheets rustled as they moved, and with a sudden gasp Light shifted against him.
Light pushed his head up off the pillow. His grey eyes were half-open and his was hair pressed messily against his face. There was a tightness in his expression: not quite open fear, but something just on the edge of panic.
“It's just me,” Junpei whispered. He kept his breathing slow and even.
“Oh,” Light said sleepily, the tension bleeding from his voice, and before Junpei could say anything more his head was back on his pillow and his eyes were closed once again
Well. Junpei slid the rest of the way under the covers and pulled him up to his chin. At first he thought he should turn away from Light and face the wall—it had to be rude to watch someone while they were sleeping, especially someone who couldn't watch you back—but in the end selfishness won out over manners. Light's face was peaceful in sleep, unguarded in a way he'd never seen it before. The slivers of light that shone through the blinds left bright jagged lines across the pale skin of his face and turned the ugly green shirt a halfway-bearable shade.
With a low, soft sigh, Junpei settled in beside Light. Apparently Light trusted him enough not to panic when he woke him in the middle of the night—trusted him enough to relax next to him, even.
There was no reason that should make him happy, he told himself. I trust you not to knife me in my sleep was hardly a normal relationship-starter.
And yet, as his eyes drifted closed, he felt a thrum of excitement deep in his chest. The Nonary Game had broken down a lot of relationships: turned them against each other, made them doubt, forced them to feel the sting of betrayal again and again. But it had built them up, too. He'd never met any of these people before, and yet already he trusted four of them with his life.
Maybe the Nonary Game could be the start of one more relationship, hours after and miles away from where it had been played.
Junpei was willing to find out.