The garish lights and obnoxious music are the perfect backdrop to their late-night sushi mission, keeping the attention of passersby on the surroundings rather than the two young men weaving through the back streets of downtown Osaka. They pass early Christmas shoppers bundled up against the cold, salarymen out for a drink after a week's work, and the ubiquitous Osaka host men, their shiny black suits and pineapple-esque hair making Jiyong physically cringe. Fortunately Seunghyun's memory proves correct and they wind along a few more side alleys before slipping discreetly through the hanging blinds into the tiny restaurant.

The owner also appears to have a phenomenal memory as he greets them by name and ushers them round the counter to a table in the corner, closest to where he prepares the dishes. Seunghyun stumbles out what might have been 'arigatou gozaimasu' before his mouth murdered the syllables. Jiyong shrugs off his heavy coat and carefully drapes it over the chair next to him before sliding into his own with a happy sigh. It feels so good to sit down after prancing around on stage for hours.

"The usual?" The owner asks, delicate sushi knives raised in a pose reminiscent of Edward Scissor Hands at his scariest.

Jiyong nods and lets Seunghyun order (hopefully) two beers. Even if they end up with more Seunghyun would just down them anyway since his 'waste not want not' policy covers alcohol (only). Silence descends between them but it's comfortable; they've just got out of a concert in front of 50,000 rabid fans and hot lights, and that's enough to knock even the hardiest of performers out. And after all their ceaseless touring this year, they're the number one pros in the ing country.

Soon enough two foaming beers and a plate Seunghyun's favourite inari-zushi appear on the table. Seunghyun yells 'kampai!' in his endearingly annoying way, smacks his glass against Jiyong's (spilling beer all over the table) and gulps down at least a third of it in one go. The inari-zushi go the same way and Jiyong is left holding chopsticks poised over an empty plate and a pout on his lips.

"I'm hungry too you know."

Seunghyun shrugs since his mouth is occupied and gestures over to where the owner is engrossed in his task of dismembering fish. Jiyong sighs and sips his beer, kicking Seunghyun under the table for good measure. "I hope you get fat," he mutters unkindly but fortunately for him (and his wildly exciting love life) Seunghyun doesn't hear since he's too busy trying to drain his glass.

"I needed that," he says while wiping the foam from his lips, and Jiyong suddenly wishes they were at home so he could do the honours. Preferably with his tongue.

"Busy day at the office?" Jiyong asks lightly while eying the chef meaningfully, hoping to convey through his puppy-dog eyes the extent of his hunger.

"I think someone shrunk all my trousers," Seunghyun complains, drawing patterns in the spilt beer with his finger. "They were too tight."

"No one in the crowd was complaining, I assure you." He pauses thoughtfully. "Or on the stage for that matter."

"Maybe you wouldn't have almost slipped in that water if you'd been paying attention rather than staring at my ," Seunghyun says flippantly.

Jiyong's reply is lost as another four plates are slid in front of them. He quickly pulls the closest one towards him before Seunghyun can demolish it and happily plops a round piece of something in his mouth. When it comes to sushi, it's generally better not to know what you're eating, he thinks. Seunghyun yells for more beer (Jiyong's barely touched his) and a bottle of hot sake (Jiyong's gonna get wasted) and shovels more elaborately crafted sushi into his mouth with undisguised happiness. Jiyong loves watching Seunghyun eat. He loves most things about Seunghyun, but watching him eat is always amusing.

They demolish another ten plates before Seunghyun comes up for air, deftly pouring out cups of sake for them. It burns, but the warm, tingly feeling in his stomach is wonderful, and soon enough Jiyong is feeling decidedly tipsy and all in all, happy.

"Have one of these," Seunghyun says, leaning over the table with a seaweed-wrapped bundle between his chopsticks, his other hand cupped carefully beneath it. For a split second Jiyong's brain screams "you're in public!" but the sake tells it to shut the up and he accepts the offering. Avocado and chili sauce. He opens his mouth for more, feeling kind of ridiculous but the cute smirk on Seunghyun's face more than makes up for it.

Twenty plates in and there's still no sign of Seunghyun slowing down. Jiyong, meanwhile, is slouched in his chair holding the entire jar of now-lukewarm sake craddled in his hands, occassionally taking sips and smiling foolishly at everyone and everything. He doesn't remember eating much today, except some fruit before the concert, so the alcohol is hitting him hard. As always Seunghyun's excellent stamina is keeping him going as he single-mindedly bulldozes through schools of fish and barrels of beer, all the while keeping up a confusing and amusing stream-of-consciousness.

"...and then Youngbae got mad and smacked Seungri and Daesung had to jump in and he accidentally go punched too and he got really mad because you know how Daesung feels about physical violence so he snapped and it was really scary because you know what he's like when he's angry and-"

Jiyong lets the words wash over him, picking absently at some cod roe. The reason they're even in Osaka feels like a distant, detached memory and he wants to savour it, just enjoy being alone with Seunghyun in a crowded city for an evening, acting like two young guys are meant to. He listens with half an ear to the drawly Osaka Japanese from the table behind them, not understanding the words but enjoying the sounds, the playfullness of it.

"...I really wish those two would just get it out of their systems because their constant snapping at each other is so goddamn annoying, I mean they've been like this for months and everyone thought it would get better but no it's only getting worse..."

Jiyong isn't paying attention, cheek pillowed sleepily on his hand, eyes focused solely on Seunghyun, tracing every flawless feature. Apparently his staring is creepy enough to knock Seunghyun out of his rant because he looks up, temaki half-way to his mouth. "Do I have mayonnaise on my nose?"

"No."

"Then why are you staring at me like that?"

"Just admiring the view."

It's testament to their unconventional relationship that Seunghyun just rolls his eyes and continues eating. Anyone else would blush or smile at the compliment, but Seunghyun isn't like anyone else. Probably why Jiyong likes him so much.

At plate number 50-something Seunghyun announces defeat and the chef looks almost relieved, carefully setting down his knives and wiping his hands on his apron. He bustles over with the check and Seunghyun retrieves several notes from the depths of his wallet, attempting to say 'thank you for the meal' but probably says a completely different phrase instead. The chef tells them in a mixture of Japanese and English to come back soon (Seunghyun assures him they will except he uses the wrong verb and tells him they're definitely leaving now which seems to startle the poor man) and Jiyong lets Seunghyun help him into his coat since his limbs aren't working very well.

Outside it's cold, although not as cold as Seoul, and Jiyong leans against the warm, solid body next to him for a few long seconds, breathing in the 'fragrant' Osaka air.

"Donuts?" Seunghyun asks, setting off with purpose and pulling Jiyong along behind him. "If we hurry Krispy Kreme should still be open."

On the way back to Shinsaibashi and donuts they occassionally spot a couple of fans, colourful towels slung around their shoulders and BB scrawled on their cheeks. Whenever Seunghyun sees one he yanks Jiyong into the nearest doorway, peering around his head like a paranoid spy to see if they've gone. It turns into a game; when they reach the busier streets where the stores are still open they have to duck and weave and hide behind dustbins and soon Jiyong is laughing so hard he might be sick.

"You smell like a fish-market," he mumbles into Seunghyun's expensively clad shoulder, voice muffled by the thick material.

"And you smell like a drunkard but you don't see me complaining," is Seunghyun's casual reply as he sets off into the sea of people again, Jiyong's hand held firmly in his own, making Jiyong feel like a disobedient child. "Keep your head down and look inconspicuous."

"It's hard to be inconspicuous when you look like me," he mutters darkly, pulling his collar higher around his neck and mouth, bowing his head obediently.

"Now you know how I feel."

Just as they're nearing the covered shopping area and the green and red lights of the donut shop a whole gaggle of fans go past and Seunghyun stops so suddenly Jiyong walks right into his back. Seunghyun's waist is a convenient hand-hold so he wraps his arms around it to steady himself, cheek pressed against his back.

"I want to go home," he says sleepily.

"But donuts..."

Jiyong squeezes harder, leans up on his tip-toes and whispers "please" in his most cajoling voice into Seunghyun's ear, letting his lips brush skin for just the barest second. The effect is instantaneous; Seunghyun huffs, digs out his phone and calls Seungri to get them a cab home (the last time Seunghyun tried to take a taxi on his own he ended up horribly lost with an irate taxi driver, so getting Seungri to do all the arranging is much easier on everyone).

The cab ride back to the hotel passes in a blur; the only thing Jiyong is aware of is the thumb the back of his hand, the fingertips along the inside of his wrist. He's tired and full and wants more than anything to curl up in bed and let Seunghyun have his way with him. He focuses on that to stay awake, but only succeeds in waking up other parts of him and he squirms in his seat, teeth worrying at his lip. Jiyong doesn't dare look at Seunghyun because he already knows the look that must be on his face: half-smirk, piercing eyes, quirked eyebrow. .

Soon enough they pull up in front of the hotel and he's whisked out of the cab, past the front desk, and up to the floor that's been reserved for them. He finds himself in his own room, Seunghyun outside hanging a DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door (for all he knows it could actually say 'please collect the towels' - ing kanji) and explaining to someone lurking out in the hallway that Jiyong needs his beauty sleep so he's going to bed. In other words, go away and leave us the hell alone.

"I hope your idea of beauty sleep involves no sleeping whatsoever," Jiyong says hopefully, stripping of his layers of clothes and grinning drunkenly as Seunghyun does the same, albeit with far more grace and dignity.

"Then you're in luck," Seunghyun replies, pushing Jiyong firmly onto the bed.