Yukiko was egging them on to kiss. Souji watched Kanji get increasingly red, watched him struggle with Teddie's puckered mouth, and then Rise was saying, on to round two – and he let it go, though he still listened to the sound Teddie's wet mouth made against Kanji's horrified one. The space between him and Yukiko was wide, but his chopstick was red, and he didn't think about how their thighs were feet apart until Yukiko slurred lines that would've made a hostess flush red.
The orders escalated; ranging from resting heads on laps to piggyback rides (and, if his ears hadn't led him astray, he could've sworn someone had suggested something not even Kashiwagi-sensei would have the indecency to propose), and Souji stared at his chopstick, feeling the indecision bite. Yukiko was smiling, a little crooked, and mouthed the character for three – san, she mimicked, her mouth caught in a drunken smile.
Souji pretended not to see, but still caved, and found his arms full of girl the second after – he could see her knees, the place where her skirt began, could smell her shampoo. Yukiko giggled in his ear, and Souji swallowed when she bit, laving her tongue across the shell of his ear. He tensed, but so did she, wrapping her foot around the angle of his knee, bringing him closer with a sort of gesture he had never assumed she would know how to abuse. Or maybe he'd been the wrong one; women were women, in the end, and Yukiko had a history of hiding things, anyway, so –
"So," Yukiko whispered, kissing him where his pulse throbbed, her arm hiding her face from the rest (not that they would notice – Yosuke and Teddie were arguing, and Kanji was huffing like he didn't believe he was actually stuck in here with them). "Why have we never kissed, Souji-kun?" she finally asked, pulling her mouth away from his throat.
"I don't know, Yukiko-san," he replied, his smirk sharper that he would've liked it to be. Her eyes were on his, oddly bright. She smelled of fruity drinks and sweets, and he had to wonder if she tasted like them, too. Her mouth was so close. Souji's eyes flickered down and Yukiko didn't notice, not with the monumental high she was with, all alcohol-free buzz. "I don't go around kissing everyone I meet," he added, then, because it had been funny in his head. Not so much aloud.
Yukiko still laughed, though, like he knew she would, and then buried her face in the crook of his neck.
"Good," she said, "because from today on, you can only kiss me," and she was serious, too, he could tell by the shadow under her eyebrow, the one who always shifted there when she performed a critical hit, when she fanned herself in the end of a hard battle.
Yosuke and Naoto were staring by now, though – time had passed too quickly, and Souji gave them a look of amusement as he began to pull away from Yukiko's grip. Her breath ghosted over his jaw as she stood up, slightly off-balance, and Souji brought up a hand to steady her, but Yukiko just grinned a wordless promise, sitting back down. Souji grinned back, and when they left the club, he allowed himself to walk slower, linking his pinky with hers in the moonlit walk back.