Title: Gay Chicken
Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon.
Notes: My slightly late Christmas present to Joey. I was going to write something that was actually Christmassy, but it turned out I didn't have the willpower to finish it. So instead we have a nice, limey Taito because, let's face it, we don't need excuses to write those. Please ignore any mistakes because this is unbeta'd; I would get it beta'd, but it's late enough as it is. Also, if anyone's unfamiliar with the game 'Gay Chicken', it's basically two men leaning closer and closer and whoever pulls away first loses. On that note, enjoy. And happy Christmas for a couple of days ago, I hope everyone had a good one.

Taichi couldn't suppress his laughter if his life depended on it; the sight before him is just far too comical for words, and even more so when he considers all the alcohol in his system right now. Yamato and Jyou are leaning closer and closer, both with their cheeks flushed pink although probably for different reasons (while Taichi would blame Yamato's colouring on the drink, Jyou's is probably from embarrassment as well), their eyes lidded and their heads tilted at angles. Most of the others seem to be finding it just as amusing as Taichi is, if the roar of laughter and yells of encouragement are anything to go by, and he doesn't look away as he takes another sip from his glass.

Yamato and Jyou are only inches apart now, and Yamato has never looked more serious about anything in his life. Well, after he's been drinking at least. Jyou, however, is looking more anxious by the second and pauses, leaving Yamato to do the rest of the leaning.

Taichi smirks. Jyou was never going to win this; he's too nervous and Yamato's too good at it.

And he's not surprised when he's proven right. Jyou flings himself backwards when Yamato leans another centimetre closer, landing heavily on his back with a thud, covering his face with his hand. Usually he would just be plain embarrassed, but Taichi can see that he's chuckling too despite the fact that he just lost. It must be the alcohol.

His attention turns back to Yamato, who is sitting up straight again (albeit wobbling slightly) with a satisfied grin on his face. Taichi raises an eyebrow at him, communicating silently with his best friend, and the grin widens in reply.

He can't remember ever seeing Yamato play a game of 'Gay Chicken' and lose. He's just too damn comfortable with his heterosexuality to care how close he comes to kissing another guy.

Idly, as he raises his glass to his lips once more, Taichi wonders why he and Yamato have never played before. It seems like it should have been a given, but it hasn't ever happened. It would certainly be an interesting game, what with Yamato being comfortably straight and Taichi being just as comfortably gay. Not that any of the others knew he was gay yet, apart from Mimi who had figured him out from the moment he had commented on how nice someone's handwriting was some time ago.

It would be a pleasant game too; Yamato is gorgeous. Gorgeous with soft hair and a pretty voice and hands that are awfully talented… a giddy smile appears on Taichi's face, and he only realises he's still looking at Yamato when he hears him laughing at him. This makes him laugh too. Everything is far more entertaining when there's alcohol involved.

The rest of them are making fun of Jyou, who is still lying on the floor. His empty glass is held lightly in his hands, its contents having spilled when he fell back, but he doesn't seem to notice. He's still chuckling at having lost the game even though it was inevitable considering his partner, and the others seem to be taking great joy in pointing out that he was the one to back away.

He then sits up abruptly, still chuckling with the occasional hiccup, and barks a nonsensical retort at all of them. Somehow Miyako makes sense of it and says something just as bizarre back, slurring her words, but it's still funny and most of them laugh.

It occurs to Taichi that the game might have died, but before he has time to think it's a shame, Mimi brings it back up again. She seems to be speaking far more sense than everyone else; perhaps she hasn't had as much to drink. Taichi considers offering her his own glass, ignoring the fact that it's empty (when did that happen?), before she says something that takes him completely by surprise.

"Taichi and Yamato should play. I've never seen them play, and don't you think they'd be good at it? What do you say?"

The realisation that Mimi has spoken the truth seems to dawn on each of the others one at a time, and when it does they let out gasps and slurred noises of agreement. It's only now that Taichi has the sense to wipe the giddy smile off his face and look away from Yamato, even though his best friend makes no effort to do the same. In fact his grin only seems to widen further, threatening to split his face in two, and he raises his glass above his head. "Why not?"

His voice betrays just how much he's had to drink; probably more than anybody else in the room right then. The two words mix together and Taichi has to put in quite a lot of effort to translate the drunken gurgle, as much as his brain protests his doing so by throbbing, but he swears he's never heard such an alluring sound. He meets Yamato's eyes, feeling the smile return to his face and making no move to stop it, and Yamato beckons him forward with a finger.

Oh God. He's not sure he'll be able to hold himself together for very long if Yamato carries on like that.

But as he leans forward ever so slowly, he steels himself. He will not back away first and he will not lose this game. He's attracted to men, for Christ's sake; the idea of kissing one isn't a problem at all. But this isn't just any man. This is Yamato, his devastatingly attractive best friend. The idea of kissing him is far more appealing than it should be, and that's where the problem is. If his self-control deserts him… well, he doesn't even want to think about it. At the very least it would make the situation very uncomfortable in record time.

But he cannot back away first. He will not lose this game, especially to a straight man. He won't back away first. He repeats the line in his head like a mantra, hoping it will give him the power to just play the game like he's supposed to instead of going overboard and molesting his best friend right then and there, on the floor in the middle of Mimi's living room surrounded by people.

He won't lose.

He leans further across the gap and is startled by how close Yamato is so suddenly. He doesn't remember him moving at all, and now his darkened, lidded eyes are solely focused on him and he's just so close that Taichi has to take in a shaky breath. He wonders, briefly, if anyone can sense how disorientated the proximity is baking him, before his mind moves on without him to wonder if he looks anything like Yamato does right now. His lips are parted, his eyes are hazy, his cleeks flushed and his gaze flickering between Taichi's eyes and his mouth. Fucking gorgeous.

Taichi's tongue darts out to wet his own lips which seem to have gone very dry very quickly. He keeps leaning forward, and only a few moments later they're inches apart, much like Yamato and Jyou had been before, except that this time the others around them are hushed instead of giggling. Well, mostly. He wonders if maybe that's because he doesn't look nearly as panicked about this game as Jyou did, and whether that makes the situation less comical.

Then he doesn't care, because they've both leaned another inch closer and there's only a hair's breadth of space left between them. Taichi couldn't think of anything else if he tried; Yamato's eyes are filling up his vision and the smell of his breath laced with alcohol is overpowering and Taichi thinks he might pass out, but he wills himself to stay strong. He can't lose this, but then… Yamato doesn't look like he's about to pull back either. If he's expecting Taichi to do it, he's got another thing coming.

There are a few gasps and one excited squeal as their lips meet in the middle and Taichi expects Yamato to jump about six feet backwards; he doesn't remember anyone ever getting this far in the game with Yamato. They've always pulled back before there was any actual contact. But Yamato doesn't pull back, and Taichi will be damned if he does, so the kiss lingers. His eyes slide shut and he barely notices; Yamato's lips feel so nice, even though neither of them is moving anymore, and he doesn't want to break this. He doesn't want it to end.

So he's pleasantly surprised when the light contact comes to an abrupt end by Yamato moving his hand to grasp the hair at the back of Taichi's neck, pulling him closer and thus increasing the pressure. One of them moans and Taichi's pretty convinced it's him, but he can't be sure because they're so close now that they might as well be one person. His arms move of their own accord, winding around Yamato's waist and pulling him onto his lap, seeking to increase the contact and cause any amount of friction between them that he possibly can to please his rapidly growing arousal.

If Yamato's bothered by it, he doesn't say anything. Rather, he complies instantly with Taichi's unspoken request, arranging himself so that he's straddling his best friend and pressed against him so closely that Taichi can feel their hearts beating against each other.

He almost jumps out of his skin when Yamato's tongue licks across his bottom lip, but instead he settles on a sharp intake of breath. It wouldn't do to lose the game now, not that he has any intention whatsoever of ending this. He sticks his own tongue out to meet with Yamato's, and their mouths open simultaneously.

It's only now that their friends seem to come to their senses and start with the whistling and half-hearted jeering, but it doesn't stop Yamato so Taichi doesn't let it stop him either. In fact it serves to encourage him, and the alcohol has left him with few inhibitions. His hands, which are resting comfortably but firmly on Yamato's back, slide down to yank the back of his shirt out of his jeans and slip underneath to feel the skin there. He almost moans again; Yamato's skin is just as perfect as he always imagined it to be.

He finds himself wondering whether he did moan and just didn't notice as Yamato smirks against his open mouth, his free hand moving between them to work at the buttons of Taichi's own shirt as his mouth moves away to press wet kisses along his jaw.

Taichi hisses when Yamato's fingers make contact with his skin, dancing across it with purposeful, teasing strokes, and he throws his head back to give his friend access to his neck. Yamato is apparently pleased with this reaction, as he immediately moves away from his jaw suck lightly on the junction between his neck and his shoulder. Squeezing his eyes shut tighter, Taichi's mouth falls open in a silent groan as the sucking turns into an alternating pattern of sucking, biting and lapping, all in that one same spot.

He's too far gone now to even care that they have an audience. Yamato's mouth feels so damn good and his hands are every bit as talented as he'd originally thought they were. When light fingertips brush over his nipples he practically growls with need, one hand tearing Yamato's tongue away from his neck to kiss him again and the other exploring every inch of his back, causing his shirt to ride up over his skin.

It's all tongue and teeth, clashing roughly and reeking of alcohol, hardly the most romantic experience Taichi's ever had. No, it's passionate instead; passionate and raw and desperate to keep going (at least on Taichi's part), and it's so much better than it was all the times he played similar situations out in his head. Kissing Yamato in reality is nothing like kissing him in a fantasy world; he wonders now whether kissing him in his imagination is ever going to be enough again.

Then Yamato's rolling his hips downwards, grinding against him, and Taichi lets out another moan. He feels more than sees that Yamato is just as hard as he is, and this makes him happier than he can put into words. That he's making Yamato just as flustered as Yamato's making him… it's an almost alarmingly pleasing thought. If he were slightly more in his right mind, he might start to consider the implications of it, but Yamato rolls his hips again and his ability to think coherently is lost. He gasps, his own hips bucking upwards in an effort to maintain some of that delicious friction, but that fucking smirk is back again and Yamato stays out of reach.

That is, until Taichi lets out a pitiful whimper and he grinds back against him, harder than before, turning the whimper into a groan before it's finished.

Christ, Taichi's never wanted anyone so badly in his life. As his hands move down to grope Yamato's arse, trying to pull him down and create more friction, he wonders just how much of this is the drink acting for him.

And then, before Taichi can really register what's going on, Yamato has removed his weight from him, leaving him feeling strangely empty. The hands, the tongue, the hips, they're all gone, and Yamato is scooting back to sit in his original place on the floor. It's all Taichi can do not to whimper again at the loss of contact, not to reach out to him and pull him back. It was a game, he has to remind himself. Only a game. And he won, because Yamato was the first to pull away and he didn't.

He can't help but wonder why he doesn't feel more satisfied about winning than he actually does. Because he should be ecstatic about beating someone who always wins, but he isn't. He would much rather have carried on for the rest of the night than lose that contact, especially now that he's had a taste of it.

It's almost bitter when he realises that that's not the alcohol talking at all.

When his eyes finally open and he squarely meets Yamato's gaze, he doesn't see the embarrassment he was half expecting to see. Rather, all he sees is the grin that seems to have returned tenfold, cheeks that are a darker shade of red than they were before and a kind of predatory lust that he hasn't even bothered to disguise.

After only the briefest of hesitations, Taichi meets the grin with one of his own. So much for having a straight best friend, not that he's complaining.

Giggling slightly, he remembers that they aren't alone in the room and he looks around at the rest of his friends, trying to dare them to say something nasty using his eyes. But none of them do, and none of them look like they want to either. They're all either doubled over with laughter, applauding with accompanying whistles or, in Miyako's case, squealing incoherently. Taichi can't say he's surprised, and he sends a look over at Yamato to try and tell him so.

His stomach churns with anticipation when Yamato only mouths the word, 'Later,' at him, and suddenly he can't sit still. God, he's going to need another drink to get him through the rest of the night in one piece.