Warning: Story contains boyXboy. Daikeru.

Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon.

I immediately knew something was wrong when I tried to rub the sleep out of my eyes. My left hand experienced an unusual amount of resistance. I glanced down through half-open eyelids. Two things were very odd.

First, Takeru was sleeping beside me. In my bed. I repeated it to myself with emphasis, questions forming in my head. Why? What happened? Then the second thing hit me, more disturbing then the last. My left arm was chained to his right arm; more specifically, handcuffed. I pulled up, the chain links clanked like keys. Takeru stirred in his sleep but didn't wake.

A spike of pain jutted through my brain, forcing me to recline and shut my eyes. In the pit of my stomach I felt the familiar feeling of nausea. A cold dampness formed at the base of my esophagus. I kept my eyes shut, willing the discomfort away. After a few moments it receded back into a sea of unknowns.

I was awake now, safe to say. On the nightstand beside the bed laid two plastic cups of water, and a pitcher. I went to sit up, forgetting I was still bound to the blonde. The resistance once again caught me off guard; instinctively I returned to my laying position. I tried again, twisting my torso so that I could grab the glass without moving my body entirely. The water was wonderful, even retaining a bit of coldness. It meant that the water had to be relatively fresh, likely not from Takeru and I. Who was the benefactor, then? Room service?

We –I— certainly wasn't at home. Memories of my location trickled back to me. We were at a beach resort as part of our post-graduation vacation. It was our regular gang (Iori wasn't graduating but we dragged him along anyways), plus Taichi and Yamato who were chaperones and provided us with. I could hear the ocean in the background, a quiet churning hum of activity.

I could hear Takeru's breathing too.

"Takeru. Takeru, wake up," I nudged him, twice. I prodded him more aggressively, repeating his name until his eyelids fluttered open. He mumbled something and imbedded his face into the mattress. He tried to curve his right arm around his head to shield himself from the light rays. The cuffs prevented him from doing so. He tried again, to no avail. He poked his eyes out from the mattress, attention first going to his arm, then at me, puzzled.

"What the hell...?" He said. He shook his arm; the cuffs jingled in response.

I reached over and took the second water cup of water.

"Water?" I asked politely. I wanted to milk him for information but I figured it would be best to let him achieve coherence first.

"Why am I in cuffs? Why am I cuffed to you?"

"Water?" I asked again. He reached out with his free arm and took the glass, nearly downing the whole thing in one gulp.

"And why are you wearing my shirt?"

That was new. I looked down. Sure enough, I was wearing his green and yellow T-shirt. I hadn't noticed it, my mind was too focused on the hangover and on... other things.

"I don't know, man. Why are you wearing my shirt?"

"I am not." He glanced down. "Okay, I am... What the fuck is going on? Why are we cuffed to each other? Why does it feel like I've been smashed in the head with an anvil?"

"I don't know, I don't know, and because you are drunk." I listed. He handed me the glass and I returned it to the night table.

We sat in awkward silence. The seconds dragged on for seemingly minutes, before a new dilemma hit me.

"Takeru," I said, reclining my head back. "I have to pee." This moment could not get any more embarrassing...

"So? Go, you don't need my permission."

I shook my hand, causing the cuffs to jungle.

"You have got to be joking. Oh God."

"I'm sorry... I can't exactly help it." I threw off the covers and stood up.

"This is so dumb." Takeru sighed. "And why are you wearing my underwear?"

"Am I?" I asked. My face was turning a permanent shade of red, progressively darkening as the minutes past on. Sure enough, I was; black Nylon-Elastane briefs with seams and a waistband colored in vibrant green. Trademark Takeru colors. I blinked. Had Takeru and I shared a bed with no pants on? I turned around and yanked the blanket off the blonde.

Takeru looked down and then at me. "No one must know of this." He wore white boxer-briefs. They were mine.

The resort we were staying at had an ensuite bathroom. Most rooms did but it was a luxury that in this moment I had a newfound appreciation for. No embarrassing halls to have to trek across, but there was no doubt in my mind we'd have to go in public sooner or later with the handcuffs, unless we found the key.

"Do you know where the key for this thing is?" I asked.

"Seeing as how I don't even know why we have these in the first place, no. Not exactly."

"Where did they even come from?"

Takeru looked at the pair. "Good question. I think they might be Yamato's, not sure."

"Yamato has handcuffs?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah… don't ask how I know…"

The bathroom was a modest ordeal. It had plain white tiles for flooring, white towels with red highlights around the seams, gentle resort-like ornamentation with a fitting beach theme. It had a sink, a toilet and a bathtub that doubled as a shower. We took turns answering natures call. By this point I had become so permanently embarrassed I was becoming numb to it all.

We would still have to meet with the rest of the gang at some point. As easy as it would be, we couldn't stay in our room all day. At some point we had to group with the others. We were going to downplay it as a practical joke. As far as we knew, the cuffs were indeed just a practical joke. But before we could go out in public some things had to be done first.

I couldn't just throw on new clothes and go out, I—or rather we, on second wiff—still stunk of sweat and body odor. A shower was compulsory. Takeru begrudgingly agreed. We returned to the bedroom to gather our clean clothes. Takeru took this time to text Yamato, asking whether or not he knew of our situation, and if he had any spare keys lying around…

We realized that we couldn't swap our shirts back since we couldn't get them off our heads, let alone put new ones on. Until we found the key we would have to deal with it. But it would complicate showering quite a bit, if it weren't already.

The prospect of seeing other guys naked wasn't entirely new. I played soccer; I was no virgin when it came to the changing rooms. Still, Takeru was never someone I had actually seen naked before, and since I'd been harboring a secret desire to see him in exactly that way for the past few years, the ordeal was more delicate. Being linked by the handcuffs meant we practically had to undress each other.

I had always envisioned this moment in my head; Takeru and I would be in our future bedroom, skin hot and our breaths tinged with wine. I would push him onto the bed; run a trail of kisses up from his navel to his nipple. Then I'd casually grope his ass and cutely disguise the act as trying to find his waistband. Then I'd remove the erotic article with meticulous, teasing slowness until his erect penis would spring forth from its fabric prison.

The circumstances of my fantasy were completely different. For starters, we were actually in a relationship, not just two friends recovering from a night of unknown awkwardness...

I felt my erection begin to form in my-Takeru's-underwear. Wanting to avoid yet another awkward confrontation (and an even worse explanation) I decided to get it over with. With aggressive haste I yanked down his underwear, then mine. The blonde yelped in protest. I had caught him off-guard.

I turned on the water, letting it reach a comfortable temperature before we entered. We both stared in opposite directions, a silent pack to preserve our privacy. We stood back-to-back so we could drape our cuffed wrists over the curtain rod to keep our shirts dry. Takeru paid meticulous attention to our positions to avoid any unnecessary brushing or touching, and to further enforce the privacy act. But I had the image of Takeru's genitals burned into my mind. It had only served to perpetuate my erection. I sighed, thankful that Takeru was stringent on us being back to back. On reflection I noticed that Takeru had shaved his pubic hair. And not too long ago either, it was starting to grow back as millimeter-high stubble in a broad triangle.

I wave of stupidity washed over me. I felt compelled to ask, "You shave down there?"

Takeru delayed his answer as if trying to find a way out of the question. But there wasn't. "Yeah…"

I wanted to press further, ask why, comment that I actually found it sexy, but I bit my lip and decided against it.

Showering like this became a game of twister. We had to move in unnatural ways to actually wash ourselves, yet had to follow a peculiar structure to keep the shirts dry. In ten minutes we were out of the tub with towels wrapped around our waists, dressing each other with our respective clothes while trying to conceal ourselves as best as possible.

Now that we were clean, we were able to address another issue that had cropped up: Hunger.

The resort had a unique setup. There were hotel-like individual rooms on the left wing, and rentable cabins accommodating anywhere from three to ten people. Being a group of eight we would have loved to rent one of the larger cabins, but all the ones that could support the eight of us were already taken. Instead, we had to either rent two four-person cabins or rent four individual rooms. After running over the prices we decided to play it economically and rent the four individual rooms. It was how I got paired up with Takeru. All the hotel-like individual rooms were conjoined in the same building. The cabins were all separated but were more-or-less contained to a local area.

We were at the restaurant now. It fed the entire population of the east side resort, people funneled into the restaurant like blood cells in an artery. The room was big enough, too. There had to be at least 80 tables although there were probably many more than that. It was midway between typical breakfast and typical lunch hours, and as a result maybe a fifth of the tables seated occupants. The sign at the entrance read: Please seat yourself, along with the specials for the day.

I skimmed the room for the rest of the gang. They said they'd meet us at the table we sat at yesterday, or in the near vicinity should it have been taken.

"There they are." Takeru pointed with his shackled hand, drawing the inquisitive gazes of nearby diners. It was not the first time we've drawn the eyes of people, and it surely wouldn't be the last. Any public displays of Japan of affection in Japan were generally looked down upon. While Takeru stressed that this wasn't anything to do with affection, other people didn't know that. It made us look like a couple. I didn't mind too much, but it kept the blonde's flesh a few shades more red than normal. Additionally, it made him twitchy, like he was permanently swarming with insects. I recognized it as a nervous tick.

I frowned. The mere implication that Takeru and I were involved made him withdrawn and hostile. I recalled a conversation we had on the way to the restaurant.

"Yamato... you know, with the whole sharing a bed thing, and the cuffs, sharing each other's clothes... did something... you know, happen last night?"

"I don't remember a damned thing, Daisuke. I don't know. Honestly, I don't even remember getting buzzed."

"Me neither, really."

"And even if we did do something," he looked at me gravely. "It wouldn't have meant anything anyways. We were just so smashed. We could have done anything. But I really hope we didn't do anything we'd regret."

"I agree," I lied. "There is nothing here – nothing happened."

But I wasn't convinced. We could have fucked. I don't know, I don't remember. But Takeru's words left an unpleasant sting. I hope we didn't do anything. It repeated in my mind.

He didn't know I was bi. He didn't know that I had an intense, sexual longing for him. He didn't know anything. And why should he? Every opportunity I got to throw him off the trail, I'd flaunt expressive heterosexuality. Look at her ass. She has nice tits. He would either shyly agree or say nothing at all. But it was so stupid. I should have kept my mouth shut.

The others greeted us. Our hands were at our sides and they had yet to see anything peculiar. Everyone looked noticeably exhausted. We waved back with our free hands. The booth they were sitting at was located near the center of the restaurant and could seat six. There were two per side. Miyako and Hikari were giggling about something or other.

"Can someone move," I asked casually.

"You can't sit across?" Hikari asked, batting her eyelashes innocently.

"Not exactly, no." Takeru raised his right arm, revealing the cuffs.

"Oh. Those." She knew. There wasn't any surprise in her voice. Miyako, who sat nearer the walkway, changed booths so she could sit next to her boyfriend Ichijouji Ken. Hikari and Iori sat face to face, hugging the half-wall that provided privacy for the tables and split the room approximately in half.

"Looks like you two had fun last night." Miyako winked at us. The others giggled.

"Yes. This is so fun. Exactly how I wanted to spend my vacation." Takeru nudged me for a menu. I pulled two from the center rack. Everyone else had already ordered. Shortly the waiter appeared and took our orders. We both took the 'B' special with coke. The only difference was how we liked our eggs; I preferred mine easy-over, the blonde had a taste for sunny side up.

While we waited for our order, the others' arrived. They all had typical breakfasts with eggs, a meat, some toast, and a potato dish like home-style fries or hash browns. While we waited for ours we discussed the plan for the day. Inevitably, the handcuffs made their way back into conversation.

"So does anyone actually know why we are wearing these?" Takeru asked.

"Yes," Miyako said. She didn't elaborate. Takeru sighed; it was like prying teeth trying to get information. They were doing this deliberately, I figured, to watch us squirm. Sadistic bastards.

"It was part of a dare," Ken said.

"Then it was probably Daisuke's fault," Takeru said, looking at the ceiling.

"Hey," I moaned in defense. "Why is it automatically my fault?"

"Cause you have a knack for doing dumb things."

"Actually, you're the one that suggested it." Hikari said. Takeru opened his mouth to respond. No response came; instead he looked like a fish removed from its aquatic habitat.

"Really?" I said. I laughed and pointed playfully at the blonde.

"You weren't exactly opposed to the idea, Daisuke." Iori separated the contents of his plate neatly. "In fact, if I recall correctly," He addressed the group, "Wasn't it his suggestion to give the keys to Taichi, who we knew full-well would be out of contact for most of the day?"

I pouted.

"You are an idiot," Takeru said. "Please help me remember why I agreed to this?"

"Part of a mutual dare," Ken said, nibbling on a piece of bacon. "No one thought you could go the whole day chained together like that. We thought it'd make Takeru too awkward. Apparently drunk-Takeru disagreed."

"Mutual dare? What's mutual about that?"

"If you guys would spend all of today chained together Miyako and Hikari agreed to wear thongs at the beach. Which I don't condone, but whatever."

"Oh please," Miyako said. "Because you were so opposed when I brought it home, right? Well, let's just say I want a more complete tan."

"I'm a little less enthusiastic about other people seeing my girlfriend in a thong."

"Live a little." she slung her arm around him, leaning into him somewhat.

"If Taichi knew," Takeru said, "I don't think he'd condone either."

"Well too bad for him. I'm old enough to do what I want." Hikari said. In all honesty I was surprised she even agreed to it at all; Hikari wasn't the type to flaunt herself in public. Perhaps she was still a little drunk? Or maybe she was just loosening her self-restraints while on vacation.

In my mind's eye I envisioned her on the beach, facing away from me, her gaze instead set upon the rolling tide. A thin line of pink fabric parted her finely-developed ass, her stance a slowly-shifting tease. I felt blood gush between my legs, but almost immediately after I felt a tinge of guilt. Takeru and I weren't in a relationship; I was free to fantasize about anyone I wanted. Hikari was very attractive, but my longing for her ended there. I could never see anything long-term with her, not like my fantasies with Takeru. Feeling as though I betrayed my unreciprocated love I let the imagery recede out of mind.

"I took some pictures of last night," Miyako said when the conversation had lulled. "Here's one of you two wearing each other's clothes. And if I'm not mistaken, I think I even have a picture of you two kissing..."

Miyako had apparently not noticed the waiter approach our table. I could feel Takeru trying to recede inside himself. The comment was very clearly directed to us.

"Sunny side up," the waiter said awkwardly, seeing which of us would react so he would know who to give the plate to. Takeru raised his right hand meekly. He exposed the cuffs we were trying to hide from public. Half way up he just went limp. He had given up. The elastic of his mind had snapped. The waiter finished handing out our food then left. The tension was palpable for everyone except Miyako.

"Found it!" she said triumphantly. Hikari coughed to grab her attention before shaking her head in that not now fashion. "No, no I didn't. Never mind..."

We ate the rest of breakfast in relative silence. Takeru didn't say anything; the only sound he made was the occasional groan as he tried to eat with his left hand. After a few moments of watching him struggle, I put my left hand on the table so he could eat with his right if he kept his face close to the plate. I wasn't in the mood to talk either, even though there were so many things I wanted to ask. I wanted to see Miyako's picture; until I did I refused to believe that Takeru and I had kissed. It was just too implausible.

After dinner we separated, Takeru and I headed to our room to change into shorts while the others who were already appropriately dressed headed directly to the beach. Takeru was still withdrawn, not saying a word on our way back. He cautiously avoided eye contact with everyone, even me.

"Hey man, you okay?" I asked as he fished through his bags of luggage.

"I've had better days."

"Tell me about it. But, just think. In a few hours your brother will be back and we'll get these bloody things off."

"I'm looking forward to that," he said. "Too many prying eyes. I can't stand it."

"You'll never see them again, who cares what they think."

"Easy for you to say. You never really care about what people think of you."

"I do. I just don't get hung up on it."

Takeru grunted. He removed a pair of white shorts with a green grid pattern. We changed and headed outside

It was a very hot day. I immediately regretted leaving the comfort of the air-conditioned hotel. But the prospect of getting a more complete tan had its own allure. The others had texted us directions to where they were. They set up camp over on the far side, where the crowd was thinnest. Most of the people logically stayed close to the resort entrance and washrooms. Both were relatively far from where we were going. I assumed it was done out of courtesy for the blonde.

Beach towels and sunbathing chairs were already placed. A beach umbrella was set up beside two of these chairs, ready to provide temporary relief from ultraviolet rays. In the distance a glitter of human activity could be seen, but for at least 50 meters in all directions around us we were alone.

"I can't believe you actually went through with it," I said, raking my eyes over Hikari's body. She shrugged. In the distance Ken and Miyako laid together on a beach towel. Iori was sitting under one of the sun umbrellas, silently gazing out over the waters.

Takeru and I pulled two steeply-reclined sunbathing chairs together. We couldn't do much in the water with our present dilemma, so instead we decided to tan and chat. Takeru buried the chain between in sand. I rolled my eyes but went along with it.

For at least an hour we had peace and quiet. We told jokes and had some good old fashioned bonding time. People occasionally walked by but otherwise we were left in solitude. Whenever someone did go by Takeru would try as best as possible to block sight of the cuffs, but he probably drew more attention to himself then he would have gotten otherwise. Thankfully these visitations were far and few in between. But there was one particularly interesting case of intervention.

Another group of individuals shared our desire for relative seclusion and set up a little ways to the left of us. We still had our privacy and they had theirs, but it was the closest group of people continuously near us. Two boys of the group, sixteen or seventeen years of age (only a tad younger than us), were clearly in a relationship. They looked eerily like us, one had my hair, the other a beautiful tint of bleach-blonde. They were chatting amongst themselves, walking down the shoreline. They passed us and waved politely while they continued on their journey. One by one our group's attention fell elsewhere, but I continued to watch them with mild interest. Eventually they came to a halt and held hands, gazing out over the ocean with the same intense revere Iori had. Then they interlocked hands and ran into the water. After a little splashing around they found each other, anchored themselves together and kissed. I couldn't help but smile, but inside I felt a little jealous. They looked so much like Takeru and I that I couldn't help but wonder. What would we look like?

The conversation inevitably ended up about last night. I remembered Miyako mentioning that Takeru and I had kissed. Unfortunately I didn't remember the kiss at all. I didn't remember the night at all, period.

"Hey Miyako, you said you had pictures? Of last night?" I asked, trying to repress the tiny blush that crept across my face. "In general, I mean. 'Cause you guys are talking but I don't remember a damned thing."

"You did get pretty drunk," Miyako said. She got up and retrieved her cell phone. When she returned we shifted so we could all see the screen. She began a slide show from her gallery. Our kiss could have come up at any time; every slide change came with a dose of nervous anticipation. Miyako took a lot of pictures. Everyone chipped in their thoughts or their memories, making the process all the more slower.

I had almost forgotten why I wanted to see the pictures when it hit me out of the blue. Takeru and I were sitting in a semi-circle with the rest of the group. Our posture was awkward, Takeru was reclined and I was leaning into him, our lips clasped together in union.

It was cute. I blushed.

Miyako changed the picture, taking the silence as awkward. But the next picture was another picture of us kissing, and another. There has been at least eight or nine of them, taken in relatively quick succession, but there was enough shifting in position to conclude the session lasted at least half a minute. Miyako (and others) sighed in relief when the kissing montage ended. It had created a wave of tension that washed over us. We were silent. We said nothing. Takeru avoided my eyes as though glimpsing them would turn him to stone.

We disbanded afterwards, the others giving us some space. I didn't blame them; the anxiety emanating from Takeru was palpable, like he had committed a crime and was about to be interrogated.

It was now mid-afternoon. Colonies of vacationers conglomerated in mossy patches, the fringes of which extended into our private sphere. We considered moving further eastward, but there weren't quite enough people to warrant that yet. I could feel Takeru mentally counting the minutes until Taichi and Yamato were back with that coveted key.

"Daisuke," Takeru said. "Can we go back to the room, please?"

"Alright, if you want too," I said.

Takeru made an excuse and we left the others.

"What's up?" I asked when we entered the room.

We still stood by the doorway.

"I just wanted to say..." he began. He bit his lip, searching for words. "I wanted to say that..."

"It's alright, Takeru. I understand. We were drunk it didn't mean—" but I was silenced by the blonde's lips. As he kissed me I felt his nervousness manifest as a quiver. He felt so unsure of himself.

And I felt unsure of myself. Was this real life?

He broke off his failed kiss.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry..."

"Takeru..."

"I didn't mean to..."

"Takeru!" I grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Hey, you listening?"

"...Yes."

"Why did you kiss me?"

"I didn't mean too, I didn't—"

"Stop apologizing, I'm not mad, dammit." I paused. I had to reevaluate my approach, it seemed contradictory.

"I just... wondered what it was like. Didn't remember the first one."

"Well," I said after a few moments of silence. "Me neither. I'm sure it was better than whatever that was. Probably went something like..." I moved closer, studying his reaction. He didn't immediately pull away, that was a good sign.

"Something like this." I initiated another kiss. A few seconds later I felt him relax into it, nervousness crumbing away like the walls that supported it. We separated for air and drew together again.

"And I think we did this, too." I said, pulling his figure into me by his waist. He looped his free arm around my back. Pretty sure I saw that in the picture.

We broke off again.

"That wasn't too bad," I said. "Better than before."

"Yeah... I agree." We stood in silence, looking aimlessly at other things.

"So..."

"So uh... this complicates things." Takeru said.

"Hmm, I think it simplifies things actually. But were does this leave us?" I asked, faces still close enough together to feel the heat from each other's breath.

"Same place we were last night," Takeru said coyly. A nice sheen of red highlighted his face.

"We'll, if I recall correctly, last night we ended up together in bed, wearing nothing but underwear..."

"Yeah, don't push it."

"Okay, fine." I smiled. There was another awkward pause were neither of us knew what to say.

"I could use another shower though," Takeru said, diverting his gaze away from me.

I grinned. "Me too. All this sweat and whatnot."

We got new clothes from our respective bags, which were very nearly depleted of clean attire.

As we were walking towards the washroom a question entered my mind.

"Takeru, if you were okay with all of this, why are you so embarrassed to be with me in public?" I asked, giving the cuffs a shake.

"It wasn't you Daisuke. It was those and their implications. And the public's opinion on all things' gay is not the nicest and most accepting; I've learnt that second-hand from my brother." Yamato, being a singer who was gay had gotten a lot of criticism. Surely that played no small part in Takeru's wariness.

"You were acting pretty homophobic yourself, Takeru."

"So people wouldn't get the wrong impression."

"So people wouldn't get the true impression." I corrected. The blonde grunted.

"What about you and your excessive "She's so hot I want to fuck her' mentality."

"Because I'm half straight...? And alright, I didn't want people to think I liked guys either." I scratched my head. "I guess we're even, then?"

"Hmm. I guess so."

I looked at our bound hands. I curled my fingers around his. He pulled back on impulse, before relaxing and letting me hold his hand.

"You still want the cuffs gone?" I asked.

"More than anything." But Takeru didn't break retract his hand. I thumbed over his flesh, feeling the microscopic architecture.

"Fair enough. Me too. I'd hate to have to eat with my left hand..."

"Tell me about it."

Yamato and Taichi wouldn't be back for two or three hours yet. It was unlikely that Takeru would want to leave the room, with the beach filling up with people. We were left to the confines of the room. What could we do for two-three hours alone? The question was harmless enough at first, until devious images invaded my mind.

There were plenty of things to do together. We even had access to a pair of handcuffs...