DISCLAIMER: "Shin Megami Tensei" and "Persona 4" and all associated characters and likenesses are the exclusive property of Atlus. Used here without permission. This is a fictional story made for purely entertainment purposes. Any relation to events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Yousuke clamps his PE jacket over his ears, but it doesn't do any good: that grating cacophony coming from the other end of the tent just won't let up. And now he thinks that maybe he should have just left Kanji alone tonight, because at least if it was Kanji over there snoring like a freight train, Yousuke could yell at him, or kick him, or even just throw something at him – anything to make the noise stop.

But it's not Kanji creating that terrible racket that threatens to make his ears bleed; it's one of the girls.

He wants to get up and at least see which one of them it is, because that will give him some ammo tomorrow, when they start to protest about the swimsuits (and he knows that they will...but in all honesty that's half the fun of it). But Souji made it clear in no uncertain terms that nobody (he said "nobody," but Yousuke knew Souji meant him) was allowed to move from their little rectangle of space until the morning, unless the tent was on fire...or the gastronomical results of consuming that horrible Mystery Food X threatened to create a biohazard event.

There's another reverberant snore, and Yousuke clenches his fists around his jacket, ready to scream into the cotton. Then he hears it: Yukiko, whispering beneath the nerve-shattering dissonance:

"Chie-chan," she murmurs. "You're snoring."

"Hmm-whuh-?" Chie says, and Yousuke snarls silently into his jacket. Can't she hear her own fucking feedback?

"You're snoring," Yukiko repeats in a hushed voice.

"Sorry," Chie mumbles.

"Roll over," Yukiko tells her, "before you wake up the boys."

Too late, Yousuke thinks with a grimace, as he listens to the sounds of more mumbling and the distinctive rustling of clothes against sleeping bag and pillow (his sleeping bag, and his pillow, because Souji took it upon himself to offer the girls use of half their supplies – his half).

He waits a second, his nerves on edge for more snoring, but it doesn't come. Then he shakes his head with a low sigh.

Of course Chie's the one; the girl kicks like a kangaroo, devours meat like a Tasmanian devil, and – evidently – snores like a sea lion. Yukiko, on the other hand, is so prim and demure that she probably farts flower petals. It's no wonder her Shadow originally manifested as an oujo...

Even a pretty oujo is still no match for that joo-sama with the whips and chains, though, eh?

Yousuke groans inwardly at the sneering voice inside him: Jiraiya, his Persona of the snapping snickers and impish ideas. (Swimming, she said! Sweet, soft girl-flesh, bright and white in the sun, and lots of it! Little gaeru, you can't not take the chance to see that!)

"Go away," Yousuke growls around a mouthful of sleeve, hoping that the others won't hear him talking to (himself) the voice in his head. These people are his friends (sort of maybe hopefully), and he really doesn't want them thinking he's crazy, on top of everything else (slacker klutz pain in the ass).

Luckily, Jiraiya doesn't speak very often...though when he does, Yousuke knows it's because his Persona knows things (hidden things secrets truths) about him – things that he doesn't like to examine too closely, but can't help but do so in the quiet and the dark.

Such as how he's spent nearly the entirety of the last two months in these girls' company, and yet he still hasn't worked up the nerve to ask either one of them (on a date) to hang out, like Souji's done who knows how many times already. The guy's been in Inaba half the time Yousuke has, and has probably scored twice as much by now!

Or how his once all-consuming thoughts about beautiful Saki-senpai have changed, of late. How he's forgetting what she looked like and sounded like and moved like, in favor of the (strong sweet trustworthy) girls who keep pace with him in Mayonaka, and fight alongside him against Shadows, and (save) offer him a hand when he falls.

Or how he – for some reason – still thinks about the (seductive dangerous gorgeous) frightening Shadow in the flimsy yellow bikini and the tall stiletto boots, whose snapping, cracking whip makes a sound like cymbals crashing in his dreams, from which he always wakes between sheets damp with cold (spunk) sweat.

She's right over there, Jiraiya whispers with his familiar undercurrent of laughter, and in response Yousuke clenches his eyes shut and smells deeply of the sharp odor in the armpit of his jacket and tries his very best to just not think about how in his dreams that beautiful pale body in the (green jacket) yellow bikini twists and seethes with every snap of her (leg) whip, and what it would feel like to (fuck) fight her (for the first time) again...but it's no use. School, work, even the threat of King Moron accidentally stumbling upon their expulsion-worthy tent double-up – nothing will make the (desire) thought of that exquisite (girl) Shadow having her way with him go away from behind his eyes.

So despite Souji laying there, and the girls asleep halfway across the tent, Yousuke eases his hand into his pants, where his excitement has pitched another tent. With a steady breath over his lips, he takes careful hold of himself, and gives himself one firm stroke, when he hears it again: a loud, stuttering snore from a girl's throat.

Yousuke's shoulders slump...but at least something else slumps, too, with the disruption of his forbidden fantasy.

Pulling his hand from his pants, he actually grins then, more relieved than annoyed. At least he can try to just sleep now, without having to deal with the embarrassment of a boner in front of his friends.

Forgetting something? Jiraiya snickers. Swimming tomorrow...

Yousuke snaps to attention again, reminded of the bikinis in his bag.

Oh, shit.