henshin!

Haruto is drunk, and warm with it, sitting legs sprawled in the still-warm sand with his rapidly-sweating two-thirds empty beer can cradled in his hands. He's been humming some pop song half under his breath for the last few minute, his attention on the familiar-unfamiliar sky above and the closeness of Nitoh's body heat. (Haruto had shifted closer to get into the cooler and lost the will to move, after.)

Even in track shorts and a t-shirt, he's too hot, sweat sticking the fabric to his skin. He reaches up to tag at his shirt collar, flapping it back and forth. "I know why the dinosaurs went extinct--no air conditioning," he grumbles. Finally he sets the beer down in the sand, twisting it so it'll stay still, and hooks his fingers in the hem of his t-shirt to pull it up over his head. He tosses it behind himself, into the tent with the rest of his folded-up clothes.