You have stumbled across the writing archive of an eccentric being that goes by the name of LadyKnightOfHollyrose (or Hollyrose_Hime), a fan who dabbles in many a fandom, and many a ship. Feel free to leave feedback or fic prompts and I'll see what I can...
Hey guys! Not sure if anyone even remembers me anymore (since its been probably about two years since I’ve tumblr’d properly if you don’t count my brief return for Eurovision back in May ^^’) but it’s pretty hard to have missed all of the furror around what’s happening here at the moment and with lots of people jumping ship
SO I thought I’d pop back and say if anyone does want to stay in touch I do have a twitter with the handle utterlings, and am also on Instagram with the same handle (though it’s a personal insta so if you’re a mutual and add me lmk who you are orz)
But yeah that’s all. I haven’t written anything for ages but if I do again it’ll go straight to my AO3 where I’m still LadyKnightOfHollyrose but I’m not going to bother with pillowfort I don’t think.
Hope everyone’s been doing good amongst the chaos though~
yh that's bc ur page is too long? it happened to my film blog tag page so i had to compartmentalise them over several different pages uwu
Ohhh. Did it used to do that? But damn that’s annoying, and a loooot of fiddly coding that’s gone to waste in that case orz With the themes apparently spazzing out recently I’m a little scared of touching it too...
Guess I’ll need to split it up by fandom or something orz
Just realised that tumblr’s broken ALL of the links on my fic masterlist...
It’s a bit of a gargantuan task to go through at the moment (ugh ugh ugh) and I’m technically supposed to be jobhunting instead of writing fic, let alone tidying that up, so I’m going to leave it for the time being and keep my fingers crossed that tumblr will just sort it out again >.<
In the meantime though, if you’re looking for any fandom/pairing/etc. in particular, your best bet is to look in the tag for it :3 Or if you’re looking for something specifically and can’t find it just hmu XD
Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug
Characters/Pairings: Eventual love square
Summary: When Gabriel Agreste pulls his son out of school after Stoneheart, thinking that allowing him to go would only be rewarding bad behaviour, Adrien misses his chance to clear the air with Marinette. So when an akuma sets his sights on the girl and it’s up to Chat Noir to protect her, it’s the perfect opportunity to set things right. Albeit as his alter ego.
(And maybe it’ll be enough to tip the scales; after all, in another life Marinette once admitted that if it weren’t for Adrien, she probably would have fallen for her feline partner…
…and, well, there’s no stuttering and blushing to stop Adrien from getting to know Marinette this time around.)
One
When Chat’s baton buzzes with an incoming call, he can’t help the way his lip twitches up in the reflex to spread into a grin of relief.
He pushes aside the folder Chloé had shoved at him and springs up, thumb jabbing the green paw print that allows the weapon to work as a communicator as he nudges open the door to the balcony and sidles out of sight as quietly as he can.
He’s starting to understand the reaction his affiliation to Chloé had garnered him on his first (and last) day of school. Not that this means he’s going to completely let Ladybug off the hook for her disappearing act earlier.
He likes to think he knows Ladybug pretty well by now – instinct can only take you so far where crime fighting with a partner is concerned, and while neither of them can spare the time for the nightly patrol that Adrien had first suggested after meeting (a staple he’d found from the knowledge he’d gleaned from comic books and the superhero genre in general) they do meet often enough to know more than just the bare basics about each other.
Anyway, the point being that Chat’s seen Ladybug with civilians before – she’s kind to the general public, compassionate with akuma victims and perhaps a little exasperated but firm with gawking bystanders who lack a sense of self-preservation.
Chat’s never seen her act the way she does when presented with Chloé before though.
Ladybug’s always been a consummate professional; she’s never changed her attitude to others who have been the cause of an akuma’s ire, so it seems a little strange to him that she’d still single Chloé out. Maybe it should be a given, however, considering just how many of Papillon’s victims are made vulnerable to possession because of Chloé’s actions.
Chat thinks back to the first time they met, tangled up in the wire from her yo yo as they’d swung from side to side from his baton, Stoneheart wreaking havoc somewhere in the distance. He thinks of the uncertainty that had swum in her ocean blue eyes and remembers that for all of her merits, Ladybug’s still undeniably human.
It’s this thought that softens his words, amusement leaking into his voice when he finally answers the incoming call.
“Okay, you can’t disappear like that and just call me like nothing happened, Ladybug.”
“I’m sorry Chat,” she replies, and she does sound genuinely apologetic for her behaviour. He can almost imagine the sheepish set of her mouth as she continues, “that wasn’t very nice of me.”
Whatever Ladybug’s hang up with Chloé is, it seems she’s willing to rise above it for now.
Or at least attempt to.
Chat’s attention snaps back into focus with a frown at her next words.
“But anyway, you can leave Chloé now. I need you to protect this girl, instead.”
His brows crawl up his forehead beneath his mask – it hasn’t been that long since Ladybug had left, after all, and what could possibly have changed in that length of time?
Still, he pulls his baton away from his cheek obligingly, eyes flickering down to study the screen to see what Ladybug’s sent through to him.
His jaw drops.
“Cute, isn’t she?” Ladybug goes on, oblivious to the way Chat’s eyes have just about popped out of his skull in surprise. Because he recognises her; how could he not after he’d left such a terrible impression on her (albeit unintentionally, and as his alter ego). “Dessinateur is in love with her; he’s promised to leave Chloé alone if Marinette celebrates his birthday with him.”
He wants to question the sanity of accepting such terms in the first place, when from what they’ve seen so far Dessinateur has powers that could be dangerous from a distance, let alone at close range and to a civilian…
But then Chloé’s marching back out onto the balcony again, flicking his bell to catch his attention and brandishing her physics project as though to say it won’t be doing itself. Chat turns his grimace into a wide smile and nods as he propels her back inside by her shoulders.
Ladybug’s moved onto the plan by then, anyway.
“You can take advantage of this diversion and use it to neutralise him.”
It’s risky considering Marinette will be running point, he supposes, but probably no more so than any other plan they’ve attempted before. Besides, that’s what Chat will be there for. The plan doesn’t seem to account for Ladybug herself, though.
“Okay, but what about you?”
“I’ve…er, got a very important secret mission I have to take care of. I’ll join you later.” She continues before he can get a word in edgeways, “you’ll be able to handle things without me?”
…Chat knows exactly what she’s doing. But it doesn’t stop his almost reflexive response of, “please, who do you take me for?” from slipping out. And well, if he’s going to live by his word, he should probably be on his way.
He hangs up, pokes his head back indoors to let Chloé know she’s in the clear before bounding away, Chloé’s squawks of protest fading in the distance as he races across Paris’ skyline towards a certain bakery on Gottlieb Street.
Towards Marinette Dupain-Cheng.
Chat has to check the urge to pull up her photo again; to take in her beaming expression and casual pose, so different to the way he’d last seen her as her face had dropped at the sight of him prodding at the wad of gum stuck to her bench. He’d been preoccupied with trying to remove the offending gum at the time, but from the corner of his eye he’d seen the spark in her eye go out, a wall slamming down around her as her guard went up and her lips flattened into a line.
He hadn’t understood at the time, how she could completely shut him out before even allowing him the chance to explain… But Nino has since caught Adrien up on the years of harassment he’s witnessed Marinette endure at the hands of Chloé (and to a lesser extent Sabrina), and well, he’s heard of the saying ‘once bitten, twice shy’.
He’d been intending to clear up the whole misunderstanding once he was back at school – Nino had assured him that once she’d calmed down Marinette would likely feel embarrassed for not hearing him out and was unlikely to hold a grudge once she knew the truth – but his own father had thoroughly thwarted that plan by pulling him out despite Adrien’s (and apparently Nathalie’s) best efforts.
He’s run into Marinette a handful of times since then as Adrien, though they’ve only really seen each other in passing. Mostly it’s due to Nino inviting Adrien along to various events and outings that involve their class, and he thinks he remembers seeing her briefly at his slightly disastrous birthday party earlier in the year. None of them had left him with an opportunity for any kind of meaningful interaction though. And while it’s true that Marinette doesn’t seem to carry any animosity for him despite their rather rocky introduction (and he’s well aware he probably has Nino to thank for that, too) he can’t really fault her for having a cooler temperament where he’s concerned.
But perhaps his Lady’s luck is starting to rub off on him; it’s not every day one has the chance to make a second attempt at a first impression. Even if it is as a supposedly different person.
Maybe Chat Noir can succeed where Adrien failed.
Considering what he’s learned from Nino, he’s a little surprised to find Sabrina at Marinette’s door when he arrives… The way she departs, however, is a little less surprising.
Still, it gives him the perfect opportunity to swoop in, debonair as you please as he delivers his hissterical pun and surely sweeps her off her feet as he plants a soft kiss on the back of her hand in greeting.
Nailed it.
~Hollyrose~
Notes:
I've been planning this for ages so I'm glad to finally have something to show for it! I've not been able to write so much this year though so please excuse it if it's a little rusty ^^'
Also I'm mostly working off of this timeline, which is the most coherent chronology I've come across so far:
(Trying to figure out Adrien in all of this when he's been pulled out of school is going to be interesting...)
The title of the fic is from the song Heart Go Bang by Blue October (which is like an ultimate post-reveal Adrinette song for me)
Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug
Characters/Pairings: Light Adrinette, mentions of Kim & Alya
Summary: After Alix had managed to crash into his side, having careened off course to avoid Chloé and Sabrina’s sudden appearance, Adrien had anticipated falling face first and kissing the pavement; of maybe scratching up his cheek or scraping up his arms in a way that’d have Nathalie tutting and his father considering pulling his son out of school entirely.
Instead, he’s being propped up by a pair of small, steady hands holding him in what would probably be a dip if he’d been facing the other direction.
Some days, Adrien can’t help but wonder how he’s managed to fool the world into believing that the perfectly poised, graceful model Adrien Agreste plastered across the city is his default setting; his natural state of being.
When he’s feeling particularly reflective – usually in the car between shoots, or when he’s sat as still as possible while a make-up artist goes to town on his face – he supposes that it could have something to do with the way his miraculously bad luck tends to manifest in more… elaborate ways when he’s himself. As opposed to the more predictable slips and spills Chat seems to take on a regular basis.
No one would make the same mistake when referring to Chat Noir, after all.
It’s almost a little funny how Ladybug (…and Marinette, he’s found more recently) gets so offended on Chat’s behalf at the slightest mention of Chat and his luck being a hindrance. They’re thoughts that he’s entertained himself on occasion, wondering whether his lady may have fared better against the akuma of the day without Chat getting underfoot or being physically thrown into her; wondering whether the fact that he kept being turned against her made him more of a liability than a help.
The incident with Princess Fragrance and how close he’d been to cataclysming his lady again still weighs on his mind.
He tries not to let the thought linger too long when it creeps from the recesses of his mind, and the fire he recalls in Ladybug’s eyes when reporters make the mistake of presenting the notion to her and her infuriation at the very idea tends to chase away the most persistent of his doubts.
He’d been surprised to hear a similar amount of ire in Marinette’s voice at Chloé’s loud complaints earlier that week that Chat had totally slowed down her rescue and how much faster Ladybug could have gotten the job done without him skulking around.
Fists clenched tight by her sides and chin set in steely determination, Marinette’s righteous fury had rained down in a blistering torrent of words that had Adrien so glad that they’d managed to clear up the gum misunderstanding before it could really brew.
(She even seems to be warming up to him more recently, her conversations with Adrien graduating from the initial monosyllabic stutters to fully coherent sentences about more than just their schoolwork. Marinette’s been nothing but kind since the whole debacle, if a little stiff with him, but he’s holding on to the hope that recent developments mean that the reservations that had kept her so skittish have been lain to rest.)
Speaking of.
After Alix had managed to crash into his side, having careened off course to avoid Chloé and Sabrina’s sudden appearance, Adrien had anticipated falling face first and kissing the pavement; of maybe scratching up his cheek or scraping up his arms in a way that’d have Nathalie tutting and his father considering pulling his son out of school entirely. (Adrien hopes that this is just his mind being a little melodramatic instead of it being a very real possibility, but then again past experience hasn’t exactly shown Gabriel Agreste as someone who’d accept the reasoning of bumps and bruises in play just being a part of growing up.)
But as he blinks out of his own internal monologue, he finds himself to be mostly upright and no more injured than he’d been to begin with.
Instead, he’s being propped up by a pair of small, steady hands holding him in what would probably be a dip if he’d been facing the other direction.
Turning his head, he follows those hands up forearms that are taut but in no way straining; up and up until he’s staring up at pink lips puckered in a moue of surprise and into wide eyes the colour of summer skies.
Marinette braces his weight with surprising ease, a slight flush rising high on her cheeks; more likely out of embarrassment than exertion.
She sets him right hastily, her hands reaching up to flutter by his arms and over the tops of his shoulders for a moment as she physically pushes any lingering awkwardness aside in the face of her concern.
“Really, Marinette,” he says, “thanks to your save I’m absolutely fine.”
She holds his gaze for one long moment, searching his face for something. Then she steps away and out of his bubble with a small nod.
There’s something about the careful way that she’d studied his expression that is so familiar to him, and it has the hairs on the nape of his neck prickling at the rare instance of eye contact; rare because it’s usually hastily broken off by a bashful Marinette. But something in it tugs at his memory.
He’s brought abruptly from his musings at a loud whoop from behind him.
“Marinette’s ripped,” Kim is crowing, drawing close enough to sling an arm around Marinette’s shoulder to poke her arm through the light cotton of her shirt. “C’mon, what’s the secret behind those guns?”
Marinette grins, flexing her free arm in the same way Chat had the first time he’d met her while suited up, and she has the same amused glint in her eye as she’d had back then as she’d teasingly swooned over the superhero.
“I guess it just comes with being raised in a bakery,” she quips, and Adrien has to fight the instinct to squint at her because holy shit was that a bread pun? “We’re always having sacks of flour delivered, and it’s not like they put themselves away.” She shrugs Kim’s arm off her and pokes him lightly in the side in retaliation. “You should come over for the morning delivery at 5am if you really want to test your mettle. Rise to the occasion and take on my Papa.”
Nose scrunching slightly as he tries to determine whether she’s really just punned twice in a row Adrien hears Alix scoffing at the posturing this has prompted from Kim. But still, there’s an idea – if the small glimpse of life with the Dupain-Cheng’s that he’d caught when he’d been over to prepare for the Ultimate Mega Strike tournament was what a morning with Marinette’s family is like, then he’s willing to bet that the monstrously early hour would be worth getting up for in exchange.
Certainly when weighed against having to haul himself out of bed at a similar hour to catch the dawn light for a photoshoot, anyway.
And by now Alya has, of course, made her way over to snag her best friend playfully around the middle.
“And where exactly are those reflexes every other day of your life, girl?” Her smirk is impish as she nudges Marinette with an elbow.
Her lips part to answer, but Marinette’s saved the trouble of responding when an ominous boom rings across their spot at the Trocadéro all the way from the Champs de Mars.
It’s enough to have everyone scrambling, Alya shouting a garbled “Gotta go, Ladyblog time!” over her shoulder as she sprints away, leaving an exasperated Marinette leagues behind her squeaking out her friend’s name in the face of what’s surely an akuma striking.
Adrien spares a moment to run a hand through his hair with a rueful smile, one hand already shoved into his messenger bag ready to wrestle Plagg away from the wedge of cheese he’s probably in the middle of demolishing (assuming there’s even any left by this point) if need be and set to make a run for some kind of cover to transform.
That’s when he hears it.
“Well between running after you and keeping up with that silly kitty I doubt there’re even any reflexes left for poor Marinette,” he hears; a mutter so low that it’s only his enhanced hearing that enables him to pick the words out of the chaos around them.
She huffs out a sigh, and then there’s shift in her tone that sends goose bumps up Adrien’s arms.
“C’mon Tikki, let’s go keep her out of trouble.”
Wait, what?
Another boom echoes across the city, closer than before, and it’s enough to jolt Adrien into picking his jaw up off the floor and swinging around to see-
That she’s already disappeared.
Damn.
He spends another moment just staring, unable to process what he’s just heard (after all of that secrecy it seems silly that this is the way he’s found out that his lady has been right behind him this whole time) but is kept from working himself into a full-scale meltdown by the prickling of sharp, tiny teeth sinking into his palm.
Adrien hisses, hand shooting back out of his bag reflexively with Plagg still attached.
“As hilarious as watching you finally put together the obvious is, don’t you have something else to be doing right now..?”
Adrien blinks.
“…The akuma..?”
Right.
“Plagg, claws out!”
Save Paris first, freak out about accidentally finding out Ladybug’s identity later.
~Hollyrose~
Notes:
Ah man this is the first fic I've managed to write in 2016 and for a new fandom too! Though I always figured I'd break into Miraculous Ladybug with MariChat but go figure XD
...I had initially intended for this to be a standalone oneshot, but I feel like there's more to this story. I'll probably continue this as a series of oneshots? We'll see.
Fandom: Haikyuu!!
Characters/Pairings: Daichi, Suga, Asahi
Summary: The year before Daichi strolls up to be his district's tribute, he, Suga and Asahi watch the Games.
[Hunger Games AU]
“…I don’t want to watch this.”
Asahi, true to his muffled words, had his head ducked as he attempted to block out everything; eyes trained on the ground beneath his feet and even his hair seemed to be shielding his ears.
Daichi huffed next to him, irritable. It was a conversation as recurrent as the Games being shown on screen, and he knew his irritation was better directed at the real cause of his ire…
A particularly pointy elbow echoing that thought dug deep into his side, and Daichi groaned.
He should know better by know but he was always thrown by how utterly lethal Suga’s jabs could be.
“You two need to pipe down and concentrate,” he said, almost cheerfully. Then he let his voice drop a little. “You both know exactly why we need to watch.”
They did know; of course they knew. It wasn’t as though they really had a choice. But apart from that, there was always that niggling feeling; that it could have been them in that arena. That it still could be them next year.
And they needed to know everything they could, just in case.
Suga caught Daichi’s eye then, turning away from the younger boys beside him.
“And I think,” he breathed, voice so low that Asahi was forced to shuffle closer, “I might have found something of use.”
Fandom: Free! Iwatobi Swim Club
Characters/Pairings: SouMakoRin
Prompt: I would love to see Sousuke and Rin corrupt Makoto's innocence, but fluff or friendship works too for @pinkstarpirate as part of the @makotobirthdayexchange (Check out all of the amazing fanworks here!)
Summary:
Centre of Gravity
noun
1. Mechanics. the point through which the resultant of gravitational forces on a body passes and from which the resultant force of attraction of the body on other bodies emanates: coincident with the center of mass in a uniform gravitational field.
2. a person, thing, or idea that is the vital or pivotal focus of interest or activity within a larger entity.
Sprawled comfortably across the bottom bunk, Sousuke’s scrolling mindlessly through google images for an appropriately dead-eyed fish picture when his search is halted by the buzzing of Rin’s phone in his hands.
Rin himself has been called away by some kind of commotion down the hall. Sousuke has a feeling it has something to do with Uozumi and Minami (and Momo’s probably not all that far behind); Rin had huffed and taken off, phone left abandoned on his desk. Sousuke, like the good friend he is, has taken it upon himself to use the opportunity to change his most frequent contact’s pictures (…barring Rin’s mother, since he does have a sense of self-preservation) to their animal counterparts.
Currently, the soulful brown eyes of a puppy peer up at him and he doesn’t need to look further down to confirm the name of the caller.
He had, after all, spent about ten minutes trying to decide which picture he felt best represented Tachibana Makoto.
Sousuke doesn’t dwell long on the dilemma of whether to answer the call or not; Rin probably won’t be back for a while yet, which should leave Sousuke enough time to complete his gift to Rin. He won’t if Tachibana keeps calling though.
He lets the call connect, swinging up his arm to put the receiver to his ear.
“Rin!” Tachibana says, relieved smile evident in the cadence of his voice. “I’m so glad I caught you! I, um, just wanted to talk to you about when you mentioned university scouts? If you’re free?”
Sousuke can feel the way his brows have started to crawl up his forehead.
He’s only been back in Iwatobi since the start of their third year in high school, but as a result, as Rin’s best friend (and roommate) Sousuke’s been subjected to Rin’s seemingly endless capacity to fret about his old teammates.
Rin, of course, has been set on his path since his first whiff of chlorine. His fellow third years over at Iwatobi, however, are another story all together.
There’s an odd thread of uncertainty in Tachibana’s voice now, as though he doesn’t already know that if Rin had been the one to answer the phone that he’d drop what he’d been doing to hear Makoto out.
In fact, he’s sure that Rin would wrap up the lecture he’s probably delivering right now if Sousuke went over there to let him know about the call…
…But he’s curious.
“Sorry Tachibana, Rin’s just wrangling a couple of the underclassman down the hall. This is Sousuke.”
“Ah Yamazaki-kun, sorry to disturb you.” If Makoto is at all put out that he’s got the wrong person, he doesn’t let the sentiment slip into his voice. Sousuke might even go as far as to say that he seems pleasantly surprised to hear Sousuke’s rather gravelly voice on the line instead of Rin’s more gruff one.
He can’t imagine why though.
It’s not as though they’ve really interacted barring the odd nod exchanged at joint practice, after all. If anything he’s spoken to Haruka more (though Tachibana is definitely more pleasant), even back when they’d all been on slightly better terms as kids.
Sousuke attributes his own interest in the situation to his connection with Rin.
He actually gives a one armed shrug before realising that Makoto can’t actually see him. “I was taking a break anyway.” Curiosity getting the better of him, Sousuke prods for more. “You mentioned something about scouts..?”
There’s a beat of silence, and Sousuke wonders whether, as nice as Tachibana is, he’s about to be told to butt out. In all honestly, it’s what he’d be doing if their positions were reversed, so he can’t really blame Tachibana if he does (politely, of course) tell Sousuke to mind his own business. In fact, just the idea of being able to hear how the gentle giant would word it would make Sousuke’s probing worth it.
He’s actually a little disappointed when Tachibana doesn’t, though he’s not surprised.
“I didn’t believe him at the time, but at prefecturals Rin told me my swimming was good enough to get attention from university scouts. I mean I’m not bad, but I know I’m not like you, Rin or Haru,” he adds, full off self-deprecation, and Sousuke can picture him shuffling his weight from one foot to the other anxiously.
Rin tends to have a pretty good eye for this kind of thing – comes with being as obsessed with competitive swimming as he is, naturally – but even Sousuke had been able to see something special in Tachibana’s stroke back at Iwatobi SC’s grand re-opening event.
Even back when they’d seen each other at competitions back in elementary school, there had always been something special about the way Tachibana moves in the water. And in a sense, he’s absolutely right when he says that he isn’t like Rin or Nanase. Because the two of them cut through the water, hands carving a path for their bodies as they glide forward.
Tachibana pushes through with the sheer force of his will and a kick strong enough to propel him through the water as though it posed no resistance at all.
There’s definitely something to be said for the raw power he still moves with and the very idea that Tachibana would doubt this seems silly to Sousuke. But he can’t say he’s surprised either.
Still, this doesn’t explain why Tachibana feels the need to specifically speak to Rin about this today.
“I, um, was a little caught off guard when one contacted me from Tokyo. I thought recruitment for scholarship programmes had already ended and asked for time to think about it…” There’s a rustle on the other end of the line and Sousuke pictures Tachibana sweeping his fringe out of his face, lips twisted in thought as he recalls. "I'd only just figured out what I thought I wanted to do going forward, so when I was approached, I was a little blindsided. I just wanted to reason it out with Rin, he's got a way of putting things into perspective."
Sousuke hums under his breath. "He'll naturally be biased towards whatever would keep you swimming competitively, but ultimately? He'll tell you to listen to your gut and to listen to your heart."
Sousuke knows this first hand; Rin had been bitterly disappointed when he'd found out that the state of Sousuke's shoulder meant he had no intention of going back into competitive swimming, but he'd heard Sousuke out and has come to accept the path that he’s about to start down.
And it’s true – for all that Rin still clutches sentimentally at the idea of his friends joining him in his dream to conquer the Olympics, all he wants in the long run is for them to be happy.
Sousuke thinks back to another conversation with Rin, a throwaway comment from it occurring to him. "What do your parents think about it all?"
He can hear the fondness in Tachibana's voice when he relies. "Like Rin, they're happy to support the decision that I make."
Sousuke lets out another low hum, considering this. Then he realises what he's doing and just how invested he seems to have become in the whole situation. He pinches the skin at the top of his nose’s arch as a small intake of breath on the other end of the phone tells him that Tachibana's probably realised this too.
"...And what do you think?"
Ugh, there it is.
It's the one question Sousuke’s known was bound to come since the whole conversation began, and it’s also the one question he doesn’t want to answer. Because to him, giving his opinion on the matter is just as bad as getting himself involved.
So he stalls.
"You mentioned something about settling on what you wanted to do before you got the offer,” Sousuke says at length, mind snagging on the detail that’d been touched upon but not fully explained. “Will you not be able to do whatever it is at the same time?”
He hears Tachibana’s breath catch in the phone’s speaker.
“Cause even if you get in on a sports scholarship, you’re still going to have to study. And even if you’re not sure about how far you want to go with competitive swimming, it’s clear to anyone watching that you enjoy it.” Sousuke picks at the fabric of his sweatpants, unfocused gaze pointed somewhere in the direction of Rin’s spotless desk. “You don’t have to be an Olympic hopeful just to be in the college’s team y’know. I mean, it probably helps but it’s not really a prerequisite.”
“…It sounds silly now, but I guess I’ve never thought about it that way before. Thank you, Yamazaki-kun.” There’s a hushed awe to the way he speaks, and it makes Sousuke feel vaguely uncomfortable. It’s not like he’s actually done anything after all.
Which is exactly what he says.
Tachibana, predictably, doesn’t agree with that assessment at all but Sousuke interrupts before he can protest too much.
“No, seriously. I haven’t done a thing,” he says firmly, and is saved from having to go further when Rin stomps back into the room, tugging the door irritably shut behind himself. Sousuke seizes the opportunity to mutter a quick goodbye before passing the phone off to its owner.
He pointedly ignores the way Rin eyes him speculatively later that evening and vows to rearrange his desk in vengeance when he doesn’t stop.
--
“…That sweet tooth of yours is going to land you with diabetes, seriously.”
Sheepish, Makoto turns his gaze up to give Rin a guilty grin, though his palm is still wrapped securely around a tall mug topped with whipped cream. Just looking at it and the monstrosity of a chocolate cake that Makoto had been smiling absently at before is making Rin’s teeth ache.
“But they taste so good?”
Rin just rolls his eyes, utterly unsurprised. He slides his own drink (coffee, black) onto the table and lowers himself onto the free seat across from Makoto. “Honestly I’m a little worried about how you’re going to cope once you’ve moved; there are a lot of bakeries in Tokyo and the coaches are a lot stricter about diet over there than Gou’s ever been.”
Makoto looks up at him through his lashes. “Rin, you've never actually tried Gou's onigiri before, have you?”
That has Rin looking at him a little dubiously, because he has it on good authority that Makoto is probably the last person who should be casting aspersions on anyone's cooking.
Still the small grin on his face isn't as meek as one who doesn't know Makoto might think when he quietly suggests that Rin try a few of her onigiri before heading out to Australia.
And people think he's the nice one.
"Anyway," Makoto says as he finally cuts into his slab of cake serenely, "we're kind of celebrating, right? Cut me a bit of slack Rinrin."
Rin huffs at that, but it's only half-hearted at best; he's well aware that he's as stuck with the nickname at this point as Haru is with Haru-chan. If anyone can get away with using it though, it's Makoto.
As stubborn as Rin is he knows a lost battle when he sees one, and despite how pliable his attitude tends to be Makoto can still be incredibly stubborn when he wants to be.
"You'll regret ignoring my wisdom when you go into chocolate withdrawal a month into training," he opts to say sagely as he sips his coffee. "I hear they're particularly strict on diet where you're going."
Makoto shrugs it off, and on anyone else the way he swigs at his own liquid monstrosity would look positively defiant. “That just means I should enjoy it while I can, right?”
It's a little reassuring that however much the world may change, Tachibana Makoto will always have the biggest sweet tooth that Rin’s ever come across.
He meets Makoto’s eyes over the rim of his mug and is struck by the other ways in which is friend has stayed the same; those droopy green eyes that always seem to glint with captured warmth, the way his hair still seems to settle around him like a fluffy cloud, the way his smile can light up anyone’s day. Even when Rin had refused to reply anymore, Makoto had been the one to keep trying to reach out to him with his letters, despite the ocean between them. He’s such a constant in Rin’s life, reassuring and present in a way that Rin’s learning is so important to him now.
That’s not to say that Makoto’s completely unchanged.
Rin would be hard pressed to have missed the way Makoto’s height has shot up, or the way his shoulders have broadened. While his eyes are still as soft as ever, his jawline has become chiselled, and, on extremely rare occasions, has stubble.
But the most important things – the ones that make him Makoto – they’re all still there.
Rin feels lightyears away from how he had been the first time he’d left for Australia. He feels lightyears away from when he’d come back, and that was only two years ago.
Setting his mug down, Rin can’t help but huff out a gusty sigh.
It still feels a little unreal that their third year of high school is actually over; that they’ll soon all be parting ways and that they’re practically adults.
Because as much as Rin knows he’s matured over the last two years (and boy has he, between rekindling his friendships and becoming a team captain) he still doesn’t feel like an adult. He isn’t ready to think about things like cooking for himself, buying his own groceries, about juggling housework with actual work. He knows that college – even abroad – isn’t the same as going into the working world but it still feels like a huge step. And while he’s so ready to be out there, finally able to make his dreams come true… It also feels a little like stepping into the void.
Makoto’s eyes are already on him from hearing the force of Rin’s sigh, and Rin’s lips tilt up at the blob of cream decorating the corner of his mouth.
“I can’t believe you’re off to Tokyo in less than a week and you’re still getting cream all over your face.” It’s a gross exaggeration, but Rin snickers anyway as Makoto scrunches his nose and catches the serviette tossed his way.
Makoto dabs at his face with a distracted frown. “And you’re off to Australia in even less time… I’m really going to miss you, you know?”
Trust Makoto to just come out and say something so embarrassing with absolutely no shame. Rin can feel his ears heat as Makoto finally manages to catch the cream that he’d managed to smear further on another corner of the tissue.
“Yeah, well, we’ve all got phones and laptops now. So no excuses, I still want my weekly cat update from Tokyo okay?”
Wow, Rin’s pretty sure an egg could fry on his cheeks now. But the sheer delight on Makoto’s face is kind of worth it.
Rin has no plans on doing another disappearing act this time around, anyway.
“Okay.”
“And anyway,” he pushes on, unable to take the weight of his own words and the way Makoto’s now beaming at him, “if I want to represent Japan in the Olympics, I’m going to have to come back to Japan so it’s not like you’re getting rid of me for long.”
Makoto chuckles at that, cutting himself another forkful of cake. “That’s true! You’ll come back and literally blow everyone else out of the water, I’ll bet.”
“Well duh, that’s why I’m going after all.” And just like that his bravado is back. As flustered as Rin may get, he’s always quick to bounce back from it at least. “I’m glad that you’ll be sticking to swimming too, to be honest. Not that I didn’t respect your decision before, but… I’m happy that you’ll keep swimming competitively at the same time.”
“Me too.” Makoto scratches the back of his neck. “I was a little at a lost when I first got the call from the scout, but I’m glad I ended up catching Sousuke-kun when I called. I… don’t think I even considered that I’d be able to do both. When I know that you and Haru are going to be putting everything into swimming it almost felt greedy, so I never thought about it.”
“Yeah, I still can’t believe it was Sousuke that talked you around, though I’m glad. Not that he’ll take any credit.”
“…Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
They share a rueful grin at that.
“Actually,” Rin says after a moment, a thought occurring to him suddenly, “how are the twins taking the fact that you’re moving away in a few days?”
“Oh god, please don’t remind me.” The way that Makoto’s face just drops at the words almost has Rin snorting with amusement; considering the way the two of them had been hanging from Makoto like small barnacles the last time he’d seen them, he isn’t surprised that they’re feeling a little of the separation anxiety already. “Ren actually woke up in the middle of the night because he said he had a nightmare about me adopting lots of cats in Tokyo and forgetting about the two of them, but then I adopted so many cats in the meantime that they completely filled the place I was living at and ended up dying from suffocation and they never get to see me again??”
Rin, who had just taken a sip from his coffee, almost chokes and barely manages to avoid spraying it all over the table as he cackles at that. He actually has to put the mug down, because even though he’s drank about a third of its contents it’s still threatening to slosh over the rim and onto the table instead.
“I’d say he has an active imagination but I could actually see that happening,” Rin says, barely able to catch his breath. He leans over the table, smirking. “Go on, tell me more.”
He leaves the café a few hours later with cheeks sore from laughing, his belly full of the slice of dark chocolate orange and chili torte that Makoto had cajoled him into trying, and so much more eager to take on the world.
--
--
Makoto likes to think he has a better handle on where things are in Tokyo since arriving just before the start of his first semester of university, but as his gaze drifts about the unfamiliar street his phone has lead him to he starts to feel less confident.
It's still early evening, the sun still respectably high, and the assignments are still coming in a slow trickle that he doesn't need to rush too much to compete. He'd left his last lecture of the day too mentally drained to even think about approaching the kitchen; he knows better than to tempt fate, especially without his full faculties.
As he’d bid farewell to his classmates and taken his phone off silent, Makoto had remembered his last conversation with Rin and the enthusiastic endorsement he had given for the elusive restaurant he’s still trying to find.
His stomach lets out a rumbling complaint of hunger as he finally catches sight of the restaurant’s sign, and Makoto gratefully backs out of the map app he’d been following directions from to follow his nose to the door. If the green curry is anywhere as good as Rin had suggested, Makoto figures the trouble of actually finding the place will be completely worth it.
Makoto steps inside and the mixture of aromas hit him in a wave; he can already feel his mouth start to water in anticipation. Which is always a good sign.
There’s the usual bustle of the after-five-crowd, but it’s not busy enough that Makoto struggles to find a seat. He picks a small booth designed for two by the wall that gives him a good view of the rest of the restaurant, directly opposite the open kitchen.
He takes a quick look at the menu but isn’t swayed away from his favourite (as though there was ever any doubt); he sets it down on the table and looks around instead.
The chef has his back turned to him as he stirs the contents of various pans. His wife seems to be the lady flitting from table to table, taking orders and depositing meals as she goes while making it look like no effort at all. Makoto gets the idea that it must be a family run business as when she leans over the far end of the counter to call back into a space just outside of Makoto’s view, it seems more like the way one would address their children rather than an actual employee.
When she’s done, she makes her way over to Makoto’s table. There’s something about the set of her cheeks and the sharpness in her eyes that seems unsettlingly familiar as she takes Makoto’s order (and tells him to call for ‘Satomi-san’ if he needs anything in the meantime), but the thought is soon lost as she strides back to the counter and Makoto is distracted by checking Neko Atsume on his phone.
His first cup of green tea is down to the last dregs when a piping hot pate of curry slides onto the table in front of him. Makoto looks up from where he’d been squinting at a tiny version of his timetable on his phone to smile up at Satomi-san.
Makoto takes a moment to breathe in, and his smile turns into a beam; it smells just like home.
It takes him back to the last time he’d had green curry at home, the night before he’d been due to leave for Tokyo. He can almost hear the tinkle of his mother’s laugh as Ren had attempted to hide behind her to dodge Ran, barely saving the spoonful of rice from scattering onto the floor that had almost slipped her grip. His father had stood by the table, eyeing the chaos with exasperation, though when he’d scolded the twins it had been half-hearted at best and with an amused grin threatening to ruin any weight his words held.
Makoto likes to think he’s been keeping any homesickness at bay fairly well, but the small reminder of the daily pandemonium that’s still happening in Iwatobi despite his absence and the thought of the complete silence in the apartment waiting for him to return really makes him want to hear his mother’s voice.
Well, he know’s what he’s doing when he gets back.
There’s a strange look on Satomi-san’s face when Makoto thanks her, but the thought doesn’t stay with him long because he’s finally digging into his dinner, savouring just how close it is to the way his mother makes it.
He’s made his way through about half of the dish when he feels a strange prickling sensation at the base of his neck, and the inexplicable urge to squirm in his seat.
A quick glance shows that Satomi-san’s husband has ventured over to the side of the counter that Satomi-sanis perched at, the two of them utterly unabashed when Makoto catches them watching him, the look in their eyes considering.
Makoto gives them an awkward smile and attempts to convey that he’s enjoying his meal before ducking his head again and concentrating on finishing his dinner. The couple’s gaze still feels heavy on his back, but he hears the head chef shuffle back to the stove after he’s called from somewhere out of public view and Makoto’s then able to keep eating in peace.
Only a spoonful of his beloved green curry is left and he’s actually a little reluctant to finish it off even knowing that he has reading for class that he should probably get started on soon waiting for him. He’s just doing the sums in his head to figure out if he can afford to come back whenever Haru has classes that run late like today and when Makoto doesn’t have practice (and as reasonably priced as the food is here, he probably shouldn’t), when he spots another figure emerging from the open kitchen from the corner of his eye.
They seem to spot each other in the same moment.
Later, when he’s back at home and not paying attention to the textbook on his lap, Makoto will think that he shouldn’t have been quite as surprised as he is considering that he’d never have found the place without Rin. But as it is, his brows are rising and his lips are parting in surprise as Sousuke of all people squints incredulously back at him.
“Tachibana?”
Sousuke winces as soon as it leaves his mouth as his mother – Yamazaki Satomi-san – watches them both with amusement mounting in the wry twist of her mouth. She shoves her son towards Makoto’s table, muttering something to him that Makoto can’t hear but has Sousuke grumbling as he rolls his eyes and grabs the plate his father offers to him. Then he’s trudging over to Makoto and sliding in opposite him.
“Hi,” he says shortly, nose wrinkling as he glances over to where his mother is still watching. “Sorry about that. If you need to get going I won’t be offended if you leave.”
“Oh no, I’m not in any rush.” Actually Makoto had thought that to be obvious by the way he’s been sat here for so long, pushing the last bit of his meal around his plate to delay having to go back to his quiet apartment. He likes the hustle and bustle of evening trade as professionals drop in on their way home from work. It isn’t heaving but Makoto’s still a little surprised he’s been able to occupy his corner for so long without having had to order a little more – not that his meagre college student budget would allow him much more if he wants to be back next week. “Besides, it’s nice to see a familiar face.”
Sousuke grunts in acknowledgement before making a start on his own dinner, and he seems as glad to be tucking into his katsudon as Makoto had been for his own meal earlier. Not that he gets far before his mother arrives, whapping him lightly on the back of his head with a tea towel before setting a can of cola onto the table for him.
“I apologise for my son’s manners. But it didn’t strike me until Sousuke mentioned your name, but I did think you looked familiar before. I didn’t remember you, honestly, but I remember running into your parents before when we used to live in Iwatobi. How are they?”
By the time that Satomi-san’s attention is called away by her responsibilities again, Sousuke has managed to get through a good two thirds of his meal. When he next meets Makoto’s eyes, he can’t see any trace of the old hostility that he remembers from the start of last year. They’ve had the opportunity to meet a few times following that as Rin gathered his two friends groups whenever he could before leaving (between bouts of exam preparation), but Sousuke had mainly stuck with his Samezuka classmates and while he’d been friendly enough, Makoto hadn’t been able to speak to him much since that conversation on Rin’s phone.
Right now, he just looks curious.
“You haven’t been sent here by Rin to check on me, have you?”
Makoto blinks. “I didn’t even know you’d be here. Though Rin did tell me that I’d love the green curry. He wasn’t wrong.”
“That’ll make my dad’s day.”
“I can see that he’s busy, or I’d definitely pay my compliments to the chef personally!”
Sousuke snorts at that, but Makoto can see the beginnings of a grin curling up from the corner of his lips. “Probably a good thing then, don’t want him getting too big headed.”
Makoto hums quietly to himself. “I’ll bet that some of it was down to you, too, right?”
Sousuke pulls a face, one shoulder lifting in half a shrug. “I just help with the prep at the moment and leave all the actual cooking to dad. Means we aren’t getting in each other’s way.”
“…considering I get run out of the kitchen at home, even for prep…”
This startles a bark of amusement from Sousuke, probably picturing Makoto being chased out of a kitchen with a spoon.
…Which isn’t that far from the truth, honestly.
Sousuke actually squints suspiciously at Makoto when he says, “How the hell have you been managing since moving then?” and proceeds to mock Makoto’s mackerel related woes (as grateful as he is for Haru) and snicker at his rendition of his failed - and later more passable - culinary efforts over the past few weeks.
They slip into conversation with an ease that Makoto would never have expected
Conversation following that is surprisingly comfortable, and while Makoto seems to be volunteering more details about himself, Sousuke provides wry commentary that Makoto finds himself appreciating.
It’s much later than he’d intended by the time he slides from the booth, Sousuke furrowing his brows in his mother’s direction for not calling him back to the kitchen sooner. Still, when he does eventually make it back, Makoto’s smiling absently over the text book he’s cracked open.
It’s amazing the difference another friendly face can make.
--
After the first time that they meet at the restaurant, Sousuke finds that he’s bumping into Makoto everywhere.
Or well, that may be a little unfair.
The majority of the time they spend together does actually tend to be at the restaurant; Sousuke’s parents seem to love Makoto to bits and treat him as almost a third son (the second being Rin), giving him a discount that means that he turns up two to three times a week. Sousuke tends to take his dinner break around the same time so he’s free again before the evening rush of orders and they take over the same booth that Makoto had claimed on his first visit.
He sometimes runs into him during the day too, when he’s running errands or out to buy the odd thing that they don’t get wholesale. And it’s not as though Makoto is using different routes now that he knows where Sousuke is – Sousuke’s self-aware enough to know that the world doesn’t actually revolve around him – but it’s more likely that he just notices more now that he’s aware of Makoto’s presence.
Makoto doesn’t always notice him, but when he does he’ll usually stop to say hi, or at least smile if he’s in a rush.
Despite his initial reluctance at the idea, Sousuke's come to enjoy the small pocket of time they share in his break at the restaurant though.
The thing about Makoto is that while he’s perfectly happy to chat about his life and fill the air with words, he can also be content to just hang out in silence, sharing the odd smile or a raised brow over snippets of conversation they overhear without context.
He hadn’t fully appreciated it at the time, but back in high school Sousuke had initially queried whether Makoto was really qualified to be captain of his swim team; the only impression that he had to go on at that stage was smiling boy back in elementary school who hadn’t quite grown into his gangly limbs and hung out with Haru. Most of his own interactions both in middle and high school had been with Haru after all (it was strange to think that he’d even been to Haru’s house before). Rin had attempted to set him straight, but it wasn’t until he’d seen ‘Captain Tachibana’ in action that Sousuke had believed him.
While Makoto’s dynamic stroke has always set him apart – whether he believes it or not – the other thing Sousuke remembers from their earlier meetings is the gentle upward quirk of his lips as he’d stood with his friends.
And while a captain must display some degree of kindness, Sousuke had thought he’d be eaten alive.
He knows better now.
Because it wouldn’t be an inaccurate assessment to say that Makoto is observant as fuck. He picks up on the little things; fluctuations in tone, eye contact and mood. What a lot of people attribute to mindreading – and having seen it in action Sousuke can’t really blame them – is just down to Makoto knowing people. It’s Makoto knowing people well enough to tell when they’re happy or sad, or have something to share. It’s him knowing their quirks. And even with people he doesn’t know that well, he’s probably attentive enough to be able to pick up more than most.
He can tell when it’s a good idea to prod Sousuke into talking, when to leave him be, when the soothing cadence of his chatter is a welcome, grounding distraction from his thoughts.
And sometimes he doesn’t even need to cajole Sousuke into talking.
There’s something to the soft set of his face, his drooping eyes, the warmth in his voice that lowers your guard; that makes you feel like you can drop the chokehold on your thoughts and feelings so that they rush out with no filter and with no fear of judgement.
Or in Sousuke’s case, pity.
Makoto doesn’t dance around his shoulder injury; doesn’t avoid all conversation relating to swimming. Granted it would be damn hard considering the nights he’s not stopping by he’s usually at practice, but he’s not afraid to ask if Souske’s okay if he thinks his friend might be overdoing it.
(He’s usually right, but while Makoto’s gaze is concerned, he doesn’t feel sorry for Sousuke. Which is good, because while he’s made peace with his injury that would be one thing he can’t tolerate).
Sousuke’s something of a handyman for people in the area during the daytime when business at the restaurant is slower, and after a particularly busy day helping Natsumoto-san put up new shelves in his shop for some extra cash Sousuke might have pushed himself a little too far. He’s not particularly worried since the only thing he has planned that evening is going over to Makoto’s to play on the console that his parents had brought up from his bedroom on their first visit to their son.
It’s something of a surprise when Makoto beats him at Soul Calibur soundly again and again, and though he initially gets pretty fired up at trying to win at least one match he soon tires of it – he blames the sheer amount of junk food he’d managed to get through when he’d first arrived at Makoto’s little 1K apartment.
And really, it’s better for everyone if Sousuke’s the one eating it all seeing as Makoto’s supposed to be stricter with his diet.
“Did Rin not give you the lecture?”
Makoto groans. “Always. But chocolate always seems to win out; I can have one vice right?”
“Well sure, but then why do you have so much other junk?”
“…In case of guests?”
Sousuke’s eyebrows rise in blatant disbelief, but Makoto’s innocent expression is just this side of too innocent so he lets it slide.
“Why are you so good at a fighting game anyway? I thought you were supposed to be the mediator of the group.”
The question startles a bark of laughter from Makoto, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement.
“I have twin siblings who both like to button mash,” he says, and Sousuke winces as that explains everything.
Makoto stands up, stretching out his back after being hunched over a controller for so long. Makoto’s television is a tiny relic so they’d had to sit forward without anything to rest their backs against as they’d attempted to kill each other on screen.
“If you’re any better at racing games I could put one of those in next?” Makoto asks, turning to look at Sousuke over his shoulder. “We can pull out my spare futon so you don’t need to go back home so late.”
He thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs because why the hell not? He might actually be able to beat Makoto so he might as well stay over and give it a shot. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s stayed over, and he knows where it’s kept by now anyway.
So he nods, says “I’ll go get it now so we don’t have to set it up later” and wanders across the room to slide the cupboard open. Sousuke can’t supress a wince when he lifts the futon down and knows that Makoto must have seen it, but there’s no comment as he lays it down on the floor.
“You okay?” Makoto asks lightly as he grabs the spare blanket and throws it over the futon. He nods back when Sousuke says he’s fine, trusting Sousuke enough to know his own limits, as he goes over towards the TV to change the game in his console.
Sousuke sighs behind him.
“You’re not going to ask anything else about it?”
Makoto, now crouched on the floor after swapping the disk, looks up at him. “No,” he says after a moment. “If you want to tell me I’ll listen, but I’m not about to force you to say anything you don’t want to.”
His face is devoid of the usual smile that softens his angles, the serious expression being one that Sousuke is certainly not used to seeing.
Sousuke can’t help but fidget a little with the ball back in his court, uncertain of what to do.
Makoto stays where he is, patient, without indicating one way or another what he’d prefer.
“Shit. Well, I know that Kisumi told you guys about when he bumped into me at the hospital; the shoulder problems had actually already started about two years before that. I already knew that it was pretty much shot when I transferred over to Samezuka. Swam anyway. I wasn’t planning on going back to swimming.” He leans against the wall and crosses his arms. Makoto keeps his gaze steady but doesn’t look particularly surprised. “The whole thing has meant lots of doctors and physiotherapy appointments, and they’re not exactly cheap. So I’ve been doing my bit to pitch in to make up for it. Not that my parents expect it, and well, they pay me a wage so it feels a little counterproductive, but it’s still helping out and I’m keeping some aside so that I can contribute in other ways even if they won’t take board.”
He feels like he’s getting a little maudlin, and pulls a face.
“Anyway, I enjoy the work so why not? Even if I had gone to university for swimming, I wouldn’t have enjoyed slogging over assignments. I’ve got my compulsory education out of the way; that’s enough for me.”
Sousuke tilts his head back so he’s watching the ceiling instead of Makoto’s face. His monologue’s probably the most he’s said to him all in one go, and it’s something so personal.
But when Makoto sinks down to sit beside him, arm brushing slightly against Sousuke as he passes him the second controller, and just says, “thanks for telling me,” without passing judgement he can’t regret telling him.
When Makoto follows with, “my stomach is forever in your debt for following your destined path of culinary genius,” he almost chokes, then collapses into Makoto’s side as he laughs long and hard.
This may not be a friendship he ever expected, but damn is he glad he fell into it.
--
“…Makoto..?”
Despite definitely being able to hear feedback of some sort, Rin squints at his laptop’s screen.
The backdrop that he sees is what he’s grown used to in their calls recently; a stack of precariously balanced books stacked on Makoto’s bedside table, a comfy looking patchwork blanket strewn over the back of a swivel chair, Makoto’s swimming duffel and trainers lined neatly against a wall.
Then he spots a small tuft of soft looking brown hair on the screen and hears a thud, followed shortly by a low whine of pain.
Finally, Makoto emerges, massaging the back of his head as he shimmies out from under his desk with a wince.
“I, uh, knocked my pencil case over just as I hit call?” He’s making a wounded squinty face that’s threatening to override his wince of sympathy to turn into full blown laughter because he honestly looks like a kicked puppy.
Rin coughs into his fist to disguise the slight warble it causes in his voice, and by the time he’s recovered himself Makoto looks to have settled down a bit more too.
Since moving to Australia this time around, Rin’s made a point of touching base with his friends back home when he can. He’d thought he’d been doing himself a favour by practically cutting his ties with everyone before; as though he’d be able to keep himself from missing them if he just didn’t think about them, forgot that they ever meant anything to him at all.
He should have known, really, that the tactic was doomed to fail being as sentimental as he is. Still, as stubborn as Rin’s been known to be? He doesn’t want to make the same mistake again. And anyway, with the internet there’s even less of an excuse for him not to stay in touch.
(As though anyone could keep him from Snapchat, really.)
Makoto’s probably the one he catches the most, barring his sister, and their Skype dates are practically once a week at this point; sometimes more often if they’re both free, though there are weeks where they don’t catch each other at all. When they aren’t Skyping, they have other ways to stay in touch, and as promised they still exchange pictures (and videos) of any cute animals they see.
Sousuke’s the kind of guy who’ll see that he has a message, read the preview in the notification and dismiss it without checking, fully intending on replying later. Only, later never actually comes. It’s not that he’s ignoring anyone on purpose; he just forgets.
Sometimes Rin wonders how someone who can be as intense and serious as Sousuke can sometimes get can be so… blasé. But then he thinks of how highly-strung he himself can be despite how he tries to play it cool, and pot, have you met my good friend kettle?
The contact Haru keeps with him is sporadic at best, forever losing himself in his swimming, or painting, or something else that takes his fancy. He, as usual, takes things at his own pace, living in his own little bubble where time seems to flow differently than it does for everyone else and can be perfectly content to speak to Rin for five minutes once every couple of months (not that Rin tends to settle for that).
It’s not like Rin feels the need to check in on his friends, per se, but he with the ocean of distance between them he likes to still be in the loop; likes to see their faces and hear their voices from time to time.
Still, even if the other two are kind of flaky, Makoto’s almost a focal point for news, and sometimes Makoto’ll have one of the two over while they’re Skyping and Rin’ll get to catch up with them that way.
There’s no real system to it, but it works, and even when he’s just sat on his futon reading without actually taking part in the conversation Makoto seems to be happy enough.
He’s alone today, and telling Rin all about his misadventure a few days earlier on Sousuke’s day off, when Sousuke had insisted that they get dinner somewhere other than his parent’s restaurant.
(Rin’s still proud of the stroke of genius he’d had in tipping Makoto off about the green curry there. From what he has heard from Sousuke, Mr and Mrs Yamazaki – unsurprisingly – adore Makoto. No matter what Sousuke says, Rin knows he’s not that far behind).
Sousuke being Sousuke had thought of where they could go; Makoto being the new kid on the block, as it were, had taken Sousuke’s word for it when he’d suggested a place he knew that they could go to.
Big mistake.
Two hours, a phone call and some frantic google searching later, they’d finally arrived at the intended restaurant, understandably exhausted and ravenous.
“While I feel kind of bad for not warning you about it, you probably would have thought I was just being mean and exaggerating if you hadn’t experienced Sou’s, uh, sense of direction for yourself.”
Makoto takes a breath and opens his mouth to protest, but one look from Rin has him deflating because he’s probably right. Instead, he’s a little rueful as he says, “I downloaded a few different navigation apps onto his phone but… I guess we’ll have to wait and see if they’re any help.”
“…True.”
Then it’s Rin’s turn, as he describes the cricket match that he’d somehow ended up watching and the dorm dramas that he’d been staying out of but following avidly. The team had earned a few rest days following an intense local competition that had been celebrated by visiting a pub for dinner, followed by an ill-advised bar crawl. Student life is fascinating and hilarious by turns and Rin’s letting himself enjoy every moment of it.
“What’s been going on with Haru lately? We haven’t been able to catch up recently.”
“Uh. Well.”
This has Rin’s brows climbing up his forehead; usually any queries about Haru were answered along the lines of ‘same as usual’ followed by a tale about mackerel, trying to drag him out of the bath, or his swimming. What could be happening with Haru that was making Makoto uncertain? His face has scrunched up in the way it does when he’s trying to figure something out, and after a few moments of this Rin’s curiosity is killing him.
“What is it?”
“D’you remember Yazaki Aki from elementary school?”
Admittedly Rin hasn’t thought of her for a long time, but he nods, remembering her red scarf and the enthusiasm he’d shared with her for swimming.
“ We hadn’t seen her since middle school since she moved to Tokyo for high school… She’s in a few of Haru’s classes so they’ve had an assignment they’re working on together. They’ve been getting pretty close actually, and it’s nice to see Haru connecting with her again.”
“…So what’s wrong?” Because Makoto sounds genuinely pleased for him so he’s not really seeing any need for concern here. He doesn’t seem jealous, at least.
“Well. He also ran into Kirishima Ikuya and ended up going for coffee; we swam relay with him in first year of middle school. They didn’t really get along at first, but we pulled together in the end.” Makoto looks lost in thought for a moment, probably thinking back to their relay. And even though he knows that Makoto and Haru (and even Sousuke and Nagisa) were swimming after he’d left for Australia the first time, it’s strange to think of them swimming a relay at that age without Rin. “Anyway,” Makoto continues, “he’s grown up a lot since then.”
“O-kay. So Haru’s reuiniting with a few old friends. I’m still not seeing a problem here.”
“Well, like I said Haru and Zaki-chan have been getting pretty close anyway, and then Ikuya shows up out of the blue and confesses to him?”
Rin gapes. But then again, this would only ever happen to Haru.
“…Somehow I’m not even surprised. Haru seems to be hitting all of the dramatic movie milestones.”
This makes Makoto grin. “I know, I’d have expected them to be in your life considering how theatrical you can be.”
Rin huffs indignantly. “Excuse me.” But he says it with a grin, though that fades a moment later as he processes this. “How’s Haru taking it all?”
Makoto presses his lips together in thought. “He’s confused, mostly, and worried about hurting either of them. You know how he is.”
And Rin does know. For someone so blunt and straightforward, Haru does worry a lot about people, and especially the way that his own actions impact upon them.
“Wow. Well if he’s got all of that on his plate it’s no wonder he’s been so busy lately. But is he going to be okay with you telling me all this?”
“Oh don’t worry about that, although he wants to sort through his own feelings by himself first he mentioned that he was going to speak to you about it. But between that, swimming practice and his classes he probably just hasn’t had the chance to yet.”
Rin makes a mental nod to touch base with him, in that case, but as long as Haru’s doing okay he’s not that worried since he’ll be seeing him in a couple of months’ time anyway.
Speaking of which.
“I hope you guys have cleared some time in your schedules for the arrival of yours truly,” Rin says, smirk sharp. In the small display of his own video feedback he can see the excited, anticipatory gleam of his eyes.
“Of course we have,” Makoto says, actually rolling his eyes at Rin. “I keep telling you, you don’t need to pay for a hotel room when I have a perfectly usable futon you can use. And I know what your student budget is like, you were complaining about the price of your groceries just last week.”
“Well yeah, but you’re going to be preparing for competitions too, right? I don’t want to get in your way or bog down your routine. And it’s not like they guys I’m flying up with aren’t getting somewhere to stay.”
Makoto just gives him that look that he tends to give Haru when he’s jumping into water sources that aren’t appropriate for swimming in.
“If you’re absolutely sure,” Makoto says with a sigh. “But the offers open if you change your mind okay?”
--
Throat slightly dry and voice getting a little gravelly, Makoto is finally allowed to abandon his microphone to sink into a couch with a drink.
If there's one place that Makoto couldn't have predicted that they'd end up going to, karaoke would probably fit the bill.
After being let out of his last class a little earlier than expected, Makoto had been the first to arrive at the Yamazaki's restaurant, striking up an easy conversation about television with Satomi-san as he waited for the others to arrive.
Sousuke had nudged the front door open with the tip of his shoe, rolling his eyes when he realised the topic of their discussion (which had devolved into serious speculation on what would be happening, Sousuke's father chipping in every now and again from the kitchen between dishes). After him, running a hand through his hair, ambled Rin.
Who was almost spoilered the second he got through the door.
The first words out of his mouth are a startled "Naoki did what?!" The single strap from his backpack that had been slung over his shoulder had slid down as his mouth had gone slack.
A moment of shared silence had followed, only broken by Sousuke as he slid into a free stool at the counter and let his head thump down onto his croosed arms with a groan of exasperation. His father had petted his head in sympathy as he'd passed by, chuckling, as Satomi-san rounded on Rin.
"I have half a mind to actually tell you," she'd said with narrowed eyes, "it would serve you right for never visiting when you're actually in the country."
"But Satomi obasan I wasn't in Tokyo-"
"Excuses."
Makoto definitely hadn't envied the intense stare down Rin was experiencing, though a glance to his left told him Sousuke was thoroughly enjoying the show.
He would, considering it was a tactic he himself deployed often.
Rin had squirmed guiltily under the gaze until Makoto had taken pity on him with a placating, "Oh but he's here now Satomi-san!" while offering Rin a copy of what he'd downloaded in the same breath.
Satomi-san had held the expression for a few seconds, then broken into a grin as she'd mused Rin's hair affectionately. "I suppose I can think about forgiving you if you call me 'Satomi-san' like Makoto does instead of making me feel old."
Rin had shot Makoto a glare of mock betrayal, but before anything else could be said Sousuke had intervened with a "Well this is fun but we'll be off now."
After Rin had been made to promise that he'd stop by for a snack and a catch up before flying back to Australia, Sousuke had dragged the two of them out of his mother's clutches.
Unsurprisingly, the suggestion of karaoke had come from Rin.
It had been Sousuke's willingness to go along with the idea that had bewildered Makoto.
(Sousuke would make the argument that he'd been apathetic about the idea, but Makoto had caught the way his eyes had glinted as he'd given his consent with affected indifference.)
Rin and Sousuke had started competing for points as soon as the first song had started, watching the scores go up like hawks as they tried to one up each other.
Sousuke has the sort of voice that would probably be suited to singing if he'd ever bothered to hone the craft at all; as it is, he'd sounded pleasant until he started getting riled up about points, at which point he'd start to spiral away from the tempo and tune to dodge the odd pillow Rin decided to pelt him with.
Rin... isn't awful, by any means, but it's a good thing he won't be quitting his day job any time soon.
Makoto had managed to get away with singing anime theme songs for the most part as they'd battled, completely content to watch them go at it while singing songs he was used to hearing Ren and Ran belt at the top of their lungs...
And then as they'd taken a break to order more drinks and a few nibbles, he'd noticed Sousuke staring him down.
"Sousuke?" He'd asked, floundering a little under the scrutiny.
"I've heard the type of stuff you usually listen to through your headphones. Why are you just singing stuff like Doraemon and Poyopoyo?"
Makoto had shrugged and mumbled something about them being what he knew best.
"Bullshit."
In revenge he and Rin had queued three songs that Sousuke had seen playing on his phone before back to back and had shoved Makoto to the front of the room with a mike and matching, challenging smirks.
Now, as he catches his breath and gulps down a glass of cold water, he's finally able to sigh as the last notes of the final song dwindle into silence.
Sousuke and Rin watch avidly as his points rack up on screen, topping anything they've sang so far today. Neither look particularly bothered by this though, oddly enough.
Makoto doesn't pay them any mind, happy to finally have a break after singing three songs one after the other.
"...Okay so, Makoto why are you not in a rock band?"
Makoto looks up from his drained glass to blink quizzically at Rin.
"I mean, I'd never imagined you being able to do the whole sexy growl thing but it definitely worked for you. And you're a great singer. Kind of goes against the whole 'boy next door' thing you have going for you though."
Cheeks flushing darkly at the praise, Makoto squeaks in surprise - it's a complete contrast to the way he'd been singing just a few moments before and it has Sousuke snorting in amusement.
"I don't know, I think there's definitely still an element of that there." He looks Makoto up and down for a moment. "I could see him with a guitar."
"You two are ridiculous." Makoto throws the last pillow that remains on the couch at Sousuke; he manages to dodge it before it can connect with his smirking face, but Rin isn't quite as lucky.
And, it turns out, he isn't about to take that lying down, either.
There's a terrifying grin on his face as he whips the pillow up from where it had landed by his feet, brandishing it at Sousuke and Makoto like some sort of weapon.
(Ten minutes later they've completely forgotten about the time limit on their booth and when an attendant pops their head around the door to kick them out, it's to find Makoto attempting to hide behind the backrest of one of the couches while Sousuke and Rin batter each other with pillows while trying to drag him out.
Month-long ban in place, the trio are tossed out of the establishment.
Totally worth it.)
--
Makoto’s tiny TV is a low hum in the background as Sousuke hops from channel to channel without much purpose. Makoto’s sitting beside him, back propped up against the wall while Sousuke sprawls across the futon. The quiet clacking of keys as Makoto works on an assignment is soothing, but it sounds as muted and dull as the television after the whirlwind of a week they’ve just spent with Rin.
Even Makoto looks a little restless, fidgeting as though he can’t get comfortable, taking his glasses off every so often to rub at the bridge of his nose in distraction. His brows slope down in a gentle furrow, his eyes not quite focused as he stares at the screen. It’s the final stretch of his essay, and while Sousuke’s here for the company (and to occasionally make a cup of coffee like a good friend), he’s content to let Makoto power through his conclusion and make sure he stays awake long enough to edit the thing.
With nothing better on offer, Sousuke drops the control onto a pillow having settled on some old documentary about extra-terrestrials.
Once he’s watched for a couple of minutes it turns out that it’s more about conspiracy theories than anything grounded in factual evidence, and it’s the kind of thing Rin would get a kick out of; he remembers watching shows like this together when they were younger, trying to come up with mundane solutions to solve the proposed wacky theories (in Sousuke’s case) or come up with even more ridiculous explanations (in Rin’s). In fact, Sousuke has the perfect solution to the theory they’re currently expounding upon-
And then he realises that Rin’s actually across the sea in another time zone entirely.
It’s not the first time it’s happened since last week, and from the looks of it it also won’t be the last.
And it’s so weird because Sousuke’s done this before; Rin had left Sano to get to Iwatobi in the first place and while it had been strange that the kid that had spent so much time pestering him into swimming wasn’t sitting at the front of his class anymore, as far as Sousuke had been concerned they’d said all that they needed to before parting ways and besides, it wasn’t as though he’d never see Rin again.
It hadn’t even really made a huge difference after he’d jetted off after their third year at Samezuka either, despite them having spent most of that year in each other’s pockets as roommates and teammates. He’d known Rin was going to pester him by text, email and any other form of communication he could because he know’s Rin.
There’s no reason for him to be feeling any different now. (If anything, since Rin had gotten hold of Sousuke’s phone and forcibly downloaded snapchat he’s probably going to have to clear his memory frequently from the amount of snaps he sends – no wonder Makoto’s phone seems to go off so often.)
When Rin had first ambled through the doors of the Yamazaki’s restaurant, Sousuke had considered the possibility that things could get awkward. He, Rin, Haru and Makoto hadn’t spent any time together since Rin’s flight, and the dynamic was definitely going to be different from high school now.
Turns out that he needn’t have worried.
While he wouldn’t say that it felt like Makoto had always been a part of his friendship with Rin – because the logical part of his brain could never really parse the expression – he had slotted right in regardless.
Makoto fussed and lit the place up with his smile, Rin grumbled in embarrassment as he attempted not to get emotional, Sousuke had smirked and teased and prodded as he was prone to.
Haru had just thanked Sousuke’s mother for the mackerel and watched the spectacle with mounting bemusement.
As a particularly fuzzy photograph of a slightly distorted speck in the sky flashes across the television screen, Sousuke looks over to Makoto and wonders if he’s felt like there’s suddenly a Rin-shaped whole in his life even though they’ve both been fine until now.
--
“-and seriously, I can’t believe he hasn’t even introduced me over Skype or anything when they’ve been… doing whatever they’re doing for so long already. Aren’t I the only one who hasn’t been yet?”
“I think that’s more due to the fact that you’re in another continent and the others have met them both before now already, Rin.”
Rin sniffs, because clearly that answer is unacceptable.
“And anyway,” Makoto says as he rolls his chair back towards the table next to his futon, digging for his mobile as it trills for his attention, “they’re still figuring out ‘whatever they’re doing’ in a way that works for them. Zaki-chan and Ikuya have had even less contact with each other than they’ve had with Haru so I guess they’re all getting to know each other again. Haru’ll introduce them to you when they’re ready, you just need to be patient.”
“…Do I look like the kind of guy to have a lot of patience?” Rin asks rhetorically, watching as Makoto rolls his eyes and finally unearths his phone from underneath a pile of folders. He glances at the screen with a slight furrow in his brow as he rolls back to his laptop, and Rin peers at him from under his lashes. “Something wrong?”
Makoto doesn’t answer, his eyes scanning the screen as he starts biting his lip; Rin’s sure he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.
In the end Rin has to clear his throat before Makoto remembers that he’s technically not alone, and the way he jumps might have been cute if not for the way his grip tightens on the phone in a white knuckled grip.
“Makoto, what’s happened?”
“So, you know how I’m supposed to be moving to the new place in two weeks?”
“Yeah? Your lease as a first year here is up, right?”
“Right,” Makoto says slowly, looking as though he’s going to work himself into a frenzy. “It’s a 2DK a little further out from the centre but it’s affordable if you split rent and bills, and there’s a swim club nearby that I could get experience coaching at over the weekends.” He rakes a hand through his hair roughly, pushing his fringe back. “A classmate was going to be sharing with me, but he’s had a family emergency that means he’s taking at least a year out and will be going back home.”
Rin swears under his breath.
“I’m guessing that most of the others have already sorted their accommodation out by now, huh?” It’s just a guess, but Makoto nods back miserably.
Well, shit.
They sit together for a while, throwing ideas back and forth (and shooting them back down again a moment later), and the way that Makoto seems to be sinking into himself and growing more despondent as they run out of steam makes Rin want to hit something.
He himself won’t be back for another year discounting any competitions his coach decides he should participate in, and it’s not like he knows anyone apartment hunting in Tokyo… He wracks his brain for a solution, and is pretty frustrated when he comes up empty.
“Makoto?”
Makoto glances up from where he’d been squinting unhappily down at the message on his phone to meet Rin’s slightly pixilated gaze.
“Yeah?”
“Why don’t you try asking Sousuke?”
Makoto stares at him for a moment, then blinks. “I guess he would be more likely to know someone local who might need somewhere to stay,” he says dubiously, as though trying to convince himself.
Rin snorts.
“No, I meant why don’t you ask Sousuke to move in with you? He’s been whining about wanting a bit of independence for a while now and his parents are probably more likely to say yeah if they know he’ll be with you.”
“…You think so?”
Rin shrugs.
Can’t hurt to try, right?
--
It’s the first time Makoto’s shared a living space where family – or Haru – aren’t involved, and honestly?
Makoto would like to think it’s going pretty well.
He hadn’t really been hopeful when Rin had suggested the idea; he’d only really asked Sousuke to cover all bases while at the verge of giving up entirely when Sousuke had surprised him by seriously mulling the idea over and asking if he could see the place in question.
Considering a prerequisite of the landlord had been a meeting with the new tenant before anything could be agreed anyway, Makoto had agreed and set the viewing up.
The rest, as they say, is history.
They’re now a month and a half into their stint of sharing a living space and have settled into it pretty well.
Sousuke, of course, tends to prepare the meals, sometimes bringing home leftovers packed by his parents for Makoto’s benefit (though Makoto can’t help but notice they look too perfect and smell too fresh to actually be leftovers). Makoto does the dishes and puts them away after they’ve dried, with the rest of the chores divided equally between the two of them.
Their schedules differ, so during the week they don’t actually see as much of each other as they might have before with Makoto’s swim practices starting to ramp up in intensity. Sousuke gets a part time job to fill his day when he’s not at the restaurant, setting himself a budget and saving scrupulously to make sure he’s always on top of his share of the rent. He’s a little forgetful about picking up after himself, and Makoto’s sure it must have driven Rin crazy back at Samezuka, but it’s not something that bother’s Makoto, especially when he sees how hard Sousuke’s working.
Still, they have the weekends where they’ll often go out for groceries and pick up a little something to snack on while they watch a movie in the evening. Sousuke sometimes pops down to the swimming club on days that Makoto’s working there, and one day when he notices Sousuke waiting for him after the class he’s teaching has been let out reveals that he’s been getting nutritional advice from one of his student’s mothers as he waited.
They learn so much more about each other; the quirks and idiosyncrasies that you only really display at home.
He sees Sousuke in his ratty old Chouzetsu Gattai Doppelganger pyjamas and learns of the way he exhales heavily in his sleep, in a quiet, almost snore. He hears it a lot as it turns out that Sousuke has the dubious talent of being able to fall asleep absolutely anywhere. He learns that Sousuke consumes a frankly worrying amount of Cola, hates mornings, and takes competitive cooking shows way too seriously.
He mutters song lyrics under his breath, finds shaving tedious but does it meticulously anyway, and uses up all of the hot water when he showers.
He also finds that Sousuke’s the type to carefully remove your glasses and tuck a blanket around you when you fall asleep at the table halfway through assembling a bibliography.
Makoto sometimes wonders about the things Sousuke’s picked up about him in their time together, and how bad they are; he hasn’t gone running for the hills at least, so there’s that, and Sousuke’s the type to speak his mind if unhappy.
They’re a good fit, able to navigate around each other where necessary, their shared home life slipping seamlessly into their respective routines with little trouble.
While Makoto admits that he doesn’t really have a lot to compare the experience to, Sousuke is definitely a better roommate than his class mate probably would have been.
Well, he thinks wryly, he probably owes Rin one for that.
--
Rin’s smirk when he steps into their apartment is wide and of the shit-eating variety that tips Sousuke off to the fact that he’s going to be completely insufferable.
It’s his first time there, and Rin takes it all in with wide eyes, studying the small touches he and Makoto have given the place to make it their own.
Makoto’s still sat where Sousuke had left him, tapping away at his laptop with one earphone hanging from his neck as he hums along to the tune being pumped into his ear from the other.
“Look what followed me home,” Sousuke says, grinning.
Makoto’s brows furrow as his head drifts over to look, his eyes going wide as they land on Rin who actually ducks his head a little sheepishly. “Surprise?”
“Rin!”
Makoto leaps up, his laptop almost spilling onto the floor in his haste to bound over and pull Rin into a bear hug.
“I thought you weren’t going to be here until tomorrow evening?”
“Oh, y’know, just thought I’d drop by a day early so we could hang out before we head out of Tokyo. I’m only going to be back for about half a day after the tournament I’m here for so I figured-”
Makoto cuts him off with another quick squeeze and then lets go, beaming.
“I’m really glad that you did,” he says, the warmth in his voice causing a flush to crawl across Rin’s cheeks. Sousuke snickers from behind them, and Makoto smacks him lightly as he passes to get to the kitchen.
“I can’t believe you didn’t say anything, honestly Sousuke.”
“Wouldn’t have been a surprise then though, would it?”
He can just about make out Makoto’s sigh full of fond exasperation as he putters around while making tea, and Sousuke can already feel the contentment washing over him at having the two of them with him again.
They leave Makoto to it as Sousuke wheels Rin’s suitcase to his room, its owner hefting a duffle bag over his shoulder and following Sousuke down the hallway. They set up a futon for Rin to use while he’s there, snarking back and forth as they get each other up to speed since the last time they spoke.
They end up just sitting for a few moments since they can still hear Makoto moving around, thinking it better to stay out of his way while he’s in the kitchen; his time with Sousuke means that he’s slightly less of a hazard when left alone in there now, and having the two of them hovering over his shoulder would probably more of a hindrance than a help.
“So anyway,” Rin’s saying, and there’s a strange twist to his mouth that Sousuke’s not quite sure how to read. “Are you and Makoto together now or something?”
Sousuke’s pretty sure his brows have risen off his forehead and made off to pursue a life of their own with the way they’ve shot so far up his forehead. Rin’s watching him in something like anticipation, looking curious enough to burst and a little apprehensive all at once.
Sousuke snorts. And then he’s dissolving into laughter so bad that he wonders whether Makoto himself will abandon the tea to see what’s going on.
“Oh man, Rin you’re hilarious. No we’re not dating. Why?”
Rin shifts in his seat. “I don’t know, it’s just the way you guys move around each other, and the way you interact. I’m not sure how to describe it. But it just seems like there’s more going on with you than what’s on the surface, y’know?”
Sousuke hums contemplatively, considering this.
It’s not that the thought of what it’d be like to date Makoto had never crossed his mind; Sousuke’s not blind after all, and honestly Makoto’s the kind of guy that all parents probably wish their children would bring home. After getting to know him better he knows better than to take Makoto’s outward appearance to be the full depth of his character; he knows about Makoto’s subtle wit, his mischievous streak, and the way he’s so unwilling to give up on anything.
Still, if he were to follow Rin’s logic here…
“You do realise that that’s what people have said about the two of us for years as well, right?”
“I… They what??”
Sousuke has to supress a fresh wave of laughter at the befuddled look on Rin’s face.
--
When Rin smashes through a record at the tournament, he knows that there’s no way his friends’ll let him go back to Australia without celebrating in some way.
They settle on throwing a small party at Sousuke and Makoto’s flat since it’s where Rin is staying, as well as it being the biggest place they can use without being charged, that means they need snacks and drinks in abundance.
He mentions this to Sousuke, who only snorts and says that they don’t need to worry about snacks since Makoto still hoards a stash in case of unexpected guests. Drinks, however, may be an issue.
They decide to wing it for the time being since the convenience store is just around the corner, and they may not even need extra.
Haru comes along with Aki and Ikuya in tow (much to Rin’s delight), and somehow Kisumi has managed to tag along too. For some reason Rin can’t even muster surprise at this, but it’s good to see him after so long so he doesn’t dwell on the thought long.
He doesn’t even know where the time’s going, and honestly it’s been such a long time since he’s been able to just hang out with his friends like this that he’s not really keeping track. He’s already managed to strike a surprisingly long conversation with Ikuya about hair products that has Haru rolling his eyes and Sousuke snickering at them.
Still, with the number of guests being what it is, they do run out of drinks and they decide that a drinks run has become necessary.
Makoto shrugs and volunteers to go, and soon he and Haru are leaving with a rather long list of things to pick up. (Rin’s not even sure how much of it will be available wherever they’re going, but he stops thinking about it soon enough when Aki comes over with a bowl of popcorn and a mind to catch up.)
They chat for a while as Aki tells him enthusiastically about her classes, but after a while he excuses himself to sit out on the balcony where Sousuke has stepped outside to clear his head.
Rin sits gingerly on the floor with his back leaning against the rail fencing, letting the cool air wash over his warm cheeks. He doesn’t feel the need to say anything, tilting is head back to look up at the sky where enough cloud has cleared so that Rin can actually see a star or two.
The still quiet of the evening is broken by the rustle of movement downstairs, and he soon figures out that it’s the crinkle of plastic as Haru and Makoto bring back the requested drinks.
“Haruuuu,” Makoto’s saying with a whine in his voice, sounding as though someone’s told him all of the chocolate’s gone.
Haru himself seems completely unaffected even though the sound had caused both Rin and Sousuke’s heads to shoot up.
“What? You’re an open book anyway. You should just say something to them.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, there’s no way I can…”
Makoto’s voice fades as the two of them disappear into the building.
Sousuke and Rin glance at each other from the corner of their eyes, then look away with the same thought.
What on earth had that been about?
--
Considering Rin has a plane to catch tomorrow evening, he probably shouldn’t be awake. Still, Sousuke watches as his thin fingers wind into Makoto’s fluffy hair, combing through it absently as the taller boy uses Rin’s lap for a pillow.
As for Sousuke, he’s slumped into Rin’s side from behind; if he really wanted to, he could probably just slide in behind Rin so that he’s between Sousuke’s legs, but that would involve moving and while Sousuke wouldn’t say that he’s drunk he’d really prefer to stay still at this point in time.
The place isn’t as trashed as it could be since he and Haru had managed to at least gather the empty bottles, packets and wrappers into a few bags to take down to the bins tomorrow before Haru had left.
Sousuke supresses a yawn, turning his head into Rin’s shoulder to muffle the sound to keep from disturbing Makoto before turning his attention back to the other two.
“You know,” Rin says quietly, his voice low as he continues to card through Makoto’s hair, “Kisumi said something interesting to me today.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Usually Sousuke might have been a little suspicious of what that could be, but there’s a slight haze of beer and sleep in his mind that lets it slip under the radar this time around.
“He was talking about how he missed the invitation to ‘our little threesome’ but that he thought that we were all great for each other. And,” he continues, and Sousuke’s not sure whether it’s his owntone he’s using or an imitation of Kisumi’s, “he wanted to know whether applications are still open. Cause he’d want in on that.”
It takes a moment for that to sink in, but when it does Sousuke actually guffaws a little. “He’s always so straightforward,” he mutters, but doesn’t elaborate on whether that’s a good thing or bad. ”Wow, when did signups happen? Cause I think I missed them and I’m still interested in enrolling.”
Now it’s Rin who’s snickering back in amusement. “Can you imagine the description on the form though? Three hot pieces of ass – one tall, two taller – with the best pecs, traps and glutes you could hope to see. One sweet, one salty, one bitter. Comes in-” and Rin has to stop to giggle a little before continuing, “-mild, hot, and holy shit levels of spice.”
There’s a little movement from Makoto on Rin’s thigh, and as his face turns outwards his cheeks seem to be a lot more flushed than before. So maybe he has been awake all this time?
Sousuke leans forward to run a finger down the apple of his cheek, and Makoto turns blearily into the contact, his eyelids fluttering slightly.
Once his and Rin’s laughter has died down a little, though, Sousuke thinks of what they’d said, and thinks of a different tact.
“I wonder how it works for Haru? His situation’s still a threesome too, right?”
Rin shrugs; even after seeing the three of them together in action, he’s still unsure of how Haru, Aki and Ikuya work together. “Well, even if they have worked it all out, can’t be easy to talk about.”
Makoto rolls over, a sliver of green peeking out from between his dusky lashes. “It’s brave, going into a relationship that so un.. unc…”
“Unconventional?” Sousuke suggests.
Makoto hums, nose scrunching adorably as he tries to find the right words and tries to stay awake to say them.
“Is it something you’ve thought about?” Rin prods, eyes riveted to Makoto now. Sousuke can’t blame him.
Sighing softly, Makoto’s lifts part. Sousuke and Rin both lean forwards in anticipation…
And are disappointed when Makoto exhales, fast asleep once more.
--
They let Makoto sleep in the next morning and chug glass each of the orange juice he’d bought for them the day before in anticipation of hangovers.
Rin doesn’t feel too bad all things considered; most of them had really only been tipsy rather than drunk so there’s not so much to claw back from as there could have been.
He’s pretty sure he remembers everything of consequence that happened last night, anyway.
Rin peers over the rim of his glass and watches as Sousuke drains his own glass, throat bobbing as he drinks the last of it.
“So that conversation we had last night after everyone left,” Rin starts, and Sousuke turns towards him slowly, blue eyes intense as he waits for him to continue. “I didn’t just imagine it, did I?”
Sousuke huffs out a breath, as though he’d been holding it in.
“Unless we’re sharing hallucinations, I doubt it.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“So what do we do?”
“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Well, yeah. It’s not like I hadn’t thought about it – being together – before Kisumi said anything but it’s not just because it’d be hot as hell.” Rin looks down and away from Sousuke, feeling a slight flush rising to his cheeks. He’s mumbling by the time he continues. “It’s you and Makoto, how could I not?”
He hears the sound of breath catching and looks up; the tips of Sousuke’s ears are turning a little pink, and he looks like he’s barely breathing.
“So what do we do now?”
--
“…So why are you telling me any of this?”
Haru sounds bored, and possibly a little harassed as he finally speaks, having heard the jumbled retelling of what he’d missed after he’d left their place the night before. Sousuke’s sure he’s probably wearing the expression to match, and he’s pretty sure it’s a good thing he can’t actually see it or he might want to punch something.
Old habits die hard, right?
But that’d be counterproductive at this stage.
“So what should we do?” Rin hisses, looking rankled. “You know him best, right? Is he even going to believe that we’re serious after the conversation yesterday?”
“You know him pretty well yourself too, Rin.”
“Haru.”
“What? You’re being ridiculous, you just need to talk to him.” He pauses, and then continues under his breath. “He probably can’t even remember.”
“…You sound pretty confident about the just talking to him thing,” Sousuke remarks, wondering what exactly Haru knows.
“Well yeah. But if you’re not, you need to show him and back up your words.”
Then he hangs up.
--
When Makoto wakes up, his face is smushed into his pillow and his legs are practically immobile by the way his blanket has tangled between them. It takes a moment for his sight to focus as light streams in through the window and onto his face.
He rolls over out of self-preservation, then carefully unthreads the blanket so that he can stand up without toppling over.
He rolls up into a stretch, back popping as he reaches to the ceiling.
He doesn’t remember stumbling into his room, but he figures his presence there must be down to Sousuke and Rin.
Speaking of whom.
After a quick trip to the bathroom, Makoto treads through the apartment towards their communal area where Sousuke and Rin sit at the table, their heads ducked together as they talk in a hush.
He watches them for a moment from the doorway, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips at how comfortable they look; at the familiarity of the two of them talking animatedly about something or the other.
Sousuke spots him first, the eyes that had looked so cold and intimidating once upon a time now thawed by something tender that makes Makoto think sipping of hot chocolate in front of an open fire on a chilly day.
If Sousuke’s eyes make him feel cozy, Rin, when he looks up, has him thinking of balmy beaches, of sand in his feet, of – of course – a shower of cherry blossom petals.
He feels a swell of affection for the two of them as he pushes away from the door arch to stride towards them, feeling utterly light.
“You guys should have woken me up. Have you been awake long?”
Sousuke gives a non-committal grunt and Rin shrugs. It makes Makoto chuckle, having expected no less from either of them after watching them go through beer bottles like water.
He really does love his pair of idiots.
Sousuke and Rin’s eyes go wide.
“…I just said that out loud, didn’t I.”
For a moment the room is completely still; Makoto’s holding his breath and he’s sure that the frantic thump of his heart can be heard across the country.
The thought has left his mouth, his heart, his mind, but it isn’t untrue.
It’s Rin who breaks the silence.
“Well shit. I can’t believe he beat us to it, after all of that.”
“Literally stole the words out of our mouths. What the hell, Makoto.”
They’re both grinning at him, gazes still a little dazed; as though they can’t quite believe what’s happening.
Makoto’s not sure that he can either.
Still, before his brain to mouth filter can kick in he’s saying, “Well if I’ve taken something from you that doesn’t belong to me, maybe you should take it back?”
There’s a second score of shocked silence, and this time Makoto can feel a blush crawling from his neck up to his face at just how embarrassing that sounded.
But he refuses to take it back.
Then Sousuke’s laughing, happy and startled, knocking a chair over as he pushes up from the table; striding forward until he’s practically nose to nose with Makoto.
“Maybe I will,” is all he says before leaning forwards and capturing his lips in a kiss that has Rin squawking indignantly in the background about how unfair it is that Sousuke got to kiss him first and-
Sousuke pulls back, rolls his eyes, and just grabs Rin as well.
~Hollyrose~
Notes:
I actually really struggled to pick a prompt for this one, but that’s because I was massively tempted by ALL of them ^^’ So I ended up dithering towards the beginning because I had so many different ideas…
This OT3 one grabbed me the most though, so I went for it. I definitely didn’t think it was going to get this long; I think it’s probably the longest fic I’ve written so far that is complete! 0.0
As it says in the tags, I ended up picking bits and pieces up from the High Speed 2 novel, though I guess that’s obvious from the (minimal) inclusion of Ikuya; the bits with Sousuke actually ended up having a bigger impact on how I was writing him than I expected! But I thought it was interesting that although he’s competitive he doesn’t seem quite as hostile as he does at the beginning of Eternal Summer.
I also really liked the idea of the way that Haru’s situation is somewhat parallel to, but also WAY DIFFERENT to SouRinMako’s XD
If you haven’t had the chance to read HS2, I’d definitely recommend that you do ^^ Links are here: http://sayasamax3.tumblr.com/post/56013645417/high-speed-translations-and-summaries
The title is from The Neighbourhood’s song Sweater Weather, but I actually prefer the version by The Slaves (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bxn5th2B-VI).
In terms of the prompts criteria? I decied that I wanted to try hitting all three points; not sure I was completely successful considering I wouldn’t be able to write about any corruption happening to save my life, but I guess it’s kind of drunkenly hinted at..?
Btw, you can probably tell but I've never done karaoke before; the closest is playing singstar with friends (where a certain rendition of Circle of Life was completely slaughtered, but we don't talk about that anymore... much). But anyway, uh just take it with a pinch of salt with the way that scene goes XD
After being super jelly of everyone participating last year (even though I knew I wouldn’t have had the time to then) I have this year joined up to the Makoto Birthday Exchange ^^b Assignments went out on Wednesday but I wanted to post the KuroDai prompt fic before I started on mine since I was 2/3 of the way through it already.
But it means that since that has a deadline I’ll be working on that for now; if you sent me a prompt then please be patient with me! I’ll go back to working on them once I’ve sorted out my assignment for the exchange ^^
(...now I just have to pick which one to fill, cause all of the prompts I got were awesome orz)
Fandom: Haikyuu!!
Characters/Pairings: KuroDai
Prompt: Meeting in E.R/A&E AU for Anon
Warnings: Description of stitching a wound, so if that kind of thing makes you sqeamish beware
Summary: "So, Sawamura-san," he says, amusement bleeding into his voice with little remorse, "why don't you tell me the story behind your injury while I take a look at it for you?”
Sawamura squints at him suspiciously. It's not entirely unwarranted considering that he's already had to tell the tale once when he'd been through triage; Kuroo already has an abridged version in the notes he's been passed.He just wants Sawamura to have to recount it again because the constipated look the thought of it brings to his face is absolutely hilarious.And also, the furrow between his brows is kind of adorable.
There's a smirk curling at the corners of Kuroo's lips that he knows probably isn't particularly professional, but it's difficult to control in the face of the sight before him.
Though he's not really trying that hard to keep it back, if he's being completely honest.
"So, Sawamura-san," he says, amusement bleeding into his voice with little remorse, "why don't you tell me the story behind your injury while I take a look at it for you?"
Sawamura squints at him suspiciously. It's not entirely unwarranted considering that he's already had to tell the tale once when he'd been through triage; Kuroo already has an abridged version in the notes he's been passed.
He just wants Sawamura to have to recount it again because the constipated look the thought of it brings to his face is absolutely hilarious.
And also, the furrow between his brows is kind of adorable.
It takes a moment, but eventually Sawamura huffs out a breath and reaches over Kuroo's desk to let the doctor take his hand.
Kuroo's gentle hands are a little at odds with his sharp smile, eyes attentive as he unwraps the bandage to inspect the wound. It is stained with a little blood, though Kuroo knows that this is largely due to the mess of tissue that the triage nurse had picked out of the cut earlier. He certainly doesn't envy Sawamura the cutting commentary he had likely been subjected to a his hand had been cleaned and re-wrapped; Kuroo has it on good authority that Futakuchi's running on a measly two cups of coffee today, so it's likely that his already minimal patience has been completely whittled down by now.
Plucking stringy bits of tissue paper out of an open cut would not have helped in the least.
Despite Kuroo's light touch, Sawamura does flinch just a little as the fabric is pulled away from his skin. From the depth of the cut, Kuroo's not surprised he's experiencing some level of discomfort.
"A friend of mine was trying to open a tin can in the kitchen," Sawamura begins, as though to distract himself from the dull throb of pain in his hand. "Can opener wasn't doing much for him so he asked for a hand; I managed to get it open to about... three quarters of the way around? So we were trying to pry it the rest of the way open with a knife."
"...So you sliced your palm open with a knife?"
Sawamura's brows draw even closer together.
"No. I sliced my palm open on the can's lid. Someone burst into the kitchen while I was trying to take it off and it might have... startled me." His eyes narrow at Kuroo, daring him to laugh.
He manages to keep a straight face through sheer force of will, though his struggle is more due to the disgruntled scrunch of Sawamura's nose than his story.
Satisfied with the explanation, Kuroo asks the usual questions ("Have you taken any painkillers?" "How long has it been bleeding?" etc.) and goes about disinfecting the cut. The cursory warning he usually gives gets cut off by a curt, "Yeah I know, it might sting," but far from being offended Kuroo bites back a grin.
He gets the distinct impression that it's more to do with the fact that Sawamura's usually cleaning up scrapes and has probably delivered the line several times himself. Kuroo still figures that he's unused to having to be tended to himself though.
"Nurse Futakuchi's probably told you this already, but this is going to need stitches."
Sawamura grunts in affirmation.
"Are you okay with needles?"
"I'll be fine," Sawamura hums. "I guess it's a good thing that the friend who drove me here couldn't find parking though."
Kuroo chuckles under his breath as he secures his pre-threaded needle in a needle holder and checks that he has bandages, antiseptic wipes, scissors and forceps to hand. "Is he the one that was trying to open the can or the one who made you jump?"
Sawamura snorts softly at the question. "Neither. He's the one who made me jump's boyfriend."
"Just how squeamish is he?"
"You have no idea."
Kuroo keeps him talking as he stitches the cut closed, asking the occasional question to prod Sawamura into continuing when he starts to focus on the needle's movement. For the most part his only visible reason is the way his forearm tenses a little, bracing himself for the pickle of the needle on his skin though he does stay admirably still throughout the process.
One might even say that his face may as well be carved from stone when he isn't speaking... But as Kuroo ties off the end he thinks Sawamura's more like the steadiness of an undisturbed body of water; even if something causes ripples, it doesn't take long to right itself.
...And if his thoughts are getting this poetic it's about time for Kuroo to grab some coffee of his own.
He brushes the thought off for later - he isn't due a break for quite a while - and concentrates on wrapping up Sawamura's hand and running through the basics of taking care of his stitched hand.
By the time he's finally peeling off his gloves and rambling about pamphlets Sawamura's staring at him, eyes intent.
"...Sawamura-san?"
Sawamura jumps, flush starting to dust his cheeks as he drags his gaze from his careful study of Kuroo's face down to his bound palm.
"I was just saying that your hand will be sore for the next few days; you'll need to be careful not to pull the stitches. We don't tend to prescribe anything stronger than over the counter painkillers for this, so if the pain gets any worse than that come back and we'll take another look. Other than that, you just need to book an appointment to take the stitches out again on your way out, like I mentioned earlier. It'll still take a little while for your hand to get back to normal after that but it'll be mostly healed by then."
"Right."
This is around the time that patients tend to get that harried look about them as they realise just how long they've had to wait to see someone (reminded either by the growling of their stomachs or the droop of their eyelids), but Sawamura seems reluctant to move. Kuroo feels his lips ticking up into another grin at the way Sawamura's brows have started to furrow again. The struggle not to reach out and poke his forehead is so real.
Instead, he settles for saying this:
"Your appointment will probably be with one of the nurses, but if you want to give your recovery an extra boost and you want me kiss it better for you then I should be around."
There's a beat of silence where Kuroo's sure Sawamura's going to walk away without even dignifying him with an answer.
Sawamura has risen from the chair he's been perched on all this while, but when Kuroo looks up it's to see Sawamura's brown eyes filled with wry mirth. "That a promise?"
He's gone before Kuroo can respond, but damn, Kuroo hopes he doesn't get an appointment with Futakuchi because he'll never hear the end of it.
(...And even if he does, Kuroo has the feeling that every minute of jeering would be worth it.)
~Hollyrose~
Notes:
There's probably inaccurate description etc. as I am in no way a medical professional and I'll admit my research for this was pretty minimal. Though I have actually been to A&E with my dad when he managed to slice his hand open on a can on Diwali (right before we were supposed to go to my cousin's house like we do every year) while trying to open a can of ghee for my mum, but that was a few years ago so I can't remember it so well anymore ^^' Also we had to call a paramedic out because he was bleeding so much before we went to A&E and got prioritised once we got there as he's had a heart attack before so we didn't have to wait as long as we would have otherwise ^^'
ANYWAY. Sorry the end of this is a tad rushed, but I hope you enjoyed reading this anyway ^^' The title this time is from Pendulum's The Tempest
Cause You’re a Glimpse of Bliss (A Taste of Heaven)
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Characters/Pairings: England/Prussia, America, Canada
Prompt: Writer and Editor AU for elany
Summary: When Arthur finally settles in the seat across from him, Gilbert takes one look at his face and raises his brows with a low whistle."You look like you need a pint. Or six."
It's approaching 2:30 by the time that Arthur's shouldering his way through the doors of their chosen café.
It's a relief to glance over to their usual table to see it already occupied by the right person; it means that Arthur's free to go straight to the counter and put in an order for lunch as well as his usual pot of tea instead of having to worry about securing a table first.
Today is already feeling as though it has stretched for far too long. It's unlikely to get much better from here.
From the moment Arthur had stepped in to work, it had been chaos.
His morning had started by being pulled into his manager's office to be handed the manuscript from a particularly finicky author ("He needs someone who will be firm with him Arthur, and he wasn't getting that from the junior editors") which had resulted in a few hours of harried phone calls as he attempted to rebalance his work load between battling through his emails.
The very notion of a lunch break may as well have been a myth, as mired as he had been in his edits as he had been when Kiku had stuck his head over Arthur's shoulder at noon. Kiku's usually able to drag Arthur from his desk for a bite on the occasion that he's able to venture over from finance, but...
He knows better than to interrupt when Arthur has a red pen in hand, attacking a wadge of paper like some kind of frenzied school teacher. In the end, Arthur doesn't look up until his work phone starts to buzz insistently at him to remind him of his impending meeting.
Well, Arthur thinks as he faces the cashier, at least if he has to work through lunch it's with a client he actually likes. (And maybe, he thinks somewhat vindictively, he can claim it back in expenses as a working lunch meeting. It would certainly serve the company right for dumping the 'difficult cases' in Arthur's lap when he already has his plate full.)
When Arthur finally settles in the seat across from him, Gilbert takes one look at his face and raises his brows with a low whistle.
"You look like you need a pint. Or six."
Arthur shoots him a tired smirk. "I might have considered an Irish coffee, but even I know it's probably not the best idea on an empty stomach."
Gilbert eyes Arthur dubiously, looking as though he wants to comment on that as Arthur accepts his order from a barista with a quiet word of thanks.
He doesn't wait for whatever quip Gilbert has planned for him to be delivered.
Instead, he fishes Gilbert's folder from his bag - the one that Gilbert had picked out in their very first editorial meeting, which he had preceded to slather with Horrible Histories stickers. He draws out a copy of Gilbert's latest draft and hands it over for Gilbert to inspect while Arthur finally takes the opportunity to refuel.
As ever, Gilbert's usually expressive face goes still in concentration, giving his full attention to the manuscript. He has his own pen uncapped (a green one to contrast with Arthur's red scrawl), the lid caught between his teeth as he scans through the pages and makes an odd note in the margins.
Arthur keeps an attentive eye on Gilbert as he flicks through each page, sipping his tea in silence.
When Gilbert's brows draw together, Arthur sets down his plate (now free of half a panini and three quarters of a slice of lemon drizzle cake). He leans over and nods to himself, remembering his read through of the section in question when he recognises it.
"Some of the wording here stagnates your pacing; you just need to re-word it a little so that you get your flow back, I think. You hit a similar pattern a little further down as well..."
"Well yeah, but is there any other way for it to happen? How about if..."
Gilbert bites his lip in thought before pulling a notepad out of his bag and hashing out his revisions while Arthur pulls his chair around to sit beside him instead of opposite, giving his opinion on the changes made.
They go through the remainder of the manuscript in much the same fashion, discussing passages that Arthur had highlighted and hashing out possible tweaks that could improve Gilbert's work.
Gilbert is, without a doubt, Arthur's favourite author to work with.
He has a vision that he is committed to portraying, and if he feels that Arthur isn't getting what that is he doesn't hesitate to make it known. It's one of the reasons that they have periodic meetings rather than batting revised manuscripts back and forth by email. This way they are able to discuss (and often negotiate) any points of contention in enough detail to find a solution then and there.
It all keeps Arthur on his toes, and he'd be lying if he were to say he didn't enjoy the banter and bickering that comes with it.
It probably helps that the first manuscript that had really excited Arthur after he'd started his editing career had belonged to Gilbert. Gilbert had been his first really successful author too.
There's something about the way that Gilbert writes that has Arthur completely spellbound, right from that first manuscript that he'd fought tooth and nail to be able to edit. Even as he's grown into his own, unique style over the years Gilbert has always been able to create characters that make one feel. Even the antagonists in the historical plots he loves to spin are complex; their motivations and personalities intriguing people outside the market his books tend to be marketed towards. Arthur still remembers falling in love with the protagonist's best friend the first time he'd read Gilbert's writing; of taking the manuscript home with him to be able to find out what was going to happen next; of staying awake until 5 AM just to get to the end.
But it's not just nostalgia.
Over time they've built a system that works for them, the process like a well oiled machine. Gilbert's a stalwart client; knows what he wants and what he's willing to stretch to. Arthur's never had to deal with any second thoughts or insecurities from Gilbert about his writing. He's more likely to end up in an argument when Gilbert doesn't agree with a suggestion or edit that Arthur has made.
It's part of what makes working with Gilbert so interesting.
With a strong belief in the 'work hard, party harder' way of life, despite his witty commentary and occasional bouts of immaturity (...not that Arthur can cast aspersions considering he's usually laughing along internally) Gilbert is a consummate professional.
With Gilbert, Arthur rarely has to worry about missed deadlines or complete re-writes; Gilbert might be the type to decide to go out drinking on a whim (and drag Arthur along with him) but he'll make sure has completed the amount of work expected of him before he does.
Gilbert's focus and discipline can be downright scary sometimes.
"Now that you've started lining your stomach, do you want that Irish coffee?"
Arthur glances up from his mournful study of his last spoonful of cake to see that Gilbert's pen is capped again and on top of the manuscript on the table. He peers over the frames of his glasses, lips quirking slightly at the way Arthur had been picking at the cake in an attempt to make it last longer.
It probably says a lot about the day that he's been having when Arthur pauses just a little too long, as though seriously considering it.
Then he huffs out a sigh. "I'd better not. Yao'll somehow figure it out without even seeing me and I'd rather not have to deal with the fall out of that on top of everything else."
"I guess that also rules out smuggling something stronger in a thermos to you out pretending you left it here at lunch is a no-go as well then?"
Arthur snorts, grinning. "I'm afraid so, though that would have been amazing." He hums, another thought occurring to him. "It'd probably spur the betting on, too."
"Oh ho?" Gilbert's smirk is wide and devious. "Any idea what the pool is like now?"
"Not sure, but from what Kiku tells me it's getting bigger every day." Figuring that he won't be able to get away with staying out of the office too much longer, Arthur finally finishes his cake. "I actually think Kiku's been low-key working the rumour mill just to make it bigger. I've had a few people come over to try and... talk me through 'my obvious feelings' for you. I suppose Elizaveta has money on us getting together this week."
Gilbert's eyes go wide for a moment, and then his face crumples, rich laughter bursting deep from his chest and causing a few of the café's patrons to look over at their little corner. "Oh man I wish I'd been there for that conversation." His lips twitch, as though he's having to withhold more laughter in order to be able to speak properly. "And I'm guessing you acted appropriately oblivious?"
Arthur looks over at him, blinking guilelessly. "I really haven't a clue what you mean." He manages to keep the expression in place for a moment more before it cracks and a snicker of his own slips through.
"I'm sure you don't," Gilbert drawls back. He opens his mouth to continue, but is interrupted by the way Arthur's phone starts to buzz on the table, skittering slowly towards the edge as it causes a commotion for attention.
Arthur manages to pluck it from the table before it's made it's way to the edge and scowls when he sees the reminder lighting the screen. "Duty calls," he grumbles, downing the dregs of tea clinging to the bottom of his cup.
Gilbert watches as he gathers his belongings, not moving to pack his own just yet. "Will you come over after work tonight?"
"I'm not sure what time I'll finish up tonight; might be late..."
Gilbert rolls his eyes. "All the more reason to come over. I don't want you burning your kitchen down when you try to put something together while half asleep." He grins at the affronted look that comment gets him. "And I have beer. And cider. And wine. You can take your pick. Pretty sure you've run out."
Arthur squashes the urge to mutter "And who's fault is that?" under his breath since technically Gilbert isn't the only one responsible for how bare his alcohol cupboard currently is. He also has to tramp down on the impulse to lean over and drop a quick kiss on Gilbert's lips. Instead, he hikes his bag over a shoulder, catching Gilbert's gaze. "I knew there was a reason you're still my favourite."
Gilbert's smile turns quickly into a leer. "I'm sure you'll be able to remind me why you're mine then too."
It's Arthur's turn to roll his eyes as he climbs to his feet and starts making his way to the door. But when he walks through the doors of the office ten minutes later he looks ten times lighter than e had when he'd left.
Because even though they'll probably just end up propping each other up on the couch watching a recording of The Great British Bake Off, the thought of it makes the rest of his afternoon seem so much more bearable.
~Hollyrose~
Notes:
Title is from PVRIS' song St Patrick, which I absolutely love ^^
Edits will probably happen tomorrow since it's 3AM ^^'
As you might have guessed, Kiku already knows that Arthur and Gilbert art together, and for that information Arthur (and Gilbert by proxy) will get a cut of the pool when Arthur confirms when they got together :')
Fandom: Free! Iwatobi Swim Club
Characters/Pairings: SeiMako, Momo
Prompt: Ghost/Living person AU for anon
Summary: "Onii-chan," he says, voice hushed in awe. "You never told me the place was haunted!"
A day ago - heck, an hour ago - Sei would've dismissed the very idea as ridiculous. But he can't exactly deny the strangeness of what he's just witnessed, and now that he's recounting the previous... incidents for Momo he finds it more difficult to explain away the irregularities.
Though weren't hauntings supposed to be incredibly unpleasant?
When Sei finally manages to drag his eyes open, he finds himself slumped against the wall of the small 1DK he will now be calling home. He's surrounded by tall towers of cardboard and the sight has him groaning into his arm.
His limbs are still leaden from lugging all his worldly possessions up two flights of rickety stairs (with the help of a few friends who had been compensated for their trouble with beer and a frankly ungodly amount of pizza), and the pitter patter of rain against the window pane keeps him feeling drowsy and unable to summon his usual vigor.
He hadn't, in the end, managed to unpack a thing the night before as Rin and Sousuke had plied him with a reasonable amount of their reward beer in the name of housewarming...
Which begs the question of how exactly he's become tangled up in the Pokemon blanket he'd packed for his brother to use when staying over. Because he's pretty sure he hasn't touched the binliner that he'd stuffed it into the depths of since dumping it unceremoniously into the far corner of the room yesterday afternoon...
Sei flinches as a muscle in his neck spasms from the awkward way he'd fallen asleep in, and he abandons the train of thought in favour of reaching back to poke at the affected area with a wince. A quick glance at his phone tells him it's mid-morning already, which only really gives him the rest of today to finish unpacking and grab some groceries before he's due back into work tomorrow; he'd better get cracking.
He folds the blanket and sets it aside to hunt down the box hiding the coffee from him, and that's the last thought he gives it all.
--
The walk home from the train station after work is made shorter as he chatters to his mother about his day, the apartment and the fact that he still has a suitcase of clothes to unpack when all he feels like doing is collapsing on the sofa and maybe watching a mindless game show or two before crawling to bed. His mother's voice is tinny through his phone's speaker as she catches him up on which idols will be in tonight's episode and an update on his brother's high school escapades; she's badgering him about making an actual dinner before he slinks to the couch ("I will, I will," he assures her while pointedly looking away from the bag of take out in his hand) when he finally arrives home.
He bids her a quick farewell (hoping she can't detect the tiny white lie in his voice) before dumping his dinner in the kitchen to change into something more comfortable.
He undoes his tie on the way, unbuttoning his shirt sleeves as he shoulders through his bedroom door ready to dig through his suitcase for a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt. Only. He's pretty sure he'd left his suitcase open on his bed this morning in his rush to get ready for work (with his clothes spilling out after shuffling around in there to find a pair of matching socks).
Sei blinks and rubs his eyes just to be sure, but when he opens them again the suitcase is still standing closed and propped against the wall.
He ambles over and lifts it up; it feels like it's empty.
Brows crawling up his forehead, his eyes go over to his wardrobe. His wardrobe which should, by all rights, be empty.
Sei slides the door open to piles of neatly stacked clothing, the rack filled with hangers of jackets.
He stares, wondering briefly if he could possibly have started sleepwalking. Then the rumble of his stomach makes him remember that his dinner is quickly cooling in the kitchen and saves the thought for another time.
--
Sei watches the way Momo hugs his jar to his chest, suppressing a smile as he lets his brother into his apartment.
"So you don't think he's given up yet then?"
Momo looks up at him with soulful gold eyes, bottom lip sliding forward into a pout so familiar that Sei has to hold back from reaching over to pinch Momo's cheek.
"If I'd left Pyunsuke at the dorm senpai would probably leave his jar open outside and lock the window so he couldn't get back in!"
"It's okay, he'll be safe with us." Sei ruffles Momo's hair with a grin, honestly glad for the company (Pyunsuke included). He's definitely going to have an eventful weekend; his brother isn't one to sit still and stay quiet after all.
It's one thing to go out for drinks with colleagues after work - it isn't as though Sei's particularly lonely - but there's something about having the hustle and bustle that Momo brings with him wherever he goes that sets Sei at ease.
He cooks up their lunch, lights a candle to clear the air ("Mum would be so proud") and sets a DVD to play on his laptop as Momo snuggles into the couch.
It's once their movie has ended and Momo's squinting at the coffee table that they realise that something might be amiss.
"Onii-chan. I think Pyunsuke's jar might need a heavier lid or something because he is getting way too smart."
Sei glances down at the empty jar and indeed, the lid seems to be ajar. His brows crawl up his forehead as he confirms that the stag beetle isn't easily visible in the room... He feels like as a responsible adult he should probably be shaking his head and sighing... but honestly? It's kind of funny.
He lets out a snort of amusement which at least gets that tentative look off Momo's face before they settle on a strategy to comb the place for little Pyunsuke before he can get himself hurt.
They search high and low for a solid ten minutes before being able to claim any kind of progress; Momo lets out an excited squeak and when Sei glances over it's to see Pyunske zooming under his desk with surprising speed.
The thing about Sei's desk is, it's really just a normal table. And it's kind of short so his knees tend to knock on there a little when he actually deigns to use it. (Which he hasn't since his first month of residence, at which point any work had been moved to his couch and the desk had become more of a convenient surface to dump stuff.)
Momo's small enough to crawl under the table easily enough, and when he waves his hand backwards at Sei he hands over the jar and lid.
Pyunsuke's safely back in his jar and Momo whips around, grin wide in victory. Only, he manages to smack his head on the table as he does.
Sei would usually find this hilarious, and as he's setting Pyunsuke down again (they'll need to find some way to keep him in his jar overnight without covering his air holes) the corners of his mouth start to tug up into a teasing smile. Until he turns, that is.
Because the jolt of the table is enough to have the candle wobbling precariously in its holder and Sei's eyes widen in horror at the way it teeters over a pile of forgotten paperwork next to the curtains. Momo's still under the table, completely unaware as he scrunches his nose and holds his head where it smarts.
"Momo, the candle!"
Momo somehow manages to scoot out just as Sei's getting close enough to the table to try and snatch the paper away when-
-the candle, which had been about to tip over flame first onto Sei's bills, freezes mid-fall as though it's been caught.
Sei's pretty sure his jaw's dropped open by this point, his wide eyes staring at the tiny part of the candle's base still in contact with the table as the rest of it just hovers. Momo thankfully thinks to pick up the stack of paper that Sei had been going for.
Sei had thought that maybe the paper had been propping the candle up somehow; that that could be the only possible reason he hasn't had a smoke alarm go off just yet. But as Momo sets the paper down far from the flame, the candle seems to defy gravity to straighten into a safe standing position.
And then it scoots back slightly, as though in after thought, away from the curtains that had been so close to going up in flames.
"...You saw that too, right?"
Sei keeps his eyes on the candle just in case it decides to do any more acrobatics, but he catches the way Momo slumps as though his legs have given out from the corner of his eye.
"Onii-chan," he says, voice hushed in awe. "You never told me the place was haunted!"
A day ago - heck, an hour ago - Sei would've dismissed the very idea as ridiculous. But he can't exactly deny the strangeness of what he's just witnessed, and now that he's recounting the previous... incidents for Momo he finds it more difficult to explain away the irregularities.
Though weren't hauntings supposed to be incredibly unpleasant?
If there are any supernatural forces at work in Sei's little apartment then surely they'd already proven to be perfectly benign?
Momo hums at this line of thought.
"I think they're more likely to be a superhero cleaning fairy or something at this point... Though if they are a ghost we could make a Ouija board and ask them questions!"
Sei thinks he might hear an unfamiliar but terrified squeak at that; it's probably just his imagination but he steers Momo away from the idea in any case. Sei's not sure whether the suggestion is because Momo's been watching too many horror movies or not enough. (Because seriously, when do they ever end well?)
Momo starts to collect the dishes, content to chatter about his theories, each growing ever wilder before he moves onto the next.
Sei, after blowing the candle out, follows him into the kitchen with a shake of his head.
--
In the days following Momo's departure the apartment feels a little too quiet; a little too empty.
Sei fills the silence with the clinking of plates as he washes the dishes, the clack of the keys on his laptop keyboard and his own tuneless humming as he putters around finding chores to keep himself busy. He finds himself thinking of Momo's cleaning fairy theory and chuckles to himself as he drops down onto his couch with a bag of clean laundry to fold up.
"At this rate I'll be putting any resident cleaning fairies out of business..."
The curtains rustle in the breeze from the window, but as he picks up the first pair of boxers from the pile he wonders if the tinkling laughter he hears belongs to a guest of one of his neighbors.
(The sound sends a spark of warmth through Sei's veins, and he can't help but hope that if does, that they are invited over more often.)
--
Over the weeks following, life goes on much on the way it always has. Sei goes to work, comes home, and tries his hand at making a decent meal when he can muster the will to.
He still finds the odd chore completed before he gets the chance to get around to doing it himself; dishes from dinner cleaned and drying after he's left them to soak in the sink, finding items he's misplaced sitting innocently on the coffee table after giving up on ever seeing then again...
Sei starts to catch the occasional flicker at the very edge of his vision; a sparkle of lively green, a soft looking tuft of brown. Surely he must be imagining the slight quirk of smiling lips he catches reflecting back at him from the window.
He thinks back to Momo's visit, and while Sei would never seriously consider his brothers Ouija board idea, he wonders if he can maybe thank his helper another way.
He leaves a simple but unmissable note on the coffee table before he goes to bed:
"I really can't thank you enough for how much you've been helping me. I don't think I've even introduced myself to you properly even after so long. Which is pretty rude since I guess you've been living here longer than me and I just kind of barged in. But hi, as you probably know by now I'm Mikoshiba Seijuurou. Can I ask your name, roomie?"
Truthfully it feels a little silly, but he's still optimistic. Sei leaves a pen beside the note, which has plenty of space left on it for a response to be written if his unexpected room mate feels inclined to reply.
They do not feel inclined to for the first couple of days.
Sei first think much of it when he first gets back from work and the pen doesn't seem to have moved at all; it's not like his mysterious helper makes their presence known every day, and Sei makes sure not to leave chores undone as much as possible.
Human or not, Sei does not want to take them for granted.
He shrugs and goes about the rest of his evening, thinking that maybe he'll have a name for them tomorrow instead.
The pen is still in exactly the same place the next day after work, and although it makes Sei pull a face, he tells himself to be patient. He can't really dwell on it since he has a presentation to prepare for work the next day, and his evening passes far too quickly as he goes through his cue cards.
He lays out his suit that night to ensure he won't run late, but can't find his lucky tie for the life of him. He turns his wardrobe upside down trying to find it and has pretty much given up when he gets up to grab a glass of water from the kitchen. As he sinks down onto the couch to rack his brains for where else the damn thing could be hidden, he looks up to find the very tie he's been looking for folded neatly on the coffee table.
Sei sags back into the sofa. "Thank you," he says with feeling.
It's not until he's in bed that he remembers his note, and his heart sinks a little at the realisation that it seems like it's just being ignored.
He lets out a soft groan before his eyelids flutter, finally allowing him to sink into sleep.
--
Sei collapses face first onto his bed when he gets in.
The presentation had gone well and his senpai had taken him out for a drink or three to celebrate the success.
He isn't drunk, but there's a pleasant buzz in his mind that has him grinning mindlessly into his duvet. Still, he manages to drag himself upright, rolling up his shirt sleeves and feeling around to loosen his (already discarded) tie before making his way over to the kitchen for a glass of water and some painkillers to stave off the possibility of a hangover.
It's on his way back that he sees the note again. Except that when he squints, he can see that the space he'd left blank... Is no longer blank.
"My name is Makoto. Thank you for not being scared."
"Makoto," he says to himself softly. "Nice."
He falls asleep right there on the sofa; he has exactly zero awareness of his surroundings when, a few hours later, he finds himself swaddled in Momo's Pokemon blanket once again. There's a faint sensation of fingers brushing hair away from his forehead, and when Sei's eyes flutter open he sees the faint silhouette of the hand's owner hovering over him.
"Makoto..?"
The fingers thread through Sei's hair, running through the silky strands softly with a low hum.
"You should get some rest."
In Makoto's gentle lilt the order sounds more like a suggestion, and Sei frowns. It's becoming increasingly difficult to keep his eyes pried open, but-
Sei's protest is cut off before he can even start to make it, when Makoto interrupts, sounding a little more firm. "You should really get to bed. But even if you stay here you should sleep." There's a moment of quiet hesitation that Sei almost misses in his drowsiness, but Makoto shrugs it away. "I'll still be here in the morning. So. We'll talk then. I promise."
The crease that had been forming on Sei's brow smoothes, and Sei sighs into the sofa's cushions. "I'll hold you to that."
Then he allows Makoto's soothing touch to send him back into slumber.
~Hollyrose~
Notes:
This took waaay longer to finish than it should have, and even then the ending's a bit rushed ^^' Oh well.
I was actually unpacking my own stuff when I started writing this so it miiight have been suggested that a helpful unpacking ghost friend was just wishful thinking on my part - and I wouldn't say that's inaccurate either XD
Also the reason Makoto freaks out when Sei leaves him a note is because he had a less than stellar experience the last time he tried to communicate in writing with the living ^^' Maybe I'll write about that some time too XD
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Characters/Pairings: England/Prussia, America, Canada
Prompt: Teacher/single parent AU for aroundthecoffeepot
Summary: It occurs to Arthur that he should maybe let go and stop staring since his sons will still need to deal with Weillschmidt for the rest of this year and don’t need their teacher to think that their dad is a complete dingbat.
Arthur glances down at his watch.
He groans, barely containing the string of curses that flit through his mind and runs a hand through his hair.
(When he realises the disarray that causes, he slips and swears under his breath. He thinks he hears a faint giggle through the door but is too preoccupied with rectifying the damage by that time to do anything about it.)
Not enough time to change; still, he shrugs off his suit jacket and slides off the tie he’d worn to work. A once over in the mirror is enough to convince him he looks presentable and then he’s striding out of his room.
Mercifully Matthew is already in the lounge, ready to leave. Alfred, however…
“Alfred, we need to be in your first teacher’s classroom in ten minutes,” he calls up the stairs.
Something crashes upstairs, and Arthur really hopes his hapless son hasn’t managed to break anything (himself included) in his rush to shout, “gimmie like two seconds!”
After a few more minutes of exasperated eye rolls and impatient huffing, Arthur is finally able to lock the door behind them to make a somewhat mad scramble to the first appointment of parent's evening.
Honestly, if Arthur's complete dick of a boss hadn't held him up for fifteen minutes at the end of his shift they'd have been smooth sailing.
Arthur sends Alfred ahead to the classroom as he parks up, and with Matthew as a guide through some of the quieter corridors he makes it with a few moments to spare to catch his breath.
The boys have thankfully managed to coordinate their appointments with enough time to tramp across campus to each of their respective teachers' classrooms; neither of them have accidentally-on-purpose forgotten to book meetings with lesser liked teachers, and that there's the true marker of how much they've grown.
It boils down to a few hours of hearing the same kind of comments he’s become accustomed to; both boys work hard when they put their minds to it though Alfred could stand to talk to his friends a little less and Matthew needs to reign in his daydreaming. That Alfred’s class participation is as stellar as ever and Matthew is an asset to any group project that he takes part in. That their grades are satisfactory though Alfred sometimes forgets to bring his homework in; Arthur’s assured that it’s always brought in on the next day at the latest though.
He’s proud of his boys.
Finally (finally) they’re down to their last appointment. Arthur’s feeling a little worse for wear by this point – it’s been a long day – but Alfred’s the most enthusiastic that he’s been all evening as he flits down a corridor and around a corner without waiting for Arthur or Matthew to catch up. Even Matthew, who has spent most of the evening attempting to become invisible as his teachers pick apart his grades and academic progress so far seems lighter, hands comfortably nestled into the pockets of his jeans instead of plucking at the sleeves of his oversized hoodie.
It could be down to anticipation of finally being free of college for the night, but as Arthur glances down at the sheet in his hands he realises that he does actually recognise the name scheduled to speak about both of his sons.
Gilbert Weillschmidt, if he remembers rightly, is one of the few teachers who dispense with titles and allow students to call him by name. In fact, Arthur’s pretty sure he can recall a particularly spirited dinner where Alfred had extolled the teacher’s virtues.
Arthur and Matthew trail in Alfred’s wake, and Arthur can’t help but wonder at this teacher who has managed to coax such enthusiasm for history in his boys; Alfred has actually admitted to thinking his assignments from the class have been fun and interesting, after all. And Matthew’s tangent a few weeks later on the credibility of what was in history books and the influence of history’s ‘winners’ had obviously been inspired by a certain someone who had discussed the idea at length in class.
The way that both boys have been so vocal about their grades in history hasn’t left much doubt in Arthur’s mind about what he’ll be hearing from their teacher by this point, but for the first time this evening he can’t help the genuine feeling of curiosity at what he’s going to find in one of these appointments.
Alfred’s waiting for them at the door to a classroom that looks much the same as the rest from the outside. Inside the room is another matter entirely.
The walls are covered in what seems to be a timeline, posters made by students filling in each part (and Arthur can see that the ‘no bulleted lists’ rule that Matthew has mentioned is certainly in full force).
It seems that they’ve made it there just as Weillschmidt’s last appointment are finishing up as they’re standing up and obstructing Arthur’s view of the teacher. Still, he doesn’t have to wait long before Alfred’s springing from the plastic chair he’d settled into to claim a seat at his teacher’s table.
Arthur shakes his head and follows, sinking into the middle seat with Matthew taking the seat on his other side.
Weillschmidt’s head is ducked as he jots something down; he does glance up for long enough to give Arthur a brief grin as Arthur’s sitting down, however, with a brief “I’ll be with you in just a second Mr Kirkland.
Arthur’s brow furrows. Because there is something awfully familiar about the man sitting in front of him, but with his view restricted by the sheet of paper that Alfred’s passing across to his teacher Arthur can’t be sure what it is about the man that’s making him furrow his thick brows or bite at his lower lip in distraction.
The sheet is lowered and placed on the table, a hand reaching out across the table and into Arthur’s vision to be shaken and bringing Arthur out of his contemplation. He takes the hand and looks up into gleaming eyes, the same rich colour of a full bodied Shiraz.
It’s not a colour you’d forget in a hurry.
It occurs to Arthur that he should maybe let go and stop staring since his sons will still need to deal with Weillschmidt for the rest of this year and don’t need their teacher to think that their dad is a complete dingbat (and perhaps Arthur should actually pay attention to what he’s being told since the way Weillschmidt’s brows are rising seems significant-)
Arthur’s lips part slightly as it finally hits him.
Oh god.
It’s Hot Gym Guy.
Hot Gym Guy who works out at the same time as Arthur, first thing in the morning, and is definitely where Arthur’s attention tends to stray when the breakfast news starts to repeat itself on screen and his playlist lulls. Hot Gym Guy who isn’t just obsessed with the weight room (but has shoulders and arms that have Arthur sighing) and grins impishly whenever he catches Arthur’s eye, who totes a plastic sports bottle covered in stickers of cartoony Easter chicks.
Hot Gym Guy who Arthur has been low-key flirting with (without words); Hot Gym Guy who is apparently the exalted history teacher his sons have been raving about all term.
(Arthur can’t help but note in a remote part of his mind that the forearms that peek out from rolled shirtsleeves definitely do not disappoint.)
Weillschmidt looks at him a little strangely as he lets Arthur’s hand go; Arthur attempts to force the slight heat he can feel start to crawl up his neck away through sheer force of will so that he can concentrate on what his sons’ history teacher has to say.
He sees the exact moment that it all clicks into place for Weillschmidt too, after a compliment paid to Matthew’s thorough coursework that has Arthur turning to beam at his son with pride (as Matthew looks embarrassed and pleased all at once).
Then Alfred’s asking if everything’s all right, and Arthur turns his head back to see that he’s addressing Weillschmidt; presumably because of the way his dusty brows have risen to disappear behind his fringe, eyes wide as they fix on Arthur’s face again.
They somehow make it through the rest of the appointment without getting too distracted, and while neither of them acknowledges their recognition out loud Arthur can tell that something’s changed. He’s a little disappointed that he hasn’t been slipped a piece of paper with Weillschmidt’s number when they shake hands before they part ways; then he kicks himself, because honestly when would Weillschmidt even have had the opportunity to write that down somewhere to fold up and give to him while being discreet anyway?
Arthur shakes his head for the stupid thought as he drives home, because he’s being completely ridiculous.
(Two days later he’s even more disappointed when he sees no sign of Gilbert in the weights room as he walks through to get to the treadmills.
That is, until he spots a familiar decorated bottle sitting innocently in the treadmill next to the one he claims for himself every time he’s at the gym.)
~Hollyrose~
Notes:
Title is from the awful pick up line 'Hey there! It’s your turn to spot me because I spotted you from across the room when you walked in.'
KuroDai Bingo 2015 - Roommate AU
Fandom: Haikyuu!!
Characters/Pairings: KuroDai
Two episodes.
Daichi had only agreed to watch two episodes yet here he is five hours later, still in front of the television as the credits of the season finale scroll over the screen.
They hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights, and now Daichi squints against the darkness, groping blindly for his phone to check the time; his fingers trace the arm of the couch that he had balanced it on (as usual), attempting to catch the cold hard plastic of the protective case on it and dug at the gap between the arm and the couch cushion.
No joy.
He soon gives up, eyes drooping in fatigue and feeling a little sore from squinting as the soft light of summer evening faded into the stretching shadows of dusk.
He soon abandons the effort, recognising the futility of the exercise. He can always get Kuroo to call it, and use either the ringtone, vibrations or lit screen to unearth it from wherever it has disappeared to.
Speaking of his roommate though…
Daichi’s head swivels to the side where Kuroo had been perched, but he finds he has to tilt his head down. Bathed in the soft glow of the television (where Netflix wondered if they were really still watching?) Kuroo’s features have slackened in sleep, the shadow falling from his lashes that fan across his cheeks seeming to soften him just a little. He’s half hidden by the pillow he’d wedged between them early on in their marathon.
He’s going to end up with a monster crick in his neck at this rate.
Out of the goodness of his heart (or more truthfully to spare him from having to listen to Kuroo’s complaints tomorrow) Daichi resolves to send him to bed.
Even as tall as he is, Kuroo has somehow managed to curl himself into a ball as he doses peacefully. His head is still burrowed in the pillow but as the pillow is essentially resting on Daichi’s arm, he can’t really move without sending Kuroo tumbling. Which might usually be an amusing – if tempting – thought, With his hair splayed every which way in an even more impressive mess than usual with his bangs drooping over his closed eyelids, Kuroo looks almost vulnerable in his sleep and Daichi can’t bring himself to disturb the calm that seems to have stolen over him.
He’s still not going to carry him to bed, though.
“Kuroo.”
Kuroo doesn’t even so much as twitch, though Daichi supposes his voice had barely been above the level of a whisper. No matter; he’ll just need to try again.
“Kuroo, wake up.” His voice is louder, his tone more firm and it briefly makes him think back to the memory of barking orders and drills out to team mates back in high school; of exasperating second years and first years with enough excess energy to fuel a mission to Pluto and back.
The thought makes him smile, and he makes a mental note to check in with Karasuno at a more reasonable hour.
It doesn’t help him with his current predicament however. It’s probably because of the fact that Kuroo had been a captain too, but the tone never seems to have the effect on Kuroo that it would anyone else.
Kuroo is all quick smirks and quicker wit, playing the long game of getting what he needs through good-natured teasing, cajoling and unbridled enthusiasm. There’s just something about him – call it charisma or natural magnetism – that Daichi can’t help but get drawn into, and if he finds it more difficult to say no to Kuroo’s whims, it’s hardly his fault.
Or so he tells himself, anyway.
But anyway. Kuroo.
Daichi reaches across to jostle his shoulder a little, and this time he thinks he sees those long lashes flutter slightly.
“Kuroo.” He’d never pegged Kuroo as such a heavy sleeper but it would figure. “You’re not going to be able to beat Bokuto tomorrow if you’re whining about your neck.” This doesn’t get acknowledged in the slightest and Daichi can’t help but huff. Sure, tomorrow’s a Saturday and they don’t have morning classes to wake up for, but his own arm is starting to feel numb from Kuroo’s warm weight still leaning against him and every second his eyes are open is starting to feel like a struggle.
“I’m seriously considering just leaving you here, y’know,” Daichi informs the dead weight next slumped next to him.
Then he hears a slight shuffle, some form of movement, and he shifts thinking to take the opportunity to at least get himself to bed if Kuroo won’t be moved.
Attempting to heave himself upright, Daichi doesn’t get too far as he finds the source of the movement to be a hand wound into the side of his ratty t-shirt, holding him in place even as he and his pillow slide down the back of the couch until he’s fully lying down.
“Oh for- Tetsurou.”
Where an awake Kuroo may at least have reconsidered, sleepy Kuroo is impervious to irritated exasperation. He winds his hand in tighter and tugs, bringing Sawamura down to add his flailing limbs to Kuroo’s pile of languid ones.
“Stay here and shhh.”
Then Kuroo’s out like a light once more, and Daichi has honestly lost the will to fight it, his own eyes sliding closed as he finally gives in to his exhaustion.
--
Kuroo wakes the next morning with a phone digging into his back and solid arms around his waist, Daichi’s hair tickling his nose a little from where his head is buried into Kuroo’s chest. A grin blossoms on his face as his eyes flutter shut again.
Might as well savour the moment, after all.
~Hollyrose~
Notes:
Google tells me that it’s around 8:15pm PST so this should hopefully be on time! (I bloody hope it is considering it’s gone 4am over here ^^’)
Anyway not much to say on this since it’s pretty much plotless fluff, and for some reason I found this prompt the most difficult to think of a scenario for. Wtf, self.
I just wanted let you know that your kurodais make me really happy, please keep writing them <3
Thank you so much! <333 (And sorry for being so late in replying to you orz I’m in the middle of moving so that and unpacking has sort of taken over my life recently =3= )
I’m really glad that you’re enjoying them ;w; Even though KuroDai Bingo’s pretty much finished I will definitely still be writing them so have no fear ^^ They’re definitely my Haikyuu!! OTP and even though I do want to try my hand at writing some other pairings too KuroDai will definitely be one that I’ll be writing for again ^^ (I mean, how can I not? :3)
I’m actually thinking of trying to fill the other prompts on my bingo card anyway? Just at my own pace cause there’s no way I can keep this up XD So you’ll have the stuff from that, and the additional tidbits from Hunger Games AU that I think have yet to go on AO3 (and will eventually be expanded upon) to look forward to at least ^^
