Chapter Text
Under normal circumstances, coming home to discover three quarters of his husband poking out from under the car would be an alarming shock.
Today, though, to find whatever mundane, simple task he'd nevertheless been absolutely forbidden to take on himself already completed would have been a great deal more surprising than the sight of worn docs, ratty sweatpants, and a tantalizing strip of bare stomach which greeted them upon coming in sight of the driveway.
Hana made a brief attempt to accelerate, little legs pumping until the leash tugged her back to a more sedate pace, as Tana slowed to survey the scene.
They'd been banished a little over an hour ago, a scant five minutes after he'd helped jack the car up, and set the tools out within easy reach. Personally, Tana assumed his various insights and suggestions would have been as welcome as ever; it was no doubt the racket Hana'd been making from inside, watching them alone in distress with her little nose pressed against the living room window, which prompted Shinsuke to request they take a walk to aide him in mustering the necessary concentration.
The way Suzuki'd snickered at them as they passed by his house did nothing whatsoever to rattle this certainty.
Shinsuke's long legs were splayed out at odd angles, braced to keep him steady on the rickety wooden creeper he'd inherited by default from his parent's place. The neatly-ordered tools Tana'd laid out before leaving had become, in his absence, a messy pile heaped on the old towel he feared no amount of laundering could now save. More of an effort would have to be made for the mint-green, duck-emblazoned t-shirt he could make out roughly half of, clearly marred with at least one grease stain already.
All the way around the small park and through a few games of fetch, he'd considered how best to announce their return in a way that wouldn't result in Shinsuke jumping out of his skin & hitting his head on the undercarriage. He'd just about settled on walking heavier than usual, when Hana's excited little bark did the job for him; he winced at the muffled thud, accompanied by the jarring sound of metal hitting the driveway and a deep, long-suffering sigh.
"How's it going?" he asked cheerfully, casually putting one foot out to arrest the progress of the ratchet rolling gently down the asphalt.
"Don't let her--" Shinsuke began, a rapid-fire plea, but still not quite as quick as their determined toy poodle, who shot under the car as soon as she was in range of it. There was a wet, fuzzy sneeze. His husband sighed again. "...Hello, Hana."
"She missed you," Tana said. "All the other dogs were asking where you were."
"None of them followed you back, did they?" his husband muttered - a joke, but with a note of genuine concern (he could swear Shinsuke's position shifted ever so slightly, as though he were straining to see past Tana's legs back the way they'd come).
"It's just us," he chuckled, fondly remembering Shinsuke's last trip with them to the dog park. The same magnetic fascination his darling held for humans seemed to manifest equally to dogs, who never allowed him to pass by uninvestigated. It was a frequently-repeated theory of Shinsuke's that Hana encouraged all of them to sneeze on his legs by way of a greeting; Tana had to admit it happened often enough that he was prepared to allow the notion some credibility.
Shinsuke's fur-muffled voice jolted him out of his reverie. "Speaking of 'us,'" he said, "someone is gonna have her nose accidentally screwed off if it isn't moved out of the way."
"Well, we can't have that," Tana acknowledged brightly. "How would she wake you up in the morning without it? Come on, princess, daddy's got important business."
He tugged gently on the pink leash, eventually reeling in their slightly grease-smeared pet, squinting as she trotted back into the sunlight. "Shinsuke, look at the state of her!" Tana exclaimed, taking in the faint film of black now decorating the top of her head and the tip of her tail.
"Think of it as her punk phase," Shinsuke suggested, not bothering to roll himself out for a clearer examination. "Anyway, I told you not to let--"
"We'll have to have a nice bath, won't we, Hana?" he told her, bending to scoop her off the driveway. There was no knowing what byproducts of the repair job were clinging to her paws, but he was absolutely certain he didn't want them tracked across his clean white wood floors. "Shin-chan will have to manage without our help, hmm?"
The conspiratorial wink he threw in the vague direction of Shinsuke's navel went unanswered, though he had no doubt it had been sensed somehow. A weak but determined noise of acknowledgement reached him from somewhere beneath the car, followed by one of Shinsuke's grease-covered hands, groping clumsily for another tool.
It wasn't until he was halfway through the door that the suspicion of deliberate...fur vandalism...occurred to him, but by then it was too late to gracefully turn back and voice the accusation.
-----
Up to his elbows in dog-shampoo foam, Tana reflected on his earlier choice of words; by the time he had the squirming dog washed and dried, he really would need a wash of his own...or at least a rinse and change of clothes.
Hana, proper little lady that she was, did not generally harbor a philosophical opposition to the concept of baths. However, the suddenness with which this one had been foisted upon her seemed to be grounds for some serious misgivings; or perhaps it was Shinsuke's notable absence from the proceedings making her just a touch less cooperative than usual.
On that point Tana heartily agreed with the objection, if only because a second set of restraining hands were always useful when soap, water and a slippery floor were in play, not to mention the fact that the mess was his fault to begin with.
Fortunately the mild shampoo was tackling whatever mechanical detritus had settled in Hana's neatly-trimmed curls without difficulty. The first suds had turned a murky pale grey, but once rinsed, a second precautionary lathering showed the proper squeaky-clean white of a well-cared for poodle coat. Satisfied, Tana made one last pass with the hand shower and retrieved the Big Fluffy Towel.
Hana's big black eyes periodically drifted closed as she was enveloped in laundry-fresh terrycloth and heartily scrubbed; she seemed to have burned through most of her excess energy at the park and in the later display of very active resistance to Being Wet. It was possible being patted dry was near enough to pettins' that it only heightened her end-of-adventure sleepiness. He snapped another photo for posterity, to match the 'oh no, dirty!' pictures, the 'soaked!' pictures, and the 'soapy!' pictures, and made a mental note to make sure Shinsuke meticulously looked at all of them later, as penance.
Feeling it was only just reparations for his participation in the unanticipated bath, he carried Hana out to the couch, once dry, where she turned in one slow circle, sat, and fell asleep mid-yawn.
He watched her for a spell, nearly as soothing a sight as Shinsuke in a deep sleep (and slightly cuter, though he'd never say so out loud).
Probably the cool water had done her some good; it was getting to the uncomfortably-warm part of the year, a change from uncomfortably-damp which always seemed to come upon them abruptly, like the kami-sama had thrown a great celestial switch.
Shinsuke was no doubt suffering some, out under the car in the sticky heat. Warm and sandy on the beach, that he enjoyed. Warm in a blanket curled against Tana's side on a cozy evening, certainly. Warm and sweaty during training or...other activities, that was all welcome as the thrill of seeking stimulation.
But warm and filthy during menial tasks...that tended to get his husband grumpy. Grumpy sweaty Shinsuke was nowhere near as fun as the usual varieties of sweaty Shinsuke...and he'd be in no mood to bestow the proper amount of attention on cute photos of Hana, if left to his own devices out there.
Half-listening to her distinctive doggy-snoring, Tana drummed his fingers on his still-damp knee, and considered his options. He rose finally, sighing; the attempt to make it sound put-upon rather than fond was probably a dismal failure, but fortunately, his only witness was sound asleep.
-----
The sigh he heard as soon as he opened the door even all the way up the driveway, admittedly, did a much better job of sounding put-upon - but Shinsuke had ever been gifted with an abundance of dramatic ability. Tana paid the token gesture of irritation no mind, intent on his mission. Plunking himself down cross-legged next to Shinsuke's protruding body, he made sure his precious burden made an audible clink when he set it down on the driveway, and sat back to wait for a reaction, chin resting casually on the heel of his palm.
There was a cautious creaking noise as the creeper's wheels began to roll.
Decorated here and there with black smears, Shinsuke emerged from his sheltering prison, blinking hard as Hana had earlier. Tana thought he even stifled a sneeze, but he could have been mistaken. A few strands of hair had escaped his messy little ponytail, curls gone frizzy in the heat; they wasted no time plastering themselves to his sweaty forehead. He'd made a rare accession to the finicky nature of his work (or perhaps the possibility of unsanitary drippage) - Tana had nearly forgotten what his old, practical wire-framed glasses looked like, but here they were, perched slightly askew and sliding slowly but surely down the broad bridge of his nose.
The sea salt smell of perspiration hung about him like a cloud, lent an intriguing new tang by the scents of metal and oil.
Almost on autopilot, Tana brought up his phone and snapped a picture; this one was definitely destined for a different gallery than 'Cute photos of Hana.'
"What was that for?!" Shinsuke laughed, swatting at his leg. The smudge of grease just below his lip did nothing to make the smile less enchanting.
"Mmm...possibly a nice pinup for the laundry room, if I can find a place to get it blown up..." Tana mused. "Or you could ditch that shirt and I could take a second one..."
"You're ridiculous," his husband grinned, flushed now a tiny bit beyond what could be explained away by the heat. He noticed the glass, finally, as though just recalling what had lured him from his task. "What's this?" he asked, glancing from Tana to the sparkling mirage between them.
Tana raised an eyebrow.
"...lemonade, sweetheart. Surely you haven't been down there that long..."
Shinsuke snorted, brightening the already-sunny afternoon with another one of his little half-smiles. "All right, all right."
"With ice, even," Tana pointed out. "Just for you. But I think we're out of little umbrellas."
"I'm not sure it's a little-umbrella-worthy occasion, anyway," Shinsuke said wryly. He reached for the glass, but seemed oddly hesitant about touching it.
"Well?"
"My hands are all greasy..."
"Shinsuke," he laughed. "I already washed the dog - at least the dishes won't be trying to escape."
With a soft chuckle, his husband raised the glass, shooting him a flirtatious look over the rim. "Ah, so the wet t-shirt isn't just for my benefit, then?"
"Any increase in sex appeal is purely coincidental," Tana quickly confirmed, glancing down at the taut white cotton, "but it is nice to know it's appreciated."
"Deeply. You could have changed, you know," Shinsuke grinned, sipping at the appallingly sugary beverage with grateful, reckless abandon. The blackish-brown gunk on his fingers left messy little streaks in the condensation; it would definitely be a good quality test for the dish soap, later.
Tana looked him contemplatively up and down; the sweaty hair, the grease-smeared skin, the stained clothes, and what looked suspiciously like the scattershot-pattern of a small but powerful dog sneeze speckling his glasses.
"Well...it does feel nice in the heat," he said finally, "and I figured your bath might need supervising, too."
"Very efficient," his husband noted coolly, though the sparkle of amusement in his eyes gave him away entirely. "Cuts down on the laundry. And I do always enjoy your...hands-on approach to supervision."
"Heh. You make it a very rewarding experience."
His eyebrow-waggling wasn't quite to Shinsuke's standards, but he gave it his best shot. A bit of lemonade escaped the glass as his husband laughed into his drink, a little glistening trail that ran over his lip and down his chin, chased by his darting pink tongue.
"Hey," said Tana, watching with keen interest, "Give me a taste of that, hmm?"
Shinsuke looked surprised, no doubt thinking immediately of the sugar content, but proffered the glass without comment. Tana shook his head.
"Not like that," he said, tapping a finger against his lips.
"Dork," Shinsuke laughed, setting his drink down again. He made a credible attempt at looking seductive, for a man filthy with grease scooting forward on a beat-up car creeper, but Tana had long accepted that he had an apparent immunity to the more ridiculous elements of Shinsuke's improvisational approach to life.
It was a kiss of odd contrasts; the saltiness of his husband's lips vs the sweetness of the lemonade, the warmth of his skin and the residual chill left by the icy liquid. His wet shirt escaped being marred by stains only for as long as Shinsuke remembered to be mindful of his dirty hands - perhaps five seconds, perhaps less - but he filed it absently away as a good chance to test the laundry soap, as well. If he played his cards right, he might even swing a few endorsement deals out of the bargain...
Remembering the inadvertently teasing display earlier, Tana slipped his hand under the hem of Shinsuke's shirt, brushing the bit of skin that had so entranced him on the way up the driveway. There was an answering shiver; whether his hands were still cooler from Hana's bath or it was just the innate sensitivity of the area, he wasn't sure. Grubby fingers trailed up his thigh. Some distant part of his mind wondered if the pants would become a total write-off, too...but he couldn't muster too much concern about it.
"I'm nearly done," Shinsuke hummed, breaking away to nuzzle against his jaw. His voice had dropped a bit lower than usual.
The half of Tana's brain occupied with stain-removal tips crashed at speed into the half trying to think of a good lemon-related pickup line.
"Done what? Oh the car!" he exclaimed, situational awareness crawling triumphantly out of the flaming wreckage of his train of thought.
"You know, I've heard confusion is a symptom of heatstroke," Shinsuke teased him, his mirth a soft puff of air against Tana's neck.
"I've never been confused in my life," he huffed. "Anyway, you were distracting me."
"You asked me to."
"...That's no excuse."
"And it only makes us even - you've been distracting me all day."
"I...well, fair," Tana admitted sheepishly. "But look how well you've risen to the challenge, huh? I was just...giving you a chance to show how skilled you are."
Maybe he really was coming down with heatstroke, he thought, barely having time to examine his choice of words before the wolfish grin appeared on Shinsuke's face. The blush starting creeping up his neck even before the inevitable innuendo-laden rejoinder began; Shinsuke'd only gotten as far as promising to show him how well he could rise to the challenge later, when he held up his hands in a desperate attempt to stop him before he really got started.
"Ok, ok!!" he pleaded. If Suzuki was still out there listening, he'd be forcing himself to grin through thinly-disguised references to this particular bit of overheard flirty bantering in promos for the rest of his career.
"Go on inside then," Shinsuke laughed, taking pity on him for once. "I'll only be twenty minutes or so."
Tana hummed and mulled the option over; it didn't seem terribly appealing, for some reason. "Less if I hand you the tools?" he offered finally.
"Less if you quietly hand me the tools," Shinsuke pointedly clarified, poking him in the chest for emphasis. All his husband's pity must have been used up in restraining the urge to make filthy puns for his sake; there was clearly none left for the state of his clothes. Brushing at the new, circular grease stain marring his left pec, Tana gathered what was left of his dignity and mimed turning a lock and key over his mouth.
Shinsuke looked extremely skeptical, but cautiously lay back down on the creeper anyway, rolling himself under the car again.
Tana made a futile attempt to restore the assorted tools to some kind of logical order while he waited to dutifully (and silently) lend his assistance. Some of them, he swore he didn't even recall laying out earlier (and for the life of him he had no idea how the potato peeler had gotten outside).
The mind and methods of an improvisational artist, he thought, were truly a mystery sometimes.
"Torque wrench!" Shinsuke demanded, dirty fingers waggling impatiently at him from the gloom.
"What wrench?" he said, before he could stop himself. There was another long sigh. Mustering everything he could vaguely recall from one semester of auto shop roughly two decades prior, Tana took his best guess and pressed...what could very well have been a torque wrench...into the outstretched hand.
From the surprising lack of a sarcastic remark, he gathered his rock-solid memory had once again been victorious over mere trivialities like a near-total lack of practical experience, and allowed himself a smug little smile. 'Now who's skillfully rising to the challenge, eh?' he thought.
Indecipherable mechanical noises (presumably, things being either torqued, or wrenched) provided some percussion to the delicate birdsong and the steady hum of insects. Tana leaned back on his palms, contemplating the clear blue sky; it really was a nice day. Soon enough the last real work on the agenda would be over and done with, they could have a nice long bath, and a little dinner...he might have to make a quick call his mother; even his infallible memory sometimes needed a little refreshing RE: specific laundry crises, and motor oil...or whatever it was...didn't often come up on the list.
Then again...
Tana glanced down at his pants, immediately noticing the expected handprint on one thigh. The long fingers were very clearly defined, the palm a bit less so. He traced the black outline with one fingertip, admiring what a finely-built hand it was, even painted in this murky echo.
Maybe not all stains really needed to be perfectly washed out, he thought.
After all...he had plenty of other pairs of pants.