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The weather was abysmal. The last thing Yamada expected was a storm in the middle of typhoon season, as ridiculous as that sounded.
Luckily, he and his husband were both home during the intense storm that raged outside of their windows. They both deemed it “unfit for work”, as it were, and resigned themselves to the couch for the remainder of the day. Which was rather relaxing, in all honesty, before the power flickered and, inevitably, shut off.
His husband, Aizawa, had left him alone on the couch while he scoured the house in search of any candles that haven’t been decimated by Yamada already (he couldn’t help it; the scents were calming). For the most part, he was calm, in direct contrast to the chaos transpiring outside, until he heard a crash and a small “shit” coming from the end of the hallway of their shared apartment.
“You okay, Shouta?” Yamada called, concerned for his husband whom he could hear grumbling curses under his breath. He was met with a sort of half-angry, half-pained growl, followed by his husband rubbing his shoulder, but carrying two candles under his arm.
“That old box of comics you, for some reason, still keep fell on my shoulder,” Aizawa grumbled. He placed the candles down onto their coffee table, grabbing the small lighter they kept in one of the side table drawers for occasions such as this.
“I told you to put it under the bed,” he continued, lighting the candles. “Because I knew that, one day, it would fall off of the top shelf.”
“Were the comics okay?” Yamada asked.
Though barely visible, he could see the aggravated expression on his husband’s features through the soft orange glow of the two flames.
“Just kidding,” Yamada added, snaking his arms around Aizawa’s waist and placing his head gently on his unharmed shoulder. “You know my darling husband matters more to me than some stupid comics.”
“Quit that.” Aizawa pushed Yamada’s face away, slightly hiking up his glasses an inch on the left side of his head. “You’re too mushy.”
“And you’re too reserved.” Yamada moved Aizawa’s hand gently, holding it in his left hand and stroking the back of it with his thumb. “Don’t act like you don’t love it, Shouta. I know you better than anyone.”
Aizawa sighed, leaning into Yamada’s embrace as the rain continued to hammer against their windowpane, and thunder roared. Moments like these were very rare for the two of them, considering the amount of time that went into the five jobs they had between the two of them; they savored the moment, observing the little things like, for example, how Yamada’s long hair, out of its signature style, slightly tickled the side of Aizawa’s neck.
“I wish we could do this everyday,” Yamada sighed happily, tightening his hold around his husband. “I’d hold onto you forever, if I could.”
“You know we can’t do that, Hizashi.” Aizawa rolled his eyes. “We have jobs. Also, being held forever would probably be really uncomfortable for me.”
“I know that, dummy.” Yamada looked to his husband’s face. “I’m just saying, it would be nice if we could. I love you, you know.”
Aizawa sighed, patting Yamada’s head with his free hand. “ I love you too.”
“We could at least make the most of our time here, y’know,” Yamada suggested.
“How so?”
“I dunno, tell me some secrets, or something.”
“Secrets?” Aizawa chuckled. “We’re not high schoolers anymore, Hizashi. Besides, you probably already know all of mine.”
“Maybe I don’t.” Yamada smiled. “What about when you first started crushing on me?”
“You already know that one.”
“Remind me.”
Aizawa groaned, squeezing Yamada’s hand in his own. “It was around the end of our first year of high school. Right before you took that vacation with your parents. I know you remember this, Hizashi. You just want me to say it.”
“‘Cuz you always get so flustered when you do,” Yamada mused, kissing gently at Aizawa’s jaw. “It’s so cute that you had a crush on me, baby.”
“You know we’re married, right?”
“Yeah, but still. You’re so cute, Shouta.”
“Shut up,” Aizawa mumbled. “Do you always have to be this sappy?”
“Yes.” Yamada brought Aizawa’s hand up to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss. “The way you react is always so cute, I can’t not act like this.”
The lights flickered back on unceremoniously, bringing the apartment into full view. Yamada heaved a sigh of relief, blowing out each of the candles, before letting go of his husband’s waist and relaxing back into their worn out couch.
“Why did you let go?”Aizawa asked, turning to face Yamada. “Are you leaving?”
“No? I just--” Yamada waved his hand in the air. “I just kind of assumed you would wanna get up and go to bed, or something.”
“Never assume, Hizashi.” Aizawa grabbed Yamada’s wrist tenderly, bringing his arm around his waist once more and settling back onto the couch. “I didn’t say I hated you holding me.”
“You sort of acted like you did.”
“You’ve known me for over fifteen years, Hizashi,” Aizawa spoke, rubbing Yamada’s hand with his thumb. “If I didn’t want you to hold me, I would’ve told you.”
“True.” Yamada squeezed his husband’s waist once more, relishing in the moment the two were sharing; a moment that was always gone too soon, and always managed to evade them. “Why don’t we just stay here for the rest of the night?”
“You want us to sleep on the couch? Seriously?”
“Why not? I’m pretty comfortable as we are.”
“You won’t be saying that tomorrow when your back is killing you, old man.”
Yamada snorted. “You’re always so mean to me, babe.”
“Someone has to be,” Aizawa replied. “I have to keep you in check, you know.”
“I know.” Yamada smiled. “ I love you, Shouta.”
Aizawa rolled his eyes. “ I love you too.”