Work Text:
The open window lets a cool spring breeze drift into the room, the lingering scent of the afternoon showers hanging thickly in the air. The humidity makes Tamaki’s hair frizz and tangle, and every so often Iori will catch his fingers on a knot and he’ll complain loudly, even though he’s under no obligation to keep his head in Iori’s lap while he braids and unbraids the strands.
“Iorin, I don’t wanna do homework anymore,” he complains again, but at least this time it’s not about Iori playing with his hair.
“You’re not even doing it.” Haruka scoffs and leans over the table, reaching for another strawberry from the large bowl Mitsuki was kind enough to bring them. He really can’t say much, since he’s long abandoned his own notebook filled with half-hearted scribbles that barely make sense. Iori wonders if even Haruka can understand the notes he took during class, and then decides that he probably doesn’t care either way.
“I’m doing it,” he protests, untangling his hands from Tamaki’s hair and picking up his pencil to prove his point.
Haruka smirks, rests his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. “You haven’t even finished the first problem.”
“Well—that’s—” Iori clears his throat and looks away because if Haruka keeps staring at him like that he’s going to have a meltdown. “You’ve been distracting me.”
“Then let’s do something else,” Tamaki suggests from below, pushing himself upright so he’s sitting properly next to them. “Something more fun!”
Haruka rolls his eyes. “Don’t say that, or Izumi is gonna say that homework is fun.”
Iori’s comeback dies on his tongue. “I was not.”
Haruka grins, apparently proud of himself for guessing correctly. Even though he’s teasing Iori, there’s humor on his lips and a sparkle in his eye and Iori’s heart thumps once, twice.
He clears his throat and looks away when heat begins coloring the tips of his ears. He picks out a large strawberry from the bowl in the middle of the table and goes to bite into it when he catches sight of Haruka yet again. He’s staring at him expectantly, biting at his lip, leaning over just enough that their shoulders brush against each other.
And so he twists his wrist so that the strawberry goes straight into the unsuspecting Haruka’s closed lips, and Tamaki giggles next to them. “Isumin, you’re kissing it!”
Haruka’s eyes are wide and crossed as he stares at the strawberry, and then he opens his mouth just wide enough to bite down on it. Rendered unable to speak while eating, he settles for shooting a heatless glare down at Iori’s fingers.
“It’s good, right?” Tamaki bounces a little in his seat, pushing himself into Iori’s other arm so that he’s effectively squished between them. “It’s better with whipped cream, too.”
“Yotsuba-san, that completely defeats the purpose of a healthy snack,” Iori points out, but Tamaki is clearly undeterred because he reaches across the table, scattering the loose worksheets as he grabs a can of condensed whipped cream from next to the bowl. He upturns his head and sprays a generous dollop directly into his mouth, happily ignoring the disgusted groan Iori makes in response.
“Here, here, try it!” Tamaki grabs the bowl and, without waiting for permission, squirts the whipped cream in a spiral on top of the strawberries. He plucks one out, getting cream all over his fingers, and smiles as he bites into it.
With his other hand he grabs another strawberry and offers it to Iori, who hesitantly accepts it, opening his mouth into a small O shape as Tamaki feeds him. He grabs one more with his first hand, already sticky with cream, and feeds Haruka, who’s much more willing this time around.
“It is good,” Haruka says after a moment, chewing thoughtfully between syllables. “I prefer chocolate, though.”
“You can’t squirt chocolate into your mouth with a spray can,” Tamaki shoots back, as if that’s the deciding factor in his tastes. “It makes it more fun.”
His goofy grin is wide enough to melt Iori’s heart like the chocolate fondue Haruka is so fond of, and he finds himself leaning a little more into Haruka’s side as he watches Tamaki defend his atrociously unhealthy snack.
“Also, I can do this.” Without explaining himself, he sticks a finger into the spiral of whipped cream and spoons out a hefty amount, eyes narrowed mischievously. He leans into Iori so hard that he thinks they’re going to collapse into a pile of limbs on the floor, but Tamaki stops just short of knocking them over and instead reaches his arm out to wipe the cream directly onto Haruka’s nose.
“Ah—!” Haruka shouts, mouth still hanging open even after his scream is cut off suddenly in his surprise, his face suddenly burning bright red.
Tamaki shakes with laughter, finally falling to the floor as he clutches at his belly, ignoring the streaks of white that stain his hoodie. “Isumin’s so cute!”
“H–hey!” Haruka protests, furiously wiping at his nose to get the cream off of it. His face is scrunched up and pink and the more he moves around the messier his hair gets.
Iori falls too, metaphorically. His heart races in his chest and he clenches his fists and he can hardly bear the sight of such a cute person in front of him. But he’s laughing too, his soft chuckles a melodic undertone to Tamaki’s uproarious giggles.
“He is cute, isn’t he?” Iori agrees, and he lets himself lean his head onto Haruka’s shoulder. Haruka jumps at the sudden affection, still unused to this sort of touch, but he quickly melts into the touch, his own head leaning to the side so that it’s just barely pressed against Iori’s.
“You guys suck,” Haruka mumbles despite his actions. “Like, major suck.”
“We love you too, Isumin,” Tamaki coos gently.
Iori feels warm, despite the cool spring. Tamaki is on one side, gripping at his shirt and curling around him. Haruka is on the other, leaning into him even as he covers his face to hide his embarrassment. It’s calm, and his heart beats with love.
This is how he’d like every day to be, if he could be so bold as to make a wish.
Homework forgotten, Iori gives in to his lazy boyfriends and sinks into their touch, grateful that things turned out this way.