Chapter Text
It’s nearing ten at night on a Friday, one of the rare weekends they don’t have any practice lined up, and Rin still isn’t back yet. So Sousuke is half expecting what greets him - a nervous looking Ai with Rin standing behind him, looking oddly proud.
“Sousuke-senpai,” Ai says in that particular soft, lilty voice of his, “Would it be alright if Rin-senpai and Momotarou swapped rooms for the night?”
He has his head half bowed, his cheeks lit up in an embarrassed flush, and Sousuke glares tiredly at Rin behind him. It’s so obvious he set this up, covering his barely restrained laughter with his fist. It’s like he lives to watch Ai get flustered, he thinks it’s cute or something.
“Yeah, alright,” Sousuke concedes, staring at Rin rather than Ai, who only smirks at him.
“Great,” Rin says, quickly tugging Ai and his dreamily relieved face away from the door. “Take him.”
Rin shoves a very drowsy looking Momo into Sousuke’s chest, turning and tugging Ai back to their dorm without even looking back once.
“Uh,” he says.
“I was asleep,” Momo grumbles, rubbing pitifully at his sleep-heavy eyes, “Rin-senpai pulled me out of bed.”
Sousuke laughs a little, pulling him in. He isn’t all that surprised when the kid flops right onto the bottom bunk, limbs all splayed out like a starfish. Momo isn’t usually this tired, but he’s been practicing extra hard with his roommate, the both of them putting in late night hours at the pool. There isn’t even anything going on this weekend, but Sousuke doesn’t doubt that’s why he’s so out of it tonight.
After spending a significant amount of time on his laptop, Sousuke turns his desk chair to face the sleeping asterisk of a boy, and is only a little surprised when he picks his head up to stare lazily back, like he could feel Sousuke watching him.
“Come,” Momo mumbles, reaching out his arms blindly and making grabby hands.
Sousuke only grins like an idiot because Momo’s eyes are already shut again, and because he’s always hoping this will happen.
He’s careful to crawl under the covers, worried that he’ll jostle Momo enough to knock him out of his drowsy stupor. He doesn’t, and Momo ends up rolling half onto Sousuke’s chest, using his left pec like a pillow, nuzzling his face into his skin. He inhales deeply, like the scent of Sousuke is soothing, and Sousuke’s entire body flashes in heat from it.
“Mm, cinnamon,” Momo mumbles, and Sousuke already knows he’s talking about his deodorant, because he’s said it before - even went out and bought the same brand, which Sousuke wasn’t sure how to take at first.
Sousuke runs a delicate hand through his hair, frowning a little when it meets the chlorine crisped tips that frame his face and around his ears.
“Did you even shower after the pool?” he asks.
Momo grunts something like a dismissive yes, nuzzling his face more thoroughly into Sousuke’s warmth, up until the chilly tip of his nose is pressed to his neck.
The room is covered in a blanket of silence, only the sound of the trees outside and the gentle hum of the building and all its inhabitants to be heard. It isn’t the kind of silence that Sousuke feels the need to fill - he doesn’t need to reach down and carefully fish out an errant magazine to pass out to, it feels more like he’s waiting for something, something that he has all the time in the world to wait for.
He finds himself wondering what Rin is doing - the obvious, possibly, but also how different it might be for them behind closed doors, how Rin might allow himself to look at Ai when he knows no one else is watching them. It might be something similar to the way he’s looking at Momo now - at the gentle squint between his brows, the tiny, irritated little frown he wears when he’s pretending to sleep. Sousuke probably looks like a fool, but whatever the expression it must have some weight to it, because Momo catches it again, blearily opening his eyes.
Momo says nothing, but then again this silence never calls for it. He only tips his chin up, touches the side of his nose to Sousuke’s, and it’s as good as asking. Sousuke cups his jaw when he kisses him, parts his lips and lets the sweet, sleepy warmth of his mouth envelope him, washing over his entire conscious being like a bucket of warm water, something to heat you up but leave you shivering after, wanting more.
Sousuke doesn’t mean to, but he ends up waking Momo a little more than he should with how tired he seemed to be. Momo tosses his leg over Sousuke’s hip, his thigh resting heavy and warm against his waist. Sousuke concentrates on the slow, thorough licks into the boy’s mouth, the way he opens up like a flower in the spring for him when he’s less inhibited like this. He’s getting painfully hard, but he’s also perfecting the art of ignoring it. They aren’t ready for that yet, they can only barely do this without talking about it.
Momo’s mouth goes slack when Sousuke pulls back, his pupils so fat it makes his eyes seem black, his lips pink and swollen. Sousuke licks across them slowly, soothes the burns he always seems to leave, and then Momo has his hands wrapped around his neck. If anyone were to look it would seem like he was choking him, or maybe pushing him away, but he isn’t. Momo just keeps his hands there, lax and soft, like feeling the muscles in Sousuke's throat swallow over his thudding pulse is soothing, or reassuring.
“Senpai,” Momo says, or whines rather, in that needy way he gets when he wants something but he doesn’t know how to ask for it. Sousuke just shushes him, helps guide his leg back over his hip to rest on the mattress, and strokes the hair away from his face.
“Later,” Sousuke whispers, a promise, maybe a plea.
Sousuke doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he remembers the feeling of Momo’s long limbs wrapped around him at various intervals in the night, and when he wakes he’s alone, and Rin still isn’t back yet. It isn’t surprising - Rin and Ai are probably up and around already, and Momo has probably traipsed back to bed, in a barely conscious state, still so worried about being caught someday.
It’ll be alright, he tells himself, whatever this is will work itself out. He’s getting better at separating the days and nights, and less irritated whenever Rin kicks his shoe while he’s studying in the room, eyeing the faint reddish marks where Momo’s mouth had been on his neck and his chest the night before and asking, “Something you wanna tell me?”
“No,” he says, and he always will, because it isn’t the right time - and anyways, he’s pretty sure Rin already knows.
Sousuke only barely refrains from commenting on the long, thin red scratches down the length of Rin's back, laughing when Momo looks stunned by them when he sees them in the changing room, looking accusingly at Ai and making him turn the generous color of a beet.
It’s okay, because they all have their secrets, even if none of them are very good at keeping them.