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“You could’ve taken a bath without me, you know.”
“Didn’t want to.”
“But now it’ll take longer to get ready…”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Haru,” Makoto whines, stripping out of the last of his clothing and climbing into the definitely-not-for-two-people tub that’d come with their apartment. Haru scoots back to make room for Makoto on the other end. “We really can’t be late for this dinner.”
“It’s nothing important,” Haru shrugs, pressing the bottom of his foot against Makoto’s. “It’s just a normal gathering.”
“With your coaches. Because you won a tournament.”
Haru doesn’t respond.
“And we were already late for the last one--”
“They didn’t mind.”
“And the one before that--”
“Everyone was late, it was snowing.”
“And the one before that--”
“Makoto.” Haru arches a brow. “If this is for me, shouldn’t I get to decide how I celebrate?”
The desperation in Makoto’s eyes is evident as he purses his lips and fumbles for an excuse. Haru understands him, he really does, knows that Makoto can’t stand to disappoint anyone and the possibility of being just a little tardy would have him practically groveling on his knees the entire night.
But more than Haru’s own desire to soak in the tub after a full day of practice, he wants Makoto to have an hour or so to himself, too. Exam season had just cleared up, two weeks of endless nights of Makoto climbing into bed way later than he should be, eating away less than a man of his size ought to, and chewing through one too many pencils than anyone ever needs to had finally been brought to a close. And the last thing Haru wants is for Makoto, who has bags under his eyes that still haven’t cleared up, to fret over a dinner that Haru honestly doesn’t care about.
“Okay, but what about--”
I’ve had enough, Haru thinks, shooting Makoto a quick glare before getting to his knees. Yes, it hurts a little, kneeling in a tub, and yes, Makoto definitely shuts up when Haru’s body rises out of the water, bringing a certain body part into view, but Haru isn’t concerned.
Makoto’s back presses against the edge of the tub as Haru scoots forward, water spilling over the sides with his movement. He looks down at his chest where Haru’s slowly trailing his thumb, smearing water droplets as he moves his digits across his collarbone and down his middle.
"Haru…"
His eyes don’t stop following his finger as he answers. “Hm?”
"We’re not getting clean."
"Yes we are. We’re in the tub."
"But we’re not scrubbing ourselves or anything."
"I’m doing that for you."
As the words leave his mouth, but before Makoto can tell Haru that No, you’re not doing that for me, you’re doing the complete opposite for me, Haru swipes his thumb across Makoto’s nipple and thoughts seem to become nonexistent.
He can swear that he sees a smile tug at the corner of Haru’s lips.
"We need to get to dinner, Haru."
"Mm."
Thankfully, he stops playing with his fingers.
Unfortunately, he starts kissing down Makoto’s chest.
His quick pecks flutter across everything he can reach, tongue darting out occasionally to lap at droplets and suck them into his mouth.
Makoto shifts in the tub as he feels a certain hardness between his legs and bites down on his bottom lip to prevent any sounds from coming out.
"The dinner—"
"We have time."
"But Haru, I’m hungry," Makoto whines, a flood of relief washing over him as Haru stops his kisses. But just as quickly, a shot of arousal goes right through his bones as Haru looks up at him with a certain intensity.
"But Makoto," Haru counters, placing his elbows on the edge of the tub and swinging his leg so that he’s planting himself firmly on Makoto’s lap. A weakened moan escapes the brunet as Haru leans forward and rolls his hips, softly brushing his lips against his ear. "I’m hungry too."
Blood rushes up to Makoto’s face - but also straight down? - and he can see a similar redness dust Haru’s cheeks.
"Relax,” Haru breathes, snaking his arms around Makoto and trailing his hands down his back, gently digging his fingers into any knots he comes across. “Please. For me.”
Makoto’s eyes widen and his breath hitches. He can see Haru’s intent as clear as day, can hear his eyes screaming You deserve it as much as I do, and in an instant, he slumps down. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” Haru repeats, a small smile working its way onto his lips. Makoto returns it with one of his own and opens his mouth to apologize. Haru places a wet finger against his mouth before he can. “Don’t.”
He continues his ministrations along Makoto’s back, working his way down to the dip of his back and up to the base of his neck. Makoto mumbles something unintelligible when an especially firm press works at one of the knots on his side and Haru has to hold back a laugh at how dazed he seems.
“You’re really good with your fingers, Haru.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Makoto smiles up at him, bringing his hands down Haru’s thighs as he begins to gently knead the skin there. Haru jolts at the contact and narrows his eyes when Makoto lets out a hearty laugh.
“I’m sorry, Haru,” he apologizes, but Haru knows he is most definitely not sorry. “You just looked so surprised. It was cute.”
“It was not,” he mutters stubbornly, scooping a handful of bubbles from behind him and smearing it over Makoto’s face. He can feel Makoto’s fingers slow to a stop on his thighs before removing themselves completely, wiping away the suds on his lids. He opens his eyes and looks at Haru with an almost owlish expression.
“That is cute.”
Makoto pouts, gathering up his own handful of bubbles and extending his hand towards Haru’s head. Haru immediately closes his eyes and grabs Makoto’s wrist before he can do the same, but blinks his eyes open when he feels fingers working over his hair instead. He furrows his brows and looks at Makoto questioningly.
“I think I’ve made you look even cuter,” he explains once he’s done, withdrawing his hands and looking absolutely pleased with himself.
“What?” Haru asks, turning his head to look at the mirror. He can almost feel his jaw drop when he sees the bubbles forming a shape on his head. “Devil horns? How childish.”
“Eh? They were supposed to be cat ears…”
"They’re too long and too pointy. I thought an avid cat lover like yourself would know that.”
“Haru!” Makoto almost looks as if he takes offense to that. “You know I’m not good at artsy things.”
“I know,” Haru assures, scooping up more bubbles and placing a fat wad of them on Makoto’s chin. He then takes a small amount and smooths it just over his top lip. “Makoto Claus.”
The expression that overtakes his face is priceless, Haru thinks, and the laughter that echoes off of the walls is even better. “Makoto Claus? Really, Haru?”
“It’s almost Christmas. It fits the mood,” he shrugs.
“And what does Haru want for Christmas?” Makoto asks, deepening his voice, getting into the part that Haru’s forced upon him. It’s extremely silly, extremely immature for two boys of their age.
It’s extremely perfect.
“I want… a kiss.”
“A kiss?”
Haru nods. Makoto grins. “Well, you have been good this year.”
“I have.”
“I guess a kiss wouldn’t be too unreasonable.”
“It wouldn’t,” Haru agrees, and he leans forward a little, fully expecting this wish of his to come now, but what he gets instead is a face full of bubbles. He can feel Makoto shake beneath him in laughter and he almost scowls, would scowl, if his mouth wasn’t covered.
This is not a kiss, he wants to say.
But then he feels a thumb drag across his lips and then his eyes, wiping away the suds there, and Haru blinks them open at the exact moment Makoto cradles his face into his hands and presses their lips together.
Haru sighs happily against his mouth and wraps his arms around Makoto’s neck, pressing closer and tilting his head just so, deepening their kiss. He can feel Makoto smile, can feel his arms reach behind him to grab something - a loofah, he soon learns - and then feels the item scrub up his back, across his neck, and back down.
At this point, Haru isn’t kissing back anymore, he’s just sitting there with parted lips and enjoying the feel along his back. But it’s okay, because Makoto’s more than willing to do all the kissing for him.
“Mm,” Haru breathes when Makoto removes his lips, giving him one last peck before dropping the loofah and bringing his fingers up to his hair. He flattens the horns, cat eats, whatever they are, and starts to scrub the soap across his scalp.
Haru leans forward to bury his face into Makoto’s neck, closing his eyes and getting lost in the feel of Makoto’s fingers working their way across his hair. He’s always loved it, always falls asleep fastest when Makoto’s playing with his hair in bed, and he can slowly feel grogginess overtake him here, too.
“Haru?”
“Mm?” Haru grumbles, looking up at Makoto through half-lidded eyes. His breath catches in his throat when he sees his smile, but it’s not just any smile, it’s the I love you smile, the smile he saw when they confessed, the smile he saw when they decided to move in together, the smile he saw when Haru had won his first tournament, had kissed him for the first time, had made love to him for the first time.
The smile he saw when Haru had said I’m going to Tokyo, too.
The smile that signaled their new future together. A future that would lead to late night study sessions, explorations of a new city, discoveries of themselves and each other, and even bubble baths together in a definitely-not-for-two-people tub.
“Thank you.”
Haru blinks, burying his face back into Makoto’s neck when he feels his cheeks begin to redden. He knows he can’t blame it on the heat so he doesn't even try, and Makoto understands because his action is met with a light chuckle.
All is silent for a few minutes, and when Makoto’s sure that Haru must’ve fallen asleep, he hears a small voice from beneath him.
“Makoto?”
“Yes, Haru?” he answers, looking down at him. Haru’s eyes are still closed and he sounds as if he’s conjuring up all the energy he has to speak.
A few seconds, and then, “I love you.”
Makoto’s eyes soften. “I love you too, Haru.”
The corners of Haru’s mouth lift in a smile, lips brushing against his neck in what could be a kiss.
The two fall asleep.
The dinner is long forgotten.