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Sneaking in through Ryouji’s window was probably a habit he should break. If only because the man would bring it up again, in that insufferable tone he always took when teasing him over something. Madara still climbed in through it anyway, shutting it quietly and flickering his sharingan on to look about the room.
Floor was clean. Nothing to trip over in the dark, at least. Not that he had particularly expected much shit to be there; Ryouji kept it neat and tidy enough, and since he spent most of his nights in the office he wasn’t really around enough to make a mess of it anyway.
When he still managed to trip over the edge of the futon, Madara fumed to himself, being sure to not be loud even though he was certain Ryouji’s parents already knew he was there. They always did.
It was another good hour or so before he felt the room’s owner coming his way. By then, Madara had rummaged through the wall closet to steal a yukata for bed, settling himself into the sheets to wait for his lover to come home.
He was firmly buried by the time the door slid open, face smooshed into the pillow Ryouji used whenever he managed to drag himself away from his studies and paperwork. A warm chuckle had Madara fidgeting about, his head poking out as he squinted in the dark trying to see the other.
“Welcome back.” A hand brushed the hair out of his face right before a pair of lips brushed against his cheek. Madara hummed, moving to meet them in a gentle kiss, the tension of his mission melting away at that simple bit of affection.
It sounded like ‘welcome home’. Madara purred when Ryouji finally slipped into bed next to him, promptly burying his face into the man’s chest to make up for the lost time apart. Someday, perhaps, they’d make a home together - but for now, Ryouji still very much felt like home.