Chapter Text
As Kojiro slips his silk pajama pants on, he thinks about how much he loves when Kaoru sleeps over at his place.
He loves going wherever the conversation may take them as they talk over a bottle of wine in his living room.
He loves how Kaoru smells after he showers with Kojiro’s shampoo.
He loves opening his eyes first thing in the morning to the sight of Kaoru’s hair splayed all over the pillow that has become his pillow.
He loves watching his definitely-not-a-morning-person friend go from zombie to actual human after he drinks the fancy espresso with frothed milk and eats the chef-approved breakfast Kojiro has prepared for him by the time he wakes up.
Most of all, however, he loves seeing Kaoru wear what Kojiro has (secretly) dubbed the “boyfriend pajamas.”
It was on their vacation to France several years back when they stumbled upon a luxury clothing boutique in Paris on their way to buy European cookbooks for Kojiro’s restaurant. Kaoru had pointed to the window display and said he wanted the silk robe in forest green adorning the mannequin. Stepping into the store, Kojiro’s eyes were drawn to a pajama set hanging off a mannequin in the center of the boutique: a shiny, long-sleeved Mulberry silk shirt in navy blue with a button-down front, notched collar, and front pocket, coupled with long, loose pants in the same color and fabric.
Come to think of it, maybe it had reminded him of the color of Kaoru’s most often worn yukata. He has always looked good in blue.
(Come to think of it, maybe the forest green robe had reminded Kaoru of Kojiro’s hair color.)
Either way, reclining against his pillow here in his bedroom in Okinawa, Kojiro thinks about how glad he is that they happened upon that boutique. And, his eyes are drawn to that shiny silk pajama top yet again – this time, all because the man wearing it looks far better than any mannequin could ever hope to.
Kaoru, freshly emerged from the shower, stands before him in nothing but the navy blue pajama shirt. Kojiro had bought it for himself, in his size, so it runs long on Kaoru and is too wide for his narrower build. Nevertheless, that doesn’t diminish how attractive he looks in it one iota. It drapes beautifully on him, like he just stepped out of a magazine ad for the boutique that sold it.
It also highlights his long, slender, and very bare legs. Those glorious, glorious legs. Kojiro can feel his heart thumping hard against his chest.
Kaoru has made a habit of wearing the shirt whenever he stays the night at Kojiro’s place. Kojiro lent it to him once on the night Kaoru was too jetlagged after their flight back from Los Angeles to make the journey home. Ever since learning which drawer it’s stored in, Kaoru takes it without asking nowadays. As a result, Kojiro has made a habit of going shirtless and wearing the matching navy blue pants that came with the set whenever he sees Kaoru grab the shirt before heading into the bathroom to shower and change. It’s an unspoken tradition at this point.
Thus, he dubbed the set the “boyfriend pajamas,” though that’s a bit of a misnomer. The two of them aren’t boyfriends. At least, not in the traditional sense. Yet.
It has been on Kojiro’s to-do list to confess his feelings to Kaoru for, oh, the better part of two decades now, but he’s scared of how much it might change things between them. He likes the routine they have: Kaoru coming to Kojiro’s restaurant once it has closed to customers for the night, hanging out together at Kojiro’s place, and then cuddling together wearing the silk pajamas Kojiro shelled out quite a few euros for.
Money well spent.
And then there’s that awful question that nags him every time he thinks about saying something: what if Kaoru doesn’t feel the same way? What if Kaoru doesn’t want them to press sleepy kisses to each other’s lips first thing in the morning, still dressed in those silk pajamas? What if he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life with Kojiro the way Kojiro desperately yearns to be with him always?
For now, though, Kojiro will have to be content with quietly pining away until the time is right.
“Can you put my hair in a braid?” Kaoru asks as he releases his long hair out of a bun and shakes out the strands, sending them tumbling over his shoulders and down his back in a cascade of pink. He makes the simple action look so elegant.
“Sure thing.” Kojiro prides himself on being one of the few, potentially the only person Kaoru allows to touch his hair. He transitions from a recline to a seated position on the bed and pats the space in front of him.
Kaoru crawls onto the bed and sits with his back facing Kojiro. He smells like Kojiro’s refreshing body wash. The scent is intoxicating.
“What are you waiting for, muscle-brained idiot? Are you going to braid it or stare at it all night?”
“Don’t rush me!” Kojiro shoots back. “You want me to do a haphazard job now and leave you to deal with a tangled mess in the morning?”
Kaoru opens his mouth, presumably to complain, but the words must die on his lips the minute Kojiro cards his fingers from the roots to the tips of his hair once, then twice. The strands feel as silky and soft as their pajamas. Kojiro doesn’t comment on it, but he notices Kaoru shiver ever so slightly when he unravels a knot near his scalp.
Usually, Kaoru braids his own hair before bed, but Kojiro knows the tacit reason he was tasked with the job this time around: Kaoru’s arm is still in pain from that beef. Kojiro doesn’t bring it up and instead lets his silent anger over his injuries and the man who gave them to him evaporate so he can be extra gentle with Kaoru and that pretty head of his. Kaoru can rest assured that Kojiro is as meticulous with hair braiding as he is with cooking.
“Done,” he says as he takes the hair tie off of Kaoru’s wrist and secures the end of the finished braid.
Kaoru runs a hand down his styled hair. He must find it satisfactory since he sets his glasses on the nightstand, then collapses backward into Kojiro, much to Kojiro’s surprise. He drapes his arms over Kojiro’s crossed legs and lets his head loll onto Kojiro’s shoulder.
The silk shirt feels divine pressed against Kojiro’s bare torso.
“You could at least wait ‘til we’re under the covers to cuddle,” he points out.
Kaoru simply leans back further. “Are you not strong enough to support my weight like this? Are your muscles all for show?”
“You…” Kojiro begins, but he feels a smile growing across his face, and he wraps his arms around Kaoru’s middle and squeezes.
“Oi!”
“Is this strong enough for you?”
“Dimwit,” Kaoru comments, and leans back hard enough that they both go tumbling down onto the mattress.
Kojiro laughs as they fall. He knows the play-fighting is all part of the routine they’ve formed over the many years they’ve known each other. They both enjoy it, even if they won’t admit to it. So he keeps his hold on Kaoru’s waist and lets the shiny silk shirt shift in his arms. The rustling sound the fabric makes is music to his ears.
Part of him thinks he should be billing Kaoru for how often he wears the shirt belonging to the “boyfriend pajamas,” and therefore how often it has to be taken to the dry cleaners; but the other part of him thinks that seeing Kaoru in his shirt, wrapped in his arms, with bare legs sprawled across his comforter is payment enough.
He sees a smile on what is visible of Kaoru’s face from this angle. That is payment enough, too.
“We’re a matching set,” Kojiro says, referring to their clothing.
“…Yeah,” Kaoru replies, and it sounds like he’s referring to more than just their matching pajamas…
Kojiro lets his hold loosen and takes stock of the front pocket sewn into the shirt Kaoru has on. An idea strikes him – one day, in the future, maybe he could surprise Kaoru by hiding an engagement ring in that pocket on one of the nights he decides to sleep over.
…Though thinking of a proposal to someone who is not technically his partner, at least not officially, might be thinking too far ahead. For now, he is happy to cuddle. And he knows Kaoru is, too, because that man may not look it, but he is a cuddler.
Kojiro kicks the comforter down to their feet and then lifts it over them. He always lets Kaoru decide what position they’ll end up sleeping in under the covers. Sometimes, Kaoru will lie on his stomach and throw an arm out over Kojiro’s abdomen. Sometimes, Kojiro will be the big spoon to Kaoru’s little spoon. Tonight, Kaoru turns so he is on his side facing Kojiro and scoots up to him, nestling his head onto his shoulder and draping a silk-covered arm over his chest.
Kojiro loves this position. He snakes an arm around Kojiro’s waist and holds him close to his side.
“You’re not in any pain sleeping like this, right?” Though Kaoru has healed well, Kojiro always feels compelled to check.
“No.”
Kojiro sinks back into the pillow and quickly learns that the only thing better than the feeling of silk is the feeling of Kaoru hooking his leg around Kojiro’s and pushing his pajama pants up just enough to get skin on skin when their ankles touch.
Kojiro bristles. Kaoru must notice.
“You have such a weird thing for legs.”
“Wrong,” he argues. “I just like yours.”
At that, Kaoru slides his leg (and thus Kojiro’s pajama pants) up further.
“Tease,” Kojiro says.
He can see the smirk growing on Kaoru’s face. They have never called this back-and-forth “flirting,” though to any normal human being it certainly would be.
Then again, he and Kaoru don’t have an entirely normal friendship to begin with.
No matter. The feeling of having someone he so deeply cares for tucked into him is wonderful, and he lets Kaoru’s body melt into his own.
...Until he comes to a realization.
“I forgot to turn off the damn lights again,” he grumbles. “Move over for a second?”
“No.”
Unbelievably stubborn at all times, Kaoru is. He locks onto Kojiro more tightly just to prove his point.
“I’m not sleeping with the lights on,” Kojiro states.
“You don’t have to,” Kaoru says, and his tone is way too smug. He must have something up his sleeve. “Carla, turn off Kojiro’s bedroom lights.”
“What are you – ”
Kaoru’s AI skateboard lights up in a flash of purple near the bedroom door where it's perched next to Kojiro's board. “Turning off: Kojiro’s bedroom lights.”
The room immediately turns dark.
“WHAT???”
“Be grateful I solved your problem for you,” Kaoru says. “Shut up and go to sleep.”
Kojiro is stunned. “You programmed your machine to operate my apartment’s electricity? How?”
Kaoru snuggles into his shoulder. Aggressively. “Your dimwit brain wouldn’t even begin to comprehend how.”
Kojiro is not letting this go. He decides to have some fun with it. “Carla: remind Kaoru – I’m sorry, your beloved master – that he should ask before messing with other people’s household wiring and appliances.”
Kaoru’s response is to jab his elbow into Kojiro’s ribs.
“Reminder scheduled for tomorrow,” Carla’s AI replies. “Current number of reminders set for tomorrow: four.”
Now Kojiro is curious.
“Carla – what other reminders are set for tomorrow?”
Kaoru goes rigid in his arms. “Wait!” he exclaims.
“Other reminders for tomorrow,” Carla begins. “Purchase Shiseido Sea Breeze body wash.”
That just so happens to be the body wash Kojiro has in his bathroom.
Kojiro is very curious now. He readjusts the arm he has around Kaoru’s waist so he can bring his hand up to cover Kaoru’s mouth before he can stop Carla from continuing. Kaoru tries to get it away to no avail. Looks like Kojiro’s muscles are good for something.
“Next reminder: Locate where to order Lafite wine.”
Kojiro chuckles. “Oh? Were you going to buy me a bottle to replace the one you demanded I uncork and then immediately fell asleep once I opened it?”
Kaoru shoots him a very dirty look as he tries to escape Kojiro’s grasp.
“Final reminder,” Carla continues, and at that, Kaoru digs his nails into the hand covering his mouth. “Tell Kojiro –”
“Carla!” Kaoru shouts after his attempts to pull away have succeeded. “Cancel command!”
The purple lights of the skateboard fade, and the room is plunged into darkness again.
Kojiro has never felt so awake. “Tell Kojiro what?” he asks.
No response.
“Tell me what!” Kojiro’s mind is buzzing with the possibilities. What would Kaoru be so nervous about telling him?
“Tell Kojiro to mind his own business and go to sleep!” Kaoru spits back.
Kojiro supposes it’s only fair that he drops the subject and resumes cuddling. He brings his arm around Kaoru again, pulls him in close, and runs his fingertips softly up and down his side. The silk feels nice and cool to the touch. Kaoru rests his head back on Kojiro’s shoulder and tangles their legs together under the covers.
“I want a frittata for breakfast tomorrow,” Kaoru says. “With Roma tomatoes.”
He’s being demanding as always, but Kojiro adores cooking for him, so it’s a win-win situation. “Got it.”
Kojiro normally falls asleep easily, whereas it takes Kaoru longer, though he seems to sleep well enough in Kojiro’s arms. Tonight, however, Kaoru seems particular restless. Kojiro can practically feel his speedy heartbeat through the silk shirt. Kojiro is feeling restless, too, wondering what it is that Kaoru supposedly plans on telling him.
“Kojiro…”
That was Kaoru’s voice, all right, but it sounded unbelievably soft. Kojiro whips his head around to face him to make sure he wasn’t just hearing things.
Kaoru looks like he wants to tell Kojiro something, but he must be feeling shy about it. There’s a blush forming on his cheeks and a hint of apprehension in what can be seen of his eyes lit up by the moonlight coming through the window. Even his lips are drawn taut.
Kojiro’s heart seems to skip a bit. He holds his breath and strains his ears to listen intently to whatever it is Kaoru is about to say.
Kojiro then computes that their lips are mere inches apart…
Kaoru screws his eyes shut suddenly. “Good night.”
Kojiro lets out a breath. He gets the feeling that is all that will be said tonight. He turns his head to face the ceiling, but decides a moment later to turn it towards Kaoru again. He angles it so his cheek comes to rest at the crown of Kaoru’s head.
“Good night,” he replies.
Kojiro has things he wants to tell Kaoru, too. Maybe if he copies him and puts a reminder on his phone, he’ll feel more emboldened to actually say them.
And maybe, after he gives voice to those feelings, their “boyfriend pajamas” will eventually become their “husband pajamas.”