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The drive home is, to put it frankly, incredibly boring.
It’s a nice day, sure, but that’s really the only thing going for him as he lands in a fit of traffic. There’s an accident some ways up ahead, and he can see the bright lights of police and ambulance.
Half of him is horribly irritated that someone contributed to the already awful Tokyo rush hour. The other half is worried for the person, whom he has no connection to, is hurt. Funny how people think like that.
Either way, he leans back in his seat, thumbing the dial to the radio, skimming through available stations. News. Today’s hits. Western. More news. Megumi turns off the radio and rolls down his window.
He can’t wait to get home. Today was Yuuji’s day off, so he’s probably already home, napping or cooking or doing something else, ready for Megumi to drop into his arms after a long day. God, Megumi is so ready.
But for now, he breathes in the city smog on the busy interstate, watching the red and blue of police lights flash.
“I’m home,” Megumi half-yells as soon as he steps into the genkan. There’s no response, but there’s evidence Yuuji’s home by his shoes sitting by the door, the open windows blowing breeze into their apartment, and the music blasting from the kitchen.
He follows the sound, and in the kitchen he finds Yuuji, swaying by himself in front of the oven, dumping something into a bowl while the stand mixer adds it to the mysterious dough. He sings loudly in poor Korean along to the music, throwing his head back and using a whisk as a microphone.
Oh, how Megumi loves him.
He creeps up behind him, wrapping his arms around Yuuji’s middle, and Yuuji startled before relaxing, leaning back into Megumi’s arms.
“Welcome home,” he says, reaching for his phone to turn the music down. Megumi’s hands snake up Yuuji’s shirt, pressing his cold hands into Yuuji’s warm skin, burying his nose into Yuuji’s neck and inhaling. “Long day?”
“Mhmm,” he hums, pressing a kiss to Yuuji’s cheek. “What’cha making?” He peers over Yuuji’s shoulder into the bowl.
“Try it,” Yuuji says, scooping a bit with his finger and offering it to Megumi. He takes it into his mouth. It has a kick of ginger, but mostly sweet.
“‘s good,” he says, tucking his face back in Yuuji’s neck, and Yuuji chuckles, wiping his finger before running a hand through Megumi’s hair.
“What’s the matter?” He whispers, turning so he can see Megumi’s face where he’s hiding.
Megumi isn’t really sure how to answer that. He’s not upset, just tired, and glad to be home. “You should become a housewife.”
Yuuji pauses, before he snorts. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says, holding him tighter. “I wanna come home to you like this everyday.”
Yuuji turns in his arms, linking his arms around Megumi’s neck. “You already do,” Yuuji says. “We see each other every night.”
“Still, wouldn’t it be nice? You can stay here and relax all day, wouldn’t have to worry about money or any of that shit.”
“But I like my job.”
Megumi sighs. “I don’t.”
“Then why don’t you become the housewife.”
“Well, your words, not mine….”
Yuuji grins, leaning forward to kiss him. “I’ll take care of you,” he whispers, pulling Megumi closer to hug him.
The song changes, a slow tune, and Yuuji begins to sway the two of them, pulling Megumi from side to side.
When the words start, they’re in English. “What, is this your forgien playlist?
“What? I’m trying to learn another language.”
Megumi smiles. “Right, of course. What’s she saying?”
Yuuji shrugs. “I dunno.”
That makes Megumi laugh. “You’ve got flour on your cheek,” he says, and brushes it away with his thumb. Yuuji leans into the touch, so Megumi cups his other cheek and kisses him. Yuuji continues to sway them to the beat.
An alarm goes off, and Yuuji slowly pulls back. “Those are my cookies.”
“Mmm,” Megumi hums, leaning back in to kiss him again.
“I don’t want them to burn,” he whispers against his lips.
“Fiiiiiiine,” Megumi says, letting go. “I’m gonna go shower.”
“Okay,” he says, “You do that.” He kisses Megumi’s cheek one more time. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” The words make Megumi’s chest warm.
The shower feels good, scalding hot water against his skin, turning it pink and warm. As he walks back out into the living room, Yuuji’s laying on the couch, skimming through channels on the TV. When he spots Megumi, he immidiately opens his arms, making little grabby hands at him. Megumi falls into them gratefully.
Yuuji holds him tight, running his hands through Megumi’s hair the way Megumi likes. He smells good, the whole apartment does, like fresh baked cookies and ginger.
“Whadd’ya want for dinner?” Yuuji asks, twirling a strand of hair around his finger.
Megumi hums. “Take out or something.”
“You sure? I can cook something.”
“You did yesterday,” Megumi says. “I’ll pay, don’t worry.”
“Mmkay,” Yuuji sighs. “Cuddles, first.”
“Agreed.”
Yeah, this is exactly what Megumi needed after a long day.