Work Text:
On agreeing to assist one another, Kinjou had somehow, unknowingly, agreed to be Arakita’s human body pillow.
It didn’t take long after setting off on the bus, for Arakita’s head to claim Kinjou’s shoulder; for Kinjou’s fingers to pause in the midst of typing, idly thinking of that if he could reduce his two layers to just one right now, he would, to feel how much of Arakita's warmth he can feel through just his shirt. Refocusing himself on anything but Arakita is difficult, but, he manages.
“Thank you, Arakita,” a frown develops at Arakita’s brow, in wait for a subtle, snide remark, “for asking for my consent.”
“Shut the fuck up, Kin-chan,” he punctuates this with a yawn, “if you don’t want me to,” he still nuzzles his head closer to his neck, wisps of hair brushing at his skin, “just shove me off, alright?”
He doesn’t. He regrets this.
If they were journeying back after a race, getting comfortable in order to sleep wouldn’t be a problem, as would passing out, in any position, really. Kinjou had experienced the joys of waking up with a strained, stiff neck, after not really remembering the moment he’d fallen asleep, disorientated to how long he’d been out. But, they’re only travelling there. Without the insistence that Kinjou sit next to Arakita, he might have had a full two seats to himself.
Those that do, are already asleep, slow breathing broken up by the few, frequent murmurs running through the bus, and the snores coming from the far back, where Machimiya is. He’d had managed to get to the coach as early as possible, and claim the five back seats for himself, falling asleep so quickly nobody on the team could complain. By the looks of things, it seems like he’s brought enough travel pillows and blankets for five people, ever prepared.
As of yet, Kinjou hasn't tried to see if he can sleep, through the hours it will take them to get to the hotel; with his laptop balanced on his knees. Since Arakita placed his head on his shoulder, he’s been distracted from the amount of work he’s reserved for himself; mostly due to Arakita’s fidgeting.
“Kin-chan,” Arakita mumbles into Kinjou’s jumper, “your shoulders- they’re too bony.”
Kinjou doesn't mention Arakita’s elbows, which through his constant fidgeting and shuffling, have almost impaled Kinjou in the chest; the fact that Arakita barely seems to be coated in skin, and has prodded him wide awake, multiple times, just when he was considering sleep an option.
Arakita manages to fall asleep after an hour, perhaps more, of tormenting Kinjou. That bliss only lasts fifteen minutes before Arakita jolts awake, blearily, even though the bus is slowly trundling through the dark, barely lit roads; the lights of other cars barely marking the road, and street lights sparse or just pinpricks in the distance. It’s still indecipherable, to how close they are to dawn.
“-time is it?” Arakita mumbles, in hope he’s slept for longer than he feels he has, whilst rubbing his aching neck.
“If you get impatient, you won’t sleep faster.”
“Just tell me.”
He pauses. “Twenty five past,” Arakita squints at him, asking for clarification, “Twelve.”
“Fuck.”
Arakita brings his head back to his shoulder sharply, making his left hand clash on the keyboard.
“Can’t you age faster, and get,” he yawns again, tears forming in his eyes this time, “-flabby shoulders- do those even exist?”
“Is this all I’m useful for?”
“Yes,” says Arakita, with a sharp smile and glazed eyes “now be a good pillow, and don’t move.”
Kinjou might have refused with the knowledge he’d re-experience the previous hour, in three episodes of Arakita finding a spot on Kinjou’s shoulder that was comfortable, sleeping for fifteen minutes and then, maybe at the slightest movement, jumping up awake; increasingly griping about the pain in his neck.
As Arakita finally leaves his shoulder, he somewhat misses his weight. After complaining about his neck, Arakita goes on, to try some new positions. He abandons the average, lying back on his own seat, after a minute or two of irritated grumbling. As time rears on, they gradually become yet more and more ridiculous; Arakita trying to balance his head against his knees and to not let his legs slip down the seat; shuffling so his back barely rests against Kinjou’s arm and trying to rest his head back onto Kinjou’s shoulder, which is far more awkward a position than lying his head sideways. Kinjou sees Arakita eyeing up Kinjou’s lap, before he goes on to lean his head on the opposite seat, looking desperate for any sample of sleep.
“Yasutomo.”
He snaps his laptop shut. Arakita just barely nudges his face, to look in Kinjou’s direction, scowling. His eyebrows furrow in confusion as Kinjou places his laptop back in its bag, takes off his seat-belt, looking like he’s about to leave for the empty seats a few rows behind, until he turns to face Arakita.
“Just lie on me,” Arakita raises his eyebrows, “it’s fine,” he watches Arakita hurry to remove his seat-belt, “you’ll just be a blanket, after all.”
Too tired to complain, Arakita shuffles so his legs are curled up, on his seat, and tentatively lies back onto Kinjou’s chest, just below his shoulder. Kinjou refrains from instinctively wrapping an arm round Arakita, and lays his head against the glass.
*
Kinjou’s hands sleep wander, during the two hours he manages to sleep, one arm still wedged uncomfortably beside him; the other having pushed up Arakita’s shirt, his palm resting on the warmth of his skin, his fingers lying on the slight curve of stomach.
Politely, Kinjou tries to slide his hand back to his side, in case his blanket awakes and notices. His hand barely greets the cold before Arakita’s own snatches it back, fumbling with closed eyes to hold it back where it was. His tight grip loosening as he managed, without shuffling and elbowing Kinjou in the stomach, like he did an hour before, to drift back to sleep.