Work Text:
“From the very beginning—from the first moment, I may almost say—of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork of the disapprobation on which succeeding events have built so immovable a dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world on whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”
He sat down on his office chair and raised the mug to his lips. The regal complexity of the bergamot mixed with the lavender elevated him to a heavenly sense of peace that he often doesn’t experience. His audiobook continued to play, allowing him to ignore the increasing amount of paperwork on his desk. So few are these moments, where he had the office solely to himself and free from his mean-spirited and antagonistic office mate.
He assessed his desk and smiled. Piles of essays to finish grading and pens in every size and color littered his desk. A few photos of him with his colleagues and students were taped against the wall, along with sticky notes full of reminders and silly little drawings. Copper-colored binder clips and paper clips neatly stored in a wooden box, with stickers of stars messily tacked onto the box. His books haphazardly strewn all over. An overused leather messenger bag leaning against his desk. A half-used candle on the corner of his desk.
He overheard the door of the office swing open, and his bubble of serenity bursted. Turning towards the source of the sound, he warily eyed his officemate. Light golden hair falling onto a too-perfect face, black-rimmed glasses slightly concealing a pair of amber eyes, and a permanent neutral expression on his face. He hated how classically handsome he was.
“Tsukki, how was the meeting with the new teaching assistant?” he politely asked with a smile.
“Fine. And stop calling me that,” Tsukishima ordered, taking a seat in his own respective chair.
His grip on his mug tightened. Did he have to be so rude about it? All Tsukishima had to do was participate in small talk, and he couldn’t even seem to handle that. After several months of sharing their office space, they still haven’t gotten along.
“I’m not sure that you can’t request for me to stop calling you that, especially when I’m doing you a favor.” He watched as Tsukishima swiveled around in his chair, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
He asked through gritted teeth, “And may I ask what favor you’re doing for me?”
Yamaguchi took another sip of his tea before responding. “The cultural festival. Students have been emailing me with requests, and I have been working my ass off trying to make sure that the literature department is going to have an amazing event.”
Tsukishima drummed his long and slender fingers against the wood of his desk and lazily asked, “How is that supposed to be doing me a favor?”
“They’re your students too,” he pointed out, throwing an accusatory glare. “Yet, I don’t see you pulling your weight and helping them out. My free time is spent visiting all these stores to purchase supplies and physically helping them set up. And may I remind you that the weather has been unforgivingly cold.”
“I’m an educator, nothing more and nothing less. It’s their cultural festival, and they should be the ones working on it. You’re going to run yourself ragged and get sick in the process. Stop being so nice,” Tsukishima icily said, before opening a desk drawer and taking out his headphones. “Now, turn off that godforsaken audiobook or use these headphones. You’re not the only one in this office.”
Yamaguchi snatched the headphones from his hands and put them on. Just as he’s trying to connect his phone’s bluetooth to the headphones, he glanced over at Tsukishima. Whereas his untidy desk was his own little corner of coziness and warmth, Tsukishima’s was the complete opposite.
His desk held three things total: his laptop, a single plain notepad, and one black pen. His books were organized in a small bookshelf by the author, and the essays and tests that he grades are sorted into a filing cabinet. Everything was absolutely pristine.
Perfection for the seemingly perfect man. It was nauseating.
Tsukishima must have noticed his gaze because he smirked and said, “You could just simply tell me that you find me attractive, Yamaguchi. I won’t stop you.”
His eyes slightly widened and then narrowed. “Are you so lacking in compliments that you’re basically requesting to be flattered? If you’re that desperate, Tsukki, then I’m sure that I can afford to do some charity work.”
A knock brought both of their attention to the door.
“Come in,” they said simultaneously. The door opened to reveal an orange-haired student.
“Professor Yamaguchi, we’ve finished setting up the basic foundation for the stalls and wanted to get your approval before proceeding with the detail work,” Hinata, a student of both professors, announced.
“I’ll be there with you in a second. Professor Tsukishima, if you could excuse me.” He slung his messenger bag over his shoulder and returned the unused headphones back to its owner.
Tsukishima reached for them, his fingertips brushing over Yamaguchi’s, and commented, “I guess you don’t have the time for the charity work after all.” His eyes transferring to the student, he lectured, “And Hinata, it’s imperative that you learn self-sufficiency and decrease your needs to be supervised by your professors. Do you understand?”
Hinata’s face reddened, and he furiously nodded. “I understand, Professor.”
He scrambled out of the office in a hurry and before Yamaguchi could follow the frightened student, he turned back around and hissed, “That was completely unnecessary. My teaching methods may differ from yours, but the bare minimum is to at least respect it.”
“It’s not your teaching methods that I don’t like. It’s how you continually allow yourself to sacrifice for the sake of your students, even if it means negatively affecting your health,” Tsukishima replied, nonplussed by Yamaguchi’s glare. “You should at least borrow my scarf or coat.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion so next time, I’d prefer it if you kept your mouth shut.” And with that, he slammed the door on Tsukishima, who was still holding out his scarf.
Oh God, Yamaguchi was absolutely miserable .
He trudged towards his office, despite his burning body feeling like it was plunged in the icy depths of the River Styx. The muscles in his body were crying out in pain and begging for relief. He didn’t want to admit it, but he definitely got sick.
Screw Tsukishima for always being right.
All throughout his lecture, his mind was foggy and it took all the effort in him to answer questions that were asked. Even with the aid of his presentation slides, he was still unsure of what he was even teaching. But in the end, he got through it. Now he just had to hope that no one comes during his office hours, and his weekend could finally begin. The only thing that he wanted to do was sleep in his bed and wake up intermittently to drink soup.
Finally, he reached his office, where Tsukishima was currently updating his gradebook. Yamaguchi threw himself down on his office chair and basically dropped his bag down onto the floor. It was a struggle to keep his eyes open, especially when Tsukishima lit the candle that was on the corner of his desk. The scent of rosewood and honeysuckle permeated through his face mask and wafted into his nose, almost lulling him to sleep.
“What time will you be available during the festival on Saturday? I guess I should at least reward you with food for helping my students out as well,” Tsukishima inquired, still keeping his eyes on his laptop screen.
Yamaguchi tried processing what he was asking of him, but his brain remained murky. “Um...what?”
“Never mind, just forget it. If you don’t want to, you could have just said so,” Tsukishima replied, bitterness in his voice. Yamaguchi could feel that he was upset with him, but why? Going against his body’s wishes, he swiveled his chair around and placed a hand against Tsukishima’s arm.
“Did I do something wrong?”
Tsukishima turned to acknowledge him with his eyebrows furrowed and discontent in his eyes. When his gaze landed on Yamaguchi’s face, his expression softened and concern was etched all over. He placed a cool hand against his forehead.
“Oh, that feels nice,” Yamaguchi breathed out, leaning into Tsukishima’s touch.
“You’re sick,” Tsukishima bluntly stated. “Why are you still at the university? You should be at home resting right now. You overworked yourself and stayed out in the cold for too long.”
“I still have office hours, though,” Yamaguchi defended himself, letting out a soft whine when the cold hand retracted itself from his feverish skin.
“Not anymore,” Tsukishima declared, turning off his laptop. “I have very little patience for people who don’t take care of their bodies. How are you supposed to set a good example for your students or educate properly when you’re delirious due to your fever?”
Tears pricked his eyes, and he sniffled. “I’m sorry. I just...”
Tsukishima looked up at him and sighed. He wiped the tears that were threatening to escape and gently said, “I’ll take you home. Can you stand and walk? I’ll carry your bag for you.”
Yamaguchi silently nodded, standing up from his seat and trying to balance himself as his dizziness worsened. He watched as Tsukishima blew out the candle on his desk and threw his bag over his shoulder. He took a step towards the door and felt an arm snake itself around his waist.
“You’re swaying, Yamaguchi. Come on, my car isn’t too far from here.”
The walk to the parking lot was a blur. The only thing that centered him to his body was the warm and comforting arm around him, guiding and leading him to an unfamiliar black car. In what felt like a blink of an eye, he was seated inside the passenger seat.
It smelled like vanilla...and cologne, maybe? In his lightheaded state, he wasn’t able to decipher the notes in the scent.
“Hey, where do you live? I need an address,” said a calming voice.
He groaned and murmured, “I’m cold.”
“Lean your head a little forward and I’ll wrap this scarf around you,” said the same voice. Yamaguchi looked down and recognized the camel-colored cashmere scarf. “I’ll turn the heater on, so just hang on tight.”
“Tsukki...you smell nice.”
With that said, his eyes fluttered close.
Yamaguchi shivered and burrowed himself closer to the source of heat on his left. His skin was diaphoretic, and the clothes on his body clung to him like glue. He felt absolutely disgusting, and that feeling exacerbated when a wave of nausea overcame him.
He made to move out of bed and removed the wet washcloth from his forehead, but a voice made him pause. “Where are you going?”
“Need to throw up,” he muttered, his voice raspy. A large plastic bowl materialized in front of him, with water and ice filling a fraction of the container. Before he could ask where it came from or why it was already one-third full, he emptied the contents of his stomach into the bowl. He watched the food and bile swirl around the bowl, as the gears in his brain were slowly grinding.
He looked to his left and recognized the figure. “Tsukki, it’s you. Where am I?”
Tsukishima was watching him carefully and took a few seconds to respond. “You fell asleep in the car before you could tell me your home address, so I took you back to my apartment. If you’re finished with the bowl, I’ll empty it out. I’m also going to get you a glass of water and aspirin. Feel free to use the bathroom on the left to rinse your mouth.”
When Tsukishima left the room and he was finished rinsing his mouth with water and mouthwash, Yamaguchi scanned the bedroom that he was in. After all, this was probably the only time he’d be able to snoop around. Unlike his office back at the university, his bedroom spoke more about Tsukishima. From the dinosaur models carefully placed onto a shelf to the ceramic mold of baby feet (which must have been his, unless he had a secret baby that Yamaguchi didn’t know about) to the small bookshelf in the corner that seemed to hold a mixture of novels and magazines. It was...different.
“You really shouldn’t be out of the bed, especially since you still have a high fever and are feeling nauseous.” Tsukishima stood at the doorway, holding a glass of iced water in one hand and fresh towels and washcloths in the other. He walked towards the desk in his bedroom and gently placed all the materials on top.
“I wanted to see if I could find where you kept your dirty magazines,” Yamaguchi teased, earning a disapproving look from Tsukishima.
“You’re in this condition, and yet you still manage to be cheeky,” Tsukishima noted, shaking his head in disbelief as he began opening a medication bottle from his desk drawer. “I don’t know what I was expecting, honestly, but I shouldn’t have been surprised.”
“Ah, but you didn’t deny it. Shall I continue my search?” Yamaguchi asked, this time receiving a pinch on his cheek.
“I’m not hiding any dirty magazines,” Tsukishima asserted before popping a pill into his mouth, “so cancel the search party and rest up already. Finish this glass of water while you’re at it.”
Yamaguchi took the glass from the desk and downed the entire contents, enjoying how it seemed to refresh his feverish body. He shivered, though, and used his arms to keep himself warm. “I’m going back to sleep. That pill wasn’t secretly a way to get rid of me, right?”
“If you’re asking whether or not I poisoned you, that would be a negative. I wouldn’t even have a good reason to do so.”
Yamaguchi clambered back towards the bed and casually said, “Maybe so you could have the office to yourself? It’s not like you’re exactly fond of me anyways.”
Silence met him.
As he sat cross-legged on the bed, he met Tsukishima’s gaze. His golden amber eyes were always so intense and seemed to penetrate into his soul, almost as if he knew something that Yamaguchi didn’t. It always made him feel uncomfortable and self-conscious.
“I brought some towels to wipe you down. You could either stay undressed or I can lend you some fresh clothing while I put your dirty clothes in the wash,” Tsukishima offered after the whole staredown.
“Oh, uh, I’ll take the clothing. Thanks,” he stuttered out.
In a matter of minutes, both of them were back into the bed with freshly changed pajamas. While he probably looked more ridiculous with the sleeves reaching his fingertips, Yamaguchi failed at holding back a laugh when he saw Tsukishima.
“And pray tell, what exactly is so funny?” he demanded to know, his arms crossed.
“It’s just so weird seeing you in pajamas. Like, I know that you can’t possibly wear a fancy button-down and nice pants everywhere you go, but it’s all I’ve ever seen you wear. The most casual shirt you wore was a white linen shirt, and even then, it was still a long-sleeved button-down.”
Tsukishima reached over and wrapped him with the blankets, not seeing the light blush forming in his cheeks. “I didn’t realize that you watched over me so carefully. If I knew, I would have put more effort into my looks just for you.”
“Oh shut up, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi grumbled, flipping over to his right side so Tsukishima couldn’t see his reddened face. “As if I could care less what you wore or not.”
He could feel Tsukishima hovering over him, and so he lifted the blankets to his nose to cover half of his face. The smell of vanilla and the cologne was stronger when he did. It was becoming a small comfort to him at this point, easily lowering his guard down. Adding that to the feel of Tsukishima’s body lightly pressed against his back, his eyelids began to lower.
The last thing he thought before sleep overtook his body was that the cologne smelled of cedarwood, musk, and some type of flower that he couldn’t place.
Yamaguchi patiently sat at the dining table and watched Tsukishima scoop extra bone broth into his bowl. He’d spent a total of two nights at his apartment so far, despite his insistence yesterday that he was perfectly fine to take care of himself at home.
“Today’s the day of the culture festival. I was thinking about visiting later,” he stated, not meeting Tsukishima’s stare. His bowl was placed right in front of him, and he reached for his chopsticks to stir the noodles around.
“You’re still a little sick, and the festival will be mainly outdoors. I’m not sure that it would be a good idea for you to go,” Tsukishima said, seating himself right across from him.
“I haven’t even had the opportunity to grade my students’ assignments or answer any emails. I’m way behind enough as it is, and I would at least like to see the fruits of my labor. I didn’t get sick for no reason,” he argued back, blowing onto his noodles before placing them into his mouth.
“You’re not behind,” Tsukishima murmured. When it didn’t seem like he was going to explain himself, Yamaguchi pulled his bowl away so he wouldn’t be able to eat. He sighed and explained, “I found the homework in your bag and graded it for you. I am familiar with your lessons, after all. As for your emails, I sent a message to your teaching assistant when you were asleep the first time around and informed them of your condition. They have since notified the rest of the students.”
Yamaguchi gently pushed the bowl back towards Tsukishima. “Oh...thank you. I’d still like to attend the festival, though. My fever’s gone down.”
“Fine, but only if you follow my conditions. We’re going to leave when I think it’s time and you have to dress appropriately. Borrow one of my coats and my scarf when we visit later on. I don’t want your condition to deteriorate and for your fever to come back.”
He quickly slurped up the broth and said, “Okay, I got it. I’m sure you don’t exactly want me to stay here any longer anyways.”
They continued to eat in silence, with Yamaguchi peeking up now and then at Tsukishima. He kept surprising him all weekend. Although Tsukishima would sometimes send a snarky remark his way, sometimes it was full of concern and care. Yamaguchi couldn’t make heads or tails about what Tsukishima was feeling.
When they finished eating, Tsukishima took his empty bowl to the kitchen sink and Yamaguchi began boiling water to make tea. Tsukishima quietly asked, “Did you hate having to stay over at my place while you were sick?”
Yamaguchi heaved himself up onto the countertop and replied, “Was I supposed to hate it?”
Tsukishima heaved a sigh. “Never mind, just forget it.”
“Oh, come on, Tsukki. Don’t be like that,” Yamaguchi teased. “Of course I didn’t hate it here. In all honesty, it was actually a lot better than what I would have thought it’d be.”
Tsukishima stepped closer to where he sat. Yamaguchi couldn’t help but notice that in this position, they were finally at the same height.
“Care to humor me by elaborating on that?” Tsukishima asked, his voice low and deep. He leaned against the countertop, his shoulders rubbing against his.
Yamaguchi purposely looked away and lightly said, “I mean...it was bearable, despite your taste in movies and books being completely different from mine. I know that you have the reputation of being the highly intellectual, but also really intimidating and scary professor. But to have that seep into your personal life, too?”
“So what you’re saying is that you hated the movie nights and you couldn’t even distract yourself with my books?”
“I’m just saying that it won’t hurt to add a few romance or fantasy movies and books into your mix. I didn’t hate it, though. It was nice hearing you voice out your opinions during the movie nights. Even the books had a purpose. After all, they helped me go to sleep,” Yamaguchi said, chuckling at the snort he just heard from Tsukishima.
“And what about my company?”
“What about it?”
Tsukishima pulled himself away from the counter and stood in front of Yamaguchi, forcing him to look at his face. “Did you mind having to spend that time with me?”
“No, I didn’t mind,” he answered honestly, his heart skipping a little at the way Tsukishima looked into his eyes. “I’ve always rather hoped that we’d get along better after all these months, and I was really close to giving up on that idea.”
“I’m sorry for giving off a terrible impression,” Tsukishima apologized, a hint of redness tinged his cheeks. “I didn’t plan on becoming friends with anyone at work. My career meant a lot to me, so I wasn’t exactly kind to you at the beginning.”
“But to be honest with you, it started to become fun,” Tsukishima continued. “You were the only one who pushed back. Every insult, every tease, every single thing I threw at you, you threw it right back. I almost didn’t want it to end.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Yamaguchi whispered, almost as if he was afraid of speaking any louder. There was a raw honesty in Tsukishima’s words and his eyes, and he was fearing that it was going to go away if he scared him off.
“Because...lately, I’ve been wanting more than just that,” Tsukishima murmured.
“More than colleagues?”
“More than friends.”
Oh.
“Then why have we continued acting this way? I thought you still hated me.”
“It was the only way that I knew how to act around you. But all this time that you’ve been sick, I felt more like myself. It was easier to show you that I cared about you. I’m not exactly well-versed in romance, so maybe I should have done my proper research and taken your advice to add more films and novels about it to my collection.
His heart was hammering against his chest, its reverberations coursing through his body as if it were shouting at him to listen. It was right then and there that Yamaguchi wondered why the thought of being hated by Tsukishima affected him more than it should have. He wasn’t unused to bullies, especially when he was younger, but their dislike towards him never bothered him like this.
No, he wanted Tsukishima’s approval. More than that, he wanted Tsukishima to like him. Because maybe, just maybe, he was fascinated with the beautiful man and his curious ways.
“I am an expert in that field, as you already know. I teach a supplementary course on it.”
“Are you suggesting that I take the course alongside other students?” Tsukishima asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Of course not, Tsukki,” he replied, waving dismissively. “However, I am offering private lessons if you’re interested. There will be additional readings to the course, as well as assignments and projects.”
Tsukishima smirked. “And may I ask what these assignments and projects will entail?”
“Hm, well I heard that there will be crepes and takoyaki at the culture festival later on. It’s good practice to take your romantic interest on a proper date and offer them delicious foods.”
“And here I thought my soup and noodles were good enough,” Tsukishima teased. “But you are the expert, so I may as well listen to you. Is there anything else that I need to know?”
Yamaguchi pretended to think about it and said, “Well, you should also be prepared to give them a goodnight kiss. I hope you’ve practiced for it.”
“Even if they’re still a little sick?”
“That’s what you’re worried about? We slept on the same bed for the past two nights.”
“Fair enough. And if I need practice before the time of my date arrives?”
Tsukishima leaned in closer with a glint in his eye, his hands on the counter and caging him in. Yamaguchi reached his fingers out and clutched onto the front of Tsukishima’s shirt.
“As your professor, I can’t have you unprepared for such an important project. Let me educate you on that.”
Two desks situated themselves in the single office space.
One was cluttered with supplies, piles of papers and books, and scribbles on notepads and sticky notes. Alongside the usual things on the desk, there were also two used movie tickets for the latest romance-comedy film, a grocery list on one of the notepads that had two distinct handwritings on it, and a small dinosaur stuffed animal against the corner of the desk.
The other one held four things in total: a laptop, a single plain notepad, one black pen, and one picture frame that held a couple madly in love.