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Sometimes, Tetsurou thinks he's the luckiest man in the world.
Actually, he thinks this more often than not. He thinks it when he looks through the glass at work to see Kenma directing an up-and-coming artist on vocal techniques or songwriting. He thinks it when he (finally) convinces Kenma to sing him to sleep. He thinks it when he looks up in the morning to see Kenma’s head on his chest, his hair framing him like a halo. But he thinks it especially hard right now as he stares at his husband (something he’s seriously never going to get tired of saying), who is all his, nonstop, for the next couple of days.
“I don’t know why you insist on having a honeymoon,” Kenma had said a few days ago. “We’re together all the time anyways.”
“Not true,” Tetsurou had fired back. “You don’t come to the bathroom with me.”
Kenma’d wrinkled up his nose in reply. “That’s disgusting.”
“My loveee,” Tetsurou complained, burying his head in Kenma’s hair. “Why don’t you love me?”
“This has absolutely nothing to do with my love for you,” Kenma had mumbled into his chest. “Your shit doesn’t smell any better than anyone else’s.”
“It smells like fucking roses,” Tetsurou had replied, tightening his arms around Kenma. “Anyways, I just want a few days alone with you. No work, no obligations, no cat - however lovely our cat is - just you and me.”
Kenma had stopped protesting after that, thankfully. Now, he sits in the back of the car with his head in Tetsurou’s lap, his head in one of his mobile games. Tetsurou strokes his hair absentmindedly. “When I was younger,” he says softly, “I remember thinking after the first Neko show, as the lights went down and the crowd cheered, that that was undoubtedly going to be the best day of my life. I had no idea that today would top it.”
“You’re so cheesy,” Kenma mutters, but he presses a light kiss against Tetsurou’s palm before he turns back to his phone.
“Did you not have a good time?” Tetsurou asks, somewhat scandalized. He’d known, of course, that larger gatherings are not exactly Kenma’s favorite thing even as a band frontman, but somehow he’d thought that their wedding would be different.
“Of course,” Kenma says, soft and honest, and Tetsurou’s heart melts a little. “I’d probably have a good time anywhere if you were with me.” And that? That does Tetsurou in. He’s pretty sure he’s having a heart attack right now.
“Did you ever dream we’d end up like this?” Tetsurou asks.
Kenma breathes out a laugh. “Not everyone is as oblivious as you, Kuro,” he says. “I had a feeling we’d get here eventually. I just didn’t know when.”
Tetsurou flicks him on the forehead. “You could’ve just said something to me, you know!” he protests.
“Oh, yes, I’ll just go confess to the guy who I’m hooking up with that still thinks he’s straight,” Kenma says sarcastically. “I’m sure that’ll go well for me.”
“Right,” Tetsurou says, giving Kenma a sheepish look. “I was kind of an idiot back then, wasn’t I?”
Kenma raises an eyebrow at him in response. “Just back then?”
“Oh, shut up, you asshole,” Tetsurou says. But he can’t help himself anymore. He holds Kenma’s face in his palm, the feel of Kenma’s skin against his more appealing. “I love you,” he says, the words falling so easily from his lips now. The sky is blue. The grass is green.
Tetsurou is head over heels in love with his husband, Kenma. And just like the rest, he doesn’t see that changing any time soon.
“I love you too,” Kenma replies, and Tetsurou finds it a bit embarrassing that it sends sparks down his spine. And then Tetsurou gives up on any notion of propriety when they’re around the driver and kisses him, hard. Kenma responds by tangling his (small, comparatively) fists in Tetsurou’s hair, and Tetsurou sighs into Kenma’s mouth and Kenma’s tongue finds his and, yep. Tetsurou is definitely the luckiest man in the world. By far.
.
“Kenma,” Tetsurou whines.
“Why are you like this,” comes Kenma’s flat reply.
“Please,” Tetsurou says. “It’s our wedding night! It’s a wedding night tradition.”
Kenma looks Tetsurou up and down, from top to bottom, and Tetsurou can’t help but feel a bit self-conscious. “Since when have you been concerned about tradition?”
Tetsurou gives a tiny shrug. Kenma has a point there, but… “I messed up a lot with you in the beginning, you know,” he says. “And so now, I guess, I just want to make sure I’m doing it right.”
“You already are,” Kenma says. “Besides, I’m not your bride. I’m a guy.”
“I’ve noticed,” Tetsurou says, giving him a leering stare that makes Kenma roll his eyes. “You’re welcome to carry me inside instead.” Kenma’s horrified stare in response is enough to make Tetsurou chuckle. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
He gives Kenma his best pleading stare, one that he knows Kenma is particularly weak to. Kenma fidgets for a moment, intentionally avoiding Tetsurou’s stare, before he finally gives in. “Fine. But you won’t tell anyone about this.”
“Of course not,” Tetsurou says sweetly, scooping Kenma up into his arms. There’s really nothing like this, Tetsurou thinks, nothing like holding Kenma close and knowing that Kenma is all his. He presses a kiss to Kenma’s forehead.
“Get it over with already,” Kenma gripes. Tetsurou complies, pushing open the door to their Airbnb, feeling his heart race as he steps over the threshold with his husband cradled in his arms. He sets him down, noticing Kenma’s cheeks are a gorgeous shade of pink, and watches as Kenma takes in the room. “Is that… and that… what the hell?”
“This Airbnb is listed as a ‘video game lover’s paradise’,” Tetsurou says smugly. “So I thought you might like it.”
Kenma stares at him wordlessly. Tetsurou grins back, just waiting, but before Kenma says anything, first - he leans up, grabbing Tetsurou’s shirt and yanking Tetsurou down so that Kenma can kiss him, hard and passionate. Tetsurou holds him gently, tenderly, but when Kenma’s lips wander away from Tetsurou’s mouth, kissing down his neck and his hands coming to unbutton Tetsurou’s shirt, Tetsurou realizes that Kenma has another idea about where this is going.
And he’s not complaining one bit.
.
Afterwards, they lie in the master bedroom’s spacious bed, sticky with sweat but still pressed against each other. Tetsurou rubs Kenma’s back gently. In response, Kenma lets out a quiet, contented hum, and Tetsurou feels his chest grow warm. He’s like a big, affectionate cat when he wants to be.
Tetsurou’s always been a cat person.
Kenma gives a tiny little yawn. Tetsurou chuckles, kissing the top of his head. “Is my Kenma sleepy already? And here I thought you’d be up till 3 like you always are.”
“Shut up,” Kenma mumbles. “It was a long day. I used up my whole social battery.”
“Then sleep, my love,” Tetsurou says.
“Wait,” Kenma says. “There’s something I want to do first.”
Tetsurou sits up when Kenma hops out of the bed, giving him a confused look. “Lay back down,” Kenma instructs, and despite Tetsurou’s confusion, he trusts Kenma wholly, completely. So he lays back down on the bed. After a quiet moment, Kenma wanders back over to the bed, sitting down on the side, close enough for Tetsurou to feel his warmth. He’s quiet for a moment.
And then he starts to sing.
Tetsurou loves to brand himself as the number one Catfight fan (much to the dismay of some of Catfight’s more hardcore fans), so of course he recognizes the song from the first note. It’s After the Last Neko Show, one of Catfight’s more romantic songs, and Tetsurou wonders how he’d somehow overlooked the name of that song. Kenma’s voice is soft and low in his ear. It’s more soothing than anything Tetsurou’s ever heard. Tetsurou holds on to Kenma’s hand tightly as his eyelids start to droop.
God, he loves this man.
“I love you,” Kenma says as he finishes off the song, and Tetsurou’s fast asleep before he can even register Kenma getting into bed beside him, curled up against his side.
.
As usual, Tetsurou’s up before Kenma, so he heads out into the kitchen to prepare one of Kenma’s favorite dishes - Cinnamon Apple French Toast. Tetsurou suspects that Kenma mostly likes it because it reminds him of apple pie, but he’s never said this to Kenma’s face.
Kenma trudges out of the bedroom a few minutes later, his hair messy and wearing what seems to be only one of Tetsurou’s shirts, and Tetsurou’s brain short-circuits. “Good morning, beautiful,” he manages.
“Morning,” Kenma mutters. “It smells good.”
Kenma’s not particularly verbose in the morning. Tetsurou laughs, handing him a plate. “Your favorite.”
Kenma doesn’t say anything, but the way he looks up at Tetsurou, his eyes conveying gratefulness, tells Tetsurou everything. He digs in and Tetsurou takes a bite too. Not bad, if he can say so himself.
Once Kenma finishes eating, he comes over to where Tetsurou’s sitting and nestles himself in Tetsurou’s lap. Tetsurou runs his hand through Kenma’s messy hair. “What do you want to do today? We have the whole day to do literally whatever you want.”
“Hm,” Kenma says. “They have a Switch here.”
“You have a Switch at home,” Tetsurou points out. “And did you see the virtual reality set here? It ooks super expensive.”
“I know, but…” Kenma shrugs. “I don’t know. I really want to play Mario Kart with you.”
We do that all the time, Tetsurou wants to say, but the words won’t leave his lips. If it’s something Kenma cares about this deeply - well, he wants Kenma to be happy more than anything. And it’s not like he doesn’t enjoy playing Mario Kart, especially with Kenma.
“Fine,” Tetsurou says. “But I’m going to win this time.”
Kenma gives a short laugh at that. “Yeah, good luck with that.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” Tetsurou replies and grins.
.
He does not, in fact, end up winning.
They do an entire Grand Prix against some of the higher-level CPU, and Tetsurou’s highest placement is 6th place (which he is in fact very proud of). Meanwhile, Kenma places first in every race, because of course he does.
“You’re cheating,” Tetsurou protests.
“I don’t think it’s possible to cheat in Mario Kart. We can switch controllers if you want, though.”
“I just don’t get how it’s possible to win every single race!”
“I’m just good,” Kenma says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It’s not my fault you just suck.”
“I’m doing my best!”
“Well,” Kenma says softly, “your best still sucks.”
Tetsurou suddenly is taken back to a time all those years ago, a time when it had been him and Kenma on the Catfight bus and Kenma had said those exact words to him. He reaches out to tickle Kenma’s side just as he had that day and Kenma laughs, swatting his hands away and protesting. Once again, he finds himself on the couch with Kenma directly under him, his face red and eyes fixated on Tetsurou’s lips.
This time, though, he knows.
He knows that it’s not just some weird physical urge pulling him to Kenma. He knows that he’s not straight, never has been, despite how hard he’d tried to suppress that part of him. He knows that this man is his partner, his world, the love of his life, and now, his husband too.
This time, he doesn’t even hesitate before he leans down, pressing his lips fervently against Kenma’s. Kenma kisses him back just as passionately, his lips just as soft against Tetsurou’s as they’ve ever been. The warmth in Tetsurou’s chest doesn’t fade one bit as he leans closer, his hands wandering down Kenma’s back. Yep, he tells himself. If there’s one thing he’d been right about all of those years ago, it’s that Kenma Kozume is definitely going to be the death of him.
But oh, what a wonderful way to go.