Work Text:
When Langa closes the door behind him and fully enters Ainosuke’s bedroom, he finds the lights off, curtains closed meticulously so that not a sliver of evening glow can crawl its way across plush carpet and intricate rugs. He lets his heavy backpack slip from his shoulders and fall to the floor with a muted thud as he surveys the room.
Ainosuke’s suit jacket is carelessly crumpled upon the narrow desk against the far wall of the room, his shoes askew on the floor next to the desk chair, as if his clothes had been suffocating him to the point he had to hastily cast them away. And perhaps he had, judging by what Tadashi had told Langa on his way in—that his last two meetings of the day had been rescheduled when the sudden mood swept over Ainosuke, and he hadn’t come out of his room since.
It’s no surprise to find the man in question stretched out atop his bed sheets, on his side facing away from the door. He has exchanged his pressed work pants for casual navy joggers, electing to go shirtless as he usually does when he sleeps.
“Hey, Adam?” Langa tries, stepping closer to the bed. He wonders if Ainosuke really is asleep as he lays stone still, unaffected by Langa’s shuffling around. The room is absent of the familiar breathy snorts that usually mark Ainosuke’s rest, though, and Langa has to wonder if, maybe, he’s laying too still, thinking he could trick Langa so easily.
Langa decides it doesn’t matter, doesn’t change what he’s about to do. He slips out of his shoes, cursing quietly as he hops on one foot and then the other, nearly stumbling in the process. Next to go are his snug jeans, which he is quick to unbutton and tug down while suppressing a shiver at the sudden chill air brushing across his now-exposed legs. He’s satisfied stripped down to his sweatshirt, boxers, and socks, and he kneels on the bed, beginning the slow shuffle that will take him to the other side of the too-wide mattress (well, too wide, of course, only by Langa’s standards, who sees no need for more space than two people could reasonably take up, especially if they prefer to sleep entangled in each other’s limbs anyway).
Ainosuke’s shoulder blades tense, a movement that has Langa pausing midway across the bed.
“Adam?”
No reaction.
It isn’t until Langa has made it to Ainosuke’s side, where he couldn’t possibly play this game any longer under Langa’s assessing gaze, that Ainosuke finally sighs, glancing up at Langa only briefly before returning his dull gaze forward.
“What happened today?” Langa prompts him, sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest, leaning sideways until his head falls against Ainosuke’s upper arm. “I thought—you seemed okay when I called you this morning.”
He hears Ainosuke’s breath hitch, and though he’s not currently looking, Langa can envision him kneading his bottom lip between his teeth. It’s far from the first time Ainosuke has been like this, unwilling (or unable?) to explain the invisible struggles that plague him, and Langa is neither surprised nor disappointed when his question goes unanswered.
Switching tactics, Langa lays down, scooting until his clothed chest is firmly pressed against Ainosuke’s broad, bare back, and he slides a leg between Ainosuke’s own. It takes some work for Langa to wiggle his arm under Ainosuke’s, as Ainosuke doesn’t seem particularly receptive to his touch right now, but he manages to successfully tuck himself in, arm draped across Ainosuke’s waist. His fingertips can just barely reach Ainosuke’s other arm, where it’s resting against the bed. Not knowing what else to say, he spends the next few moments toying with the coarse hairs that line Ainosuke’s forearm.
Eventually, Langa is compelled to speak again.
“It’s okay. Whatever it is. I promise.”
Ainosuke goes rigid in his arms, calves ensnaring Langa’s ankle, a hand firmly locking around the wrist he has resting against Ainosuke’s stomach. Langa makes no move to pull away, patiently waiting. He can hear the tremor in Ainosuke’s now more rapid breaths, can feel the way Ainosuke’s thumb draws erratic circles on his wrist like he does to himself when he gets worked up about something. One of his feet begins to bounce, gently rocking the bed and shaking Langa along with it.
And then, between one breath and the next, everything stills.
“I…” Ainosuke’s voice rasps handsomely, almost enough to distract Langa from how painfully uncertain he sounds. “I don’t deserve you, snowdrop. I really don’t.”
Langa hums, hooking his chin over Ainosuke’s collarbone and allowing his cheek to smush down against Ainosuke’s neck. “Yeah? What does it matter?”
Ainosuke makes an airy, broken noise at that, as if Langa has just slapped him. Langa responds with an unhappy grunt, pressing a pout into Ainosuke’s skin.
“It doesn’t matter whether you think you deserve me or not,” Langa insists again, words slightly muffled by the way his face is squished. “I’m here because I wanna be. Nothing’s gonna change that.”
It’s a few more tense seconds before Ainosuke finally relaxes, and the thumb against Langa’s pulse slows, strokes shifting from frantic to reverent.
“You say that like it’s simple,” Ainosuke scoffs weakly. “How can you be so sure?”
“Mmmm…” Langa’s fingers reach Ainosuke’s chest, aimlessly drawing squiggles and tracing any freckle or scar they find. “I just know. I think about it a lot, how long I have to wait before I can see you again, if maybe somehow we could just forget about everything and disappear for a week—deal with it all when we get back. It’s not that I’m not happy with my classes or the people Reki and I hang out with, I just… miss home.” I miss you. He squeezes his arm around Ainosuke for emphasis, leaving a thoughtless little kiss against his neck. “I like it here, with you. It feels right. Safe. I’ve never doubted my feelings, and I’m not gonna start.”
Ainosuke chuckles softly, using his hold on Langa’s wrist to bring Langa’s hand up to his mouth. He brushes his lips against his palm, light enough to tickle, and Langa can feel him smile.
“It’s surprising how you always know just what to say to get me out of my head,” he says, finally letting go of Langa’s wrist. He pulls away entirely for a moment, rolling onto his other side so that he’s facing Langa.
Langa can’t help the way his breath catches at the sight of Ainosuke’s mussed hair falling from its quiff down onto his forehead. He wants to trace the happy little lines that exist at the corners of Ainosuke’s eyes, the pinches in his cheeks. His daydreaming must be obvious, judging by the way Ainosuke laughs and draws Langa closer to his chest.
“...why is it surprising?” Langa says suddenly, struggling desperately to remember what it is Ainosuke had said before.
“Hm?”
“You said it’s surprising that I know what to say, or…something.”
“Oh, that was nothing,” Ainosuke replies, sounding far too humored. “Don’t mind me.”
Unamused, Langa jabs his fingertips into Ainosuke’s ribs. “Ass.”
“Ah! Hey, watch it.” Ainosuke grabs Langa’s face with both hands, laughing even as his lips pull Langa’s into their sweet, fleeting embrace. “You have to be nice to me right now. It’s been a tough day, remember?”
Langa hesitates, feeling a stab of guilt, until he notices Ainosuke’s sneaky smile.
“Don’t joke about that stuff,” Langa grouches, thunking his forehead against Ainosuke’s chin. “I don’t like you at all.”
“Well I love you, baby,” Ainosuke coos, sliding a hot hand up Langa’s back under his shirt.
Langa grumbles, snuggling closer in spite of himself. “Me too. I love you, too.”
The pleased rumble that stirs deep in Ainosuke’s chest fills Langa with warmth from head to toe. They fall into a comfortable silence like that, wrapped in each other, mindlessly touching and just existing, and Langa knows he’s right—there’s nothing more certain, nothing easier than this.
When Ainosuke breaks their silence, Langa realizes that, at some point, his eyes had fallen shut.
“Thank you, for tonight. I know it’s not what you were expecting, but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”
“Mmmm, s’okay,” Langa manages to mumble, face now tucked against Ainosuke’s collarbone.
He thinks Ainosuke might be combing his fingers through his hair, but the feeling is distant, as is the sound of his steady heartbeat. Langa wants to ask him if he’s feeling better, to ask him what they’re doing tomorrow, if he really has time for anything after skipping out on precious working hours today, but his tongue sits like lead in his mouth. Maybe they should have at least gotten under the blankets first in order to spare Langa’s chilly legs, but with Ainosuke curled around him, seemingly touching every part of him, Langa can’t imagine feeling more comfortable than this as he drifts off to sleep.