Work Text:
Knock Knock
Haruka blearily blinked the sleep from his eyes. He'd fallen asleep while painting again, barely remembering to clean his brushes and haphazardly pack his paints away before falling asleep with his heavily stained apron still tied around his waist.
Knock Knock
The man rolled off his futon and pulled himself painstakingly off the floor. He would have preferred to wake up at a reasonable hour instead of nearly three in the afternoon, but he considered it a moot point since he was up until nearly dawn painting to begin with. Fighting sleep that long had done its number on him and he felt more like he had a hangover than just staying up late. In any case, he had a door to answer.
The artist cricked his neck and reached his arms up, stretching his back in an arch as he made his way to the door. He ran his fingers through his hair, quickly smoothing down wayward hairs and generally doing his best to make it look like he didn't in fact, wake up less than a minute ago.
He opened the door, fully expecting blazing sunlight to blast him in the face and sear his eyeballs. Instead, he was met with a gentle shadow cast over him, sunlight peeking around the silhouette of a tall, muscular, man. The man, a delivery boy, by the looks of the stylized polo shirt, sun visor, and khaki shorts, was holding a sizable box and had the most welcoming smile Haruka had ever seen on anyone's face before.
"Hello? How may I help you?" Haruka fought the urge to yawn but couldn't help but give this person a quick once over. The sleeves of the polo stretched out across what Haruka considered an unfair amount of bicep, and fit just a little snugly across the widest part of his chest, tapering down neatly along his torso and tucked just as neatly into the khaki shorts. The shorts were a whole other story- was there a practical reason they were so tight? To tempt housewives, maybe? Or perhaps it wasn't so much the shorts as the way the man fit them, filling them out in such a way that it might as well be wrapping paper because you could see the shape of well...everything.
"-And so if you'll just sign here, please?" The delivery boy finished, unaware that his client's thoughts were far from being about signatures and paper work.
Haruka blinked once, "Excuse me?"
"Oh! I'm sorry! You must not have heard, you do look rather tired."
Yes, Haruka thought, let's go with that.
"I'm Makoto Tachibana, a new worker for the Future Fish Deliveries. I have a package for a Haruka Nanase? Is that you?"
The man in the doorway narrowed his eyes slightly, if he made a single comment about his name being a woman's, he was switching companies.
"Yes." he replied coolly, "I'm Haru." he stated, putting emphasis on the shortened version of his name.
"Okay, good." Makoto sighed in relief. "The guy I took over for, Rei, left me special instructions to be extra careful with your deliveries and I wanted to make sure I had the right person! That was really thoughtful of him. What a nice guy."
"Yeah." Haruka agreed, somewhat dumbfounded. Were delivery people supposed to chat this much with customers? Rei had always been prompt and to the point, but courteous nonetheless. He could appreciate that. However, Rei also wasn't quite as tall or broad as this Makoto, so there was that.
A clipboard was held out to him, probably for a second time, he wasn't sure. This time though, he grasped it with a small 'thank you', and signed his name quickly, before handing it back to the worker.
Makoto took it back and gave Haruka a dazzling smile, which made him swear his heart almost skipped a beat, and tucking the clipboard under his arm, he finally delivered the box safely into Haruka's waiting hands. "Here you go then! I hope you have a wonderful day, Mr. Haru." Then, he turned around and began walking down the path from Haruka's door.
For some unknown reason, the grumpy, groggy man actually believed it, and couldn't help but send a small smile at the retreating back of the unexpectedly friendly and cheerful man. If his eyes strayed downwards to glance at the well - formed ass covered by those tight khaki shorts, well, there was still a mystery there to solve; were they made that tight or does Makoto just fill them out that well?
He watched him until he disappeared down the walk, then turned around to go back into his house, frowning at the box in his hands. He couldn't quite recall what he'd ordered anymore.
They next met when Haruka had to order in a new easel after his old one finally became beyond fixing. He was only slightly sad to see it go, the wood was warped in several places and the legs were never quite cut the same lengths so it got tiring to painstakingly jimmy things under the legs to make it stand evenly. Haruka was almost buzzing with energy underneath his skin. He would be getting his new easel today and would also have the opportunity to see Rei's replacement delivery boy, Makoto, on a day where he didn't pull an all-nighter and wake up seconds before answering the door. He thought himself infinitely better prepared for human interaction this time around.
This time, when the knock sounded at the door, the artist was dressed properly in clean clothes and had his hair free of knots and general bed head. He pulled the door open a little too quickly to be casual, and fought the urge to blush as he had the full force of the delivery boy's gaze and smile directed towards him and the frame of mind to appreciate it. Damn, his eyes were green. Really, really, green.
"Hello again!" he greeted cheerfully, and shit his eyes sparkled too. "It's Haru, right?" Haruka nodded. "It's nice to see you again. You look much more refreshed than last time." the brown haired man adjusted the awkwardly large box in his arm, attempting to keep a good handhold on it.
Haruka eyed the parcel precariously being held by Makoto.
"It's not too heavy is it?" he asked somewhat dubiously, almost concerned except for the fact that judging by the size of his muscles, Makoto could pick him up without breaking a sweat, and now wasn't that an interesting thought. Clearly, though, there could be no way that the box was too heavy unless he was already injured. He wasn't injured, was he? Haruka frowned. If he was, he shouldn't be lifting anything, much less doing so for several hours.
"Oh, no, no, no, not at all!" he quickly reassured Haruka, "It's just- you know, I've got a rather large package," he hefted the thing up with little effort, and it was large enough that it easily covered his face and over the top of his head when held at waist level. Haru blushed at the way his words sounded, and failed in not looking down to check out a different kind of package, tilting his head to the side slightly and mouthing the word 'wow'. The shorts really didn't leave much to the imagination.
"You do," he said, thickly.
"Right." Makoto stated, "So, you see, it's not really very heavy at all, it's just a little awkward to give it to you the right way when it keeps almost slipping out of my hands. You really need a tight grip to do it right, a lot of times."
"A tight grip..." echoed Haruka.
"Mhm! In this case though, I think I can just set it on the floor and then slide it right in for you, if you don't mind?" He kneeled down with the package, waiting for confirmation.
The raven haired man stared, wide - eyed, fighting down the flustered heat that rose up through his stomach and threatened to light his face on fire. The sight of Makoto, finally shorter than him when on his knees, looking up towards him so innocently, made him feel a little guilty for purposely misreading his words, but his mind still flashed through all of the things that they could possibly do in such a position, and it took a lot more effort than he'd care to admit to choke out a quick, "Y-yeah, that's fine."
Makoto smiled warmly and gently placed the box with the easel in it down, and slid it carefully across the threshold. "There we go! That was painless, wasn't it, Haru?"
"Very painless," he said, avoiding the other's eyes. He accepted the clipboard with a nod and scrawled his name as quickly as possible, silently hoping for the delivery boy to disappear in a puff of smoke so he could stew in his embarrassment alone. Or maybe it'd be better if he were the puff of smoke, just like a genie. There were more than enough bottles laying around his house, he was sure he would be able to fit in one of them as smoke.
Makoto smiled brightly at Haruka, and bid his goodbyes, saluting with the clipboard as he turned to walk away. Haruka watched him leave with wide eyes, not really believing the conversation he'd just had. Did he even realize the things he was saying? He decided that no, he most likely didn't. Haruka had heard enough sleazy pickup lines before and Makoto was absolutely encapsulated in a kind and serene aura, there was no way he was saying it on purpose.
One thing Haruka could believe in though was the sight of Makoto's backside flexing under the uniform shorts as he walked away. He was starting think that it was some kind of combination of the shorts' design and Makoto's natural physique that made it so tantalizing. He itched to draw it, and the rest of the person it was attached to. They could have a nice long conversation while he drew him, pencil detailing all of the dips and curves and edges of his body, outlining his no doubt well-earned musculature. Well, Makoto could talk and he would listen while sketching him as naked as he could get him. Haruka would even make snacks. If it ran too long (as he could only hope it would), he'd even be happy to make Makoto dinner. Depending on how the night went, maybe dessert could be on him.
He shook those thoughts from his head. There was no way that would happen in real life, even if Makoto did seem like something out of a romance movie. Haruka scoffed in spite of himself and with a little bit of effort, pushed the box in his doorway with his foot, sliding it along the entryway floor so he had room to close the door. Some fantasies were better left as fantasies.
From then on, whenever Haruka ordered something online, it was always Makoto who delivered it to him. He supposed the delivery service was still a small company, so there was probably only one person who worked the whole area, unless it was gift giving season. He'd seen two or three different people around during that time.
The smiles from the tall brunet did not stop, neither did the friendly chatting, and of course, to Haruka's great amusement or despair (he wasn't entirely sure which yet. Maybe both) the unintentional innuendo didn't stop either.
One week, a vase was being delivered as a gift for a friend's wedding, and when he had reminded Makoto to be careful with it, please, the delivery boy reassured him with, "Don't worry! I'll always handle Haru's package with care! I don't like being too rough, anyway, it's best to give it to someone gently." Haruka had to stop himself from smacking his forehead against the doorway in frustration. Everything that came from his mouth sounded like a flirtation and it was too good to be true in a very literal sense.
The event after that, he was having the steps leading to his doorway redone, and asked Makoto to bring it to the back. The brunet man nodded and asked, "So, you just want me to give it to you in the rear, then?"
The "Yes." that came from Haruka's mouth was one step from being, "Oh God, yes."
This time, Haruka reflected, was somehow even worse and he wasn't sure how he got himself into such a conversation. It had started out normally, and he made a polite inquiry as to whether or not Makoto was really okay carrying the package, which Haruka knew was rather heavy. He was sure there was a dolly on the company truck, but Makoto never seemed to need it, easily carrying all of Haruka's orders up all of the stairs in front of his house without a single complaint.
Makoto only smiled and explained, "One of the requirements for this job was to be able to lift a lot. I haven't needed the dolly yet except for really big orders. I think even if it was Haru, it wouldn't be a problem for me to carry."
Haruka lifted an eyebrow at that statement, "Where would you deliver me?" That made Makoto laugh, voice warm and musical. "Anywhere you want to go." he said good naturedly. "Oh! You'd still need accurate postage, of course. I can't just lift you up and carry you off as I please."
Yes you can, Haruka thought intently. You can pick me up and carry me off right to my bedroom- no postage required. He didn't say that though, no matter how much he likes Makoto, that was too strong of a line to open with, and he much preferred his life without a harassment lawsuit.
Instead, he said, "That would be more like a taxi service."
"You're right!" Makoto exclaimed. "I wonder if there's better money in that?" he said, playfully.
"You'd meet interesting people."
"Oh, but I do with this job, too." he replied, looking meaningfully at Haruka. "Maybe I'll stick with it, after all."
"Good." the artist stated, then, not wanting to give away just how much he meant that, he added, "You don't break my items in delivery."
"Haha, of course not, Haru. I just follow instructions."
Haruka smiled at him lightly in spite of his attempts to not let his feelings show. Then, realizing how long they'd been talking, he prompted, "Speaking of packages..."
Makoto's eyes lit up in realization of the fact that he'd been standing there with the box the whole time they were chatting. He hurriedly placed it in Haruka's waiting hands, who turned and placed it inside on the instep above the shoe area of the entrance.
"Do you get in trouble for talking so much?" he inquired as he turned back towards the delivery boy.
Makoto chuckled awkwardly and handed Haruka the clipboard to sign, "No, not really, you're usually my last stop so it's okay if I dawdle a little as long as I don't stay too long." He rubbed the back of his head in a self-conscious gesture.
"So you stay to talk to me?"
"Does it bother you, Haru?" Makoto asked, seriously.
The raven haired man's eyed widened in surprise, Makoto was the exact opposite of being a bother, unless he considered making him hot and bothered. That had happened once or twice.
"No." He answered truthfully.
"I'm glad. It's always nice to see a friendly face."
Haruka blinked. He'd been described as a lot of things but friendly wasn't usually one of them.
Makoto seemed to know what his silence meant, and continued, "You know, you seem a little quiet and grumpy at first, but Haru's actually very kind. You always ask me if I'm alright when you see me carrying something heavy, and you actually bothered to remember my name."
"Makoto." Haruka added.
"Right! Most people don't do that. I'm sure they're perfectly friendly people of course, but names don't seem as important when someone's just there to deliver stuff, I guess." He shrugged his shoulders. "Haru's not like that though."
Feeling bashful, Haruka looked down, "It's not special." he said.
"Maybe not, but to me it is, so thank you." He smiled warmly at Haruka, radiating happiness and gratitude.
He finally took the forgotten clipboard from Haruka's hands and waved goodbye as he started down the walk.
Haruka gently touched his face and felt the warmth of a deep blush radiate off of it, heating his hand up.
When he leaned out of the door to watch Makoto walk down the large stair case next to his house, he wasn't even staring at anything specific. He wondered what it would be like for the brunet to touch his face instead, imagining his large hands cupping his cheek and leaning down for a slow, sweet, kiss.
He sighed dreamingly as he closed the door.
A month later, Makoto was back at Haru's house, this time delivering a box clearly labeled "Fragile". He made sure to walk extra carefully with it, minimizing the jostling and making sure to watch his steps as he climbed the long staircase up to Haruka's.
He shifted the box to one arm before he knocked firmly on the door, rocking back on his heels, waiting for the door to be answered. It was only a moment until he heard shuffling from inside, and then the door creaked open and Haruka poked his head out from behind the door. His hair was ruffled and his face had small smears of paint across it. Makoto smiled at him; it was just too cute not to.
Haruka greeted him with a quick hello, and his eyes automatically glued themselves to the box in Makoto's arms. He seemed excited and a bit impatient so Makoto made sure to hand over the package with due haste, Haruka looking absolutely ecstatic in his own little way. For one, his eyes were sparkling like the ocean, and he smiling wider than the usual secretive ones he gave away sparingly. It made Makoto wonder what could possibly be in it to make him so happy.
The raven haired man lifted one of his hands up and smoothed his hair back, fixing strands that had fallen in his face. It was then that Makoto realized how bare Haruka's paint-smudged arms were, which, by itself wasn't really unusual, but his shoulders were also bare, meaning he was definitely shirtless under his apron. Makoto raised his eyebrows when Haruka shifted, and Makoto caught a glimpse of his side. It was true- he wasn't wearing a shirt, and he wasn't really wearing pants either. Instead, he wore navy jammers underneath his painting apron.
"Going swimming in the paint?" Makoto teased.
"That was earlier." Haruka automatically retorted, "I went swimming in the morning and haven't bothered to change yet since I'll probably go again later."
"You swim a lot, then?"
"Not as much as I want to. The water understands me."
"I feel the same way during a bubble bath." The delivery boy said with a grin.
At this, Haruka nodded sagely, "Bubbles are a nice touch."
"Thank you." Makoto beamed.
The two stared at each other for a moment, before Haruka let out an 'ahh' sound and asked him to hold on a moment. Makoto looked on questioningly as the artist pulled an x-acto knife from a pocket in his apron and casually flicked it open. It startled Makoto, who wasn't expecting such a thing to be whipped out in front of him
Haruka raised his eyebrows at the brunet's expression. "Sorry, were you scared?"
Makoto shook his head, "No, no, it's fine, it just surprised me." Haruka nodded and turned his attention to the box once more. Laying it gently on the stoop of his steps, he crouched down before he brought the knife to the edge of the tape holding the box shut, smoothly slicing it open with a 'fwoosh'.
From his angle on the steps, Makoto could clearly see down the gap in Haruka's apron, and he got an eyeful of the smooth, pale skin of Haruka's chest. He tried to avert his eyes from the unintentional view, but his eyes became glued to the gap, across the expanse of his chest, to Haruka's nipples, and down his toned abdomen. Makoto shuffled his feet and flushed guilty, Haruka was still crouched down, shifting through the bubble - wrapped contents of the box, and here he was, ogling him. It wasn't something he set out to do, though he knew instantly when he met him that Haruka was slender and blindingly gorgeous, that wasn't the reason he lingered to chat with him. It was the way his eyes sparkled, his dry sense of humor, and his uncanny ability to actually remember the things that Makoto has said and done, despite his cool demeanor suggesting otherwise.
He just never expected the man to be quite so...firm. He'd joked about picking him up before, but now he was interested in seeing if Haruka could do the same to him.
When Haruka found what he was looking for he stood up with it in his hand, shaking Makoto out of his revelry. He held out the object in his hand for him to take. "Here," he said, "For you."
The sandy - haired man stared at the bubble wrapped item as he took it from Haruka's hand, somewhat unsurely.
"For me?" he looked up to the other man's face. "What is it?"
Haruka pursed his lips and told him to open it, so he did, carefully finding the edge of the tape used to keep it wrapped tight, and peeling it up as he unwrapped his unexpected gift. It was revealed to be a large scallop shell, perfectly shaped. The shell's ridges were a pleasant peach color, fading to white in the grooves, and Makoto was touched by the random gift, he wasn't sure why it was given to him. As he turned it over to view the opalescent interior, he thought it was certainly beautiful.
"Wow… Thank you, Haru!" he said to him sincerely, still marveling at the shell- even living by the ocean for his whole life, he'd very rarely find shells so perfect. His praise caused the man in question to flush, smoothing his hands over his apron.
"I ordered too many is all."
"Still,” Makoto said, "It's so beautiful, thank you!"
"It fits you." mumbled Haruka, not really meaning to be heard.
It was the taller man's turn to blush now, overhearing the muttered compliment. "Uh-uh..." he stammered, trying to think of something to say. He looked down and realized the clipboard was still in his hand, so he shoved it forward towards Haruka, speaking quickly, "Here, you haven't signed it yet."
Haruka took the clipboard with a confused look on his face. An awkward moment passed where the artist did nothing but stare at Makoto, then he prompted, “Pen?"
Makoto rushed into action, "O-Oh, yes, of course!" but when he tried handing the pen over, his hand fumbled and in his attempt to stop it from falling, it got twisted in his fingers and flung into Haruka's house, right past his head. Haruka watched as it zoomed past his face, narrowly missing him, and landed several feet behind him, clattering against the hardwood floor and rolling another two feet, a horrified noise choking out from Makoto.
"I'm so sorry!" he hid face in his hands, "I can't believe that just happened."
"Yeah," Haruka deadpanned, "It didn't even reach the kitchen."
"Haru, please." Makoto groaned, voice muffled behind his hands, “I’m embarrassed enough."
"You're silly, it’s just a pen. I'll get it." Haruka turned around and padded inside his house, leaving the door wide open.
The brunet took his hands off of his face, "Don't worry Haru, I'll make sure to grip it tighter next time."
Haruka coughed.
When he reached the pen, he bent down straight from his waist, accidentally giving the world and more importantly, Makoto, front row seats to the orchestra music Makoto could swear he heard inside his head as Haruka's butt flexed when he bent down. The jammers he was wearing were slung low over his hips, showing off his sharp hipbones, and the material was snug on his body, stretched perfectly across the curves of his ass, and the shape of his slim, toned, thighs.
Makoto gulped, he knew he should avert his eyes, but yet like earlier, there was something that made him unable to do so. The draw that Haruka had on him was otherworldly, his sarcastic words were more like music, and every paint smudge seemed to mark a place that Makoto wanted to kiss on him. The gravity he had was incredible, and the delivery boy wasn't even sure if he ever tried to fight it to begin with. He certainly didn't want to now.
Haruka grasped the pen, and the way back up was just as torturous for Makoto as the way down was. Haruka, blessed with the flexibility and abdominal muscles of a swimmer, lifted himself straight up in a perfect, prim arc. The taller man watched the muscles in his back move as he did so, and was especially transfixed by the slight bounce in his buttocks as Haruka snapped back up.
Makoto could feel the tips of his ears burn, and couldn't meet Haruka's questioning gaze when he turned and walked back to the doorway, clipboard and traitorous pen in hand. He signed the sheet like usual before handing it back. He frowned when Makoto wouldn't meet his eyes.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, it's nothing." Makoto smiled at the man in front of him, but Haruka didn't look convinced.
"I told you, it's just a pen." he reiterated. If that's what Makoto was worried about, he thought, then that was just stupid. Makoto still wouldn't meet his eyes though and that didn't sit right with him. Makoto was the kind of person who could smile nearly all day and have it not be out of place, so seeing such a pensive, shamed, expression on his face was both troubling and irritating to Haruka. He needed to fix it.
"Three days ago, I almost drank paint water instead of tea. The taste wouldn't wash out for hours."
Makoto started to chuckle weakly, but this time the smile he aimed at Haru was genuine.
"You're right, Haru, it wasn't anything too bad. Thank you."
Haruka nodded. That was much better.
"I really do have to go now though. If I stay away from the truck any longer, I'll get written up."
"See you later, Makoto." Haruka waved goodbye casually as the delivery boy turned around and began to leave.
"Yeah, see you, Haru..." And he started down the long sets of stairs to the company truck. If he'd looked back, he would have seen Haruka, as always, craning his neck to watch him leave, this time with a thoughtful look on his face.
Today's package was remarkably small and light. Haruka was always ordering canvas and other art supplies, as well as various household items, so they typically tended to be at least several pounds. Maybe it was clothing? Haruka didn't look like the kind of person to buy clothes online though, everything he wore was well-fitted, which spoke of someone who actually spent the time to try on the clothing before buying it. He knocked politely on the door and waited for a response.
Haruka shuffled inside the house and quickly made it to the door. He had been waiting for his package to be delivered, but more so for the man that came with the package. If only he could have Makoto deliver himself to his home to stay, for once. He was still itching to draw him, immortalize the contours of Makoto's firm, lightly tanned body, with his kind, sleepy, green eyes which seemed to spell out bedroom related things naturally. One day, maybe, he could convince him to model for him- perhaps if he promised not to share the work he did of him? Haruka secretly thought to himself that he wouldn't really want to anyway, the fact that people would be able to see Makoto the way /he/ sees him, seems like it'd be an invasion of something special, something quiet and warm and way too loud at the same time, and he didn't like that thought, he wanted to keep those feelings to himself and guard them closely.
He opened the door to a smiling face, and it felt like stepping into the first warm rays of sunlight in spring after a long, cold winter. The young man was beginning to wish for nothing more than to be able to see that smile as often as possible. Even if it were every single day, he wouldn't tire of it. Much like a sunflower, he would only ever crane up to get closer and follow it to its source. Seeing Makoto smile was practically a cure-all, it lifted up his heart and squeezed it at the same time, always making it beat faster, stronger, than Haruka would have thought possible if not for being proved wrong by the existence of the person in front of him.
The brunet greeted him cordially, and, for once, handed him the clipboard board to sign before handing him the package, and Haruka raised one of his eyebrows at him questioningly.
"It's so I don't almost forget to give it to you...again."
He nodded, "That would be a problem, yes." The artist signed the paper and handed it back to Makoto. "It's because you talk too much, you know.”
Knowing better than to be offended by then, Makoto took the comment in stride, retorting,” I don't see you ignoring me."
"I do. All the time. Most of the time, I'm really asleep."
"You can sleep with your eyes open?" asked Makoto, with a good deal of mirth. "What about our conversations?”
"I sleep talk, naturally."
Haruka loved this, being able to talk so freely with someone, knowing that they'd understand what he was telling them with very little effort. He liked feeling like someone actually knew him, without any preconceived notions of what he should be based on his talents. He'd had enough of that in high school, with almost everyone he knew, pushing for him to achieve the obvious, to chase the entirely too logical goal of being an Olympic swimmer- a goal he never had to begin with. With Makoto, he didn't feel pressured to act a certain way or accomplish any task to gain his approval. Approval was already granted the moment he met anyone.
Makoto laughed at his absurd comments, and it became bells ringing through his veins, and a light, fluttery feeling in his chest.
The delivery boy wiped the corners of his eyes, where tears had gathered from him laughing so hard, and he handed the parcel to its owner. It still surprised him that it was so small, so he decided to ask, "Did you buy more watercolors?"
"No." Haruka replied with a small smile, "That's not it at all."
"Then what is it?"
"That's unprofessional of you, Makoto."
"I - I'm sorry, you're completely right! I won't ask again." he nodded to himself with again firm expression. Sometimes he got so caught up in being friendly with Haruka, that he forgot that it was rude to pry into a customer's business like that.
"You already asked, so it doesn't matter now. It's northern stoplight loosejaw-kun."
"I'm sorry, it's a what?"
"Not the actual thing, its custom stationary.”
“I’ve never actually seen a northern...loosejaw..stoplight. "
"Stoplight loosejaw, “he corrected breezily, "and you wouldn't, they live in the deep ocean. Here, it's easier if I just show you. “Haruka quickly opened the box and unwrapped the plastic from his stationary order. He lifted it up and handed it over to the confused brunet, whose eyes widened as he examined the creature that was printed along the borders of the paper. It was a thin, long, black fish, with creepy, red eyes and a long protruding lower jaw. It stood out proudly from the baby blue ocean pattern that was the base of the stationary. Makoto cringed lightly, it looked like something out of his nightmares as a child.
"I don't know what I was expecting. " he told Haruka.
"I did say it lives in the deep ocean."
"Why couldn't it be a mermaid?”
"I already have mermaid patterned paper."
Makoto blinked, "Really?” he was mostly joking, even though a mermaid would be more pleasant to look at, and it seemed like something his sister would buy. However, between the swimming and the box full of seashells, he supposed it was really obvious how much Haruka loved the water, and apparently anything that lived in it. Having paper with mermaids and terrifying deep sea creatures on it seemed strangely appropriate once he thought about it.
"Yeah. I write down recipes on it, it makes it seem like the mermaids are cooking."
Makoto chuckled, “A mermaid as a chef? That's an interesting thought, Haru."
"It could happen." he replied, amusement shining in his eyes, as he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed.
"I'm sure it's just as likely as me being a famous artist." Makoto said, with a good deal of sarcasm.
"Are you that bad?"
"I'm afraid so. I can show you if you don't believe me."
Thinking, what the heck, why not? Haruka handed over the stationary pad, saying, "Use this."
"Are you sure?" Makoto was hesitant to use something someone had just bought specially for themselves.
Haruka gave him a blank stare, and the taller man caved, "Okay, okay, don't give me that look!" he grasped the pad and used the pen he had on hand and started to doodle, keeping the pad high up and clutched close to his chest, to prevent any peeking.
He doodled for a couple of minutes, a great look of concentration on his face. Every twenty seconds or so, he looked up from the paper, checking the other man's expression self-consciously.
"I really am bad at drawing, just so you know. I'm much better at using my hands in other ways."
Haruka thought it was unfairly adorable of him, he couldn't care less if the drawing looked like it was made by a blind elephant, it was worth seeing Makoto like this, all shy and cutely embarrassed. He chose to studiously ignore the last sentence, or he'd end up asking for another, more personal, demonstration.
When the delivery boy was finished with the drawing, he moved his hand to tear off the piece of paper he used, then hesitated, thinking better of it. He looked down at the man leaning against the doorway, "Is it okay to tear this off?" Haruka nodded, so Makoto gently tore the page from the pad and folded it in quarters before handing it over.
"Please don't open it until I leave, it's embarrassing!"
"Fine, I won't. " he replied, somewhat sulkily. It just meant that Makoto would leave sooner.
"Hey, don't worry, I'm sure I'll see you soon." The man enthused, a little too perky, even for him. Haruka figured it was to cover his nervousness but thought it was silly- it was just a drawing? Then again, a lot of things about Makoto were silly, least of all his bad habit of saying entirely too dirty things without even realizing it, but it only added to his charm, in Haruka's eyes.
"I'm not worried." he said, with a hint of stubborn petulance that told Makoto that he was an utter liar.
"Okay, Haru." Makoto smiled at him knowingly. "I really do have to leave now, though! Go ahead and look at the doodle when you get inside."
Haruka sighed, "Fine, fine. See you later, Makoto."
"See you, Haru!" The brunet waved goodbye and began to walk away.
Haruka, as always, stayed in the doorway a little longer to watch him leave, eyeing his backside appreciatively.
This time, however, Makoto actually turned around, looking in Haruka's direction. When he saw that he was caught looking, and more so that Haruka was looking at him just the same, Makoto flushed and turned his face away quickly, hurrying down the steps.
Haruka, too, blushed at being caught, then scoffed at himself for being silly and went back into his house, closing the door behind him. He looked down at the paper in his hand, contemplating it as he walked to the kitchen to get a drink. He was curious and kind of excited to see what Makoto drew. He filled a glass with water and began to sip at it before gently unfolding the paper.
When he saw the drawing, Haruka began to chuckle, Makoto really wasn't exaggerating at all about his skills. Objectively, it was terrible. The doodle was very crude, just above being a stick figure, and judging by the boxy clothing and scribble of messy hair, it was a depiction of Makoto himself. It had a large, happy smile on its face with its twig-like arms holding a box in one hand and a surprisingly un-squiggly rendition of a shell like the one he'd given him in the other hand.
Roving his eyes over the silly doodle, Haruka smiled and took another sip of his water, only to cough and choke, on it when he went to swallow. He spluttered, then focused his eyes on the paper again, checking to see if what he saw was true or if his mind was just full of wishful thinking.
No, it wasn't. Down, near the bottom of the page, was a phone number written neatly in pen.
Well, shit.
Haruka began to laugh loudly, the sound of his voice ringing out in his quiet house. All that time, and he could have just asked for his phone number.
A day after Makoto had given Haruka his phone number on the sly, a call came in from an unfamiliar number.
Picking it up with perhaps a little more enthusiasm than usual, he tried to keep calm, and greeted. "Hello? This is Makoto Tachibana speaking."
"Hello?" answered a familiar, silky voice.
Makoto pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it in awe, muttering, "I can't believe that actually worked." Hearing the muffled fuzz of Haruka speaking, he quickly brought the phone back to his ear.
"I'm sorry, what?"
Haruka began again, "I need you to make a delivery."
Makoto's heart fell, he was actually hoping that Haruka had called him just to talk as friends, or something more. He tried not to let his disappointment show when he answered, "O-Oh, that's fine! You could just order whatever it is like usual. Ah, unless you have special directions for delivery? If that's the case, just let me get a pen and I'll-"
Haruka interjected quickly with a firm, "No!"
Makoto stopped in his tracks, confused, "Huh?"
On the other end of the line, Haruka resisted the urge to drag a hand across his face in frustration. This wasn't the way he planned it to go. "No,” he said again, this time softer, "Just you."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Well then," Makoto started, then stopped, having to calm his rapidly beating heart before he continued. Running a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture, he fumbled over what to say in his mind, searching for just the right way to say 'yes' without screaming it from the rooftops. Finally, he settled on, I - Is seven alright?" he asked, looking at his watch. There was a short pause on the line before Haruka replied, “I’m making dinner, you like green curry, right?"
"I love it." Makoto said, almost breathlessly, sounding more like "I love you" than he was ready to admit.
"Good."
They talked for another half hour about their days, and other, more random subjects. It was so comfortable that Haruka, who didn't particularly like talking on the phone for long periods, was almost loathe to hang up.
Before hanging up, he remembered something,
"Oh, Makoto? It's supposed to rain later." the 'be careful' was unspoken, but understood.
"Don't worry, Haru!" he assured him in a bright voice, “I’ll make sure to bring protection! "
He heard a loud, heavy sigh and then silence from the other end of the line.
"Haru? Hello?"
"Goodbye, Makoto."