Work Text:
There are two types of sleepless nights for Yagami.
One, where his mind spirals down to a space with no past, present nor future, where everything tangles into an endless web that traps him, and he tries to reason his way through, mainly with logic but admittedly with a fair amount of emotion as well, debating with himself the cause and effect, the right and wrong, the endless possibilities of what could have happened at every single crossroad, trying to trace down the countless wrinkles of the butterfly effect.
The answer to those nights, quite simply, is alcohol. Numb his mind enough and the dark web will turn into a soft blanket, comforting even, because what’s the difference between “devouring” and “hugging”, but the monster face you draw onto it?
But alcohol won’t cut it for the rest of those hollowing nights, where a tear opens up through his chest, an indescribable void that encroaches him, threatening to suck down every fiber in his being and leave him with nothing but an empty shell.
It defies reason, so all he could do is run.
Yagami’s eyes snap open. He sits up and snatches his phone from the side table.
1:26 AM.
He sighs. It’s not terribly late for someone of their lifestyle. It might still work.
He pulls up his message app and clicks on the contact he saved on top. Just seeing the stupid grin on that person’s profile makes Yagami’s heart soften, the fleeting hint of warmth helps him gain a few steps ahead and a better chance at outrunning his personal demon. He quickly tabs on the screen with his thumb, this particular sequence entrenched in muscle memory.
[Yagami: Kaito-san?]
Before he could decide on if he should put the phone down and wait for the “ding” or stare at that handsome but silly face a little longer, three blinking dots pop up.
[Kaito: what]
Yagami flips in his sofa with a stupid grin not unlike the one in Kaito’s profile, holding his phone in two hands like it’s a precious thing.
[Yagami: Where are you?]
[Kaito: in bed]
Yagami can’t help but visualize it, Kaito lying topless with blankets halfway down his impressive pecs.
[Yagami: Wow…is this flirting?]
He continues typing, his grin widening.
[Yagami: Am I getting a dick pic soon?]
He teases, because it’s a joke, of course, between him and Kaito, they joke about everything. Yagami almost cracks up at the mental image of Kaito pulling his pajama pants down to take a picture of his junk, probably with flash because he doesn’t have a night light and can’t be bothered to get out of bed. It’s gonna look so horrible.
[Kaito: fuck you]
[Yagami: WOW shouldn’t we go on a date first?]
[Kaito: TA-BO]
[Kaito: STOP]
[Kaito: GO JERK OFF OR SOMETHING]
[Kaito: HORNY BRAT]
Yagami laughs; he can see Kaito’s thick fingers furiously tabbing on the other side of screen. He is kind of a brat though, especially with how much he still enjoys riling Kaito up with his stupid nonsense at the good age of 35. What can he do? Riled-up Kaito will never cease to be funny to him.
[Yagami: Kaito-san]
He pauses and wonders if he’ll be alright for the night after all. Just talking to the man makes him feel better already. But if Kaito’s available…why not?
[Yagami: Can I come over?]
His screen stays completely still for a few seconds. Yagami feels his own heartbeats getting heavier, just a little, when the three blinking dots return to his rescue.
[Kaito: WOW]
[Kaito: eager to take that dick pic for yourself?]
[Yagami: Eww!!]
Yagami screams, covering his face with one arm and laughs out again, shaking in his sofa.
[Yagami: So gross!]
[Kaito: you started it]
[Kaito: grab me some beer on your way]
——————————————————
Kaito left the door open so Yagami doesn’t have to knock and risk waking up the neighbors in his old, surely not soundproofed building. He walks right into the familiar apartment, a bit small for a man of Kaito’s size and definitely too crammed for the two of them, feeling like a white-collar salary man returning to his wife. He chuckles at that thought.
The room is dark, but the flickering light from the TV is enough for Yagami to navigate his way towards the sofa and sit himself right next to Kaito. He takes out a cold can of beer and presses it against the Kaito’s bare arm. It almost didn’t startle him at all; the man just takes the can and gives him a nod. “What are you watching?” Yagami asks quietly. “Drone race,” Kaito pulls the tab on his beer and takes a sip, “it’s the international tournament. Was gonna watch the replay tomorrow, but since you are here,” he shrugs.
Yagami makes an amused sound, taking over Kaito’s beer and takes a sip as well. Kaito gives him a side glance, to which he smiles innocently. He scooches closer and leans on Kaito, resting his head on the taller man’s shoulder. Without saying anything, Kaito’s arm naturally wraps around him like the big brother that he is, his shoulder and arm forming an impenetrable wall that shields Yagami from whatever’s out there to get him, as they always do. Yagami nuzzles against Kaito’s neck, feeling the prickly hair of Kaito’s stubble on his cheekbone, ravishing in this secret space of his. The warmth radiating from Kaito’s body is so soothing that if Yagami could purr, he would. But as he is human, all he does is letting out a quiet sigh of relief.
They stay like that as the TV mumbles in the background. Yagami’s forehead is up against Kaito’s neck, his breath blowing softly onto his collarbone. “Kaito-san,” he whispers absentmindedly, not paying much attention to the live program, “how come you never tried drone race?”
“Me?” Kaito’s deep voice vibrates in his throat, the sound felt directly through Yagami’s skin, “Did you see the race tracks they came up with? All that poles and hoops and shit?”
Yagami chuckles, “yeah, I hate those too.”
“Yeah I bet you do, every time you come back from a drone race Pigeon looks like it has flown through active war zone.”
“It’s tough!” Yagami pouts, begrudgingly poking Kaito’s side with his bony finger, “I tried my best.”
Kaito huffs softly, “I know,” he pats Yagami’s shoulder a few times, before lowering his hand to rub soothing circles on Yagami’s back, “you always do.”
There’s something in those words, or maybe in the way he said it, that makes Yagami’s nose tingle. He screws his eyes shut and takes a deep but shaky breath, burying his face deeper into the crook of Kaito’s neck. If Kaito notices it, he doesn’t say anything. His hand keeps rubbing Yagami’s back, as he lowers his chin and plants a gentle kiss on Yagami’s forehead.
Yagami hates it, because that’s what parents do to a small kid and he hates being treated like one, especially by Kaito, but it feels so nice and he so desperately needs it that just for tonight, he can’t be bothered to care.
Kaito kisses him again, ruffling his hair and petting his head. “Ta-bo,” he whispers, fingers combing through his short, wavy strands, voice soft and low like he’s murmuring sweet nothings to his lover, “it’s ok if you want to cry. My shoulders are all yours.”
Yagami sniffs dryly, “stop whispering in my ears in that voice,” he pokes Kaito in the flanks again, more forcefully this time, “you are so fucking cheesy.”
Kaito laughs, landing more annoyingly audible kisses on top of Yagami’s head, who wrinkles up his nose dramatically and pretends to be disgusted at the older man’s sudden outpour of affection, before he can’t help but join him laughing, too. When they finally calm down, Yagami sighs, a wave of peaceful exhaustion now washes over him. “Kaito-san,” he smiles sheepishly, “I’m tired. Let’s go sleep.”
Kaito smirks, giving him another side glance for calling all the shots in someone else’s home, and turns off the TV.
——————————————————
Sleeping in Kaito’s bed makes Yagami want to maybe get a bed after all, because this is so comfortable—Yagami stretches his long limbs and sprawls out, feeling the softness of the brushed-out bedsheet and blanket against his skin. He’s wearing one of Kaito’s old t-shirt that has since become his designated pajama, and everything smells faintly like its owner, like Yagami’s sofa when Kaito has taken a nap on it.
Yagami is wrapping himself into a cocoon with sheets and blanket when Kaito comes back from the bathroom. “Hey,” the tall shadow beside the bed sighs, leaning over and picking up a corner, “Ta-bo,” he whispers, and like a magic word Yagami unwraps himself, just enough for Kaito to slide in. Once inside the cozy nest Yagami has built, Kaito circles the younger man’s slender waist and pulls him into his arms.
And that completes it, Yagami’s little piece of heaven, his cheeks resting against Kaito’s chest as their arms interlocked, his legs clinging onto Kaito’s like a koala to a tree branch. Sometimes he can’t help but think this is a little ridiculous for two grown men, but the warmth and comfort is real, and truthfully he can never get enough of it, let alone complain. “Mhhhh,” Yagami lets out a long, satisfied sigh. “Kaito-san,” he closes his eyes, too relaxed and comfortable to filter any thought that passes his mind, “I wish I could sleep like this every day,” he murmurs with a wide, childish grin.
Yagami doesn’t hear a response for a couple of seconds, just the sudden quickening of heartbeats pounding in Kaito’s chest. He tilts his head up and sees the other man’s tightly furrowed brows. “Ta-bo,” Kaito mumbles, confused, “that’s…a proposal line, you know?”
“Huh?” Yagami raises an eyebrow.
“You said you wanted to sleep like this, next to me, every day.”
“Yeah?”
“Every single day?”
Yagami hums and tries to give it some serious thought, but the answer is really quite obvious.
“Yes?”
Kaito sighs. “Don’t you see? Every day?” He pinches his forehead, “like…for the rest of your life?”
Ah. Hmm. Yagami thinks about it, only to realize that he really doesn’t have any issue with that either. But as he is a lawyer, his lawyerly brain now feels compelled to point out something trivial.
“Well, yes, but,” he raises a finger, “it’s the phrase ‘for the rest of my life’ that makes everything sound like a marriage proposal. For example,” he grabs Kaito’s hand and folds it between his, “Kaito-san, will you fix my drone for the rest of my life?”
Kaito’s eyes narrow, perhaps from the ridiculousness of the situation, clearly not convinced.
“Or,” unfazed, Yagami clears his throat for a lower voice and smiles his mostly princely smile, “Kaito-san,” he laces his fingers with Kaito’s for maximum dramatic effect, “will you join me and be my…partner, for the rest of…my life?”
Damn English and its words with multiple meanings because that took an unexpected turn and Yagami is blushing so hard he could barely finish his own sentence, one that he so confidently set out to prove a point. His eyes dart around, unable to hold Kaito’s gaze.
Kaito chuckles, “oh, yes”, he teases, “now I see it, Ta-bo.”
He wins the argument, but it doesn’t feel like winning when he’s so flustered. Yagami pouts, burying his face in Kaito’s neck. His lips are in touch with the hot skin there, but so are the rest of his face—so is it really a kiss, is it not, who knows, who cares. Only that now Yagami is hyper aware of it, the soft yet firm skin pressed against his mouth, the faint pulsing of the veins on his lips. He opens his mouth a little and sucks on it, pressing the inside of his lips onto it and steals a quick lick, the tip of his tongue brushing over Kaito’s skin for the briefest second.
He said yes, right?
Kaito must have noticed, how could he not, but again he doesn’t say anything. He lets out a deep sigh with the tiniest hint of shakiness, while Yagami’s head is running a thousand miles imagining all the possible scenarios—what if he gets up and pins Kaito underneath him, or sneak one hand behind his neck and pull him down for a real kiss—the things he could do to Kaito, and the things Kaito would do to him—but most importantly, the things that would happen after, what would become of them. The lid of his secret box has been blown off in a gust of wind, and the letters he has carefully locked in there are all out now, flying, twirling around him, taunting him and daring him to make a move.
“Ta-bo,” Kaito’s husky voice jerks him back, “you are gonna leave a mark.”
Perhaps it’s the clear lack of annoyance in his voice, or maybe the imagined blush over his cheeks, it only emboldens Yagami, who sucks on the sensitive skin one last time before letting go with a wet pop. The room is dark and he can’t tell if the mark is there yet, but he hopes that it is, and that it will last a few days, so that even if Kaito covers it with a bandaid it’ll still serve as a visual reminder for himself to come clean to Kaito about his feelings. He’ll do it. He absolutely will.
Like all big cities Kamurocho is never truly quiet, not even in the deepest of nights, and Yagami has long since gotten used to its constant presence—the distant sound of siren, faint advertisement music, the tireless humming of the machines running 24-7 to keep their humans alive. He never really hated it, but tonight they are his friends, kind and gentle, drowning his thundering heartbeats and easing him into sweet slumber.
“Good night.” He hears Kaito whispers.
“Good night, Kaito-san.” He whispers back.