Work Text:
Suguru doesn’t remember how old he was when he first learned to name the basic colors as a child, but he has a feeling it was too many years ago to properly care.
What he is conscious of, however, is of the many times and ways in which he has been thrilled to point out at very odd, very specific tones of color throughout the course of his life.
Like the time when he was fourteen and caught a glimpse of the turquoise green of the ocean for the first time as he drove with his family above the endless mass of water. He never stepped into that particular beach, and he remembers being too upset about it for months.
There was, too, the time when he saw the northern lights for the first time, through the small screen of his phone. He had heard someone at school mention the phenomenon earlier, and he couldn’t stand not knowing what were all those lights everybody seemed so amazed of – they were just some lights, after all.
Until he saw them move.
Suguru saw them dance and swing in the midst of a sea of darkness, every single star that could be seen in the background forgotten even as they twinkled with fervor. He remembers thinking back at how he once thought that green belonged to the top of the trees, or how blue was all he could see when he looked up at the sky. He never once thought that purple could be somewhere else beyond flowers scattered in nature, but–
But there he was, telling himself blinking was necessary as he stared at the waves dangling in the sky of his screen, too stunned to do anything else besides looking; to argue that those colors belonged somewhere else.
Right from that moment, Suguru understood that green and blue worked really well together, and that purple appeared too little in nature that it was actually offensive. He also came to the conclusion that he might have had a new favorite color from now on, but he couldn’t decide which one he liked the most.
It would vary from the situation, time of the day, and the reason behind his selection. But it also mattered to him what shade of those colors he chose. How light, vibrant or how obscured could they get without losing their charm.
Suguru Geto learned that how much light was left in or out of his colors was important.
He also learned that every color had a different shade.
But who would have guessed that his favorite color would end up being nothing less than the paleness of color white.
Suguru likes tranquility.
He likes losing his senses into the stillness of a quiet moment, of feeling a room encircle him whole with unmoving force and such a strong presence.
He likes being able to hear the nothingness around him. To try and catch how a sound would vibrate between the silent existence of the things surrounding him.
He likes the static of it all.
That’s why his favorite moment of the day is saved for the early mornings in which he first opens his eyes.
When he blinks awake from his slumber, it is to the whiteness of the walls of his room, casted in shadows from the curtains blocking the early sunlight, allowing just a few sunrays to filter in between the spaces of the blinds. He lets his brain catch up to the beginning of a new day, blinking away the remaining shreds of sleep.
Next thing he sees every morning is the soft looking blankets wrapped around him, keeping him warm and tight. He catches their comfy appearance by looking briefly down at his trapped body, and relishes in the feeling of their thickness by wriggling his feet, socked underneath the covers. He loves how warm they are despite their icy white color.
And lastly, when sleep has started to fade away properly and Suguru can shake his body awake finally, he tips his head down slightly, less than half an inch left until his chin bumps lightly against something else.
Something that tickles his nose, filling it with a sweet smell that Suguru breathes in gladly. It is fluffy to the touch, but when he pushes his face deeper into that softness, it hits a far harder surface with the same lightness as before, still causing it to move slightly.
It is a skull, a head full of pearly white locks that tickle Suguru in the face. He loves it.
The movement, though, earns a low grumble coming from the person tucked into Suguru’s neck, all their weight resting on top of him.
He does not wish to be disturbed from his slumber, so he shimmies closer to Suguru.
Suguru, on the other hand, wishes he wasn’t this heavy and this tall. Or that at least he knew he was a big man while Suguru was just a man .
He also wishes he wore socks to sleep. At least in the cold nights of winter, that is. He ends up being the one feeling those big feet tangle into his legs in search of some warmth, stolen from under his wide, warm pajama pants, where his skin is exposed and at risk –
“Nngh– Don’t do that, you ass”
There. The first encounter with the cold this morning, and it is all Satoru’s fault.
“But I’m cold~” the whine is spoken from the depths of Suguru’s neck, deep from the sleep left on his voice, and lazy with the one that still fogs up his mind.
“Yeah, that’s expected for a winter morning, especially at–” Suguru cranes his neck to the side of the bed where the digital clock lays on a small table, checking the time. “–seven A.M.”
“Why are you awake at seven in the morning?” It sounds just a tad judgemental, but the question also rings with sincere wonder.
“I don’t know.” He didn’t, really.
Satoru hums right into the skin of Suguru’s neck, making him feel the vibrations of it. He sighs in contentment, lifting a hand to tangle through silky white locks, combing and massaging the scalp underneath.
Suguru isn’t sure if he drifts back to sleep for a moment.
What he knows for sure, is that not only have his calves suffered from the coldness of Satoru’s feet, but also his tummy has become a victim of the blond’s dehumanized actions.
“Stop that, monster” Suguru hears his voice come off a little bit rougher than before, so maybe he did fall asleep, after all, and it was due to his lover’s antics that he was forced back to reality again.
“But I’m cold!”.
“I don’t care”.
Truth is, he does, and that’s why he opens his eyes to see if Satoru is wearing appropriate clothes– or if he’s even wearing any .
He hums satisfied when he sees Satoru’s dark blue sweater engulfing his broad back under the covers, while the blond is trying hard to blend into Suguru’s body, burying his face in his clavicle and tracing his fingers beneath Suguru’s own warm sweater.
Then he feels a long limb intertwine with his legs with too much force and few clothes.
“Put some damn pants on.” Suguru can’t quite guess what goes inside Satoru’s mind, really.
“Don’t know where they are.” How childish.
“Then stand up and look for them.”
Satoru gasps, unbelievingly. Suguru just sighs, used to this.
“Go or I’ll push you off the bed.”
“Rude.”
“Satoru–”
“Yeah, yeah, coming. Jesus.”
Suguru hears the bed springs squeak faintly, and feels the mattress dip as Satoru squirms to get to the end of his side, slowly disentangling himself from Suguru, almost reluctantly, every movement accompanied by a suffering, and very dramatic, whine.
Suguru hates those brief seconds in which he can feel Satoru’s heat leaving his side, too.
“Hurry up, you’ll freeze to death”.
“Stop talking! I’m looking, I’m looking…”.
It doesn’t take a lot of time before he finds his sweatpants half underneath their bed, spotting them with a triumphant Aha! before tugging at them and launching himself at the bed again with the pants flying behind him in his grip, threatening Suguru’s life with his fall.
He honest to God screams.
“Move, move”
“Hey, what–”
“Mooove, Suguru”
“This is my side, idiot”
“Yes, but it is also the warm side. My side is now cold because of you.” Suguru stares back, frowning slightly at that. Satoru seems to not have time for the staring contest. “Come on, leave me some space”
“There’s plenty of space”
“Suguru~”
Suguru looks a second longer at the blond before averting his gaze to the ceiling, with fake boredom. Just like that, looking up, he removes his left hand from his cocoon and throws the covers away from him in an invitation for Satoru to get in.
The reaction is instantaneous; and the effect it has on Suguru is, too.
Satoru smiles wide, hurrying to dive into the covers, getting on his back and putting on his pants as fast as he can before snuggling close to Suguru, who lays the blankets on top of them both again, circling his hand around the blond’s shoulders, enjoying the warmth of his body and the feeling of butterflies kissing the insides of his stomach.
Gross .
“You’re cold” Suguru mutters quietly against the top of Satoru’s head, inhaling deeply his scent.
“No shit” He’s, again, speaking into the space of the man’s neck, searching for more warmth.
“Why do you get so cold so easily?” He asks as his hand comes to rest on the back of Satoru’s neck, feeling the cold skin there and trying to placate it with his own warm hands.
“I don’t know, but I hate it” Suguru chuckles lightly at the pout he knows his lover has right now. “It’s gonna take me forever to warm up again after having to leave against my will –”
“Oh, shut up” His hand combs through the ash blond hairs and pinches the base of his nape, tracing gently above the skin afterwards. “How can ten seconds out of bed be worse than sleeping half naked for over eight hours, hm?”
“It’s not my place to answer. Nature has its own ways.”
“Enough. Give me your hand.”
Satoru does as he’s told, offering his left hand to Suguru to take, clasping his own around his long fingers, feeling the rough skin of his palms and appreciating the elegant curve and structure of his bones.
He kisses his knuckles, leaving both of their hands clasped near his lips. Satoru sighs, content, and lets his eyes fall close when Suguru mirrors the exhale.
“You really are not warming up, are you?” The long haired man asks after a few minutes of silence, in which he could not feel the hand gain any temperature.
“Told you, it’s gonna take a while.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I, but there’s no–”
Silence. Satoru interrupts himself and Suguru fears what’s next. He knows what’s next.
“Don't you dare–”
“ It's the only way! ” Satoru reclaimed his tummy as the only space where he can get some warmth from, and Suguru is now facing the consequences of having sent his lover out of their bed, where his blood apparently freezed and gave him impossibly cold hands.
Suguru feels long, slim fingers stretch widely on top of his abdomen, the cold radiating off them making his skin break into shivers from where the palms are flushed against his body, holding in tight. He doesn’t like the glacial touch one bit, but he can’t deny nor try to hide how much he likes feeling Satoru’s hands covering the width of his waist easily.
“Ah-ah, it’s cold”
“It’ll help”
“ Tch. ” Suguru really hopes it will.
And it does, although slowly. One minute Suguru is still hissing whenever Satoru grazes his fingers above patches of still warm skin, and the other he’s happy from feeling the man tracing patterns into his skin.
“Better?”
“Not yet, no”
Suguru isn’t sure why the blond still doesn’t take the small progress as some sort of improvement, but he lets him be as he throws the blankets over his head, disappearing under the covers. It’s only the light touch of his fingers, plus the still weight on top of him, that reminds Suguru that he’s still there.
He closes his eyes, getting lost in the feeling of chilly fingers running over his sides, soft and gentle as ever. He allows his mind to turn into mush with every caress, sighing contently at the way Satoru grips and scratches at his body.
The covers are at the height of his chest the moment he feels Satoru wriggle underneath them, moving until his weight hovers on top of Suguru’s legs and lap. Suguru is curious about what he’s doing, about where he wants to take this when he feels the blond raise his sweater, revealing his soft skin of his abs only for him to see beneath the covers.
He feels an exhale of hot air fanning over his stomach before the first touch of lips makes contact with his body.
Just a tiny, innocent kiss from wet lips on his strong middle body.
Suguru gasps. And Satoru starts his attack.
The littlest, most delicate kisses are left on the expanse of his core, going from the shortest pecks to the wettest, loudest and obnoxious kind of kisses. Satoru makes sure to litter all of his middle with too many variations of the caress, taking his time between each one while keeping his previous light finger touches.
Suguru feels overwhelmed; filled to the brim with love and care and so much silliness over how out of the blue this feels like.
It never does not feel right, however.
It never does - not with Satoru.
“What are you doing?” His voice comes out breathy, pausing between words as chuckles interrupt his question. He doesn’t remember ever pronouncing a sentence this happily before.
He likes it. The way his lips stretch and the faint sting on his cheeks when he tries to muffle a laugh.
“Kissing you?” Satoru barely detaches his lips from the man’s skin when he answers, a tone of obviousness in his voice.
“Well, yeah, I can tell.” He stops talking when Satoru’s lips linger a second longer on the prominent bone of where his ribcage ends, loving the way he can sense his insides feeling the kiss, too. “This is ridiculous” He says, but his heart races with every little touch of the blond’s lips.
“Shut up.”
“Sap”
“ Shut up ” Satoru bites gently at his skin, a simple graze of his teeth over the softness in his stomach. Suguru laughs quietly at him.
“Kiss me properly, at least” He tugs at the neck of Satoru’s sweater to urge him upwards, but fails as said man clings to his torso for dear life.
“Who’s the sap now, huh?”
“Aw, come on” Satoru shakes his head dramatically slowly as he continues leaving kisses in Suguru’s belly. He really just wants a kiss for himself. “Alright, then.”
He takes the hem of his black sweater that rests on his chest, near his clavicle, and thanks every god that ever walked on Earth for having a very diverse wardrobe that consists of baggy, large and oversized clothes that can be stretched more than any other common garments, making his mission way too easy.
Pulling at the wide hem of it, he manages to cover Satoru’s head and shoulders with the cloth before the blond can read his intentions, trapping him underneath the fabric and securing his arms as tightly as he can around his frame while laying in bed.
“Hey! What the hell, let me out!”
“Loser”
“Haa?!” Suguru can feel him try to pull away from his grip, but he’s not in the best position to fight. It’s not as if Suguru had the strongest grip on him, either. But it was always fun.
“Suguru~” He doesn’t answer to his name being called in a melodic voice; he fights against it. And Satoru, after hearing no response, acts without warning.
A loud raspberry is blown directly into Suguru’s sensitive skin, and his mind can’t catch on what’s going on before his senses act on command and he tightens his limbs for a split of a second around Satoru before they push outwards, kicking him out of his sweater and almost off of him entirely.
Satoru was expecting some sort of reaction similar to this one, so he manages to catch himself before actually falling. What he was not ready for, though, was for the loud and explosive snort that Suguru let out not even a second after his lips had stopped blowing the raspberry.
Looking at him now from above, straddling his lap, Satoru can’t remember the second part of his plan as he can only stare at the wide smile that breaks Suguru’s face in half.
It’s a different look on him, and Satoru has never been capable of looking away from him, despite the emotion shown.
“Ah– Ah, what was t-that for?” There are happy tears on the corner of his eyes once he recovers from the laugh attack, his breath coming out shaky as he evens it.
Satoru can not find the words to answer right now, so he settles with climbing higher on his lap, looking down at his content smile from up there.
As he lays down with his forearms keeping him up in the bed, he looks up with such a bright look on his eyes that Satoru can only wonder if there are stars in this moment, right inside their apartment bedroom, that are reflecting themselves on Suguru’s eyes.
Suguru, on the other hand, is reminded of starry nights and twinkling stars as he looks up at Satoru, hovering over him like he belongs where he sits (he does), the silver of his hair almost as blinding as the whiteness of his teeth that he’s showing in a smile he seems not to be conscious of.
Suguru would have felt as though there were a thousand eyes on him any other day, but with laughter still stuck in his throat and still ringing in his ears, he’s reminded, more importantly, of how much he likes to have Satoru’s attention for himself.
The whole universe's eyes are on him, and he relishes the feeling of it.
“I love you”.
It’s not new for them, those words they spoke quietly underneath shared blankets in their shared home. They are not even sort of recent, as they’ve been calling each other’s someone for years now. It’s not the first stage of love, nor the last, but it warms their blood and quickens their pulse every time they hear the other man say it.
Automatic, their daily routine. But not only because it has become a habit, but rather because they can’t spend more than a day without whispering said words, knowing how it shakes their world as if they had been yelled for everyone to hear.
For the whole universe to witness.
“I love you too”.
It’s their favorite song and Suguru loves to scream the words of it at the little pale dots blinking at him in the dark sky, every single one of them offering a different beat as if they could tell the many speeds at which their hearts beat whenever they hear the words from each other.
In the midst of their white room, underneath thick, white blankets, and with Satoru’s pearly white hair held between his fingers, Suguru finally gets the kiss he has been asking for all morning.
And that just happened to be his favorite time of the day.