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If someone told Vox he would be driving thirty minutes to his fuck buddy’s house at two a.m. and not have mind-blowing sex after, he probably would have laughed and emphasized that he wasn’t that much of a simp. However, in a cruel twist of fate or maybe some sick joke from Tokugawa from beyond the grave, Vox found himself doing just that.
In his defense, Vox would argue that any other day, he wouldn’t be doing through all this effort to go to Shoto’s house. It was only after their mutual friend and bane of Vox’s existence, Mysta, called Vox to ‘just come over so I can leave.’ and a very faint but clearly drunk Shoto in the background slurring ‘Mysta who are are calling? Are you calling Vox? If you’re calling him I’m going to kill you.’, that Vox decided to leave his work for tomorrow and go over.
After parking and greeting the person at the front desk–a fairly young man who to an embarrassing degree already knew who Vox was and who he was here for–Vox goes through the motions of going up to Shoto’s apartment. Mysta didn’t need to tell him any of the details because by this point Vox already knew every turn, piece of peeling paint, and creaking floorboard in Shoto’s apartment complex like the back of his hand; and he’s sure Shoto also knows Vox’s apartment in almost the same way.
Vox gives three hard knocks on the door before an annoyed-looking Mysta opens it, his face quickly dissolving into relief when he sees Vox.
“Thank god dude. I thought you were Shoto’s annoying neighbor complaining about the noise again.” Mysta moves to the side to let him in. “Thanks again man, I just really need to get home, or else Shu will kill me.” Mysta quickly goes about the room to collect his things all while stepping over take-out boxes, cans of cider, and bottles of soju.
“Shoto’s on the couch passed out.” Mysta pats him sympathetically on the shoulder before opening the door. “You already know how he gets when he’s drunk. Good luck!” And that was the last Vox saw of Mysta before the door closed, leaving him alone with the mess they’ve made and a drunk person to take care of.
Vox lets out a deep sigh, biting the hair tie off his wrist and tying his hair into a ponytail. The things he does for this stupid boy and his even stupider friend.
Shoto’s house is the same as the last time he saw it. Same simple but modern furniture that–after knowing the boy for a few months–were definingly Shoto. Shoto has mentioned to Vox that since he was renting, Shoto couldn’t do anything major in terms of decor. But despite the home being identical to the others in the building, little things get added in the in-betweens on Vox’s visits like a new fridge magnet, or a new painting on the wall, that fills Vox with a sense of home.
When had he started thinking of Shoto’s apartment as much of a home as his own?
He starts with Shoto’s kitchen, grabs a trash bag from one of the drawers, and starts picking up whatever trash he finds on his way to the living room. There he finds, as Mysta promised, Shoto passed out on the couch with half of his body not even on the said couch, surrounded by trash like his own personal nest.
Vox sighs for what feels like the twentieth time that night. He starts picking up the trash around Shoto, deciding that dealing with him would be better if there were no tripping hazards around, before tying up the trash bag and leaving it in the kitchen. Picking up Shoto and Mysta’s mess was one thing, but taking out their trash was another thing entirely and they were already both so lucky that Vox even showed up in the first place.
Vox comes back into the living room after washing his hands, kneels next to Shoto’s sleeping form, and shakes his shoulder, hoping for some kind of response. Because contrary to popular belief throughout their friend groups and the incessant short jokes, he and Shoto were almost the same height and build, and Vox would much rather have Shoto at least pretend to walk straight than haul his dead weight, thank you very much.
And like an answer to Vox’s prayer, Shoto gives a soft grunt in response, swatting Vox’s hand off his shoulder before attempting to turn to his side, until Vox stops him by holding his shoulder back.
“Oh no, you don’t. Come on up big guy, I don’t want you to sleep on the couch and hear you complain tomorrow about your sore neck.”
Shoto lets out a whine. “Shut up, Mysta. I’m still sleepy.” He attempts to turn over and Vox stops him again.
“Mysta left a while ago. The one trying to get your pretty little ass off this couch is me.” Vox grabs both of his arms and pulls him into a sitting position. One hand on his back to stop him from falling back down.
A moment passes as Shoto’s alcohol-ridden brain attempts to process the words Vox was saying to him in addition to the familiarly warm hand on the small of his back, and when it does, Shoto sits up straighter–or as straight as a drunk person can get–and looks at Vox, confusion etched into his face.
“Vox? Why are you here?” Shoto asks, eyes as wide and looking around at the distinct lack of empty bottles and trash.
“Glad you’re finally catching up.” Vox laughs. God, he’s adorable when he’s drunk , he thinks to himself. “And for the record, Mysta called me saying he needed to go and you were drunk.”
Shoto pouts and crosses his arms like a child. “I told him not to call you, I’m going to strangle him. I could have handled this myself.”
“Yeah whatever you say. Now come on you big baby, let’s go to the bathroom.” Vox puts Shoto’s arm over his shoulder before standing up with Shoto.
“I can walk by myself.” Shoto grumbles softly. Though contrary to what Shoto was saying, he was leaning almost all of his weight on Vox. Vox isn’t sure if Shoto knows about this fact, but he lets the boy live in his delusion anyway.
“I’m sure you can, but if you bust your head open on the toilet bowl I’m leaving you to bleed out.” Vox turns the bathroom door handle and kicks it the rest of the way open. He sets Shoto down on the toilet seat and once he’s sure the boy wouldn’t lean to the side too much and fall, he grabs Shoto’s toothbrush and toothpaste.
Vox ignores the fact that Shoto kept his red toothbrush–which he had brought the last time he stayed over–next to Shoto’s purple one. He ignores the feeling in his chest at the domesticity of it all. He ignores how his heart flutters at the fact that Shoto hasn’t thrown it away even though it stuck out like a sore thumb when around his items.
“You wouldn’t. You’d be all sad and lonely without me.” Shoto giggles, leaning his head back to rest on the wall.
“I would,” Vox replies in earnest, surprising himself by the sincerity of his words. Of course, he’d be devastated if anything were to happen to Shoto. They were friends who occasionally slept with each other sure, but they were still friends and Vox would surely be heartbroken if any of his friends were harmed. “Now open up and let me brush your teeth.”
Shoto seems to have lost the will to fight his sluggish drunkenness and opens his mouth willingly. Any other time, looking down at Shoto with his face flushed and his mouth so willingly open would have sent Vox into horny-induced insanity, but instead, he feels nothing but admiration and a weird misplaced longing that settles at the bottom of his stomach.
Vox sits at the edge of the bathtub so he’s eye-to-eye with Shoto, cups his jaw, and starts brushing his teeth in circular motions. Shoto closes his eyes and hums in contentment while Vox continues to do his job for another minute before he nudges Shoto gently to spit in the tub.
“Will I get a good morning kiss tomorrow after this?” Shoto says it as a flirty joke but Vox kisses the corner of his mouth in reply anyway. Vox pulls away and smiles at Shoto’s surprised expression.
“And there will be more of that tomorrow if you let me get you to bed, okay?” Vox gives Shoto another short kiss on the other corner of his mouth and Shoto lets out a whine. Vox laughs as Shoto pouts at the teasing.
“You really are a bastard demon.” Shoto pushes Vox’s chest weakly.
“Aw fuck off, you love me.” Vox lifts Shoto into a standing position again. This time it seems like Shoto has sobered up enough that he didn’t have to lean on Vox as much anymore, though Vox still opted to keep an arm tightly around the other’s waist.
Shoto was silent for a while before he hums in agreement. “Yeah, I think I do.”
Vox doesn’t have time to think about what Shoto just said as he opens the door to Shoto’s bedroom, gingerly placing Shoto on the bed before undoing the button of his jeans and sliding them off his legs.
“Always so eager to see me undressed.” Shoto laughs. Vox couldn’t argue with that but he also wants to tell him that he was just as eager to see Shoto dressed in three layers during winter. It breaks his heart in a way that Shoto thinks Vox was only excited to see him when it meant having sex because he actually likes spending time with Shoto. He likes everything from the loud banter to the quiet moments where they just enjoy each other’s company. Vox is thankful for whatever relationship he has with Shoto–though he doesn’t know what it is anymore.
Vox wishes he could simply say they were friends with benefits, which was what they were, technically speaking. But Vox's heart, rather than his brain, decides for him that they can’t be just friends–that’s been fact the moment they slept together–but it would be quite the stretch to be called lovers when they haven't said anything strictly affectionate to each other outside the heat of the moment. There was a gap in their relationship and Vox didn’t quite know if he wanted to bridge it together or burn it.
“Maybe tomorrow when you’re sober, we can do whatever you want," Vox leans down to whisper in Shoto's ear and he feels the boy shiver. Vox smiles, loving being able to urge reactions out of the boy which can range from clawing scratches down his back to stuttered half-insults. Shoto wore his emotions on his sleeve which made teasing him all the more enjoyable. "But not right now. You need to get some rest, baby.” Vox gently pulls Shoto’s shirt off, leaving Shoto in just his boxers.
Shoto makes a disappointed whine at the thought of sleeping when Vox planted the seed of a reward when he's sober; but still slides under the duvet, resting his head on his pillows, and closing his eyes almost immediately. "Promise?" Shoto says.
"I promise. Tomorrow you can have anything you want, okay?" Vox almost wanted to take back his words but Shoto seems satisfied with this answer, the last of the tension leaving his shoulders as he's swallowed by the duvet. Seeing Shoto’s breaths even out, Vox takes this opportunity to slip out of the room to grab a glass of water and Advil to place on Shoto’s bedside table.
Vox returns to the room with the glass in hand and with Shoto still sleeping soundly. If Shoto looked beautiful awake, he was simply angelic while sleeping with long lashing casting shadows on his cheeks and mouth slightly open as soft puffs of air escaped his lips. Vox smiles softly at the sleeping boy and leans down to kiss him on the forehead, Shoto lets out a small involuntary smile. Vox realizes right then and there that he was ready to do just about anything just to keep that smile on his face.
“Goodnight, Shoto,” Vox whispers before moving to leave the room. It’s been a long night, there was work waiting for him at home, and he just wanted to pass out on his bed before his mind continues to go down the rabbit hole of dissecting and analyzing what exactly he and Shoto had going on.
Vox was turning the doorknob when he hears Shoto mumble so softly, that he wouldn’t have heard if the room wasn’t so quiet save for their breathing. “Stay please,”
“What?” Vox heard what he said, but he just needed to make sure his ears weren’t deceiving him. He needed to make sure that he wasn’t just imagining things.
“Stay here with me,” Shoto says again, this time clearer.
Vox thinks about the pros and cons of sleeping in Shoto’s bed right now when he was having a mental debate as to what they even are. But then again, it was nearing four a.m and a sudden wave of fatigue was hitting him from the cleaning and carrying he did. He guesses staying over to sleep innocently wasn’t as scandalous as his brain was making it out to be.
He strips down to his boxers as well and gets into bed with Shoto. The moment his back hits the soft mattress, Shoto clung to him like a koala. Vox chuckled and Shoto could feel the deep vibrations as his head rested on his chest.
“If you wanted cuddles you could have just told me.” Vox shifted into a more comfortable position with his arm around Shoto and the boy having his arm and leg around Vox.
“Yeah, but you would be a bitch about it and tease me,” Shoto says, already getting lulled back to sleep by Vox’s steady heartbeat.
“Hm. You know me so well.” Vox kisses the top of Shoto’s head, his heart full of an emotion he didn't want to name yet. “Now go to sleep. You must be so tired.”
“I know, and I would sleep so much faster if you shut up.” A beat passes. “Thank you for tonight, Vox” It was said so quietly that it almost felt like a secret between just the two of them.
“Well, you’re the one who kept tal-" Vox starts before he feels Shoto lift his head up and kiss him quickly on the lips, effectively shutting him up.
"Shut up, I want to sleep and you need to cook my hangover breakfast tomorrow." Vox feels Shoto smile softly against his chest, and he smiles himself, knowing that it looks as lovesick as he feels.
Vox closes his eyes and focuses on Shoto’s deep breathing. Whatever this fluttering feeling in his chest is and what he would call his relationship with Shoto, it’s going to be future Vox’s problem. Right now, he’s content with the numbness spreading quickly through his arm, the slightly uncomfortable heat of their bodies pressed so closely together, and the rogue sleeping soundly next to him.