Work Text:
From his seat at the study desk in his bedroom Abe hears the sound of the front door clicking open and closed again, followed by the distant rustling and thuds of baseball gear being put back in place.
A soft “ I’m home ” calls out to the apartment, and like always it brings a smile to Abe’s face. Home.
He looks down at his notes and decides Kinesiology can wait; he pushes back from the desk and stands, stretching his limbs out to force the stiffness out of his joints, taking extra care when it comes to his knee. As he makes his way to the living room the “ welcome home ” leaves his lips as natural as the breath he takes afterwards, familiar and right. He smiles warmly at the man who had just slipped his shoes off at the entrance, taking in the unruly and endearing mess of honey brown curls and those bright hazel eyes of his boyfriend, Mihashi. Mihashi smiles back, hesitant, his eyes darting this way and that the way they do when he’s overthinking.
“How was practice?” Abe asks, gently pulling Mihashi’s hand into his own, frowning when his lover’s clammy skin meets his own heated palm. Abe’s fingertips move purposefully, feeling up those callouses, both the ones that existed long before they met and the ones he helped develop, stroking along the palm, fitting his own fingers into the spaces between Mihashi’s.
Mihashi makes a strangled sort of chirping noise instead of giving Abe an actual answer, which causes Abe to immediately tear his attention away from those cold fingers to Mihashi’s face. His grey eyes study Mihashi as he tries to decide what to do next. Even after all these years Abe finds there’s still a small part of him that urges him to move cautiously and slowly with Mihashi, a small part of him that’s still afraid their relationship is one misunderstanding away from completely falling apart.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Comes Abe’s solution, his voice slow and steady, his eyes still carefully observing the other man. He can almost see the gears turning in Mihashi’s mind; his hazel eyes keep glancing from side to side and a bunch of soft, frustrated thinking noises escape his chapped lips.
Abe waits.
And he waits.
And then, “It’s okay if you don’t, you know. I wanna help; just let me know how.”
“I-” Mihashi starts and Abe reaches out with his other hand to gently rub the top of Mihashi’s hand that is still cradled in his own in a silent sign of encouragement. “I-I...I...Ta-taka-takaya do you...are you...you tired of me?”
Abe’s heart sinks to the depths of his stomach, heavy and cold, and he swears it makes an audible, hollow thud when it hits the bottom. Tired of him? Tired of Mihashi? Abe's mind whirls as he tries to imagine a world where he would grow tired of this man. How could he ever not crave Mihashi with his whole heart the way he does now? How could he not want to wake up to a warm body snuggled into his side and see horrendous bed hair peeking up from the covers every morning? How could he not want to take that rough, cold hand he knows better than his own and feel pride swell up in his chest every time those fingers start warming up?
A world where he grows tired of Mihashi scares him, it makes him feel unsettled right down to his core.
But that's too heavy, much too heavy for Mihashi right now, so instead Abe just pulls his lover into a tight embrace.
"Ren," he breathes out, low and even, against Mihashi's neck.
"Taka-takaya, w-w-what-" Mihashi is cut off by Abe abruptly pulling back, hands firm on his shoulders, intense grey eyes boring into his own wavering hazel ones.
"I love you." Abe says this with so much certainty, with so much weight, that Mihashi can't help the tears that slip down his cheeks as he feels the knot of anxiety in his gut slowly become untied. "Do you know that I love you?" Mihashi nods almost immediately. "So what brought this up?"
Oh. I messed up. Mihashi knows Abe loves him, he's known it for so long, and he knows it's the truth, so why? Why did he doubt him?
"The team, they said—some of them said that I'm too...too dif—too diffi—too much work. That I need to be careful because, because my lover might get tired of-of-of-of dealing with me...because I'm too much work."
Abe closes his eyes and forces himself to take deep breaths to quell his anger. If I ever see those teammates it's over with. "You aren't too much work, Ren. You're a lot of work but you're not too much. And I knew you were a lot of work, I've known it for years, yeah? And I'm here because if you weren't a lot of work you wouldn't be you, and I love you."
"But I am a lot of—lot of work," Mihashi mumbles, eyes flicking away from Abe's to look at the ground.
"And I'm a workaholic," Abe shoots back, grin easy and warm on his face.
"But you could get tired one day."
"I really don't think I ever could."
Mihashi is smiling now too, soft and shy still after all these years, and Abe hopes that one day Mihashi will be able to love him without the nagging fear that he'll grow tired of him, and he hopes that one day he himself will be able to trust that he can talk with Mihashi without fear of destroying everything with a few sharp words. Well, we have the rest of our lives to get there though.
"Takaya, can—can—can—can I kiss you?" And how could Abe say no to those big eyes looking up at him, full of wonder and affection and admiration only for him? So he laughs out a "yes" that is stopped by the chapped yet soft lips that press themselves against his own without hesitation. Abe smiles into the kiss, wrapping his arms back around Mihashi's waist and pulling him close. Mihashi's lips have left his to let the cutest giggles Abe's ever heard in his life escape from them. He buries his face in Mihashi's neck.
"God, I love you," Abe murmurs against Mihashi's skin, relishing in the way Mihashi's breath hitches when his lips drag against the spot right below his ear.
"I love you too." Mihashi brings his arms up to cradle Abe's head against himself, so gentle and tender Abe can feel the love bubble up in his chest so violently he's afraid he'll explode.
How could he ever grow tired of this?