Work Text:
An steps out of the hotel shower, lighter and more relaxed than she’s felt in a while. Tonight’s event has been weighing on the group for quite some time—it’s not every day that a high school crew gets asked to perform at an out-of-town invitational, after all, and they’ve all been feeling the pressure to rise to this new audience’s expectations over the past few weeks.
Not that they needed to worry, she thinks, toweling her hair dry and inspecting her own face in the mirror. Her heart swells with pride just thinking about it. Even with how fast they’ve been improving lately, their set tonight blew their previous performances out of the water. She’s always held firm in her claims that Vivid BAD SQUAD can do anything together, but these days, she’s really starting to believe in it.
An tugs her sleep shirt over her head, pops her retainer into her mouth, and slides the bathroom door open.
The first thing she notices is that it’s dark, much darker than it was before. She blinks several times in quick succession, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the light from the single dim lamp on the desk next to the coffeemaker.
The second thing she notices must be the reason why: in the bed on the far side of the room, Kohane and Toya are already fast asleep.
An quickly flicks the bathroom light off, not wanting to disturb the two of them. They’re curled up on one side of the mattress, Toya in a loose gray t-shirt and sweats, Kohane in a set of pastel pink pajamas. She must’ve forgotten to take off her glasses before climbing into bed, because they’re currently askew to the point of nearly falling off her nose. Something about the sight reminds her of the bunnies from Kohane’s club activities, small and fluffy and nestled together in the corner of their enclosure.
The next thing she notices is Akito, who is, by contrast, decidedly awake. He’s not quite facing her, but she can see that he’s still in his stage outfit, makeup smeared a little at the corners of his eyes. An stands in the doorway and watches as he leans over the empty half of the bed and carefully plucks Kohane’s glasses from her face, setting them down on the bedside table next to the book that Toya was reading on the train earlier today.
It’s not so hard to piece together how this scene came to be, and something about that makes her feel like her heart is about to burst.
Akito glances up.
“Took you long enough,” he huffs, impressively exasperated for how quiet the words come out of his mouth. “You really couldn’t have let me go first?”
“Beauty takes time,” An says with a smirk and a pretend toss of her hair over her shoulder. The effect is somewhat ruined by the fact that most of her hair is currently piled up into a haphazard bun at the top of her head. “And you’re the one who lost at rock-paper-scissors three times in a row, so don’t complain.”
Akito chooses to ignore this, presumably because she’s right. “You look like a pineapple,” he says instead, falling back with a soft thud onto the unoccupied bed.
An lowers her head and shakes just enough to spatter him with water. “I have to put it up like this to dry,” she says. “Otherwise it gets frizzy and drips everywhere. And I wouldn’t wanna make Kohane sleep on a wet pillowcase, y’know?”
A wry smile crosses Akito’s face. “Yeah, well, about that,” he says, gesturing at their two deeply unconscious teammates. “Looks like these two had other plans.”
An follows his gaze to the other bed, where Kohane is currently using Toya’s arm as a pillow. Akito’s watching her sideways, almost like he’s expecting her to complain, but the spike of jealousy never comes—Kohane is her precious partner, obviously, but so is Toya, and watching the two of them together like this only adds to the glowing warmth that’s been stuck in An’s chest since the moment they stepped off tonight’s stage.
“What were they reading?” she asks, nodding at the book on the table.
“Eh, there’s this mystery series Toya’s been really into lately. Kohane wanted to hear about it, so he offered to read it out loud for her, but she wanted to see the book, too.” Akito’s expression softens. “Then he ended up puttin’ both of ‘em to sleep, so it didn’t really matter.”
An can almost hear the echo of it in her ears, the even cadence of Toya’s voice, low and steady and perfect to drift away to. “I’m surprised you didn’t fall asleep, too,” she says.
Akito pulls a face that isn’t quite a scowl but comes pretty close. In the low light, it makes the bags under his eyes just a bit more pronounced.
“I might’ve,” he says, “if someone hadn’t insisted she wouldn’t take longer than fifteen minutes in the shower.”
An is suddenly, vividly reminded of the fact that Akito is still in stage clothes. Between coordinating their participation with the event organizers and making sure they get safely from place to place, he’s been working harder than anyone, she thinks. He must be exhausted, now that it’s finally over.
“My bad,” she says, genuinely kind of sorry. “It’s free now, at least?”
Akito opens his mouth to say something, only to be interrupted mid-sentence by his own yawn. An nudges him in the leg with the side of her foot.
“Go get changed,” she says, and he must really be tired, because he just shuffles off into the bathroom without another word. The faint pitter-patter of the shower spray starts up soon after.
With that settled, An turns her attention back to her other two teammates. Their hotel room is a double, meant to fit two people to a bed, but Kohane and Toya are so huddled so close together that they only take up the space of about one person.
Maybe…
An clambers into the bed from Kohane’s side, careful not to dip the mattress too much with her own weight. A satisfied post-show ache hums gently in her limbs as she settles into place, one hand carding through Kohane’s hair, her other resting flat atop Toya’s forearm. Kohane rolls over in her sleep as she does, pressing her cold nose into An’s shoulder.
“An-chan,” a familiar voice murmurs, “you didn’t have to shower for that long, did you?”
Huh. Maybe not as asleep as she thought.
An pulls back a little to meet Kohane’s eyes, bleary and soft and so so bright.
“I know, I know,” she says, bumping her forehead against Kohane’s. “I lost track of time, I guess. Too busy thinking about how awesome you were on stage tonight.”
Kohane’s cheeks flush the same shade of pink as her pajamas, but she stands her ground. “It was a really good show,” she concedes. “But, An-chan. Fifty minutes? Poor Shinonome-kun, he almost fell asleep in his chair.”
An cranes her neck a little to get a look at the chair that Kohane’s talking about. It’s an ugly, straight-backed office chair, with high armrests and a lever to adjust the height at the bottom.
“Maybe he should stop sucking at rock-paper-scissors,” she says reasonably.
Kohane gives her the tiniest frown. It’s adorable, especially paired with the way her face is already scrunched up from having to squint to see anything without her glasses or contacts. An lifts her free hand to poke one of her cheeks. “Fine, fine. I’ll make it up to him. Free pancakes next time he comes to Weekend Garage, or something.”
“Your dad already does that,” Kohane points out.
“It’s different,” An argues. “Those are free pancakes from him. These are free pancakes from me. It’s special.”
For a moment, Kohane looks like she’s about to say something, but she clearly thinks better of it, because all she does is sink further into the crook of Toya’s arm and sigh.
It’s a little new, this easy physicality among the four of them. It’s not exactly surprising—growing up on Vivid Street, An’s always interpreted this kind of thing as a sign of a happy crew—but she’d be lying if she said there wasn’t something new and strange and thrilling about experiencing it for herself. The way Kohane actively leans into her touches now, the way Toya will quietly take her hand as they’re walking around a crowded venue—hell, even the way Akito pulls her into those overwhelming side hugs after a good show, the weight of his arm lingering across her shoulders before he pulls away to ruffle Toya’s hair.
She’d always dreamed about what it would be like to have a partner, back then, but she’d never realized just how lonely those solo stages had actually been. She’d never known how many pieces of her heart had been missing until her teammates had come along to fill in the gaps.
An is so deep in thought that she barely notices the fingers reaching for hers until they’re already intertwined. Toya’s eyes are still shut, but the slight pressure of his hand is unmistakable, as is the low, wordless rumble of his voice in his throat.
“Seriously. Were either of you even asleep?” she demands, unable to keep the mirth out of her voice.
Toya mumbles something. It’s hard to tell what he’s saying, but it sounds a bit like Shiraishi, half-slurred and content.
Kohane slips her own hand between An and Toya’s palms and smiles when he gives them both another drowsy squeeze. “I woke up when you guys were talking about the book,” she whispers. “But I think Aoyagi-kun really has been asleep this whole time.”
As if to prove her point, Toya lets out a single snore before his head falls softly onto Kohane’s shoulder. An stifles a laugh. For a guy who’s always so composed and collected when he’s awake, he sure is something when he’s not.
“I think you’re right,” she whispers back as the bathroom door opens. She can’t see Akito from here, curled around Kohane, but she can hear him sighing just fine.
“An,” he says.
An pretends to be asleep.
She must not be as good at this as Kohane, though, because his voice just draws closer. “An, I know you’re awake. And I know you’re not fucking planning on piling all of us in that bed—”
“Who said you had to join?” she retorts, twisting around to face him as far as she can without letting go of Toya’s hand. “I’m doing you a favor, you know. A whole bed, all to yourself.”
Kohane tries and fails to hold back a giggle.
“That’s—” Akito crosses around to Toya’s side of the bed, looking sleepy but significantly less annoyed than she was expecting. His face is free from makeup now, damp hair curled and coppery and clinging to his forehead, the line of his bare arms silhouetted against the lamplight. There’s something like fondness in his eyes, and if An didn’t know better, she’d almost say that some of it’s directed at her.
“Hey there, traitor,” he greets Kohane, who offers him a beatific smile. Akito leans in to flick her across the nose. “Were you awake the whole time?”
Kohane sneezes once, cutely, and shakes her head.
“No, but I’m sorry for tricking you,” she says, glancing up at An. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I like listening to you guys talk. It’s, um. It’s nice.”
An and Akito blink dazedly at each other. “It… is?”
“It is,” Kohane insists. Then, as a second thought, she adds, “Oh, but don’t blame Aoyagi-kun for any of this. He really was sleeping.”
Akito waves dismissively. “Nah, I know that,” he says. “Toya can’t act to save his life.”
The man of the hour lets out another snore. An bites back another laugh.
“So, are you coming in, or,” she says to Akito, gesturing at the sliver of empty space on the bed on Toya’s other side.
Akito doesn’t dignify her with a reply, but the click of the lamp turning off and the way the mattress shifts under him speaks for itself. There’s an amount of shuffling as they all adjust their positions, punctuated by a few complaints and an incoherent mumble that sounds an awful lot like Akito and a pleased little sigh as their vague blob of limbs configures itself into something more comfortable.
“Are you happy now,” Akito says once they’ve settled, no bite to the words, eyes just barely visible in the glow of the streetlights filtering in through the windows. His face is tucked into the crook of Toya’s neck, but his arm is stretched all the way across the three of them, and An can’t help but feel like that bright, buzzing feeling in her chest is fit to overflow.
Her dream is right here, she thinks. Everything she wants, everything she could ever need—all of it, right here in her hands.
“Yeah,” she says, heart in her throat, steady, full of light. “Yeah, I think I am."