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Masa-san could feel Mei dozing off against him, body relaxing as what little attention he’d been devoting to the movie they were watching slipped away for good. He would have liked to leave him like that, lips set apart and eyes shut while Masa-san’s broad shoulder became an adequate pillow, but he knew he couldn’t.
“Mei,” he murmured, his voice stern but gentle. “You can’t fall asleep with your binder on.”
“Can too,” was the reply, stubbornness shining through despite how quiet and sleepy the tone was.
It made Masa-san snort, but he stuck to his guns, nudging Mei off of his shoulder. Being so close to the pitcher might have been new to him, but supervising his health certainly wasn’t. He’d known how careless Mei could be right from the start of knowing him, and no matter how much he might pout and whine about Masa-san’s strictness, they both knew the appreciation he felt. Mei’s mind just moved too fast to contemplate boring things like how long he’d been binding or how many pitches he’d thrown that day or whether he’d done his homework yet.
Masa-san enjoyed the sight of him with sleepy eyes and ruffled hair, and his gaze carried a touch of endearment as he surveyed him. It was getting late, and the movie’s credits were rolling across the tiny television, his cue to switch the set off and start saying goodnight before heading back to his own dorm.
Mei caught his wrist before he could stand up, looking up at him hopefully. “Masa-san, can you give me a massage?”
It wasn’t like he could have said no to such a beseeching gaze, but Masa-san huffed anyway, even as he turned Mei around on the bed. He could envision his smug grin well enough despite now only being able to see the tufted blond of the back of his head, rolling his eyes but shifting closer. Mei tucked his legs underneath him and rested his hands on his thighs, humming in relief as Masa-san began to work at the tense knots in his shoulders.
“You’ve been binding too long, Mei,” Masa-san chided.
“You tell me that every night!”
“Because I end up giving you a massage every night,” he grumbled, moving a hand to poke him in the neck. “You could take your binder off in the evenings.”
“Of course I could.” The defensive note in Mei’s voice was quite abrupt, and he tensed.
It only took Masa-san a second to realise he’d broached a touchy subject. He paused his ministrations, resting his hands on narrow shoulders instead. “Sorry.”
Mei remained tense for a moment longer, but then he sighed gently. “Don’t be.” Turning to face Masa-san, he leaned up to give him a soft kiss, his preferred method of apology.
When he pulled back, Masa-san brushed his thumb against Mei’s cheek, and gave him a quick peck in response. Of course he knew he could stop binding at any time. If he hadn’t done so, then he obviously wasn’t comfortable enough yet. The last thing Masa-san wanted to do was encroach on that.
“I didn’t mean to sound like I was rushing you or pointing out the obvious, Mei,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry for that.”
Mei shook his head. “It’s just – if I did – you’ll be the first person here who’s seen me like that.” He wrinkled his nose and fidgeted, never having been too fond of speaking so frankly about private emotions. “It shouldn’t be a big deal, but I guess it kind of is. But whatever.”
Masa-san ruffled his hair, partly to reassure and partly to stop the nervous bubbling Mei was prone to. “Don’t try and play it off, idiot, I can see right through you.” Before Mei could object, he continued, “It’s okay if it’s a big deal. I want you to be comfortable around me, and if that means the binder stays on, then it stays on. Only take it off if it feels right to you, Mei.”
His audience was silent and pouty for a few moments, like he always was after reassurance, the fiercely independent side of his brain almost audibly at war with the part that yearned to accept the comfort and rationality Masa-san provided. The latter enjoyed a small victory this time; Mei remained silent save for a huff, but he nodded, and grabbed Masa-san’s hand as he led him to the door. When he leant down to kiss him goodnight, Mei mumbled quickly, “It’s not if. It’s when.”
Masa-san took a moment to catch his meaning, but his eyes crinkled once he did, kissing his forehead. “Goodnight, Mei.”
Neither of them mentioned it again for a few weeks, but Masa-san noticed that there was now a routine pause before Mei answered the door, smoothing his shirt down and beaming up at him. He didn’t ask, but he could imagine that he was no longer binding in the downtime between practice ending and Masa-san coming over to spend the evening with him. That was a step in the right direction, at least, and he could never be anything but pleased when Mei actually took his words to heart, since that tended to be a damn rare occurrence.
One night, however, instead of a silent pause, he heard Mei call, “Who is it?”
He was taken aback for a moment, but answered, “It’s me.” His gravelly voice would be identifiable enough, he was sure. The door swung open a moment later, revealing Mei peering up at him.
There was a bashfulness to his expression that Masa-san wasn’t used to seeing, tugging his lower lip between his teeth, cheeks dusted red. That was the first thing he noticed; but as he took in Mei’s figure as a whole, there was a curve to his chest that he certainly hadn’t seen before.
“Mei,” he breathed, looking back up to his face. “Do you need a minute—”
“It’s fine,” Mei said, though his resolve seemed to waver for a moment. “Isn’t it?”
“Of course it’s fine,” he quickly assured him, stepping into the room, the door swinging shut behind him. He didn’t want Mei to feel like he was under scrutiny or anything, so he regarded him very carefully.
He didn’t look much different, really; Masa-san had always supposed Mei must have been pretty small, being the slender thing he was (not to mention he’d made him swear upon Enatsu Yutaka’s life that he’d only bind with a regular sports bra during any kind of exercise, and he'd never looked anything but flat). It suited him, anyway.
“Such a small guy,” Masa-san mumbled wryly. Mei whined at him for that, but he couldn’t hide his pleased beam at the gentle affirmation of being called a guy, albeit a small one.
Masa-san figured it was best to act casual. Nothing was really different, after all. He was just seeing a bit more of Mei than he was used to. So he ruffled his soft hair and tugged him over to sit down on the bed, where the smaller one of them settled into the other’s side more comfortably than he ever had done, already enthusing about the movie he’d picked out for them to watch.
He’d expected Mei to doze off near the end, like he often did; but when he glanced at him, his eyes were alert, looking right back at Masa-san.
“Mei?” he prompted.
“Stay over tonight,” Mei blurted out, reddening as soon as the words escaped him.
Masa-san took a moment to process that, at which point he went pink as well. “Stay over? In your bed…?”
He nodded, tracing circles into his duvet with a finger, the same bashful expression he’d had at the door returning to his face. “The only reason I put it off for so long is because you hadn’t seen me not binding, had you? And now—”
“Now that’s not an issue,” Masa-san gently finished for him. He was smiling before he knew it, leaning in to kiss Mei. He caught him off guard, but the reciprocation came as easily as breathing did, slender fingers hovering against Masa-san’s cheekbones.
They gazed at each other for a few long moments after the kiss ended, then Masa-san stood up, heading over to his dorm to get a pillow and some clothes. Mei didn’t follow; it was late, but not late enough that they could guarantee nobody was in the halls. All in due time, Masa-san thought to himself as he dithered in his dorm room, grabbing a change of clothes and, after a pause, one extra t-shirt.
When he returned, Mei had changed into his usual pyjamas, simple shorts and a t-shirt. Masa-san had seen them on multiple occasions when Mei had failed to show up to morning practice (though how he managed to change into his sports bra underneath them and still act like he was asleep when the captain came to knock, Masa-san had no idea).
“What do you wear to bed, Masa-san?” Mei asked, surveying him thoughtfully.
“Just boxers,” he replied, though he paused for a moment. “Is that… alright?”
He could have sworn he saw Mei’s eyes glint. “Oh, that’s totally fine!”
Masa-san grunted and swatted at him, a movement which Mei easily dodged with a burst of giggles. He threw the spare t-shirt at him; Mei caught it on instinct and then looked back at him curiously.
“If you want something comfy to sleep in,” Masa-san muttered.
Mei’s eyes sparkled like two blue stars at that. “Boyfriend shirt?”
“Boyfriend shirt,” he assented, rubbing at his face as he felt himself go red. Busying himself with pulling his shirt and pants off seemed like a good way to hide that redness for a fleeting second, until he flushed even darker at Mei’s gaze practically zooming in on his exposed chest.
He politely looked away when Mei motioned to pull his own shirt off, but he felt a hand tug at his wrist, making him refocus on his boyfriend.
“Wait, Masa-san.” He was red now, too, but a determined look graced his features. “I want you to see.”
That took him by surprise – Mei not binding around him was one thing, but to see him fully uncovered was a whole other level of trust and courage, and Masa-san felt a surge of affection at the idea that Mei wanted to share that with him. “Of course,” he agreed softly.
The pitcher had never faltered with eyes on him, and even this was no different, pulling his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. His arms still crossed over his chest defensively, almost on instinct; Masa-san saw him take a deep breath before lowering them, folding his hands in front of himself instead.
He paused for a moment to take in the sight, because Mei really was beautiful, and he felt that he’d failed to adequately appreciate it until now. His binder had been hiding a degree of softness that Masa-san hadn’t expected, not to mention delicate collarbones, and powerful shoulders.
He held his arms out and Mei all but fell into them. He wasn’t quite trembling, but Masa-san wouldn’t be surprised if he was close to it, running his fingers soothingly through his hair before kissing him with as much reassurance and affection as he could possibly give.
The added comfort of a boyfriend shirt still called to Mei, though, so he pulled away from the embrace to finish getting changed and turn the lights out while Masa-san climbed into bed. He almost had to avert his gaze at how damn cute Mei looked in a shirt half a dozen sizes too big for him, pulling him close as soon as he joined him under the duvet. They’d spent many an evening cuddling in bed by now, but they’d never been able to properly sleep together, never drifted off curled up with each other like this. But before they slept, Masa-san had to say one last thing.
“Thank you for trusting me, Mei,” he murmured against the top of his head.
He heard a quiet giggle, and then felt lips press to the underside of his jaw. “Oh, don’t go all sappy, Masa-san, it’s so embarrassing.”
“Shut it.” His voice thrummed with amusement, too sleepy and content to berate him in earnest. “You’re more embarrassing.”
“That’s a lie!” he protested, poking Masa-san in the stomach. When he didn’t get a response, he continued, “I’m really glad that you’re here and so good about everything. Even if you’re telling lies about me being embarrassing.”
Masa-san poked him in retaliation, raising one tired eyebrow and not bothering to open his eyes. “Who’s going sappy now?”
“It’s your influence,” Mei continued to insist, tiredness seeping into his voice more.
But just before they drifted off properly, Masa-san knew that he heard a gentle thank you whispered against his collarbone.