Work Text:
“Rin-chan?”
Meguru sits on the edge of the bed, swinging his legs back and forth restlessly. Rin is in the chair in front of the desk, endlessly typing away at something, fully engrossed in whatever’s on his laptop screen. It’s been thirty minutes since Rin had agreed to go to bed together, and twenty since he had suddenly decided that he was just going to finish one more thing.
Meguru waits one, two beats. Three, four. Maybe Rin didn’t hear. “Rin-chan—”
“Shut up.”
Meguru swallows the rest of his words and flops back onto the bed, turning his head so that his nose is buried into Rin’s pillow. A little bit of shampoo, a little bit of detergent. More and more often these days, Meguru would wake up in the morning, find himself alone, and hug the pillow tightly in his arms, curling so closely around it that it hardly smelled like Rin anymore, just himself.
He goes back to watching Rin’s fingers glide across the keys. He can’t see as well lying down, though he traces the elegant curves of them with his eyes anyway, fingers that could open his lips and press down on his tongue and dig into his throat. He wonders if they’re cold right now, from the late night air, or warm for all their movement.
Rin-chan, he wants to call again. Rin-chan!
As if he’d heard Meguru, Rin finally stops typing. He closes the laptop with a snap, turns off his desk lamp, and climbs into bed without bothering to undress. Meguru scoots closer, meaning to touch—anywhere, really, just to feel Rin against him—but he only meets the empty air at Rin’s back.
Turned away from Meguru, so that he can’t even admire the flutter of his impossibly long eyelashes as he sleeps.
Meguru’s first instinct is to reach farther, to push himself forward anyway, to get up and plant himself right into Rin’s field of vision. Rin would surely be angry, but that was fine. It was fine as long as Rin would look at Meguru with any kind of fire in his eyes. It would be even better if Rin got his hands on him, gripped him too tight, crushed him between his fingers, and picked his heart out from the remains.
He stays still.
“Good night, Rin-chan,” he calls. “I love you.”
He means to turn away, too, but Rin’s blue-green eyes freeze him in the darkness. He smiles. In the next second, Rin’s thighs cage him in on either side, though careful not to make skin contact; one hand is planted right next to Meguru’s cheek, though careful not to trap a single strand of hair; the other hand presses against Meguru’s mouth, lips against his palm.
“Shut up,” Rin repeats.
Meguru laughs softly, muffled under Rin’s hand. He lifts his own to place on top of Rin’s, whose fingers are cold after all, whose palm seems to dwarf his. He digs his fingers in between Rin’s so that they’re linked, so that they’re entangled as much as possible, as if he could trap Rin in place with just this.
Rin traps Meguru with just that: the soft skin of his palm that smells faintly of lotion, chilled from the night air, pressed down on top of his mouth to stifle all sound. Meguru kisses it.
Touch me, he wants to say. Smother me under your fingers.
He stays quiet.