Work Text:
Calloused hands work their way into long locks of brown and ombre red, tying up the hair into a manageable ponytail.
Over time, he’d taken notice of his body.
They were fleeting glances provided to the mirror only when he had gotten out of the shower, towel in his hair and golden hues downcast for all of one second. And stolen looks to the mirror had become a regard one could remark upon as curious. He’d allowed the towel to remain tied around his waist as his eyes lowered, simply gleaning over his body with quiet regard.
The lines that stood out starkly in his features had smoothed out, no longer carrying the stress of a past weighing terribly on his shoulders. His eyes seemed lighter now, not darkened by unsure emotions held to himself until he was left alone or the desire to push away the last thing that grew to hold his heart.
Gone was the bulging rippling muscle he had accumulated over time in his incarceration, threat looming with each roll of the shoulder, each clench of the fist, each movement brought about by the lumbering male. Intimidation was his prime desire, something to stifle any backtalk or action that he deemed worthy of a thrown punch. His muscles were as much a threat as his cold tone, simply standing bringing hesitation to those who look to him.
No one dared go against him when he looked as he did years ago.
But now. Now he had no need for that power, that reigning fright he had held tight with an iron fist for years upon years. It was traded in for domestics, a life he had not expected to fall so routinely into, but held no grudge against. Not when the cause of such change was bustling about the kitchen, hums filling the space of the kitchen and the home itself. Not when he had this life now, so much more easier where he was willingly to give into the belief and want that things could be -- were -- better than they had been in a long time.
A hand moved to pinch at his skin then, noting things in his mind as he explored quietly. Abs had become slight rolls, a result of the nurturing Aoba so very much kept to with every meal he lovingly served. Not to mention the relaxing lifestyle he had taken up, settled on couches with books, a canine and avian curled by him with his lover pressed to his side instead of decrepit buildings with intertwined digits and set scowls.
Mink still very much had muscle, still kept to a somewhat active mannerism with how he moved. How hefted an ax to deliver a blow to the wood set before him or walked through the forest to make his way to work. But his form now wasn’t something that would earn second glances, whispers tinged with hesitant fear or hasty steps taken back when he walked. He’d hardly heard someone call out to him until the door creaked and steam spilled from the bathroom, a bit of cool air venturing inside.
“Mink?” A soft voice spoke up then, earning the native’s attention.
Aoba stood at the doorway, head tilted to the side curiously as he regards Mink and then the mirror he looks to so distractedly. A few seconds of quietude passed between them before Aoba moved, steps slow as he moved to stand before the other. And he looks to Mink as the man did when faced with his reflection, a considerate gleam to light warm hazel. Slender digits reached to brush over the dark skin of Mink’s jawline, run over his throat and his shoulder. He slows when he reaches Mink’s arm, giving a squeeze once or twice and favoring a glance to his lover whom only watches. He continues then, letting his fingertips venture over Mink’s chest dusted by hair and stopping short of the towel. He notes fondly in the back of his mind that in the past, Mink would never have looked as he did now. He pokes at the bit of chub Mink was developing, a humored smile tilting at pink lips.
He was feeding him well then.
“You’ve changed.”
“Have I?” Mink asks quizzically, as if he hadn’t noticed himself. A hum is his reply, both hands raising to simply trace over Mink as if vision were lost and touch was all he had to rely on.
“Mm. This means that you’re happier now then?” Aoba asks, that smile still there, still rivaling the sun itself in how bright it shone. And Mink can’t help but snort at the inquiry. Of course he’s happy. He may not speak it with his words, but his actions speak loud and clear. The glances he gives. The touch he offers. The permission he asks of. The faint curve to his lips. Every little thing he does shows his content.
“I’ve put on weight.” He counters then with a look to the mirror.
His words carry a deeper meaning though. Aoba chuckles, following that gaze.
“I know. I’m putting on a little weight too. I’m worried that I might not fight in my clothes anymore.” “Buy new clothing then.” And Aoba laughs, like twinkling chimes dancing in the wind. A sound Mink supposes he could never tire of.
“I don’t mind.” He murmurs then, allowing for their fingers to twine together and he regards the faint spiderweb of blue veins Aoba has, just a shade shy of his hair color.
“Ah?”
“Putting on weight isn’t a big deal.” He starts, “Things change. I live here by your side, I spend long days at work only to come home to you and your meals. You’ve gotten better at cooking and you’ve worked up the nerve to bake pies as well. It isn’t as bad as it started out to be--”
“Oi!”
“So I don’t mind.”
A pause. “Then you don’t mind growing older and fatter then?” Aoba teases.
Mink pauses then, a squeeze of the hand as he looks off in a distant way. If growing older and fatter meant this, meant these long nights simply wrapped in one another’s embrace. If it meant a comfortable silence pierced only by the clink of a fork or spoon against a plate. If it meant soft kisses and warm embraces, some nights where intimacy fell hand in hand with content. If it meant whispers of ‘I love you’ and a bump of the forehead against one another or sitting shoulder to shoulder, gazes affixed to a book or days where they walked together, hand in hand..
A look to his body in the mirror again. To the fading muscles and weight that gained slowly but surely.
“No, I don’t.”