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“Ah, the cold makes my bones ache.” Shinkai whined from across the table, rubbing at his biceps through his navy blue sweater. He frowned as he looked down at the plate of freshly cooked rice and vegetables Arakita had just pulled from the steamer. The presence of food in his immediate vision turned his face into something softer, and he grabbed his chopsticks to scoop it into his mouth.
Arakita grabbed his own chopsticks and smirked at the redhead across the small table. “What are you, 80 years old?” He teased, grabbing a bite of his own food.
“I couldn’t imagine being 80 years old in this frigid cold, Yasutomo. I think I’d die,” Shinkai admitted through a mouthful of food. “Why don’t you turn up the heat?” A glimmer of hope flashed in his eyes as he asked the man.
“No.” Arakita answered plainly. Arakita, though not a fan of the cold himself, would not pass up the opportunity to add a few sweaters to his ensemble if it meant saving on gas every month. He had a bank account to look out for, and he surely wouldn’t let his utilities drain the money he had saved up when he could just adjust to the temperature with another layer or two. Having Shinkai over, however, always entailed whining, complaining, and sometimes even crying.
Shinkai frowned, visibly upset at Arakita’s refusal to comply. He looked back to his plate and began taking his bites of food much slower, as if the coldness of the apartment was surely causing whatever energy he had in him to seep away.
Arakita ignored his usual display to continue picking at the vegetables on his plate. They were a tad overcooked, and needed a bit of salt, but that didn’t stop Shinkai from eating them, though Arakita was unimpressed by his own meal. He glanced up again, Shinkai visibly shivering in his seat. When he caught sight of Arakita staring, he set his chopsticks down on the table.
“Yasutomo… I can’t… I can’t do this.”
Arakita raised an eyebrow and then laughed out loud, “Shinkai, you dumbass. Are you breaking up with me over my cold apartment?”
“What? N-no!” Shinkai looked practically offended at the assumption as he shook in his seat. “Wh-Why would you think th-that?”
“Oh my god, your teeth are chattering!” Arakita let out, bringing a hand over his mouth to hide his obvious smile. “And calm down, I was joking.”
Shinkai could hardly look relieved. He groaned, clutching his arms and bringing his head forward to thunk dully on the table in front of him, only just avoiding the plate of food. Arakita knew that if Shinkai was so cold he was going so far as to avoid his dinner, then he really must have it bad.
“Shinkai…” he said, causing the redhead to stir where he had stubbornly planted his head. “Are you done eating?”
Shinkai looked up again, a look of horror on his face at what Arakita had asked, he hurriedly shook his head no, and sat back up to resume eating, quickly finishing what was left on his plate.
Arakita got up and grabbed both their plates and took them to the sink in the kitchen. He rinsed them off and left them there, resigning to do them later. When he returned to the table, he found that Shinkai was no longer sitting in his chair. Arakita made his way to the living room to discover a large lump on the couch, covered in every blanket Arakita figured he owned.
He approached the lump and bent over when he had reached the end of it, pulling the shroud of blankets back just slightly until soft waves of red hair spilled out, and then Shinkai’s face appeared. Shinkai blinked, frowning slightly at Arakita’s disrupting of his makeshift cocoon. “Yasutomo, you’re letting the cold in.”
Shinkai was such a baby in the cold. Arakita didn’t know if he wanted to smack him or coddle him. He got down on his knees, kneeling next to the couch where Shinkai’s head poked out of the blankets. He carded his fingers through Shinkai’s red hair, grazing the back of his head with his fingertips. Shinkai hummed at the contact, his eyes closing.
“God, you’re so whiny,” Arakita nearly whispered. He inched his face closer and pecked Shinkai on the nose, noticing how cold he really was.
“I know. I’m sorry,” Shinkai opened his eyes again and smiled softly at Arakita. He shifted under the blankets and then pulled his arms out and wrapped them around Arakita’s neck, pulling him in close until his face fell softly into the redhead’s neck. Arakita sighed, his hot breath hitting Shinkai’s chilled skin as he wrapped his own arms around what he could grab of him in the awkward position.
“Yasutomo,” Shinkai said faintly, his voice rumbling gently next to Arakita’s ear. “Would you like to join me in my blanket burrito?”
Arakita snorted and pulled the blanket away from Shinkai. The redhead scooted over to accommodate the new person and Arakita squeezed his way onto the couch fitting next to Shinkai, throwing the blankets back over himself once he was in a comfortable enough position. Shinkai wormed his arms around Arakita’s torso and pulled him closer.
“Mm, Yasutomo. Why are you warm?” He snuck his hands up the back of Arakita’s several sweaters and pressed his palms to the small of Arakita’s back. Arakita let out a small yelp as Shinkai’s cold hands pressed into him.
“Shinkai, your hands are fucking cold!” Arakita protested, squirming as Shinkai kept his cold hands held down.
“Sorry,” the redhead mumbled, planting a small kiss on the side of Arakita’s head but refusing to remove his hands. Arakita grimaced at the discomfort, but didn’t insist the hands be removed any longer. If Shinkai absorbing his body heat got him to shut up about the cold for a few minutes, then maybe it was worth it.
Arakita had to admit, it was pretty comfortable in the cocoon, and as Shinkai’s warm breaths softly hit his hair, and his hands defrosted against his lower back, Arakita knew that leaving his apartment cold had its plus sides as well.