Work Text:
Hizashi knew that Shouta was still working on that beat up 2007 Honda Accord before he saw those deliciously long coverall-clad legs peeking out from underneath the black car.
It was far too late for his husband to still be working—forty-seven minutes past their typical dinner time and at least an hour before the last of the mechanic crew slipped their gloves off and tucked the oiled-soaked material into their toolbox. It was the price Shouta, and their family by extension, paid in order to get some hands-on action while being a joint owner of a sibling-owned body shop: late nights, limited free time on the weekends, and more often than not, missing meals.
Yet, Hizashi couldn’t help the fondness from growing in his chest as Shota tinkered with the car gasket.
“Are you going to stand there watching or do you plan on saying something?” Shouta’s gruff voice carried throughout the empty garage.
“And here I am thinking that you would want to enjoy the peace and quiet you so desperately seek,” Hizashi teased from his spot at the service door. The blond leaned his weight against the doorframe and licked his lips, admiring the way Shouta’s chest filled out beautifully in his uniform with every breath he took.
Shouta hummed and twisted his hips slightly as he reached up to slide his hand into a crevice of the car. The metal groaned at the insertion, and the mechanic’s concentrated huffs synchronized with every movement.
Hizashi would’ve liked it more if it was Shouta groaning instead.
“I should have the car done for Hitoshi by the end of the month, but there’s one spot I just need to check.”
The blond nodded and slowly made his way into the garage, fiddling with the spread out tools and googles that laid on top every visible surface.
It was dirty and grimy and intoxicating and everything he loved about Shouta.
While he loved his husband when the man was at home on time, tucked into his favorite nook of the blue couch in their living room or sleeping soundly in his arms, Hizashi would be a bold face liar if he denied that he loved Shouta most when he was in his element. When his raven hair had the faintest smell of metal and sweat that wafted beautifully into Hizashi’s nose, rough calloused hands spread alluringly over broad surfaces, and the cutest swipe of oil clinging desperately to his face.
It never failed to make Hizashi’s heart swell…and, embarrassingly like some kind of horny teenager, his pants tighten.
“Baby,” the blond murmured, barely intelligible over the click-clank-click from underneath the car.
“I know, Zashi. I’ll be out in a minute.” Shouta shifted again, the slight swell of his stomach must’ve pressed down on his pelvis.
And if that didn’t solidify that Hizashi needed him and needed him now, then he didn’t know what did.
“All...” Shouta grunted and a slight bang filled the air. “Done.” In long, languid movements, the mechanic rolled the creeper out from underneath the Honda and sat up, rubbing the tense muscles of his neck and sweat beads ran down the taut skin.
Hizashi swore that the air was getting stuffier, hotter, muskier, and boy did he want to make it worse.
Shouta glanced his way, his eyebrows furrowed, and his hands outstretched in a silent plea for help. The blond smirked and took his sweet time grabbing onto them to pull the man up, drinking in the image of his husband’s red face and grunting form.
Who gave him the right to be this hot?
Not that Hizashi was complaining. In fact, he wanted more.
Shouta stared at him, a small grimace on his face as he shifted his feet and concentrated on the blond. He looked warily at Hizashi’s entirely too carefree smile before sighing deeply.
“What?” Hizashi laughed. “I’m just happy to see you.”
“I can’t believe you really want to go a round right now.”
Hizashi shrugged and pressed his body closer to Shouta’s, marveling in the small gap and firm of his husband’s slightly extended stomach.
“Hitoshi is in charge of Eri tonight or at least until we get back, and it’s not like we’re going to have that much alone time when this little one arrives.” Hizashi’s hand brushed lovingly over his husband’s abdomen.
Shouta leveled an exasperated stare that pierced through Hizashi’s skin before sighing again and tugging at his hand toward the manager office. “Come on then.”
Hizashi’s mouth immediately latched onto Shouta’s throat, hands roaming down his body as he kept pace with the man.
“But you owe me a massage after this. My back is killing me.”
“Gladly.”