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Contrary to the usual experience, it wasn't Sanada who initiated things. Not to say that this time Yukimura was desperate, a relentless persuer, or some kind of sexual predator. Just to say that Sanada was, well, somewhat completely and utterly oblivious.
Yukimura had dropped heavy, easy hints into proper conversation. He had eaten things in all manner of inappropriate ways. Then there was the time he had gotten changed in his office while Sanada sat and waited barely five feet away, and though Yukimura couldn't see through the screen he ostensibly used, he could tell that all Sanada was doing was holding his hands calmly in his lap, and trying not to whistle as he always tended to do when waiting patiently.
Eventually, he scheduled their next meeting in his own private rooms, claiming time was too short, his schedule was too busy, and that they could talk there while he readied himself for his evening after.
He answered the door in nothing but loose pyjama pants and beckoned Sanada in with a smile. The door shut itself in the next moment, when Sanada found himself pressed up against it. The shock was so much that his briefcase slipped clean out of his fingers and onto his toes, but he could not utter a cry of pain because Yukimura's fingers were touching his neck, around his shirt collar, and sliding upwards into his hair.
It was much, much later, when Yukimura was curled up around himself, and the darkness was failing to send Sanada to sleep also, that he was reminded of the fact that Yukimura was supposed to have had plans for that evening. He said as much in the morning.
Yukimura laughed outright at him, and admitted Sanada had been the plans.
It was the last time Yukimura had mentioned them sleeping together, and the waiting ever since was killing Sanada, who hadn't the guts to confront it.
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