Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Welcome back... This is my Shidou/Sae Christmas & winter series. 

Warning: although there will be no smut (my original prompts were all smut but I scrapped it), it does get pretty ranchy, especially dialogue wise.

Updates will not be daily, rather throughout the month. 

The prompts are as such:

1. Reunion /Sae gets back where he belongs.

2. Snow /Sae hates snow, which is precisely why Shidou enjoys stuffing it down his shirt. Luckily, that man is also a living furnace.

3. Baking /Shidou somehow convinces Sae to help him bake cookies, but Sae isn't interested in it and neither is Shidou, which is precisely why they get distracted so easily.

4. Mistletoe /Sae attends the Christmas party for one reason and one reason only. "are you serious?" "Of-fucking-course I am, Underlashes."

5. Snowstorm /Shidou and Sae get caught up in a storm halfway across Osaka. There's not much else they can do but wait it out on the side of the road, the thrill is turning them both on. 

6. Grand gestures /Itoshi Sae is seen kissing a man, his man, in their car, and after three years of inconspicuous dating, it seems they might have to come out and clear some things up… 

7. Candles /Shidou proceeds to nearly burn their apartment down, alongside himself. Sae gets back just in time to catch him putting out the flames. He's not happy, he might even be a bit worried.

8. Knitted sweaters /Shidou is wearing the ugliest sweater that Sae's ever seen, he wants it gone, Shidou obliges. 

9. Chills /”fuck I'm cold” “well, obviously, You're not dressed for shit” 

10. Gifts /Shidou is actually surprisingly good at gift wrapping… Sae can't relate. 

11. Christmas eve /the most romantic day of the year, apparently.

12. Christmas party/Drunk /Sae can hold his liquor, Shidou can't, but Sae also lets his guard down a bit too fast when he thinks Shidou's out of it.

Chapter Text

A night in the airport has Itoshi Sae's face struck a pale, sickly pallor. It leaves his legs aching worse than the whole season of soccer, his bones tired from sitting so long. His eyes are sore from straining over all of the illuminated exit signs leading him to the parking lot, and there, he nearly crumbles in front of the black Rolls-Royce waiting to pick him up. 

The window rolls down with a loud, grating whine to reveal none other than a beaming Shidou Ryusei. 

“Yo, Sae-Chan! How's it feel to be back in japan?” 

He sighs as he hauls his trolley case into the trunk, then slips into the passenger's seat. 

“I told you not to pick me up,” he mutters as he realigns the air vents to better aim warm conditioning in his direction. 

“And I told you I couldn't wait to see you~”

“You would have survived a couple more hours,” he leans back against the seat.

"Yeah,” Shidou focuses on the side mirror as he wriggles the gear stick out of parking. “But I didn't wanna.”

“Whatever,”

Sae's been traveling around Europe the whole season, missing that sore thumb which is the man before him who continuously competes with his need for solitude. Phone calls don't do their relationship much justice. He thought he'd get sick of that face eventually, or better yet, not live up to all the expectations himself… It's their third year together and they've both been thrown straight into the world of adult football, but neither of them seem discontent with each other. Now that he's finally caught a proper break, he's just happy to be back where he belongs. 

“You're here for a month, right?”

“Yeah,” he rubs his eyes. Shidou should be focusing on the road, he can barely make out the nightlights himself so he really doesn't know how that idiot is managing with his thoughts otherwise occupied. 

“Great, that's a month for me to fat you back up~ with love, of course ♡” 

He groans, at least let me properly land.

“What? Don't act like you're not happy to see me!”

“I… am, I'm just tired.” You don't know how damn glad I am that you're here. 

Shidou snickers, “Okay, then rest a bit, I promise not to crash~ This car's on a lease, anyway.”

“Just don't drive over the limit,” he comments as he snuggles against the window.

“What the hell?--” Shidou slips onto the highway with a rough yank of the wheel that has death appearing before Sae's eyes. “What are you, a cop?”

“I mean it,” he's trying to keep his cool, it's been a while since he rode in the passenger's seat. “If I catch you speeding, I'll file a lawsuit against your ass.”

“No way! You'd sue your own boyfriend?”

“Yes, in a heartbeat.”

As they're swallowed by a tunnel, Sae finally settles in. He's comforted by the warm palm that's placed on his thigh, his memory of their first time on the road: 

"both hands on the wheel!"

"How about you get back to me when you're done getting your own licence?! Till then, I'll drive however I want, sweetheart."

He smirks, stroking his thumb over Shidou's knuckles as the hum of the engine lulls him asleep.

“Hey,”

“Hey,”

“Hey!” Sae opens his eyes and they immediately focus on that handsome face before him, so close to his own, the expression tender for a moment before its owner registers his wake.

“Can you walk or should I carry you up?” 

The sky is flooded a pale shade of navy, as though stuck recounting the moment just before a bolt of lightning strikes. The sun has yet to break over the surface of the horizon, the moon kisses it in passing at half mast between skyscrapers. Sae swats Shidou's arms away but makes no effort to get up, he's still half asleep in the passenger's seat, the Rolls-Royce parked near a sidewalk just opposite the apartment they both barely stay at, so busy traveling for the sake of matches. He gazes across at the third balcony up, then back at his companion. He moves on autopilot, haphazardly unlocking his belt. Shidou helps him pry his body from the leather seat. 

They get there somehow, to that familiar three room flat, and he thinks the whole way about how he's surely forgotten something.

“Welcome home~ so what's it gonna be? You need your feet rubbed when you get in?”

“Dont care, I'm going straight to sleep,”

The apartment smells of their things respectively, mixed with the sweet scent of the aftershaves they use. It's clean, which leads him to believe Shidou had found himself feeling restless lately, lonely perhaps, the dishwasher is empty and the washing machine mid-cycle. Sae makes their bed his grave, into which he topples happily and beneath the blankets, he falls asleep without another word. Ryusei sees him into the room with a soft kiss on the cheek, a slight groping of his backside, then disappears back down with a murmur about how he's gone to retrieve the case they'd left behind. 

When he gets back he overlooks that sleeping face, tweaking back the unkempt bangs so they sit behind Sae's ears. The mattress shifts a while later and those warm arms come to cradle his body comfortably. 

Itoshi awakes to the smell of burnt toast some time past twelve, but he showers before he investigates it and even changes their sheets. His priorities are to leave any traces of the airport behind them, and that easily overpowers his curiosity. When he does eventually step foot into the kitchen, he's greeted by a half naked Shidou fiddling with some unknown piece of the coffee machine they've had in the cupboard since forever. 

“Good morning, good looking~” he sings and then when his eyes lock in on Sae, he observes him again, closer this time. He whistles.

“Wow, what did they do to you out there?” it's code for: you're looking as perfect as the day I met you.

Sae sighs, tugging the towel from around his neck. 

“Put some clothes on, will you,” he complains– as much as he loves seeing that meaty ass, framed kindly by the pair of Calvin Klein boxers his companion is wearing, it seems like a health risk to be cooking nude. 

“Wow, the hypocrisy!” Shidou replies, but he knows all too well that their circumstances are different. Sae begrudgingly makes his way towards his closet, keen on proving his point as Shidou calls out a hurried “I didn't mean it! Noo, don't hide your handsome abs~ I swear I won't attack you!”

They sit down across from one another, Sae picks at his meal. 

“What's up?” Shidou asks when the silence goes from comfortable to unbearable, which doesn't take long. 

“Jetlag,” Sae answers shortly, he's still recovering from the fifteen hour flight. 

“That's what the coffee's for.” Ryusei steals chopped fruit from his plate when it becomes apparent he's avoiding it, it's hard to know what he'll eat when his likes and dislikes vary every few months. 

“I'm taking you down to the coast later, just a heads up,” 

“Okay,” he sips his drink.

“And afterwards, we'll go get a beer or something.”

“Alright,”

Shidou bites down on his fork, his legs are jumping beneath the table. 

“Anything to add? Fuck! It's like talking to a wall,”

That gets the response he'd been hoping for– Sae glares at him for a moment, then kicks his shin, “shut up, I'm tired as shit.”

They're both smiling though, as Shidou rubs his knee and cries as though it might be broken, “god, my life has been sooo boring,”

“I missed you,” Sae mutters, thinking he might be able to slip it in quietly, but that man's sharp jaw immediately hits the floor, his expression contouring into a wide, shit-eating grin. He's absolutely beaming. 

“What?!”

“What?” The midfielder asks, straight-faced again. “Did you think I wouldn't?” I do, every single time. 

A moment of silence lingers between them, of exposure, delicate to even a shift of air. Then that brazen voice piques up again:

“Sae-Chan, I'm gonna eat you up tonight~ I'm not leaving anything, I'll plow your ass straight into hell!” 

Like hell you will, I'm getting a good night's rest if It means I have to die. You'll get what you're given and nothing more, one round or two at most…

“Ugh– I'm still eating.” 

Ryusei looks happy with himself, he leans back in his chair and rests his foot over Sae's thigh. They both know he's being serious, but he says such things so casually that it nearly comes off as just another vulgar joke. 

As he finishes his toast, Shidou explains their plans for the next few days, then goes over all the odd bits and pieces that had happened in the day or so they'd missed catching up on. His team are still a bunch of slimes; nobody understands him quite like Sae. His manager wants him to start defensive training, he refuses; it doesn't make him feel quite as alive as scoring goals does. They're both getting older, he's feeling like his cells aren't rejuvenating quite as fast; they're only twenty-one. “It's fine though, you're gonna make me feel like a kid again soon enough, every moment I spend with you adds years.”

“Well, that's about it… You should totally tell me you love me, I'll explode here and now if you do ♪”

Itoshi shrugs, you idiot, you know I fucking do. “You need me to say it? I've made myself clear enough, Shidou Ryusei. You're better than that.” 

“Whatever, it's always worth a shot– never know when you'll try and catch me off guard, although I'm always prepared. I've got a ring prepped beneath all the condoms in our top drawer, so you'd better watch the fuck out!”

Sae's lips flatten into a line. He'll test that claim for proof when he gets a chance and put his worries to rest, he's got to make sure there's nothing stupid being planned beneath his nose. He can't quite imagine himself getting married, it's just an excuse to put on an extravagant show. He doesn't need anyone else to see how much he adores his partner, as long as the two of them know that. 

“Are you kidding me?” he gets up. Who's he fooling, he can't just wait for the next time Shidou leaves the house. He immediately disappears into their bedroom.

“Nope! Top drawer, next to the lube!”

“What lube?” he asks as he rummages through cotton underwear and open condom packages. 

“The strawberry one!--”

Complete and utter silence, followed by a senseless laugh and a loud bang. Sae reappears, fiercely red and completely tense. 

“You asshole, you fucking bastard!”

Chapter Text

It's snowing. They're walking down Ueno park, the place far from as full as usual. Foliage from trees hides a sickeningly cold sun, the ground lined with an untouched layer of white save for the occasion paw print. Sae knew how deep the winter chills would settle beneath his skin, yet foolishly, he'd dressed minimally for what he thought would be a quick run. Now, as they retrace their steps back to the apartment, he tries his best not to show just how strongly his teeth are chattering. 

“Don't you just love the smell of winter? It's like the world has recovered from whatever the fuck it's been going through in barely a week, it's aw-e-some ♪”

Sae trudges in front of Shidou, but he glances back once in a while, if only for another glimpse at the bewildered expression that man has– like he didn't grow up here, like he's never seen Japan painted white before. 

“We're more than a month into winter,” he murmurs, stuffing his hands in his pockets, he's not exactly appreciating the rest of the scenery.

“Whatever, my point still stands,” and Ryusei laughs, which warms him up just slightly. He huffs out a sigh in response, a quick “hurry up.”

Beside a stump lies a pile of snow, which he kicks out of his pathway and a considerably large clump of it ends up hitting a large oak tree. As the branches shake, another load falls down to wreak vengeance on him. Only, he dodges skillfully, the cold mess instead landing on his companion's head. Bemused, he watches Shidou's instincts unfold. 

“Fuck!” that striker shakes the snow out of his collar like it's scalding him, the holy water on a devils back, the wax from a piping hot candle. He can't help but smirk at the way those vibrant eyes widen, pupils contracted, finger accusatory as it points towards him: “You ass! Couldn't you warn me before sending down a fucking avalanche? You know I hate surprises. Shit, it's in my underwear–” 

Sae shrugs, giving Shidou a run down with a slight grin on his face. “It's not my fault, you should watch where you're going…” 

His tone isn't a teasing one, but it never particularly is, no matter what he's saying. 

The snow has probably long since melted against that piping hot skin and begun seeping into those tight clothes that Ryusei insists on wearing, his frame twitches in response to the odd sensation of wetness running down his spine. 

“Oh yeah, sure, it's totally not your fault for hitting a goddamn tree.” he says, and then equally as sarcastically adds: “it's not like you've made a career in kicking things!” 

“Well I didn't strategize what I'd be doing with that pile of snow,” Sae answers defensively. Shidou stomps towards him and although every inch of his being thinks to cower, he insistingly stands his ground, that taller man's face hovering over his own and his warm breath more comforting than it's supposed be. He's not afraid, for as violent as his partner can be to others, to him he's been forever obedient and protective. 

“So you didn't think you'd land a goal from two feet away? I dunno what that says about your soccer career, apart from that you've been insanely lucky so far~”

Well, that gets his blood boiling. For something he's sacrificed his own wellbeing for to be used against him? He won't accept it.

“This doesn't mean shit about what I can do on the court, and you know it–” because there, at least I have indoor heating… you know exactly what my capabilities are.

“Shhh,” Shidou presses a silencing finger to his lips which just further rattles his nerves: He contemplates biting the digit clean off, but he's above such petty retribution. “I know what you're gonna say~ fine, I'll give you that, you're good at your trade, you are Japan's greatest treasure.” 

Sae rolls his eyes, that's not what he'd wanted either, he'd more than enjoy being considered as just another pawn on the football field. Is Ryusei so keen on pleasing him that he'd give up his point this easily? No, his mind supplies, there are obviously ulterior motives at play. 

“So,” Shidou’s arms both rise, caging him at either side and reinforcing his assumption. “Is the Itoshi Sae gonna warm me up?”

“When we get home,” he steps backwards, out of that ever-so beckoning grasp and turns forward, ending their conversation. Or so he thought, but Ryusei has other plans. 

That impish laugh should have been enough of a warning, but it's not and so a moment of shock washes over him before he realises… no, he comprehends that patch of ice, goosebumps forming on his nape and down his back as the coolness sizzles against him. That bastard has stuffed a snowball down his back, he jolts around as he tries to shake it out. 

“You–” Sae halts before he finishes his sentence, his whole frame shaking with a mixture of frustration and fury. Shidou doesn't even deserve that reaction he oh so longs for, the explosion he's expecting. He glares at that conniving man, then back forward, stomping off as he growls. “No, actually?- fuck off. seriously.”

He can't even feel the cold anymore, he's boiling with rage. The main road calls to him, still far in distance, it might be worth sprinting. He continues his quick pursuit, his emotions overexerted by the cold within his body, threatening him, it's kept him on edge all morning. 

He'll make Shidou pay later, he decides as his thoughts race, the concept a thrilling one that catches him off guard between curse words and aimless threats; “kiss me;” he remembers; “do you deserve it?” and that idiot always does, he's earned it through a life of hardships. Sometimes Sae wonders if he works so hard to wind people up because he's afraid of being ignored, disregarded as just another special case. 

“Sae-Chan ♪” Ryusei runs after him, the cogs in his mind supplying a bit too late that he might have taken this stunt too far. His name from those lips is a call which never fails in bringing him back to the present. “Sae!” 

You asshole, you fucker, you always make me weak… Shidou gets him to wander off of his high road, give in to his stupid emotions and guilt and empathy. For that, he'll forever resent the man, but it pales in comparison to the adoration he hides deep inside his once empty concave of a soul. 

“What do you want?” He spins on his heels, but like god's favourite plaything, a frozen puddle previously hidden beneath the snow makes his gravity shift in a way that threatens to throw him face first into the ground. Today is surely not his day. 

He wonkily tries to catch himself, but it's no use, he's a soccer player not an olympic gymnast–

“Whoah!” That odd, ruthless, lethal, lucky fuck of a man closes the distance between them in time to reach him before he falls on his ass. Two strong, thick arms wrap around his torso, gripping him strongly and he feels his heart jumping in his chest as his body runs out of adrenaline. He can't even feign space between them, not figuratively nor physically: he clenches onto Shidou like they're standing on a ledge and stepping back might lead him to fall. 

“You okay there?” His warm companion asks, Sae huffs into his ear.

 it's exactly what he'd dreaded, now that he's enclosed by heat, he's afraid of losing it, like he'll never get it back. How stupid, he thinks, he couldn't get rid of Shidou if he wanted to. He gulps, straightens his face before pulling it out of his partner's collar, all for them to lock eyes. 

“Next time you do that I'm locking you out.”

Shidou muses, squeezing him because he knows exactly what reaction he's gonna get following the words: “huh? Next time I save your sweet ass?” 

Sae resists him, even as he's pulled further away from danger. “Fuck you–”

“I'd love you to ♪ but right now? That's pretty kinky~”

“Just,” he struggles to pull away, elbowing Shidou a few times and stepping on his foot for good measure, albeit making sure not to do anything that could put him out of commission. He stops as soon as he breaks free, huffing out an irritated sigh, if he were a cat his fur would be standing. He doesn't make that step forward, he just stands, those warm hands lightly cradling his hips. They'll have to make up sooner or later, he supposes, so let it be now rather than after one of them pulls another stupid stunt. 

Ryusei's breath tickles his ear. 

“Sorry…”

He turns his head just slightly, scanning the small smile on that handsome face for a sincerity he knows he'll find. 

“What?” he asks anyway, nastily. 

His companion laughs sheepishly. 

“I'm sorry for pissing you off, okay? I didn't think it was that serious,” it's not, the cold is just making me angry. 

He rolls his eyes, but Shidou's not done, those thumbs rubbing soothing circles over his waist. “You want my jacket? Let's call an uber and when we get back, I'll run you a hot bath.”

This is, truly, the downfall of his life– he's gone from the best soccer player in Japan to just another domesticated partner in a relationship of much give and take. 

“Fine, we're fine,” he grips Ryusei's hand and pulls them both forward “Just hurry up, let's go.”

“Yep!”

He feels like he's leading a recently scolded puppy along– afraid of barking again, but with a tail that wags regardless, just happy to be with its owner. The winter chill bites down on all the links refastened by that soft embrace, but his clothes are still as dry as they'd always been. Shidou readjusts his fingers between Sae's own, acting like one last anchor of warmth. 

Finally, he can see their street sign framed between anchored ivory trees. 

“You're making me that drink when we get home,” he declares when the time of reflection he'd sentenced his companion to has come to an end. He's talking about the infamous one he can't seem to get enough of; ‘if your career goes to shit, you'll make a good barista,’ “hell yeah I would! I'd get so many tips~” ‘definitely.’

“you mean my hot chocolate? Sure–” that striker throws a wink in his direction, sticks out his tongue, “if you give me a back rub.”

“Yeah right,” he rolls his eyes. Yeah as in, sure I will, as in, I know it won't end there.

Chapter Text

Itoshi Sae awakes to the smell of smoke, and that's when he realises they never quite replaced their alarms, having put it off and forgotten to do so. He gruellingly pulls himself out of bed, wrapped from head to toe in a quilted blanket and with his unruly hair creating a pale red nest atop his head. 

“It's fine, no explosion!” Shidou shouts to him from the kitchen. “So go back to bed, yeah?”

He doesn't comply, refusing to be bossed around, and if he's completely honest, the slightly nutty smell wafting into their room has done enough to pique his interest. 

He slips his shirt on before graciously meeting his companion halfway to his destination. 

“Hey, i said it's fine~” Ryusei, as naturally close as he can stand to Sae, raises his hands as he speaks. He's got that mischievous grin on his face, a hint of guilt tugging at his eyebrows, he's never been too good at lying although he certainly thinks otherwise. 

Sae crosses his arms, eyes narrowed as he tries to pick out the flaws in that idiot's form. Flour on your left sleeve, chocolate on your cheek, are you aware of your own body? “What are you doing?”

Shidou doesn't answer, he just laughs coyly, brushing loose bangs back behind his ear. He's wearing that headband Sae brought him on their second anniversary, the one with the pterodactyl pattern he'd had commissioned especially.

Sae pushes past him, not keen on being kept in the dark and comes face to face with their kitchen-space. 

It's actually surprisingly tidy in comparison to what he's seen in the past. Neither of them cook, they're athletes, the most they can make is fried rice and omelette. Baking poses more risk than it's worth, but alas, it happens. Ryusei is fully aware that he can't bake to save his life, but he still attempts it once every full moon. The product of his hard work is usually… decent. 

“You know, I was gonna surprise you, you ass– Next time I'll just wait for you to go on your run.”

“Haven't I told you I don't like surprises?” And neither do you, which is why we fit together, mutual honesty a perfect match. 

“Yeah but you never look–” Sae cuts him off, sceptically picking a whisk out of a half-full bowl. “What's this?”

“Chocolate?” Ryusei says slowly, raising his brow. 

“Then why the fuck is it pink?”

That's a fair question, it's not even the shade of ruby, it's as vibrant as that fiery man's irises.

“Well it was supposed to be red…” Shidou explains. He'd gotten distracted while choosing the food colouring at the store and accidentally picked up the magenta one. Sae nods along as he listens to the story of how his supposedly gracious partner had his eye on a recipe he kept seeing online for some sort of American Christmas cookie featuring every kind of junk available, and how although he didn't grow up celebrating the holiday, he was feeling oddly ‘jolly’. 

“Okay?...” 

Sae doesn't move. Shidou catches on and instead of shooing him away, offers him another pesky grin. “You wanna help?”

Well, want is an overstatement. 

“I don't bake…” 

“Yeah well, neither do I, but you can still help me decorate them or something…”

Sae glances across at the oddly shaped rack of already baked cookies, then back to Shidou. They're not exactly oval, but not quite square either… they've grown drastically misshaped in the oven.

“Fine, you quick-job idiot, where are the piping bags?”

He stretches out on his way to the sink, watches as Shidou pours a brazen amount of instant coffee into a mug with his name on it. They'd ditched the espresso machine immediately upon his return, neither of them regretful. 

“The what?” Sae looks at those curious blown eyes, the way Shidou's mouth still curves up slightly at what he considers to be the perfect pet name, but his lips drawn forward in question of the rather simple baking term. Wow, Sae rolls his eyes; “didn't your mom use the kitchen from time to time?” “We've been over this, Sae-Chan, I was practically born in a lab, don't got no mom. Try again~” he was not in fact, born in a lab, his parents just weren't around much after birth. 

“Okay, fine, then a spatula, anything.” 

When that striker holds out the silicone spatula they'd found in the apartment when they moved in, eyebrow raised, it's not long before Sae figures out what he's playing at. There's nothing more romantic than being clueless about something. 

“This thing? I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be used in the bedroom…” 

“How!?” Sae reaches to grab the instrument as Shidou pulls it back towards him, flicking the tip between his fingers. “Perfect girth,” he mutters simply, looking rather intrigued by what was supposed to be a rhetorical question. 

Itoshi turns back around, not engaging in hopes his companion might grow bored of the topic and move on. Instead, he feels the silicone rod trace down the center of his back, getting impossibly lower before stopping over his ass and then, drawing backwards in preparation–

And when Shidou finds the chance, he lands a smooth smack upon Sae's ass, which he contemplates filing a lawsuit against, but he supposes it's just another way for the man to court him into something more than an athletic partnership…

Sae grips the spatula before Ryusei can land his blow, glaring at him, an astute ‘don't you dare.’

“Nyeheh– ♪” rather than wrestle the baking utensil back, that brazen idiot steps forward so that they're both holding either end, their arms laxed. Now, once again face to face, Sae takes in the shades of chocolate that messily line his partner's jaw and collar. Three, all together: a dark brown, that bright magenta and a creamy white. 

“What?” Shidou slows on his face, he could recognise that look on it even in the dark. ”Is this situation turning you on, Sae-Chan?”

And the thing is, although he's not pumped up on caffeine or adrenaline from sports, Sae's still feeling risky. He supposes he is turned on by the concept of Shidou making an effort to appease him with desserts, and he does enjoy the casual flirtation, no matter how long he's pretended to suffer from it. 

He tugs the spatula forward and along so the man holding it, till they're breaths apart and he leans in to lap up the sweet substance that coats that tanned neck. His tongue is warm along Ryusei's rough skin, it sends pinpricks up their spines that have them both leaning further together, seeking out an addictive sensation fuelled by primal-like desire. 

That striker lets out a very deliberate groan, it rumbles through into Sae's body and he hums in response, moving lower down his jugular, sucking softly as he goes, his hands interlacing within that mess of a hairdo and tugging his companion's head back to gain better purchase of the space he's devouring. 

Shidou laughs and once again, Sae feels it vibrate through his body, arousing endless butterflies that crawl up his caged stomach.

 “If I knew this is how you'd react, I'd be baking every day.” And if you really, truly had it your way, we'd never leave the room.

 Sae draws in on his ear, biting down on the tender cartilage.

 “Have I ever denied you the pleasure?” he asks, a faint whisper, to which Shidou replies with a shaky exhale. 

“You could just say I'm irresistible~” 

He pries Itoshi away, hands pressing down into those sharp hips. Their gazes are glossy and they hold each other by the metaphorical throat, both wrestling for an advantage even though they'll forever be on equal grounds, no matter what they allow the other to do. 

Those fiery, pink eyes seek out an emotion Sae's never been sure how to express, other than through touch: a constant need for intimacy he's bound on keeping at bay but which frequently breaks out of his control. 

They both blink once, lashes swooping down over blown pupils, then they crash together, teeth and all. 

“You're so sweet ♡” Sae's canines graze Shidou's lower lip, his tongue laps at the inside, soft. He doesn't ask if that man means it generally or if he's just pointing out the residual sugary saliva which sticks to them both now like syrup. He leans deeper, tipping into the warmth, enjoying the sensation like it's the last thing he'll feel. If you had your way, we'd never leave the room and if I had mine, we'd forever breathe the same air. 

Ryusei lolls across the roof of his mouth, around every crevice and molar, over that sensitive space which has his body turning to mush. 

“Hey,” they break away, bodies still tangled beside the kitchen sink and eyes glistening with affection.

“What?” Sae swoops his lashes up and down, taking in the great frame before him with a rare display of his every thought within the contours of his face. 

“Nevermind–” 

“What?” he asks again, practically demanding, they've been completely thrown out of the zone and he's not happy about it. Shidou wafts the idea away with his hand as though it's a physical matter, sniffs the air. 

“I'll tell you later, baby, but actually, like, right now? I'm pretty sure the cookies are burning.”

“You mean, like the last batch? That's not my problem…” Sae shrugs, planting his palms on the edge of the counter, he'd somehow won the spatula over and now it rests between his fingers.

“You are the problem! You totally distracted me with your captivating looks, get outta the way!”

“Why?” he blinks as his companion shoos him aside. 

“You're leaning on the fucking hand towel!”

Sae sips the coffee he'd been made as he watches his stupid companion burn himself on the edge of the oven, thinking of how he'll kiss it better.

Chapter Text

The blaring lights that line every inch of the event lobby are driving Sae crazy, the sound all a bit too much, and as he leans over in the stupid plastic chair he's been sitting on, he notices just how many cups have toppled off of the table by which he rests, spilling tacky soda and eggnog all over the floor.

 He's here for one reason only, one person, one awful and demonic entity that seems to plague his every thought. It's been like that since the end of their first match together: From their loss came more to be gained, rather selfishly– They may have been defeated in battle but the final outcome of their war has yet to be decided, whether good or bad.

 Itoshi's alliance with the devil, Shidou Ryusei has resulted in consequences he'd never foreseen: An awful desire to stumble upon him, to leave another impression on the striker in hopes that it might haunt him, for why should Sae be the only one caught up in this web of actions and words, empty threats and double innuendos?

As he watches the crowds dance, familiar faces striking frankly unsettling poses, he gets lost in thought: how did this all start?

No tensions throughout their game against Blue Lock, leading himself on by responding to casual advances…

“Hey! Where’r you headed?” Shidou asks when it's over, after they've lost. 

“I'm going to wash up, I'll catch you after the interviews, we need to have a word.” A word? Several perhaps. Don't touch me, ease down with the flirting and especially when we're on the field. The regret that comes after doing something bold, like making bets at the cost of your own pride. 

“You're cleaning up without me?”

 Yes. Sae rolls his eyes. I need to think, but he doesn't say that, doesn't answer. He flicks his wrist, motioning his teammate back to where the rest of their group is standing; a bunch of sore losers, some of which would say they'd expected more of him, the Itoshi Sae, but he'd done his part as instructed.

Shidou however, doesn't seem disheartened, and in that respect they're similar. Fuelled by adrenaline, He's feeling lighter than usual. He puts it down to being just another result of the match, a proper fight after dealing with lukewarms since he'd returned to his homeland. 

“Whatever…” Ryusei adds: “hey! You're still up for exchanging info with me later, right? I'm gonna need you injected in my veins to keep me going from now on~” 

And then as he rounds the corner, that rude man mutters to himself: “fuck me sideways, Sae-Chan… 

damnnit, I'm throbbing.”

“Shut up, Shidou!” Sendou piques up, “Ain't nobody wanna hear that shit!”

Unbeknownst to the crowds of fans in the stadium and the competitors still stretching out, Sae smirks. 

“I wasn't fucking talking to you, earsacks! You wanna go, now that the match is thrown? I'll roundhouse you into next Friday!”

That's how it started. Sae pining, Sae looking over the saved phone number, Shidou Ryusei - Blue lock #1, Sae trying not to imagine all the perfect reactions they could have together on the field when he's left training with his usual bunch of lackeys instead. He must be really insane to think that man up as one of the best in Japan, to be reminiscing in the way his eyes brimmed with light whenever they got a chance to speak. If he thinks hard enough, he can remember the loud beating of their hearts in sync, caught by a hug from behind.

And now, a whole month later, he's stuck attending a Christmas party for the sake of his hopeless crush, like he's some highschool girl sick of exchanging secret love letters with her classmate, ready for the next step. Like this is prom, not some regular sponsored holiday event. They're nowhere near as pure as prom, love letters; Sae far too skeptical of romance and Ryusei a load of bluff regarding the concept. All he's doing is following his heart blindly into what could easily be a trap, but after so many years of doing exactly the opposite, he supposes it's about time. A message at the break of dawn eggs him on: ‘ur going tonight, right? I need to see u asap’ 

All of Blue Lock are here by now, even his stupid brother who keeps glaring at him from across the room, so where the fuck is he? Shidou, you bastard, how dare he leave him hanging. 

“Where's your plus one?” Oliver asks him, and god knows how he'd manage to sneak up on the drink table completely unnoticed, especially with that bright red suit he's wearing. He must be trying to impress men now, since there are no women around, but a majority of the competitors he'd fought against are minors, so Sae's really unsure. 

“Why the hell would I know?” he answers, not knowing why he'd bothered. 

“I dunno, man! He's usually tailing you like some sort of puppy.”

Is that what it looks like to the others? Thank god, to him it feels the other way around.

“Well, not tonight...” he says, risking a glance in the rugged man's direction. Those odd eyes seem speculative of his answer, and deep within the crevice of his eyebrows hides a tinge of sympathy that rubs him the wrong way. Oliver isn't afraid of going there, risking his pride for a glimpse into Sae's soul… he won't get it. 

“You gonna call him later?” 

“Why would I do that? I don't care where he is…” 

“Yeah– alright, sure. Well, there's an after-party at mine afterwards,” he mentions. Like Sae has ever taken up an offer, like the thought of showing up somewhere with the sole goal of getting drunk would even cross his mind. Well, he'd be lying if he said it didn't, this time at least. He'd drink so much his nerves would go numb, empty out his pockets when he got home, offer that bastard demon all he has. He just mutters:

“This is the after-party.” 

And Oliver clarifies:

“I mean a real one.” he winks, outstretching his fingers to imitate the shape of a beer jug and downing the air in demonstration. 

Itoshi shrugs, rolls his eyes and that's the end of it. He's left to his own demise. 

A quarter past nine, deep into his supposed-rejection induced stupor, a series of thoughts. He's never felt so lowly about himself, never thought he could, not about something as trivial as another man's arrival at a celebration he'd usually not think twice about skipping. A thick, blunt lump forms deep in his throat, over his vocal chords, threatening to spill out with every breath he takes. He'd contemplated messaging Shidou, a stupid endeavour really, childish and cringy. That final text he'd never replied to, ‘one day you'll realise how hot I am and really really fuck me ♡' sits just above his keyboard, you asshole, I've already fallen for your sick game. 

He draws off of the lame plastic chair, overlooks the entrance. On his way out, he finally offers Rin that glare he's been given all night. 

The rustling of trees gives off an eerie feeling, much more fitting for late autumn than mid-December. If their match had been before Halloween, would he have had to see all those awful costumes face-to-face? Images of Oliver and Sendou, red faced and skimpily dressed, were circulating all across the web for what felt like forever. He also wonders whether Shidou had dressed up and gone partying? He tries not to imagine him suited up and covered in gore, blood and guts… it'd probably be hot. 

Just beyond the smoker’s corner which is naturally empty, a given considering they're all athletes, is when the pressure of another presence begins weighing down on his soul. And it could be anyone– that's why he hates these things. Agents, dumb adults, Former or present teammates looking to pick at him in hopes of toppling the deck of cards from above. 

Nobody touches him unless they have a deathwish, with the exception of madmen, and he only knows one of those. 

Sae flinches when he feels the crushing weight of a giant leaning against his spine, nearly toppling him forward. That deep, sharp-syllabled voice silences everything inside of his mind, leaves his hairs on end:

“Yo, Underlash Senior ♪” Shidou laughs as he places his larger than average hand on the side of his uptight companion's waist. “You out here looking for me?”

And it's so obnoxious how loudly he speaks, how excited he always seems. Ready to blow or whatever the hell he says– and it drives Sae crazy that he's observant and charming and completely aware of his own capabilities. 

Itoshi rips those rough fingers from his stomach before they can squeeze him, tries to throw his captor from over his shoulder, but he can't seem to find the momentum and so they end up face to face, Ryusei gladly accepting his fate, cradled in the best set of arms he's ever been held in a chokehold by. 

Eventually though, he does have to tap out, but only because he'd rather strike himself than lay a fist on the man he's so skillfully been courting through messages and voice calls. 

“Hey, Sae-Chan… Saeeee! Are you cold? I'm warming you up, right? If you let me go I promise I'll be a good boy~”

“Ugh–” the best strategy Shidou knows of: make the concept of touching him an absolutely filthy one and become completely unmanageable. Sae throws him away and he yelps as he tumbles onto his ass. He's dressed in a pair of ripped jeans, now stretched, the outline on his muscles becomes prevalent underneath. 

“Where have you been?” He asks, trying not to sound like he's been pondering it. 

“Where have I been? Wow! You really were looking for me.”

“Shut up, you're the one that told me to.” In the chain of messages somewhere on his phone, he's sure he can find some proof behind that statement. 

Shidou struggles to grip something in the depths of his back pant pocket, he chuckles as he does so, pleased with himself. Sae crosses his arms and bends his knees so that they're at eye level, the chill of the winter night is getting to him, settling in on his bones. 

He raises a brow, demanding a real explanation, but he's not prepared for the semi-crushed branch that is presented in front of his face, rather, he'd expected something dirty like a durex packet. 

“You know, Sae-chan, it turns out that mistletoe is surprisingly hard to get a hold of in Japan. I think there's a thorn in my ass and that's… really not the kinda stuff I'm into. Well, actually– Ha! Make it worth my effort, will ya?”

Oh. 

“You asshole,” he murmurs. What a superficial idea to get hung up on, when they could have been inside, passing comments to each other since the beginning of the event. Shidou waves the branch in front of his face again. 

“What, you don't know about mistletoe? It's supposed to ensure fertility…”

In Europe perhaps, long ago when neither of them would have survived very long. 

“You clearly don't have a problem with that,” he replies coldly. It's not like he's ever slept with the man, but from his antics, it's clear that Shidou's got some sort of experience, whether it be good or bad, with men or with women. He gyrates over the thought, how this complex man is bound to securing Sae through a mixture of both obscene and utterly pure tactics. It's tempting, to see if, when facing exactly what he'd wanted, the striker will still know what to do. 

“Well,” Ryusei continues: “you're also supposed to kiss whoever is standing beneath one with you.” 

Which is why you've been searching for one all night, because you don't think I'd kiss you otherwise? Sae has never taken him up on an offer for affection before, and when asked why, he insists it's not his thing, but truthfully, he's just afraid. Then, he regrets his decision later, thinking about what could have been… skin against skin, a feeling he's sure he'll get addicted to. The warmth of another human soul, so delicately intermingling with his own. He purses his lips, glancing down at the patch of grass between them, then back into his companion's wide, blown eyes. 

“So, what d'you say?”

What is he supposed to say? Is he supposed to wholeheartedly agree? Because he thinks he does, sure, but he's not really a words kind of guy. He rips the bunch of crumpled mistletoe out of that raised hand, barely identifiable given it bears no fruit and although Ryusei allows the action, he looks nearly offended afterwards. 

What? You gonna attack me if I refuse? His mind supplies a probable answer: no, he'll storm off to sulk, pick a fight with someone else. 

Sae revels in the moment of tension as he fiddles with his supposed gift, a quick:

“What are you–” before he dangles the branch in the air, just above their heads. 

“--Oh…”

A menacing grin adorns his companion's face as it draws in on his own, hesitantly hovering an inch away, where the distinct smell from soft aftershaves they've both sprayed on their necks can intermingle. Itoshi licks the inside of his own mouth, swallowing loudly before he completely closes the distance.

It's a tender moment, for as long as it lasts, which isn't that long, because he quickly loses balance. He breaks away from their shallow kiss to kneel down on the lush grass bed and discards the mistletoe beside them, gripping Shidou's thighs instead, feeling the fabric of the man's leather jacket crinkle over his fingers. Ryusei huffs as he takes his companion in, eyes ecstatic as he runs his hand down Sae's neck and receives no resistance. 

They both go in for another kiss, deeper this time, angling their faces to better fit together. There's no reason for a second chance, he thinks, no tradition dangling over them, but that's what makes it all the better. Sae truly needs no reason to give himself another go, other than the desire burning through his core as he tastes that brute man, so sweet on the inside, soft and pliable within his grasp. 

Chapter Text

“Fu-uck! What the hell?” Shidou Ryusei slams his palm over the center of the steering wheel, sending another loud beep out in hopes of harassing his lane into action, but it's no real use, two big blockades have stilled them to a near halt, allowing four-by-fours to pass in loads of three or less. At this rate, stationed at least a triple kilometre from the beginning of the line, they'll have better chances of reaching Osaka on foot. 

This is why Sae sternly refuses to drive: while Shidou impeccably manages to control his urge to selfishly speed forward through impossible gaps, he's got the privilege of being a simple passenger princess. He can do whatever he wants, whether it be to sleep the time away or scroll through his phone. As he changes to the news broadcast, receiving a complaintful groan as he cuts off the rock playlist which has had him insane, he mutters a quick:

“I told you we should've taken the train.”

Shidou punches the steering wheel again, deliberately missing the horn this time. 

“And I told you we'd be standing the whole time! God knows you'd never sit on my lap, and it's a holiday, we'd have better luck finding a double seat on the roof.”

Fair enough, he supposes. He'd agreed to driving privately in the end considering they had two bags full of luggage to accommodate as well. He leans back in his seat, shrugging, it's not like he really cares, he's got no problem with waiting. 

 The radio speaks of heavy snowfall on the roads they've long since traveled by, an upcoming storm which lurks a mile ahead of them. Ryusei leans over the dashboard, getting a better look at the moody sky.

“Fuck me–” he sings, “you wanna stop for a bit when we get outta this?”

Sae translates it in his head: there's no way I'm driving us through a snowstorm! He sighs, “I dunno...”

For once, his companion doesn't accept his lackluster attitude. They stare at each other, then both raise their eyebrows in unison. 

“Wow, thanks babe–” Shidou grates out. “Wonderful. That's helpful, really.”

Sae rolls his eyes at the venom dripping from that voice, the rare use of a regular pet name, always spat like it's a slur. 

“you're the one driving,” he answers back rather defensively: “if you can't focus, stop then, whatever.”  

There's a moment of silence, and then Sae thinks that idiot is about to slam down on the pedals and drive straight into the vehicle behind which they're stuck, but thankfully, they've both grown rather wary of legal repercussions over the past few years.

“Asshole,” he murmurs. 

“I'll eat you,” Shidou threatens. 

As the sky spins an awful mixture of darker greys over the course of the next hour, accompanied by a wind strong enough to create a constant whistling sound, their standby becomes a permanent one. Apparently the snow which has begun outlining vehicles on their lane, has long since completely covered the ones they have yet to reach. It must be a really dire situation, because the police allow vehicles to pull over and rest on the shoulder of the road. Shidou parks abruptly and stretches out behind the wheel, resting his arms above his head. He glances over at Sae's still frame, the glint in his eyes rattling him to the core. 

“Well hi there, handsome ♪” he says, like he's only just noticed the treasure before him. 

“What is it?” Sae asks, busying himself with his phone. It's not the first time they've been caught at a standstill and he knows how to keep his composure under the pressure of those twisted features after all these years they've been together. He still, however, feels his heart speed up under the scrutiny, like he's being dissected under a microscope, because Shidou can read his every minute movement. He readjusts uncomfortably, tugs at his collar. 

“Amazing! Damn– You're gonna turn me on with that cold attitude~”

“Ugh,” Sae rolls his eyes. “Can't you at least control yourself till we get to Osaka?” 

Locked in the car, packed between other vehicles, Sae knows better than to threaten abandoning ship. He doesn't exactly pull away when Shidou leans in over the empty cup holsters separating their seats. 

“Nope,” he pops the syllable like it's a gum bubble, teeth sharp and forever present, covering his agile tongue which slithers in and out of his lips teasingly. 

“Well,” Sae brushes aside that tinge of desire swirling in his abdomen. “Good for you, but I'm not in the mood.”

“Liar,” that striker shoots. He tuts, “always lying~”

“Don't go there–” Itoshi warns in turn, don't pull up my bad habits for the sake of an argument. It doesn't matter though, he's ignored, the man continuing:

“Would you honestly tell me if you were? When have you ever done that?”

Sae glances away. 

“I usually let you know…” he trails off, doubting his own words, sensing how it seeps through in his voice. He indulges Shidou from time to time; tugs on his shirt, naughty whispers, but all of that pales in comparison to the explicit display of affection he receives when they're near. 

“Yeah, sure. Y'know I can read you like a picture book? I'm well aware of how you look when you want something and you're keeping quiet about it.”

“So you know that's not the case right now?” he hums assertively, but he's not sure if he's trapped Shidou in a check or if he's just getting himself out of one. 

His companion draws back, giving him space to breathe once more, backing down from efforts he can't say have been fruitless. 

“Well, I was hoping to change your mind.” 

The silence settles over them like the snow on the rattling engine of their Rolls-Royce, Ryusei's head on the steering wheel, his eyes never leaving the faint presence that Sae's body leaves within the car. 

“Can you really tell what I'm thinking?” that cold man asks, it cuts through the silence like a knife. When he's dedicated so much of his time to trying to conceal his emotions from others, and after all those years he'd spent purposefully misunderstood, It nearly isn't fair. A stuck-up Japanese, an egoist uninterested in socialising, all of his facade was shattered by this one man? Ryusei shuts his eyes, nodding.

“It's hotwired in my instincts, Sae-Chan. I know that your eyebrows twitch when you're angry, that's how I test your limits.”

“Bastard,” he smirks proudly, continues:

“I know you're feeling pensive when you stop answering me back, sometimes you sneak a headphone in while we're out.”

At events, ‘socializing’ or when it all begins feeling too loud, every small noise rattling his brain. 

“And I know when you're thinking about me naked because your neck goes red, right below your ears ♪”

Ah, he'd been caught off guard by that last astute observation, he stumbles over his response and it comes out as gibberish. 

Without clear intent, he attempts to dispute Shidou, but it doesn't play out as planned– In imagining his body, no matter how hard he'd tried to desexualize the idea, it still creates a flurry of blush that quickly climbs up his collar and plants itself in the shape of a red hue on his cheeks and nape.

“You're doing it now? Fuck yes, that's hot, what are you thinking of exactly?”

“Shut up!” He cradles his warm face, lifting his foot out of the passenger's seat to kick some sense into Ryusei, who straightens out on his own side like a balloon that's just been reinflated. That striker laughs, as loudly as usual, but Sae's always found it attractive. He kicks him again for good measure and leaves his leg hanging over the interior. 

“Not gonna reward me for my intelligence then? That's a shame…”

“We're not making out in your car, in the middle of a traffic jam,” he states bluntly, the words circulating around his mind in different forms, till they stop making sense. Mixing spit in daylight, surrounded by vehicles, visible through semi-clear windows; fixing eachother up riskily to pass the time, their visibility ambiguous; having borderline sex in a car when it might be obvious who they are.

“I don't need to make out, Sae,” Shidou grips him by the shin and leans back in. “Just a kiss’ll do~”

Sae knees him in the stomach and he's thrown back with a low, vaguely sexual groan. Sae thinks he hears the clicking of something, a button, perhaps the windshield, but he thinks nothing of it. He huffs out in frustration, not because he's uncomfortable, but rather, he wishes he was pure enough to not be considering the offer of more than just a kiss. Shidou, having recovered, puckers his lips expectantly and he has no qualms in indulging what they both seem to be bickering about for no reason. 

So, surrounded by snow, Sae leans over his outstretched knee and grabs his partner, delicate rather than aggressively by the elbow. 

Over the empty cupholders, framed by frosty windows, he lets that devil plant a firm hand on the base of his head, scraping his scalp softly and he does the same in that ruffle of pink and blonde. 

Their eyes shut at the same time, images of puncturing irises imprinted behind thin eyelids, and then they kiss.

It's slow and soft, all lip and barely any tongue. If Sae were to ask him what the urgency was for such a tame show of affection, Shidou might say that if he'd done more, he wouldn't have been able to stop. But they do have to eventually part, Sae's fingers tugging that dark man's mane back and feeling very little resistance. 

Ryusei licks his lips and swallows, smirking softly as he gazes at Sae and only Sae. They slowly move back to their respective corners of the car. 

“You're cute, Itoshi Sae…”

He bites the corner of his lips. Who calls a professional footballer ‘cute’? Only one man on earth could handle all of him, delicate and deadly. 

“So what else have you figured out about me, Shidou Ryusei?” This way, he'll be able to slowly erase his faults from existence, or at least try. 

“How about for every ten habits i list, you let me kiss you again?”

“Twelve,” a meaningless negotiation. All the better, he figures, they're both enjoying it. 

“Oh man, your lips are gonna be so sore by the time I'm done with you!”

Chapter Text

Four minutes.

Four minutes of lustful bickering that would have any normal person either drooling or sneering at the obscenity of it all. 

Four minutes that lead to a kiss which lasts longer than either of them had meant for it to be, deeper, more intense than those they sneak in at back alleys or empty train trolleys. 

And the thing is, sometimes Shidou can get so wrapped up in this relationship he's a part of, that he completely forgets who they both are. It's an incredible feeling, to be free of labels, like they're so high up even champion's leagues and foreign soccer teams can't reach them. It's the freedom he's been searching for his whole life.

Then their responsibilities as two of Japan's best upcoming players have them crashing towards the ground.

Now back at their apartment, Sae's hands are trembling around his coffee cup and Shidou is hovering above him, as still as he's ever been, his fingers softly clenching around his companion's nape as they both stare silently at their monitor. 

On their laptop screen, the headliner of the Japanese Sports Direct reads:

 Shocking moment: Two Soccer Stars spotted kissing in car, further fuelling the speculation regarding their romance. Below it, a blown out photo taken from afar, but the figures within the open-windowed vehicle are rather distinct in form. Shidou's bright pink ends and Sae's untidy auburn bangs, their hands long since lost in the collars of each other's shirts. 

When the fuck did I open that window? He asks himself rather sheepishly as he recalls how he'd accidentally leaned back on the button and ignored the sound of it winding down. He'll be pleading his innocence in what feels like an open and shut case if he mentions that small detail, so he doesn't.

Neither, however, does he hide his amusement, even when he knows what consequences it might bring forth. 

He huffs a chuckle, “You gonna click on it, Sae-Chan? I wanna see what they have to say about our ‘little’ rendezvous.”

Sae rolls his eyes, pressing down on the mouse. The screen loads, and when it becomes apparent that he can't be bothered to scroll down, Shidou does it for him. 

 Two Soccer Players spotted Kissing in a Car, further fuelling the speculation regarding their romance.

In a shocking turn of events, Itoshi Sae (REA2/) is seen kissing former teammate Shidou Ryusei (BLSPJ) in what seems to be the nail in the coffin of speculations regarding their relationship. Itoshi Sae, who has recently returned from abroad, first met Shidou Ryusei three years ago when they were both invited to play for the Japanese U-20 team, against the renowned Blue-Lock in a match that later sparked outrage towards them both. Within the match, their lackluster attitude was destructive and even resulted in a loss for their team. 

Captain of U-20 at the time, Oliver Aiku would go on to say: “they're a match made in heaven, but it seems they're out of range even for their own teammates.” 

… 

“Wow,” Shidou mutters. “Is all of this backstory stuff really necessary?” 

Sae glances up at his partner and they lock eyes, taking in each other's expressions. It's not the first time they've come across headlines like these– there was that instance at the party; players 10+13 seem to be pining: what's next for the two? There was also the incident at the airport; shocking! You won't believe who came to greet Shidou after his first match abroad. It's something they've come to live with– the hard questions asked at interviews, the banners held by fans eager to see them snogging. 

This time though, it's not up for interpretation online. Some nasty fucks have caught them in action, doing something that only lovers do, and then they had the cheek to sell the photos they'd taken like fresh game. It's not that same-sex relationships are common in the world of sports, and especially not public ones. Shidou tries to sympathise with Sae, who's not so open about his sexuality. What is he thinking right now? Who should I kill to make him feel better?

Sae's reply snaps him back into reality: “they're just copy and pasting it at this point, uncreative bastards…” 

And it's not what he'd said, but rather, that he's said anything at all. It's like reassurance, he's not in shock, he's coping. Shidou laughs, ruffling those soft ruby locks until his hand is smacked away. 

“Maybe we should write the next one then~ I'll make it real juicy, have all those fascist dinosaurs exploding ♪”

Itoshi can't help but smirk a bit at the thought, he sees the words writing themselves in that genius mind, the script playing behind slitted irises and magenta pupils: Yes, I'm involved with Japan's greatest treasure! We're at it all day and night, doing things you cucks have never heard of. When we're bored we treat each other to meals at restaurants you couldn't dream of affording. Any qualms and I'll meet you out back, beat you till your brains explode!

He highlights the page, deciding he'll read it later, considering their concentration has been cut short. Right now, he'd rather cosy up with Shidou than reminisce over memories rewritten from an outsider's perspective. He grips that warm hand within his own, pulls himself out of his seat. 

As Shidou leads him over to the couch, He can't help but ask:

“Is this what you pictured when you said you'd leave behind a mark on this world?”

The larger man sprawls out, inviting Sae with a strong tug of the shirt. He topples into that mucle-padded frame with an exhale.

“Nah,” he grins, “this feels like something fresh out of Hollywood, not Japanese football.”

Sae hums in agreement, resting in the warm clutches of Shidou's arms as the man scrolls through his Instagram. The soft smell of morning coffee lingers on the both of them, it calms him down– then, just as quickly, Shidou has his pulse running hot again with another simple question:

“You think your brother's seen it yet?” 

“Rin? Maybe…” Sae groans, wiping his face, he'd hoped to avoid having to talk to that kid till he was off of vacation. 

“Wait, no– yep, definitely.” Ryusei holds out his phone, Sae squints. “all his friends are laughing about it… that Isagi is a creative guy, he doesn't get the respect he deserves.” 

He zooms in on the collage of stock photos, cutouts of their faces pasted on images of generic couples– credited to Isagi Yoichi of BLSC and reposted by the likes of Meguru Bachira and Nagi Seishiro, up for the whole of the world to view. 

“isn’t Seishiro the guy that flew to America to get married?” 

“Oh yeah! That asshole had his own gay wedding a while ago and he's tryna slam us about it?” If he really thinks about the matter at hand, Japanese soccer has become more progressive these past few years. He'd be able to name about five men in the profession that he knows have been involved in same-sex relationships, most of them around his age. 

“We're so much better than them, Sae-Chan~” Shidou stuffs his head into the collar of his companion's shirt, sharp hair poking into his neck. “Let's get married, we should totally do it!” 

“What?” Well, it's definitely abrupt, but Sae feels like it's been their running gag for the past month. Those pink eyes fix upwards, peering into his, it doesn't look like a joke. 

“We've got the rings, and I'll let you pick the country. It'll be like a pre-honeymoon or something… hey, Say something before I shake a ‘yes’ outta you!”

Sae glances across the room, then back at Shidou. 

“It's not that simple,” he murmurs. He's not sure what exactly would be different, whether they'd have to become public or not– whether they have much of a choice anymore anyway. Would they have a proper wedding? Would they have vows, or just go into a room and sign a private contract? Although he's unsure how, things would surely change, and he's too comfortable with their current situation for that. He flattens his lips, sealing away his limited answer, it's a simple yes or no, but he hasn't quite settled on either of them.  

“So you don't wanna?” Shidou asks instead, but even with an exaggerated pout on his face, he doesn't seem sad or angry. He's not stupid, far from it actually, he's observant enough to understand that even unwedded, Sae is utterly, even a bit disgustingly, in love with him. 

“That's fine, I get it…”

Sae leans his head a bit to the side, bites his lips subconsciously as he ponders his circumstances. 

“yeah?”

Shidou plants a big, wet kiss on his cheek. “Yep, I'll check again next year.”

Chapter Text

Day seven - candles draft

“You smell,” Sae Itoshi tells his companion, Shidou Ryusei as they both lean on the staircase leading up to their apartment, they'd decided not to re-enter the place till it had been substantially aired out. 

“Of what? Gingerbread? Festive frankincense and peppermint?” 

“No, you don't smell of fucking frankincense– try smoke?”

“I do not smell of smoke! it's not that bad…”

“Right,” Sae rolls his eyes. “You don't smell of smoke, you smell like you just blew up a meth lab! You stink.”

And Shidou is amused by the comparison. He can imagine it: not them making Crack, but them both robed up, expertly crafting candles and selling them. He'd pick the colours or whatever, Sae would choose the extracts– he'd try not to get overwhelmed by all of the strong scents. then they'd both refuse to demould their creations, the texture off-putting;

 “how many cans of hairspray do you go through in a month, and can I steal one to see if it'll explode?” “I use a reasonable amount of hairspray, Shidou, and no, you can not.” “Aw, you're like the only person I know that uses that stuff, though!” “Don’t care…” and he thinks of disappearing a can of that translucent, gold-like substance, but he knows it won't go unnoticed. Sae refuses to touch hair Gel, says it's gross– Shidou wonders what else can make his arm hairs stand uncomfortably on end, and if it's a sensation he can produce under inorganic circumstances. 

Ryusei really doesn't know how he'd gone from thinking about how bad he actually smells, to wondering why Sae finds so many things off-putting. Textures, strong scents, flavours that regular people would call delicacies. He does know, however, that it's definitely a big weak point for the man, one he'll take advantage of until he's thrown out for it. That's why, trapped on their staircase with nowhere to go, Shidou captures Sae in a big, long hug.

“You're insane! You're awful, really!” Sae shouts as he tries to resist it, but when he eventually settles down, he does so quietly. He tucks his head into Shidou's shoulder and sighs as they stay embraced, the waft of a burning Christmas spreading to encircle them both. 

 He really did have the best intentions at heart when he ordered a dozen or so holiday-scented candles off the web. He'd lined them up like shots of vodka on the ledge near their window. Then he lit one, using it as a carrier for the rest. Little did he know, the wind would blow in one of the curtains, although he should have thought of that. 

“What are you doing?” Sae had asked as soon as he got through the door, that blank look on his face that spelled out how long his day had been, and it was only lunchtime. 

Day eight - ugly sweaters 

It's Christmas eve. Sae wakes up, tucks Shidou back into bed (the man finds a way of skillfully kicking off their blanket in the middle of the night), scours their fridge for food, makes himself a cup of coffee and sits down by himself. He overlooks the road beneath their apartment absentmindedly, still half asleep, he hates to admit that he prefers the racket his companion makes when they're both awake, that he's a bit lonely on the days when he can't get back to sleep. But it's fine, he thinks, because he can hear stirring from beyond the wall, he smiles as Shidou groans loudly, probably stretching as he makes his way to their bathroom. 

And then that man pulls out the chair opposite to him, plunking down in it, and he's absolutely bewildered by what he's faced with.