Work Text:
It’s a random Sunday night, and you’re both in your pajamas. Though San’s consists merely of a pair of grey sweatpants, no shirt, which effectively wreaks havoc on your train of thought at various moments throughout the night.
You’ve spent the entire day— no weekend— like this, soaking in the comfortable warmth that only he can provide. Neither of you have even really left the house, binging on take-out and cheesy romcoms from the early 2000s.
This is exactly how you’ve landed where you are now, San lying upside down with his head in your lap as you try to shave his jaw clean, inspired by a certain favorite movie of his.
Soft jazz plays from your speaker, accompanied by the gentle pitter-patter of light rain against your windows. The lights are low, and the room is mostly lit by candles, along with a few clarifying lamps to ensure you can see what you’re doing.
Even if you were a trained professional, the task is no easy feat. Not with San constantly moving, eyes following your every turn as you try to get the best angles. The two of you are a hero of hushed giggles and whispered words. He tries his best to help you, occasionally offering helpful instruction. But with the way his gaze is trained on you, something crossed between mischief and awe in his eyes, combined with the smitten smile on his lips, you find that his words go in one ear and out the other. Your hands are slightly shaking as even after all this time, he still manages to make you nervous.
You’d met San through work and it was instant chemistry. Even still, you would have never guessed that this is where the two of you would land. That he’d be able to bring emotions out of you that you’ve never experienced before. It scares you sometimes just how much you’re enamored by him. Especially in moments like this, cradling his head in your lap, heart thumping against your ribcage as you find yourself lost in his gaze. And again that familiar feeling is rising, swelling within your chest like a balloon about to pop, those three words on the very tip of your tongue.
Your hand moves to his jaw, lightly turning him to the side. And for a second, he obeys, but then he’s turning right back to where he’d started, eyes on yours. You can’t help but smile adoringly, this time craning your own neck instead. Only that also proves to be of no use. San immediately turns his head once again.
Again you’re smiling, and again your emotions are swelling. So you place a soft kiss on his nose, whispering, “Stop moving.”
He only mirrors your smile, breathing a laugh before he’s doing it again, gaze glued to yours as if he’s in a trance.
“San,” You sigh, your voice dripping with honey even as much as you try not to, “Sit still. Does it hurt?”
He shakes his head, lips pursing cutely, and you give him a warning look before attempting to continue.
Though dipping the razor in the bowl of hot water by your side, you can see his eyes following you out of your peripheral. You’re rolling your lips between your teeth, trying to rid of the smile that just won’t go away when you lean back in. But then he’s beaming at you, pretty teeth in full display and you’re a goner. So distracted you barely hear his next words.
“I love you.”
The razor in your hand stops mid-swipe, the cloth you’re holding in the other falling to the ground in a wet plop!
It’s like you’re watching the next few moments from another’s perspective. The way your lips part in surprise as San’s smile grows, his eyes forming little crescent moons while yours widen slightly in a daze. But this is real, and it’s you, obvious in the way your heart accelerates, your lungs suddenly void of air.
“I love you,” He says again, his eyes searching yours, big and beautiful brown eyes full of stars and you wonder if you’re even worthy of such a look brimming with love.
You’re not sure who leans in first but soon his lips are on yours, the pull of them magnetic. It’s a bit clumsy, with his upside down and the both of you unable to wipe the smiles off your lips, but stickily sweet nonetheless. It’s not until you feel the moisture on your cheeks that you pull back, emotions in full bloom in the form of thick, warm tears that fall from your eyes.
He’s smiling joyfully curious at your reaction, cupping your cheeks delicately to wipe the tears from your skin.
“Don’t cry,” He whispers softly, his voice nothing but a gentle request.
But you can’t help it, your tears keep coming, heart overflowing with so much love for him that the organ aches as if it’s pushing at the edges needing to be let out. And with so much on your mind you’re not sure how to put it into words, you utter the only words that feel right in this moment.
“Thank you.”
San laughs quietly, eyes sparkling as one eyebrow rises. Humored, he questions, “Thank you?”
You’re nodding through tears, smile on your own lips as you realize how ridiculous it might sound.
There are times, more than you’d like to admit, that you feel unworthy to receive his affection. The two of you are opposites in all the ways that matter. If San is the calm then you are the storm. You’re loud and occasionally unorganized, you say the wrong things and you’re extremely rough around the edges. And because of your family dynamic, you’ve struggled with love as well as your mental health your entire life.
But San is sweet, he’s gentle, he’s kind, and he always seems to know exactly what to say. He’d grown up in a loving family, one that filled him with so much love even his buff body couldn’t contain it all. So to say that occasionally you’ve felt as if he deserved someone better would be nothing less than the truth. But you’re selfish, you’re selfish and you love him, more than anyone you’ve ever loved before and you refuse to let him go.
Thus on hearing his words— to know that he loves you even despite it all, it seemed like ‘thank you’ was the only way to respond.
So you say it again, wiping at your cheeks despite the influx of new tears that begin to fall. “Thank you for loving me. I love you too, San.”
With wide eyes he sits upright, streaks of foam still lining his jaw still not able to pop the bubble on this moment.
“Don’t thank me,” He murmurs delicately, again cradling your cheeks in his palms, thumbs ridding of the tears on your skin. “I’m the one who should be thanking you. I love you. I love being able to love you.”
And then he’s pulling you in, arms crushing you in a hug that ignites a fire within your bones. A fire that only grows in intensity upon hearing his words. You allow yourself, for the first time, to admit just how guilty you felt for loving him, knowing you didn’t deserve to. But hearing his words heals something within you, patches up something you didn’t even know was broken. They prove to you that maybe San loving you isn’t a lost cause.
So you close your eyes, soaking in his words. Your tears are staining his shoulder, but you know he doesn’t care, his hands only pulling you in closer as your own wraps around his waist as well.
“Loving you is easy,” He whispers against your temple before dropping a soft kiss there, “Thank you for allowing me to.”