Work Text:
The familiar creak of the door didn't faze Mitsuya nor prompt him to turn his head.
He kept hunching over his sketch, one hand skillfully manifest his vision through the tip of his pencil while the other carding his hair tiredly.
Out of nowhere, the smell of freshly cooking meal tickled his nose, getting his stomach rumble in second. He didn’t know what time it was, probably past any reasonable lunch time that the meal had to be delivered to his office.
Mitsuya squashed down his want to jump off the seat, for the sake of the half-way sketched design in front of him.
Priority, he deflected.
“Thank you for bringing me the lunch, Yasuda-san. You can just leave them on the table,” he said, and before there would be any protest coming, he added, “Don't worry, I'll be done with this in couple of minutes.”
But instead of the usual nagging from his business partner, all he got was the voice he didn’t realize, he had been longing to hear.
“Tsk, that's not how you greet your husband, Takashi.”
Mitsuya turned around so fast, his chair and his head were spinning.
“Ken?”
Either Mitsuya was spacing out because he was too tired or he just still couldn't believe that Draken was here, he couldn't stop staring.
Died on his tongue every protest that usually accompanied the meal time. It wasn't Yasuda or any employee of his who delivered the meal, it was his own husband.
His husband who had been quite strict about Mitsuya taking care of himself while he was working.
His husband who was very adamant about Mitsuya not forcing himself when he was in the middle of deadline days.
His husband who relentlessly reminded Mitsuya to not neglect himself because he was too busy working.
Mitsuya half-expected to be scolded, but Draken didn't even comment on his rough appearance. He was aware of awful he looked, the T-shirt that needed some serious ironing, hair that was too familiar being teared out and messed up, a pair of glasses that definitely left a dent on the bridge of his nose. Don’t even get Mitsuya started on what he knew a spectacular dark circles under his eyes.
But instead of those, Draken merely sighed and walked towards the couch and coffee table. There, he began to unpack the bag he was carrying.
Taking his glasses off, Mitsuya rubbed his eyes as if he wanted to see the scene unfolding before him clearer: Draken being so focused on the task in his hand, serving the meal that he definitely cooked himself.
Now, that he allowed himself to take a good look, Mitsuya realized how much he craved for Draken’s presence. Letting himself to be spoiled, now it seemed to just dawn on him, how hungry he was and how much he missed to eat something that his husband made.
“I don't wanna hear about you skipping meal,” Draken folded the furoshiki once everything was served properly. “I'm here now, and I'm gonna watch you eat everything. Even with force if necessary.”
Mitsuya settled on the couch with a grateful smile on his face. His office did have everything: a small pantry, a mini refrigerator, not to mention various restaurants that were only one-call away.
But none came close to the meals that Draken cooked exclusively for him.
“Come dig in, Taka,” Draken handed him the chopsticks.
And it wasn't just the hungry-talking or whipped-for-his-husband-talking, but the moment the glazed meat and fluffy warm rice landed on Mitsuya's mouth, it felt like he hadn't proper meal for ages. He couldn't remember what was the last time he had Draken's karubidon, he almost forgot how much it brought him so much comfort.
“Oh, God,” Mitsuya moaned with a mouthful of food. “I miss this.”
Draken chuckled, pulling the other condiments closer.
“If I had known it’ll be this easy, I should have bribed Yasuda to let me in sooner.” Though they both knew, Yasuda was probably the one who notified Draken about him, despite Mitsuya had told her to not to. “Eat up to your heart's content.”
Draken didn't even try to strike out conversation, he was more determined in making sure that Mitsuya finish his food. Mitsuya usually disliked a total silence during meal, but a silence with Draken was never the uncomfortable one. For once, he treated himself the luxury of being coddled by his husband. Draken who placed more meat on his rice, who offered a chopstick full of salad, who was quick to fetch him water, when Mitsuya needed it.
Sue him, Mitsuya loved being pampered. And when Draken did it to him, Draken had never done it halfway.
When Draken gave him an approving nod with a satisfied smile on his face upon seeing Mitsuya managed to clean up everything, Mitsuya felt a strange sense of pride when he could make Draken happy by simply eating.
“Take a break, now, let your stomach rest.” When he was about to bring the empty food containers to the sink, he warned. “You'd better be here once I'm done with these.”
Mitsuya leaned back to the couch, saluting him as he let his eyes close for a while. “Aye-aye, captain.”
True to his words, Mitsuya swept away all the work-related things off his mind. He let his himself drown in to the sound of running water, the clacking food containers getting washed, and occasional hums from his husband here and there.
For a moment, Mitsuya let himself believe that he was on his couch at home, with Kenta snuggling on his lap after dinner he had with Draken.
That he was not trapped in his atelier, but instead he was at the comfort of his home.
This had happened so many times, that the vision was so vividly real: Draken taking care the dishes, while Mitsuya waited for him on the couch. Later, he would join him and Mitsuya would naturally gravitate to his other half, surrounding himself with Draken’s warmth. Draken would ask whether Mitsuya want to watch movie and what kind, while Mitsuya would say, just put on whatever’s available.
The low volume of TV, the arms that secured him, added with frequent kisses against his hair and his forehead and his temple and his everything—what could possibly he need more?
Mitsuya brushed off the bang on his eyes, accidentally feeling the metal that encircled his finger touch his skin. He peered up, watching the silver gleaming under the soft light of the room as he stretched out his fingers.
A smile escaped off his lips.
Will it ever cease? These overwhelming feelings? Mitsuya wondered.
Sneaking a glance at the back of Draken’s figure who was now definitely influenced by his music taste if his rhythmical humming was any indication, Mitsuya prayed, it will never do.
To have this exact scene, to experience this exact contentment; to be this happy and exceptionally in love.
And as if he could sense when Mitsuya was watching him, Draken turned his head, giving him his Mitsuya’s smile. The smile that bloomed only because and for Mitsuya.
Mitsuya couldn’t help himself from matching his smile, even wider. For some reason, his reaction got Draken chuckle to himself, shaking his head with a slight blush on his cheeks.
Somehow that childish response made Mitsuya a little bit shy too.
Years and decades and more, will this unparalleled happiness ever cease?
Or will it always feel like they fell in love just yesterday?
Mitsuya could only hope, it will never ever change.
And if it must, then let it be everything, but our love.
“That’s so you, Takashi.”
The voice was so close, it jolted him awake.
Mitsuya hadn’t realized he was momentarily dozed off. One moment he let the imagination of being at home running in his mind, and next second he was just at home.
No, no, the couch was still the same couch that would get you back pain if you forced yourself to lay there for far too long.
And no, there was still tons of fabric rolls, stack of inked papers, and mannequins scattered everywhere.
There was also no potted little cactuses lined up the window, or Kenta trying to insert himself in between, demanding attention.
Mitsuya hadn’t moved an inch from where he was, but Draken was already with him, arm entrapping Mitsuya in his embrace. The caress on his shoulder brought him to reality.
“Sorry, did I wake you up?” Draken peered down apologetically, adjusting himself so they could sit in much comfortable position.
“Did I fall asleep?” Mitsuya rubbed his eyes, making a futile attempt to get off the couch, especially with Draken pulling him even closer to his chest. With non-existent distance between them, Mitsuya could so easily catch the remnant of lemon dish soap, mixed with Draken’s aftershave. The strange but soothing combination made the thought of waking up seemed ridiculous that he ended up snuggling to his husband, even more.
Draken chuckled the moment he noticed Mitsuya aiming for his neck.
“Kenta’s rubbing on you,” he teased, tilting his head to give Mitsuya more access. Mitsuya peppered the exposed skin with feathery kisses, as he ran his fingers on Draken’s collarbone, mumbling his agreement.
Once again, his eyes landed on the ring that binding them for life.
Mitsuya remembered, before he fell asleep, he was just marveling at his lucky star to be able to wear his love and commitment for everyone’s eyes to see.
He knew without looking, there was an identical metal adorned the finger that curled up on his shoulder.
“Hey, Ken?” Mitsuya sighed.
Combing Mitsuya’s black-lilac strands with his fingers, Draken responded by leaning forward landing a soft peck on his forehead. “Hm?”
Mitsuya pulled back, looking up right when Draken peered down.
With those gravitating eyes. With that smile again.
Craning his neck, Mitsuya stole his namesake off Draken’s lips. Draken gladly whispered it back, breathing out more love like he had never taken as much from Mitsuya.
“Thank you,” Mitsuya said, instead, when what he meant was I love you for being there for me, Ken, I love you for taking care of me, I love you for loving me.
Draken grinned against their barely apart lips. “You don’t need to thank me, idiot.”
I love you too, Takashi, Mitsuya heard instead.