Work Text:
Working side by side every day had turned them into a strange, silent habit for each other. A bit like morning coffee: you think you don’t need it, until it’s missing.
And it was during one of those very rare free afternoons, when the set lights were finally off and there were no scripts to review, that Sky found himself staring at the ceiling of his living room. He’d done everything one could possibly do in a day: cleaned, cooked, done three loads of laundry, read through half a novel, and had tea with an old friend.
And yet, he was bored.
Worse: he felt an odd emptiness. A silence that wasn’t really silence. More like the absence of something… or someone.
Scrolling through his phone amid a thousand notifications, without thinking too much, he opened LINE and typed:
Sky:
I should be outside your place in ten minutes, there’s a bit of traffic. We won’t be late, promise.
On the other side of the city, Nani had just flopped onto the couch with a controller in hand. His hair still damp from a quick post–"house cleaning mission" shower, wearing an oversized shirt speckled with detergent dots, and mid-yawn.
He saw the message pop up at the top of the screen. A tiny “Sky” with his usual tongue-out puppy emoji next to the name. He smiled without meaning to.
He, who took days to reply to anyone, who often read messages and forgot about them… Sky was the exception he didn’t even admit to himself.
But when he read the message, his brows furrowed.
Had he forgotten something?
Nani:
Are we supposed to go somewhere?
Sky saw the reply come in before he could even put his phone down. He smiled.
Sky:
Don’t we have that appointment for the new sponsorship?
On the other end, Nani chuckled softly. They’d been so buried in work, Sky had completely lost track.
“We’re really doing great” he muttered to himself before typing:
Nani:
Sky, I have to tell you: age hit you like a rear-end collision. It’s tomorrow. Today was one of our few days off. I suggest buying a sudoku. Keeps your brain sharp and youthful.
Sky laughed out loud. He knew it was their day off. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell Nani this was all an excuse just to hear from him, to see him.
Sky:
Don’t mock me! Damn, okay, turning back… But first I’m buying a crossword book. I think I’ve officially hit rock bottom.
Nani:
Since you’re already stuck in traffic, come over. I still have some dishes in the sink that need washing. A spiritual experience. Also helps keep you fit and young.
Sky smiled, car keys already in hand and one foot out the door. Maybe he should’ve just been honest, but this way, he didn’t have to explain too much. And he was used to orchestrating things like this, just to get to Nani.
One day, maybe, he’d tell him everything he’d thought and done just to end up by his side. One day, he’d help him understand why.
Sky:
So you’re inviting me over?
Three seconds passed, as he walked down the stairs.
Nani:
I feel bad for you, going out in this heat, stuck in traffic. You’re almost here, and I’ve got the A/C on.
Sky laughed to himself, settling into the driver’s seat.
The silence between them had always been comfortable. But when they talked like this, halfway between joking and a real need to connect, it felt like the world got smaller. Like it was just the two of them.
No directors, no scripts, no fans or flashing lights.
Just Sky and Nani, one too clever, the other too naïve. A day off they didn’t quite know how to fill, except with each other’s presence.
Nani glanced around his living room and instantly regretted it.
It was chaos that could no longer be called “creative.”
There were plushies everywhere. Giant ones, tiny ones, some with his own face printed on them, others he didn’t even remember receiving. Gifts from loving, tireless fans, overexcited sponsors, and yes, a few of those bizarre airport adoptions he’d made on his own, jet-lagged and willpower-deprived.
“This house looks like a themed daycare” he muttered, trying to push a giant teddy bear aside to make room.
The sofa, technically “three-seater”, had been reduced to a single squished corner under the weight of gifts and discarded jackets.
He glanced at a pile of shirts on a chair, a wobbly tower of DVDs, and that box full of props he’d never dared to open.
Was he seriously inviting Sky into this battlefield?
He put a hand to his forehead. “Where am I going to make him sit? On MyMelody’s lap?”
But instead of putting him off, the thought warmed him.
Because deep down, he wanted it. He wanted Sky there, even if it meant pushing half the house into the hallway. Even if it meant revealing all this mess, not just of things, but of his heart too.
The phone buzzed again. Sky.
Sky:
Seriously though, I could come do those dishes. I swear, anything, even a kitchen internship, is better than the cosmic void in my head right now. I feel like a broken man.
Nani laughed. Again, without meaning to.
But this time, laughter wasn’t enough to suppress the urge to write: “Okay, come.”
Instead…
Nani:
Do you know how many plushies would stare you down judgmentally if you sat on my couch? It’s a jungle. I think one of them just tried to negotiate rent with me.
Sky:
I’ll accept life among the plushies, if you make me tea. And take care of this brain-fried man.
Nani:
I’ll make the tea, but I’ll ask one of my many Kuromi dolls to take care of you.
Sky didn’t reply immediately.
And in that small empty space between one message and the next, Nani felt his heartbeat quicken.
Like something had just shifted.
Like the playful tone was quietly giving way to something softer, something more real.
Then came the notification.
Sky:
You’ve got five minutes to decide whether to let me stay or make me wander the city like a lost soul.
Nani slowly sat up. Looked at the mess, then at the astronaut-helmeted plushie staring at him from the coffee table.
He shrugged, picked up the phone, and typed:
Nani:
Okay. Come over. But if you trip over a giant pink unicorn, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Sky saw it.
Replied with a single word.
Sky:
Coming.
Nani stood up, gave the room another glance... and started frantically tossing plushies into the bedroom like a ninja on a secret mission.
When Sky arrived, the first impression was… colorful. And soft. And slightly unsettling.
“Wow” he said as he stepped inside, eyeing with reverence the number of plush toys that had taken over the living room. “You in some kind of secret cult? Like, a plush-worshipping religion?”
Nani scoffed, walking past him with tea in hand. “I warned you. If one of them moves on its own, I’ve already written my will, I’m donating everything to charity.”
Sky laughed and let himself fall onto the couch… or tried to. A teddy bear with a Santa hat blocked his descent.
“Is there a person under this bear?” he asked, trying to move it gently.
“Could be another plushie. Or maybe just my ego crushed under this mess. Either way, not serious” Nani said, sitting next to him.
The problem was clear immediately: there was no space.
Or rather, there was space… but for one person. Maybe one and a half.
They were two. Full-sized. Adults. And now, very, very close.
Their shoulders touched in a precise, unavoidable angle. Their thighs brushed, knees fitting together like an unintentional puzzle. A giant bunny peeked out from behind Sky’s head, as if trying to join the conversation.
For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then Sky slowly turned toward him.
“I feel like that meme: ‘now kiss.’”
Nani burst out laughing, hiding his face in his hands. “I was thinking the same thing, but I didn’t want to say it. My voice would’ve given me away.”
“It’s the bunny” said Sky, pointing to the plush with the glassy eyes hovering above his head. “He’s judging. He’s waiting.”
“He’s been orchestrating this for weeks” murmured Nani. “He’s the only real puppet master in this house.”
They laughed again. That light, slightly nervous kind of laughter that feels like it could easily slip into something more, if only there were courage.
But neither was in a rush. It was nice like this, nestled in all that ridiculous cotton-stuffed affection.
Then Nani cleared his throat and stood up suddenly.
“Let’s do this. Wanna play some PlayStation for a bit? We take turns. One plays, one watches.”
He pointed to the chair near the kitchen, piled with clothes. “Whoever waits, sits… there.”
Sky looked at the chair, then at Nani.
“Ah. A visual punishment. Excellent.”
“You’d rather stay crushed on the destiny couch?”
Sky got up. “No, no. Infernal chair is fine.”
And so it began.
Taking turns, one with the controller, the other exiled to the chair, trying not to topple unstable stacks of hoodies, t-shirts, sparkly crop tops, socks, and… all things that made Sky’s mouth water if he thought of Nani wearing them. Damn, blessed fans.
The laughter came back quickly.
They cheered like they were in a World Cup final, teased each other with the cruel affection of people who knew each other too well.
Sky won a round and hugged a plushie, shouting: “This one’s for you, Captain Penguin!”
Nani lost a match and threw a unicorn over the couch: “Traitor! You brought bad luck!”
Every now and then their hands brushed while passing the controller. Every now and then their knees touched by accident, again, when they sat down too quickly. But neither of them said anything. Maybe because, in that affectionate mess, everything felt... normal. At yet another turn change, Nani stepped up to the couch, ready to sit, sure that Sky would immediately get up and give him the spot. Instead, something changed.
Two steady hands rested on his hips, light but firm. And before he could even process it, Sky gently pulled him closer, making him sit on his lap. For a second, an endless one, Nani froze like a statue made of salt. Eyes wide, hands hovering midair. Sky’s breath brushed against his nape, warm, slow, almost amused. “There you are, finally” he said softly. “Now let’s raise the difficulty level, shall we?” Nani tried to jump to his feet. “You’re completely— ” Sky held him back, not forcefully, but with intention.
“Careful” he whispered, leaning closer to his ear, “the bunny is watching us. It’s ready to use its laser stare, and it was far too generous last time we didn’t give it the kiss.” It was like pressing the right button: Nani burst out laughing. That kind of freeing, sudden laughter that made him fall back against Sky’s chest. And there, in the pounding beneath his ribs, he realized it wasn’t just his own heart racing.
Sky tapped gently with his fingers on Nani’s thighs, as if setting a rhythm to help him focus, but every tap felt like a note played directly on his nerves. “Start a new game, come on” Sky said, voice lower now, “let’s see if you can win with an extra distraction.” Nani swallowed. He picked up the controller, trying to ignore the warmth of the legs beneath him, the chest pressing into his back, and the way Sky whispered little tips in his ear, his mouth so close, his breath grazing his neck.
“Jump. No, now. Now. Press X, no, not that one Nani! Right, right! Nani, that’s the left...”
“Sky, I swear, if you keep talking…”
“Come on, focus. You’ve got responsibilities now. You have an audience. Look at the bunny. He’s disappointed.”
Nani chuckled, but his head felt light. Or maybe it was the blood rushing somewhere else. Because just as he leaned forward to dodge an enemy on screen, he clearly, too clearly, felt something hard in his pants. His body had reacted before his brain. And now his brain was a blender.
“No. No no no” he whispered. He tried to stand up again.
Sky didn’t let him. In fact, he held him just slightly tighter, in that unmistakable way that said “it’s okay.”
Nani trembled.
“Game over” said the robotic voice from the screen.
Nani dropped the controller. “I knew it would end like this.”
Sky was smiling, Nani felt it. He saw it, even without turning around.
Sky picked up the controller calmly and wrapped his arms around Nani’s waist, holding him close as he started his turn.
“Stay to bring me luck?” he asked, naturally.
Nani swallowed. His still-pounding heart told him it was safer to get up.
The rest of him, though, didn’t move.
“I’ll stay.”
Sky dove into the game with full concentration. Or at least, that was the excuse.
In truth, he moved the controller, and with it, his body beneath Nani.
He wasn’t doing it on purpose. Or maybe he was. A little. But not to “provoke.” It was more like... he couldn’t help it.
Every move, every tiny shift left or right to dodge an enemy on screen, made Nani slide against him. Thighs, hips, back, everything brushed, pressed, slipped slowly. The controller trembled in Sky’s hands, but it wasn’t the game’s fault.
Nani felt it. Felt the friction building, and with it, something else.
Because what was happening in his pants, hot, pulsing, now impossible to ignore, was happening underneath him too, clearly, inevitably.
He trembled, hard. His hands on his knees trembled slightly.
He took a deep breath, one of those that starts from deep down, and turned, just enough to look at Sky up close.
He felt vulnerable, exposed, but he couldn’t pretend anymore.
The game was still on, but in that moment, between them, a different match had started.
“Sky?”
His voice came out low, thin, almost surprised.
Sky didn’t answer right away. His thumbs still moved on the controller, but much more slowly.
Then, gently, he let go of the buttons. The screen kept moving on its own, the character paused near a cliff.
Sky looked up, and locked eyes with Nani.
His eyes sparkled, but there was a strange tenderness there. As if, in the middle of all the heat and embarrassment and silent longing... there was something he’d been hiding for a long time.
He gave a small smile, tilting his head slightly. “...Nani?”
Nani looked at him over his shoulder, still sitting on his lap, heart pounding, breath unsteady.
“You’re…” he swallowed. “You’re playing dirty.”
Sky laughed softly, but it wasn’t a mocking laugh.
It was gentle, contained, a little cracked.
“I swear it wasn’t the plan” he said. “Or maybe... it was the part I didn’t want to admit.”
Nani didn’t know where to put his hands anymore. They were still on his knees, but they wanted to move, find something to hold, some air.
He started to get up again, but then didn’t. He stayed there, watching him. With that suspended closeness, full of words that hadn’t found their way out yet.
“What didn’t you want to admit?” he asked, softly, almost a whisper.
Sky took a long, deep breath.
He gently set the controller on the cushion beside them, then raised a hand and placed it on Nani’s thigh. Not boldly. Just... to be there.
“Actually, I was home when I texted you today” he said quietly, “I wanted to see you and made up that whole excuse about already being stuck in traffic near your place.”
Nani stared at him. His heart clenched like a shirt forgotten in the spin cycle.
“…You lied?” he murmured, not angry, just incredulous.
Sky gave a guilty half-smile, lowering his gaze for a second. “A bit. It’s just... I didn’t know how to tell you. That I wanted to see you today too. Even if there wasn’t work. Even if we had nothing to do.”
The honesty in Sky’s voice slid under Nani’s skin like a caress. Nani looked at him, and there were a thousand things he could have said, jokes, sarcasm, ways to deflect the embarrassment. But he realized he didn’t want to. Not this time.
“I…” he began, then stopped.
He turned fully, straddling him, hands resting on his shoulders.
Their eyes searched each other without hesitation anymore.
“…I didn’t want to tell you either, but... I was about to text you this morning. Before you did. I missed you.”
Sky looked at him as if he’d just revealed a secret he’d been waiting months to hear. His hands tightened gently on Nani’s hips. His breathing slowed.
“So” Sky said, voice lower, “...I’m not the only one who’s lost his mind.”
“Here’s some news” Nani whispered, leaning closer, their foreheads almost touching, “we lost it together.”
A soft silence, full of everything. Then Sky laughed, quietly. “The bunny agrees, he just said so, did you hear?”
Nani laughed too, following his gaze toward the plushie perched on the couch’s backrest, still staring at them with its passive-aggressive, silently judging expression.
“Alright, bunny” Nani murmured, not daring to look directly at Sky or he’d die of embarrassment, “if I’m the one to kiss him... will you forgive Sky for not being honest and not making the first move sooner?”
Sky held his breath. “Depends. Are you any good? The bunny wants to know. I can tell, I speak Bunny’s language”
Nani smiled, finally turning to face him. A new light in his eyes, mischievous, amused. “Find out on your own.”
It was a hesitant kiss, at first. Warm like the first winter sun on your face, shy like a question whispered only halfway. Their lips barely brushed, an uncertain touch, almost a mistake. But it wasn’t. It was the beginning.
Breaths slowed, as if time itself had leaned in to listen. Their fingers searched, and found each other. And with that touch, their bodies drew closer, not too much, but just enough to make the line between them tremble.
Then, the kiss deepened. More real. More complete. A silent confession, speaking of all the waiting and hidden wants, like pages buried beneath a messy pile of days. When they finally pulled apart, their hearts were racing far too fast to pretend indifference, and their hands, still clasped, no longer knew how to let go.
Nani who spoke first, his voice soft, with a smile that said everything else: “Do you think the bunny’s satisfied?”
“It’s time for the bunny to head back to its burrow” Sky replied, grabbing the plushie, bringing it close to their faces for a little nuzzle, then tossing it very, very far from the couch: “what’s about to happen here is not bunny-appropriate viewing.”
They laughed, together. And this time, not to fill a silence or ease the awkwardness. But because in that moment, wrapped around each other in the chaos of stuffed animals and the mess of the day, everything felt incredibly simple.
Like nothing else was needed. Like even in the little space and the too-full house, the two of them fit perfectly.