Work Text:
It’s a slow evening.
The last of Tuesday’s sunlight filters through the apartment curtains in a ribbon that falls lazily over the crown of Hifumi’s head and onto Doppo’s cheek in a neat triangle like a shard of gold. They’ve got the T.V. on to some comedy channel Hifumi doesn’t know the name of, Doppo has his ankle caught around Hifumi’s, they’re pressed against the sofa with that $50 Pottery Barn pillow that Hifumi insisted they have because it matched one of his jackets (and poor Doppo who was so, so unwilling to let Hifumi purchase the beautiful thing), lights off, balcony doors parted, arms intertwined together. Like elbow macaroni, Hifumi nods sagely to himself as the crowd on the T.V. screen laughs quietly.
He’d turned down the volume after Doppo fell asleep gently next to him with a hand still propped up to rest his head against. What a silly guy — why fall asleep on a hand when Hifumi’s lap is perfectly perfect and soft and so sleepable in? He’s tempted to drag Doppo down onto his lap and watch him sleep, but he flits his gaze over to Doppo and—
Oh.
Doppo’s eyelashes flutter with each breath exhaled as he sleeps. Like the trembling leaves of an autumn tree when the wind touches it tenderly. And those eyebrows of his are pinched again as if stuck in some terrible, horrible dream. Probably something about being fired or spilling coffee all over his documents or something, something, something — Hifumi doesn’t know, but he can guess. Even so, Doppo looks so peaceful napping on the couch to the point where Hifumi doesn’t dare move. So he looks.
Watches. Presses in just a little closer to him so his cheek brushes against the fabric of Doppo’s black t-shirt they got on sale from Uniqlo. Yeah, the same one that Doppo wears nearly Every Day in the house despite Hifumi’s best-est attempts to get him to wear something more fashionable. (“We’re indoors,” Doppo had told him over a cup of morning coffee on a Saturday, hair uncombed, stubble unshaved, and Hifumi had thought it was the most romantic sight he’d ever seen. His 29-year-old salaryman boyfriend couldn’t possibly be this cute! No way, no way, no way! The moe was too uncontainable: Hifumi nearly smacked his head into his eggs benedict from the sight. “There’s no use dressing up, anyway,” Doppo continued. Oh, but there was, Hifumi retorted, and whined when Doppo ignored him.)
The gold’s fading away by the time Hifumi pulls himself out of his thoughts. The light flickers over Doppo as Hifumi shifts even closer as if he could move straight into the brightness cradling Doppo’s face. He could live in it, he thinks. In that light touching Doppo and gilding him a brilliant mellow orange like the glow of a lighter. He could live in it, and he could be just as warm on Doppo’s skin as the dying sunlight is. He could be beautiful. He could be comforting. He could be Doppo’s, just as how the light is in this moment.
Hifumi must have shifted too much, or maybe pushed too close, because Doppo lets out a little groan from the back of his throat before his eyes flutter open like the wings of those pigeons Hifumi sees in the park at first flight.
“Morning,” Hifumi says with amusement at Doppo’s half-awake, half-asleep hair-tussled-drool-at-the-corner-of-his-mouth dead fish look. “Sleep well?”
Doppo doesn’t respond to him at first. Hifumi doesn’t mind. He knows Doppo’s had a long day — he’s probably busying rebooting before he can talk to Hifumi properly after his nap. Hifumi hums as Doppo turns his head toward the twilight sky outside their apartment. Looks at Hifumi. Looks back at the sky.
“It’s night,” he says groggily, and lets out a yawn so massive that Hifumi could fit a whole snow pear and a half in it.
“Night? Whatcha talking about, Doppo-chin? It’s still 6:30 in the evening. The sun’s still out. I haven’t even made dinner yet.” Hifumi hops off the couch with a flourish that leaves Doppo flailing for his life as he falls over into the empty space that Hifumi leaves behind. “Whatcha want for dinner?”
Doppo lets out a groan and shoves his face into the $50 Pottery Barn pillow. He lies there for a while as Hifumi ties his apron around himself, sleeves rolled up to the inside of his elbows when he goes to grab ingredients for their meal. Maybe dumplings tonight, he thinks. Yeah, fried dumplings. And then maybe they’ll have some of that leftover ice cream for dessert. What a smart cookie he is, Hifumi laughs to himself. An absolute genius.
It doesn’t take long before Doppo hobbles off the couch and into the kitchen right as Hifumi gets the oil sizzling on the pan. He’s humming to himself, and he hears the muffled pad of Doppo’s footsteps on the tiled kitchen floors as he comes over to wrap his arms around Hifumi’s waist.
“Hm? Hungry, Doppo-chin?” Hifumi pats his head with one hand. He cards his fingers through Doppo’s hair, undoing the little knots here and there that came to be from shoving his head into the pillows. “They’ll be ready in a bit.”
“Something else,” Doppo murmurs into the crook of his neck. He rests a cheek there, bone against bone, skin against skin, warmth against warmth like he’s already found a home in Hifumi’s body.
“What’s that?”
“Want something else.” Doppo’s breath skims across the hollow of Hifumi’s throat, and it’s so tickly that Hifumi can’t help the giggle that leaves him. Ah, he really can’t stop the smile that tugs at his mouth when he looks down and sees Doppo stare up at him with pleading eyes. One shot K.O.! Izanami Hifumi’s been hit with the love beam extravaganza, Romeo-Juliet style. Well, maybe without all the dying and stuff. Hifumi doesn’t think he’d ever die with Doppo around.
Hifumi only has enough time to turn around before Doppo hoists Hifumi up onto the counter, and it’s hard not to notice how his arms shake while his cheeks flush a lovely baby pink from all the force he’s exerting trying to keep Hifumi up. And — oh, wow — up he goes! Hifumi giggles and pecks Doppo on the forehead while swinging his legs and accidentally knocking the heel of his foot against Doppo’s hip. Oops.
“Hifumi,” Doppo yelps, hands tightening on Hifumi’s waist when he shoots one of those nasty, unserious glares at him. Hifumi smiles back down and pats him on the shoulders.
“Whoopsies! Sorries, Doppyon. Didn’t mean to hit ya.”
The ceiling light in their kitchen is a weak thing, just as how Hifumi is a weak man for Doppo. It’s dim, soft, fuzzy at the edges like it’s constantly at the verge of falling asleep. And so it does this time: it falls asleep on the both of them with the body of diffused sunlight. A mellow, fickle thing that blends over the crown of their heads. At least, it does for Doppo, Hifumi notices. It catches in his eyelashes when he blinks at Hifumi, dips over the slope of his nose and down the curve of his neck to his shoulders.
So they’re both blurred out by this glow, so they’re underneath an inescapable brilliance with the sweetness of intimacy on the roof of his mouth, so Hifumi takes this 7:00 p.m. that the light heralds in the form of a translucent wedding veil and presses his mouth against Doppo’s in a chaste kiss. Slow. Unhurried. Tender.
And Doppo kisses him back. Hifumi’s hands on Doppo’s shoulders, Doppo’s hands on Hifumi’s waist, and they’re pressing into each other on this tiny countertop with Hifumi’s legs wrapped around Doppo’s hips, pulling him in. Doppo’s mouth is soft against Hifumi’s own, tasting a little of awakened sleep and the warmth of the now faded sunlight. Hifumi hums against Doppo; Doppo kisses him just a little bit harder in the way that Hifumi likes it when they’re making out.
“The dumplings are gonna burn,” Hifumi mumbles into Doppo’s lips as the oil crackles in something akin to irritation. Doppo makes a dissatisfied sound and hesitantly releases Hifumi’s face, his fingertips still cradling the edges of his jaw when they part. They’re soft, though a little bit calloused from all the typing he does. But Hifumi loves them nevertheless, as he does all of Doppo. He gives them a kiss before flipping the dumplings with a spatula, and he thinks the aftertaste they leave behind has a better flavor than any dumpling he’ll ever eat.
“So, y’wanna smooch again? Mwah mwah?” Hifumi points at his lips and pokes Doppo on the mouth where it’s swollen red from all the kissing he’s done. Heh, Hifumi laughs to himself. How cute. He’s got this little pout on his face, like he’s frustrated at the dumplings for taking his time away from Hifumi. As if they could take Hifumi’s attention away from his Doppopo!
“Don’t—” Doppo stammers, getting all flustered when Hifumi incessantly pokes him on the cheek. “Don’t put it like that! You’re so embarrassing.”
“Don’t put it like what? C’mon, Doppo-chin, speak up! I can’t hear ya.” Hifumi taps him multiple times on the forehead like a woodpecker until Doppo covers his head with his hands and scrunches up his nose in the way that makes a little crease between his eyebrows. Hifumi’s thumb smoothens it as he does when rubbing the top of a cat’s head with a thumb.
“I—” Doppo huffs, then stills, like he’s thinking about the next thing he wants to do. And that’s the cute thing about Doppo. He thinks a lot slower when he’s half-awake. Forgets some things, misses a step somewhere here and there, can’t find his jacket or tie sometimes, or maybe loses track of what he’s about to say, but Hifumi doesn’t mind. He’ll wait patiently for Doppo whenever, wherever. Not a problem for him. Doppo could never be a problem to him. “I’m going to kiss you again.”
Hifumi beams, and slaps his hands onto Doppo with a happiness so intense it wrangles a pained yelp out of the poor guy. Whoopsies x2. He’ll make it up to Doppo later for sure-sies. “Okies! C’mere.”
And then with a softer, kinder gesture of his hands cupping the edges of Doppo’s face, Hifumi tilts his head to make the slant of Doppo’s jaw the axis of his world.
Hm, he thinks as Doppo opens his mouth and strengthens his grip on Hifumi’s waist with a sweetness that intoxicates Hifumi. Maybe the dumplings could wait a little more.