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It’s official. You hate July.
The weather is hot and sticky, and you can’t go outside because you’ll either burn in the sun, get eaten alive by bugs, or just sweat yourself to death. Not to mention, since you’re not teaching, patrols are the only thing to keep you busy during the day. You end up lazing around a lot, which makes you feel pretty useless.
Shota shares your distaste for summer, perhaps even more so because of his solid black outfit and scarf. He at least seems to enjoy the lazy days more than you do. You asked him about it once. He said, “I can’t possibly hate myself any more than I already do. Being lazy isn’t going to make that worse.”
He has declined your offers to get him into therapy on multiple occasions.
Thankfully, his self esteem has seemingly gone up in recent years, not that he’d ever admit it. Since letting you into his life, he’s been more open with his old friends from high school, which, again, he enjoys more than he lets on.
Today, however, is one of your lazy July afternoons. You’re sitting on your laptop, clicking around on random youtube videos, though nothing is interesting to you. Shota is next to you on the couch, easy to mistake for being asleep, if not for the fact that his breathing is too unsteady. Likely, then, trying to nap, but unable to because of how much napping he’s already done today. Or, it could be the heat inducing his insomnia, the air conditioning in that particular room being broken. Sweat coats both of your foreheads.
“Hey, Sho.”
He makes some sort of weird noise. That’s probably a response, right?
“Wanna go take a shower?”
“Too tired. Can’t stand.”
You shoot him a look. You’ve seen him fight for hours on end without tiring. “You can definitely stand.”
“Fine. I don’t want to stand.”
“Bath?”
“Ugh…”
“I’ll wash your hair for you.”
That prompts him to open an eye, his equivalent of jumping in excitement. You give a triumphant smirk before heaving yourself off of the couch and walking over to him. You don’t expect him to get up on his own, so you grab his hand and pull him forward. He stumbles, almost tripping over his feet in an attempt to catch himself.
“...coulda just asked me to get up, y’know,” he grumbles.
“We both know you wouldn’t have.”
You lead him by his hand to the bathroom, him lagging behind like a brat at a grocery store.
“Cold or hot water?” You ask, arriving at the tub.
“Hot. It may be July, but I’m not a psychopath.”
You roll your eyes at him, earning you a slap on the back.
“Wow, domestic abuse?” You accuse playfully, turning on the faucet.
“If that’s abuse, then what you did to me last night should be considered attempted murder.”
“It was a pillow fight!”
“And I was napping. I could’ve suffocated, you know.” He sees that you’ve finished filling the bath, and starts to remove his clothes.
“Wow, you hit me and then you strip? I didn’t know you were freaky like that. Or maybe it was the pillow thing that’s got you so eager to get out of those clothes. You got a thing for asphyxiation?”
“Unless you want me to get in the bath clothed and/or show you what real abuse looks like, I’d suggest you kindly shut the fuck up,” Shota deadpans, completely naked before you now.
You whistle. “With that body, I’d let you shut me up.”
“Masochist.”
“Asshole.”
You glare at each other for a second before you burst out laughing. “Get in the tub already… asshole.”
“Your pet names make me feel so loved,” Shota teases, getting into the bath. He immediately sighs in relief upon submersion.
You can’t fight back your smile at how cute he looks, blissed out in the water. His soft, genuine smile is by far your favorite of his expressions. You gather his hair in your hands, dunking it under the water to wet it. You pour some shampoo into your palm, then work it through slowly, starting at his scalp. The moment your fingers touch he lets out a small gasp, leaning into your hands as they massage him with shampoo.
“You… are my favorite person ever. I love you so much.”
You grin. “Your affection is that easily won, huh? Well, I love you too.”
He shoots you a look. “I thought I was an asshole?”
“Aww, you know I didn’t mean that.” Your hands are at the ends of his hair now, dipping it in the water to rinse out the shampoo.
“I don’t know… you might have to make it up to me.”
“And… how might I do that?”
“Get in.”
You just chuckle, removing your clothes before climbing into the tub with him. You take a seat on his lap, leaning back into him as he wraps his arms around you. “Better?”
He gives a content hum, before reaching for the shampoo.
“What are you doing?”
“Returning the favor.”
You take a startled breath in as his fingers connect with your scalp, the cool shampoo and his gentle touch feel amazing. Now you understand why this is one of his favorite ways to receive affection from you. He rinses your hair, before reaching for the soap.
You take turns washing each other, you switching around to straddle his lap in order to get better access. It feels nicer than you ever could have imagined. Your hands exploring each other’s bodies with such gentle reverence and subtle changes in pressure accommodating each other’s bruises or scrapes feels more intimate than anything you’ve ever done before, an act of trust that should leave you flustered, and yet you can’t bring yourself to be anything but relaxed.
He doesn’t let anyone else touch him like this. You don’t let anyone else touch you like this. You run soap over his face, smiling as he leans into the touch on his cheek. You want to make some cheeky comment about him being a softy, but you can at least read the room enough to know that now’s not the time. Maybe later you can tease him, but for now, you need to let him enjoy one of the only occasions he ever has to let his guard down.
You tuck a wet strand of hair behind his ear, and lean in to give him a soft kiss on the cheek. He grabs your face, turning you to kiss on the lips this time, softly pressing together again and again. You wrap your hand to support the back of his head, pulling him closer to you as he deepens the kiss. As you sense an opening in his lips you slowly push your tongue in, which he graciously accepts. It feels like you’ve been kissing for hours, yet when you break away, it doesn’t feel like enough, like some precious treasure has been stolen from you.
“I never thought I would fall in love,” he mutters.
“Hm?” You’re not sure what to think of that, or where he’s going with it, so you try to prompt as open a response as you can.
“I never thought I’d share a bed with someone, let alone a bathtub, let alone kiss like… uh, like… like that, I don’t know, I’m bad with similes.”
You let out a soft chuckle. “ ‘Sokay, that was still the cutest damn thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I’m glad. I worry sometimes, I know… I guess, I know you meant this as a joke, but I know I can be an asshole sometimes. I’m glad I can still sweep you off your feet when needed.”
“Nah. You do that just by existing.”
Shota looks at you for a second, contemplating a rebuttal, but coming up short. He just lets out a noise that sounds like a mix of a sigh and a laugh. “C’mon, babe. Let’s get out of the tub before I get even more wrinkles. I’m too much of an old man to be only thirty-one.”
You give him a smile, climbing out of his lap and stepping onto the bath mat, offering him a hand. He drains the tub as you towel the both of you off, making sure to ruffle his hair.
“Hey, hey, I’ll get tangles!”
You only grin mischievously. Then, feeling a little remorseful, half-heartedly run a comb through his hair. This, however, only results in squeezing remaining moisture and a little remainder of poorly rinsed shampoo out onto the floor in puddles. He gives you a look, then snatches the towel off your body to clean it up.
“That was poorly thought out, y’know. Now we have to share.”
You unwrap the towel from his body, leaning into him as you re-wrap it around the both of you.
“This towel isn’t big enough for that! Go get changed, and grab me some clothes while you’re at it. I’m going to brush my hair out.”
You oblige his requests with a halfhearted eye roll betrayed by your smirk, returning clothed in light pajamas, carrying some for him as well. Once you’re both dressed, and your hair is brushed, you wrap your arms around his torso and lean in.
“You know, Shota, I’m not a huge fan of summer.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“It’s hot, it’s buggy, it’s slow… and the heat prevents one of my favorite activities.”
He looks at you in confusion. “Sex?”
You almost jump, you’re so shocked. “No! Not that. I meant… damn it, I meant cuddling. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Sorry I ruined your admittedly really cute way of asking me to cuddle. It is too hot, though. It’d just be uncomfortable,” Shota says with a chuckle and an apologetic smile.
“Oh come on! We’ll blast the air conditioning and stay out of the covers.”
“I thought you couldn’t sleep without something on top of you?”
“I guess….” You smirk. “You’ll just have to lay on top of me, then.”
“You move too much,” Shota protests. “You’d throw me across the room in the middle of the night.”
“I’m sure I’ll manage! Come on, we can spoon, it’ll be so nice. Please?”
“Okay, okay,” he relents, though his grumpy facade is betrayed by his smile, shaking his head at you in false disapproval.
Once you’re in bed, with your arm around his waist (you prefer to be the big spoon, too many years of hugging pillows), and your hand on his chest, steadily rising and falling in one of the most peaceful ways you’ve ever seen, you can’t help but wonder how you ever lived any other way.
He’s right in front of you, breathing, resting, so close, where you can feel every little detail of his body. He’s so beautifully, perfectly, and vulnerably human. And he’s in your arms. You ended up having to place just a light blanket over the two of you, which, with the air conditioning turned out to be okay. Now, you’re thankful for it, as it brands you two as one in the same, two halves of a whole. Sharing a bed, sharing a blanket. You’re understanding, now, the significance Shota had seen in it. So, this is love, then.
You hated summer. It was hot, buggy, and you didn’t have as much work to do. And as much as you hated feeling lazy, it was easy to forget the hole in your life that was Shota during the school year, all late nights at UA grading, midnight patrols since his daytime schedule was overtaken by classes. When your arms were around him, they were desperate, saying, ‘I’m glad you made it home safe’, or ‘good luck on that mission’, or ‘please, please don’t leave tonight.’
Your arm was draped over his waist. Softly. You could feel his heart beating under your hand, and there was no risk of it stopping anytime soon.
Maybe July wasn’t so bad after all.