Work Text:
The air was like being blasted with a hot leafblower that day. Sweat beads formed on many a man’s brow; the windows were thrown open to tempt in even the ghost of a draught, but none came, and so it was that the CCG buildings felt like a furnace during this particular meeting.
Mutsuki Tooru, his face ever so slightly flushed, was having trouble concentrating. He was dutifully nodding in all the correct places, taking notes on occasion, but his eyes kept veering a little to the right of where he was supposed to be looking – towards the face of his colleague, Urie Kuki.
Colleague, and boyfriend. Mutsuki’s eyes trailed down his other half’s face, thinking to himself, god, how did I get so lucky? Those pointed features, the delicate mouth - permanently sullen, aside from when he spoke to Mutsuki. His eyelashes, so long and so thick, looked almost girlish as they flickered up and down with each eye movement, and his hands – piano hands, Mutsuki always called them – lay curled under his angular jaw. He looked bored to bits, but he always did. It was his default expression.
However, Mutsuki knew better. He knew that beneath that tough, callous exterior lay a loving, gentle soul, who cared deeply about his loved ones. He just wasn’t very forthcoming about expressing it. These two sides, though seemingly completely irreconcilable, lay side by side to form Urie’s personality – as deliberately and obviously as the two dark moles that marked his upper cheekbone.
Mutsuki’s cheeks flushed as he recalled the location of two other, very similar moles, but in a much more… compromising position than these innocents before him. He had laid eyes on them only that morning.
*****
He was getting out of the shower. Steam trickled underneath the door as the water shut off. Tooru, curled up in a nest of blankets, heard the telltale drip-drop that signified when one was leaning out of the shower to grab a towel. Drip, drop, drip, drop; the soundtrack of the water dripping from Urie’s outstretched arm. Mutsuki could just picture him groping around for a towel, eyes blinking from the hot spray. He imagined Urie’s tight grip on the towel, his quick yank removing it from the rail. Dabbing his arms, his legs, his nose, his forehead, before securing the towel in a makeshift skirt around his waist, beneath that washboard stomach…
The door creaked as Urie reappeared in the room, snapping Mutsuki out of his dreamy reverie. His predictions had been mostly correct – Urie was a creature of habit, after all – and so he wasn’t surprised by the fact that there were still water droplets trickling down his neck from his damp hair. He never remembers, Mutsuki thought fondly, it never occurs to that idiot to wipe off his neck and dry his hair before the rest of him, the fool. A lazy half-smile stretched across his face, whilst Urie, still muggy, blinked a little.
“What’re you- ack!” Urie’s fringe had dripped into his eyes midsentence; his hands both shot up to remove the offending droplet, and Mutsuki could have sworn he heard a distinct grumbling of “Stupid-fucking-hair…” as he did so.
Mutsuki smirked as his boyfriend was rendered temporarily blind, but the smirk soon vanished. As Urie stretched his arms up to his face, he let go of his towel. And… well, gravity did its stuff.
Mutsuki coloured as Urie, realising, muttered, ‘fuck’ as he hastily bent over to try and recover his dignity. As he bent over, Mutsuki gasped, because lo and behold, on each buttock of his lover’s ass, there was a mole, freckle, whatever you want to call it. Identical and equidistant from one another, they were uncannily symmetrical, and bore more than a passing resemblance to the ones that marked Urie’s face.
Hearing his lover’s rapid intake of breath, Urie wheeled around, hands grasping at the towel, just barely concealing his still-damp crotch. Taking one look at Mutsuki’s agonised face, he harumphed grumpily, reshuffling the towel again. ‘What’s with you?’
Mutsuki, whose hands had shot up to cover his mouth, slowly lowered them to say, ‘Y-your.. aha… um, you have – well, there’s – ’
‘Oh, my god, Tooru. Spit it out, already.’ Urie, arms folded, stood at the foot of the bed, smirking, an eyebrow cocked in amusement at Mutsuki’s flustered countenance.
‘Your butt. You have… freckles. There. On…it. Ahah, wow, um, sorry, I… ah…’ Mutsuki trailed off as Urie’s smirk widened.
‘Do I? Hm. You’d think, being my fuck-buddy and all, you’d have seen them before. Golly.’ Urie was teasing, and Mutsuki knew it. ‘What a wonderful discovery you’ve made, pal.’
‘Don’t ‘pal’ me,’ Mutsuki snapped, his annoyance causing his embarrassment to fade. Urie was pulling on boxers. ‘I just… I didn’t notice, okay? You’re always on top. Right, fuck-buddy?’
Urie was still smirking, with a wicked glint in his eye. Suddenly, he pounced.
Mutsuki let out a small squeal, quickly stifled by Urie’s tongue entering his mouth as he leapt up onto the bed, climbing on top of Tooru in a parody of what had ensued the night before. Mutsuki’s muffled protests quickly faded as Urie deepened the kiss, caressing his face with those piano hands.
It took a few minutes, but Mutsuki eventually shoved Urie off of him, smacking him with the incriminating towel. Urie’s cheeky grin as he skipped away was contagious, and Mutsuki found himself beaming back as he slipped out of bed to get ready for work. God, Urie was hot. And he knew it. Bastard.
‘Tooru?’
Mutsuki blinked. He’d been so busy reminiscing on the morning’s shenanigans that he hadn’t realised that Haise, in charge of this particular debriefing, had been trying to get his attention. ‘Huh?’
Haise smiled and readjusted his glasses. ‘Lost in thought?’
‘Oh… um, no sir. Sorry.’ Mutsuki hastily apologised and took notes diligently for the remainder of the meeting, eyes focused downwards, not allowing himself so much as a glance up at his partner, who had betrayed his emotion with a tiny quirk of his eyebrow. Smiles weren't something Urie handed out for free.
He'd chastise him later, but for now, Tooru concentrated on his work.
Funny, how much trouble two little freckles could cause.