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The heating system in Karube's apartment was dying a slow, miserable death, and Niragi had been threatening to blow it up for the past three days just to put it out of its misery.
“I’m just saying,” he muttered from the couch, bundled in two blankets and one of his boyfriend’s hoodies — the one that hung just a little too big on him — while munching on the chips he had stolen from the cabinet earlier in the day, “arson would solve this problem faster than whatever the hell you're doing.”
Karube, crouched in front of the ancient radiator with a wrench and his unyielding optimism, shot him a look over his shoulder in response. “You know what else would solve the problem? You not complaining every five seconds while I'm trying to fix this thing.”
“Excuse you,” Niragi sniffed, pulling the blanket higher on his shoulders. “I am providing moral support.”
“You're providing a headache.”
“Same thing,” Niragi said with a lazy shrug, shifting his bad leg — the one that always ached like a bastard in the cold — into a more comfortable position on the pillows Karube had set up for him a few hours ago. The movement disrupted Kuro's light nap, and she stretched languidly before giving him an annoyed look and relocate to supervise the heater's repair attempt more properly. “Anyway, you've been at it for an hour. Just admit defeat and call someone who actually knows what they're doing.”
“No need,” his boyfriend grunted, hand turning the wrench with more force than was probably necessary. “I know what I'm doing.”
“You absolutely do not.”
“I run a bar, Su. I know how to fix things.”
“You know how to pour drinks and charm drunk people into tipping you,” Niragi countered, pulling the blankets tighter around himself. “That heater requires actual mechanical knowledge, not your folksy bartender wisdom.”
Karube muttered something under his breath that sounded vaguely like a threat, and Niragi smirked despite the cold seeping into his bones. The apartment wasn't freezing (yet), but winter in Tokyo had a way of creeping through every crack in the walls of their small home. It made the cold sharper and the ache worse, and even when he had been trying not to bring it up — mostly to avoid Karube's inevitable descent into full mother-hen mode — his boyfriend still noticed his discomfort anyway. He always did.
“You need another painkiller?” Karube asked without looking up.
“I'm fine.”
“That wasn't what I asked, Su.”
Niragi exhaled sharply through his nose, equal parts indignant and peachy that his boyfriend didn't trust him with his own meds even after all this time. “I took one an hour ago, silly. I'm good.”
Karube glanced back at him, warm eyes narrowing slightly, and he glared back with all the defiance he could muster while wrapped in blankets like a burrito. They held the stare for a long while afterward, then the older man nodded, apparently satisfied, and turned back to his battle with the ancient machine, leaving him to his devices once again.
“You're lucky I like you,” Niragi muttered, burying deeper into the sofa.
“Yeah?” Karube hummed, the corner of his lips twitching like he was fighting back a smile. “That why you've been bitching at me nonstop since this morning?”
“That's how you know it's love, old man.”
The older man snorted, his smile finally breaking free as he gave the heater one last decisive twist and watched the machine finally flickered to life. “There,” he said, leaning back on his heels with the smug satisfaction of someone who thought they had just outsmarted the laws of physics. “Fixed it.”
Niragi raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You sure about that? Because it sounds like it's about to explode.”
“It's not going to explode.”
“Famous last words.”
“You want heat or not?”
Niragi considered that question for a moment before giving his boyfriend a shrug and settling deeper into his blanket cocoon. “I'll take my chances with potential death if it means being warm again.”
“Thank you, sweetheart, your support means everything to me.” Karube said, his joints creaking as he stood up and stretched. The heater continued its ominous rattling, but warmth was already starting to spread through the room in hesitant waves. “See? Told you I could fix it.”
“You got lucky,” Niragi retorted, though his tone had softened slightly now that he could actually feel his fingers again. “Don't let it go to your head.”
“Too late.” The older man wiped his hands on his jeans and made his way over to the couch, eyeing the blanket fortress with what looked like amusement mixed with concern. “You planning on staying there all day?”
“Considering I've got a deadline tomorrow and my leg feels like someone's driving nails through it? Yeah, probably.” He shifted again, trying to find a position that didn't make him want to punch something. “Besides, your couch is surprisingly comfortable for something that looks like you found it on the street.”
“I did find it on the street.”
“Of course you did.”
Karube huffed out a laugh and dropped onto the couch beside him, or rather, onto what little space remained that wasn't occupied by Niragi's sprawl of blankets and pillows. The younger man immediately felt the dip in the cushions and the warmth radiating from his boyfriend's body, which was infinitely better than the heater's pathetic attempts at providing heat. Kuro, ever the opportunist, immediately jumped back up and wedged herself between them.
“Move over,” Karube said, nudging him gently while trying to navigate around their little feline.
“No. I was here first.”
“Su, you're taking up the entire couch.”
“And whatchu gonna do about it?” Niragi smirked, fully prepared to be a pain in the ass about this because that was what he did best, but then Karube sighed — that resigned, affectionate sigh that meant the man was done arguing — and simply wedged himself in anyway, slow and careful, fitting himself against his side until they were sharing the same small corner of the sofa. Kuro purred loudly, pleased to be sandwiched between her two favorite heat sources.
“This is ridiculous,” Niragi muttered as he begrudgingly made space for his loves. “We're not going to fit like this.”
“We're fitting just fine.”
“You're practically on top of me.”
“You complaining?”
Niragi opened his mouth to say yes, obviously, except the words didn't come out because Karube had shifted closer, pressing warm and solid against his side, and fuck, that actually felt… good — really good, even, the kind of good that made his entire body relax despite his best efforts to maintain his usual prickly demeanor.
“… No,” he admitted in the end, voice quieter than before. “Not complaining.”
“Hmm, thought so.” Karube's hand squeezed his knee gently, and Niragi could feel the soft laugh that rumbled through his boyfriend's chest at his answer. “This feels nice.”
“What, me being crippled and cold?”
“No, dipshit.” His boyfriend chuckled into his hair, pressing a few soft kisses there like it was the easiest thing in the world. “It's nice that you're here—” Calloused fingertips then brushed against his side, and he couldn't help but shiver involuntarily at the ticklish feeling. “—with me, like this.”
Niragi didn't respond immediately — couldn't, really — because his throat had gone tight in that stupid, inconvenient way it always did when Karube said shit like that — like it was simple to love him despite his sharp edges and all.
“… You're being sappy again,” he muttered against the fabric of Karube's shirt, heat crawling embarrassingly fast up his cheeks. “It's disgusting.”
“Yeah, well.” The older man's palm patted his side before settling there, warm all the way through blankets and hoodie. “You're stuck with it.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Tragically.”
“The worst thing that's ever happened to me, honestly.”
“Worse than the meteor?”
Niragi snorted despite himself, the sound muffled against Karube's shoulder. “At least the meteor had the decency to try and kill me quickly.”
“Jesus Christ, Su.”
“What? I'm just saying, your sappiness is a slower, more painful death.” He shifted again, trying to get his bad leg into a position that didn't make him want to saw it off at the knee. The movement made him wince, and Kuro meowed in protest at being jostled, so Karube gently adjusted the pillows under his leg and hugged him a bit tighter than before, then picked up their cat and resettled her back in-between the two of them.
“Here,” his boyfriend hummed, tapping his good knee twice. “Better?”
“I was fine.”
“You were grimacing like someone was stabbing you.”
“That's just my face.”
“No, that's your ‘my leg hurts but I'm too stubborn to admit it’ face,” Karube corrected, settling back against him once everything was in place. “I know the difference by now.”
Niragi wanted to argue — it was practically his default setting by now — but the annoying truth was that Karube did know the difference. The older man had memorized every variation of pain that crossed his face like he was studying for some fucked-up exam titled How to Date a Walking Disaster, and he had been acing it so far.
So instead of snapping back, Niragi let his head drop against that steady shoulder, mumbling under his breath about how the heater still sounded like it was about to die.
Karube just smiled against his hair. “It's giving us heat, isn't it?”
“It's giving us false hope and carbon monoxide poisoning.” Niragi snapped back. “This is why I told you to call someone else for that fuckass heater.”
His boyfriend, in response, laughed and pressed another kiss to the top of his head. “Such pessimistic view about life.”
“I'm a realist,” he corrected, though his protest lost some of its bite when the older man's fingers started tracing absent patterns along his arm through the blanket. “There's a difference.”
“If you say so, sweetheart.”
The pet name should've irritated him — from anyone else, it would've — but out of Karube's mouth, it landed like something familiar and natural, like they had been using it for years.
Niragi hated how much he didn't hate it.
They stayed like that for a while — long enough for his breathing to even out, for the tightness in his shoulders to bleed away, for Karube's thumb to keep drawing lazy circles like his body had learned the motion on its own. Even the heater's death rattle faded into the background, a noise none of them cared about anymore.
“You've got that deadline tomorrow, right?” His boyfriend asked eventually, voice low and warm against his ears.
“Mmh,” Niragi didn't bother explaining further; Karube already knew his schedule by heart. “I'll finish it tonight.”
“You want me to make dinner so you don't have to get up?”
“You don't have to—”
“Su.” Karube's hand squeezed his side gently. “I'm making dinner. What do you want?”
Niragi exhaled through his nose, a half-laugh that came out more fond than annoyed. “Surprise me, old man. Just don't burn down the kitchen this time.”
“That was one time, and it wasn't even my fault.”
“You left the stove on for forty minutes.”
“I was distracted.”
“By what, exactly? Your own reflection?”
Karube pinched his side in retaliation, and Niragi yelped, squirming in his grip despite the blankets restricting his movement. Kuro then jumped off the couch with an indignant yowl, shooting them both a betrayed look before stalking off toward her food bowl. “You're such a brat,” the older man muttered, though his smile was obvious in his voice.
“Yeah, well.” He settled back against him, letting his eyes drift shut as exhaustion finally started catching up with him. “You're stuck with me anyway.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Tragically.”
“Wouldn't have it any other way, though,” Karube said quietly, and there was something so sincere in the way he said it — so stupidly genuine — that Niragi felt his chest tighten all over again. “I'm exactly where I want to be.”
“… Yeah,” he murmured, fingers curling loosely into the fabric of his boyfriend's shirt. “Me too.”
The heater rattled on, filling the room with uneven warmth, but Niragi couldn't find it in him to complain. Instead, he just breathed slowly and tangled his fingers into Karube's warm clothes.
“You falling asleep on me?” His boyfriend asked softly, lips brushing against his temple.
“No,” Niragi lied, though his voice was barely audible.
“Liar.”
“Fuck off.”
Karube hummed, tightening his hold just enough to anchor him there, and Niragi felt genuinely happy for once in his life.
(He would never admit it out loud, of course, but his boyfriend already knew anyway.)