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The sun is burning down on him, making Megumi regret even thinking of wearing a jacket. Satoru promised their shopping trip would be short, that it was for Satoru himself so he wasn't going to have to try things on, and that they wouldn't be buying anything embarrassing.
The only truth Satoru told was that Megumi wouldn't need to try anything on. This time only because he made sure to bring Megumi's exact measurements with him to have anything tailored he ended up buying.
Now Megumi is hot, tired, beyond annoyed, and carrying so many bags that the collective weight of them is cutting off the circulation in his hands. It's all useless shit, more shirts and pants that Satoru will wear once if he doesn't forget about them the minute he hangs them up in the closet.
Or, more accurately, Megumi hangs them up in the closet. He really shouldn't have gotten Satoru to fire his housekeeper, unprepared for the volume of looking after that the grown man needs.
Though, and Megumi wouldn't ever admit this to anyone, barely himself if he can help it; he does secretly enjoy the little fashion show Satoru puts on for him. He has great taste from years of being a spoiled rich child, but every now and then he likes to pretend he's uncertain about a certain shirt or pants. His opinion is more than enough to make Satoru change his mind about something, so much so that the attendants in the flashy clothing stores start picking things out and showing them to Megumi first.
It's funny, and more than a little satisfying, how quickly strangers can catch on to who holds the reins in their relationship. He tries not to be too mean about it though, making sure Satoru knows he likes something he may be particularly excited to buy. He only uses it when Satoru tries buying things he already has or something similar, forgotten in the back of a closet the size of most people's living rooms.
“Megumi! Lets go into that store, I saw that artist you like on Instagram wearing one of their branded jackets and was thinking it would look amazing on you.”
“I’m good, remember what I said?”
Satoru groans and whirls around where he's several paces ahead of Megumi on the sidewalk, arms crossed and pouting like an actual child.
“You said one more store!”
“Yeah, and you want boba before we get home. The boba shop is a store. So it's this one or the shop. I have plenty of jackets, I haven't even worn all the ones you got me last year yet.”
Satoru straight up stomps his foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum. It's what he looks like anyway. A bead of sweat travels down Megumi's neck and all the way down his spine. He feels gross, hoodie sticking to him everywhere.
“Fine!”
Megumi isn't too worried about the outburst. It's hard to take Satoru seriously when he keeps turning around to check that Megumi is looking at him. Even more so when they get to the boba shop and, just as expected, he drops all attitude and tries to convince him that they should order a total of four drinks to try the new flavors. He's instantly vetoed.
Blessedly, the car pulls up while they wait for their drinks and Satoru’s chauffeur is quick to jump out and start taking things from Megumi. He likes Ichigi, and he knows for a fact it's mutual because the first time he heard Satoru give him attitude he scolded him like an angry father. Since then Satoru has been nothing but polite to him.
Megumi insists on helping with putting things in the trunk, and by the time it's all loaded up, Satoru is beaming behind him with two drinks and a donut crusted with cereal.
“Come on, in the car. It's hot and I want a shower.” He shoots Satoru a preemptive warning look before he can say something salacious in front of Ichigi.
The ride home is full of Satoru’s babbling, a surprisingly pleasant drone of his nasally voice that, combined with the smoothness of Ichigi’s driving and the AC, is almost enough to lull him to sleep.
When they pull into their ridiculously expensive house, Megumi doesn't wait for Satoru before he's walking, waving a thank you at Ichigi. He pulls his hoodie off and throws it into the hamper he keeps by the door for wet or soiled clothes so they aren't tracked through the house, then kicks his shoes off.
The house seemed too big when Satoru bought it for them, but knowing that he picked it because of the traditional garden and pond in the backyard and its distance from the city, Megumi hasn't complained about it.
He instead makes his way to the kitchen to make them lunch, cooking being the sole chore he rarely lets Satoru help with. For all his intelligence and talent, he's never been able to reliably cook anything but instant ramen and anything you throw in the microwave.
There's a ruckus at the front door, probably Satoru throwing his shoes and jacket and all his other pocket clutter around in the various holding spots Megumi has for them. It's a sight he's glad he's not witness to as he starts cutting ingredients and frying spam.
“What are you making?”
Satoru pastes himself to Megumi's back, too warm and little too heavy for the finesse he needs with the knife cutting green onion.
“Nothing, if you don't let me work.”
“Can I help?”
Megumi sets the knife down and sighs, turning his head just enough to kiss Satoru's cheek to soften the blow.
“No, you can't cook and you make a mess. You can start the bath, though.”
“For both of us?”
Satoru’s grip around him tightens and he hums as his answer, biting back a grin when Satoru runs off and sets the water temperature.
As quick as he is to start tantrums, he's just as easy to appease with nothing more than a little affection. Megumi sighs as he finishes the prep work for lunch and starts the rice cooker. Everything should be done by the time they're clean, so to allow himself to actually relax afterwards, he uses the remainder of the time it takes the massive tub to fill by walking around the house and tidying up.
Satoru had wanted to hire a cleaning service when they moved in, but Megumi had shot the idea down instantly. The house was large, but there was no reason two grown men couldn't handle something as simple as house work. It actually almost caused an argument, or rather, did cause an argument that lasted a total time of two minutes until Megumi went red faced and asked how the hell he was supposed to practice Satoru's stupid love language bullshit.
Which led to him admitting that his neurotic cleaning of Satoru’s apartment when he came over was not just out of his OCD, but his way of showing love.
Megumi didn't wipe down counters and fold blankets and vacuum for just anyone. He started doing it a few months into their relationship, past the point where it would seem rude and before he even realized he’d already fallen in love, somehow, with a man that made him want to rip his hair out half the time.
There's remarkably little to clean up and straighten, but he knows part of that is a change to Satoru’s own habits. Now he only leaves little things around for Megumi to fiddle with; a hoodie or blanket left in a ball on the couch, his shoes just a little off center on the rack by the door. It's sweet, really. The kind of sweet Megumi doesn't like to dwell on too long because it makes him sentimental and sappy.
“Oh Megumi! Bath is ready, there's even a sexy naked man in it already just for you!”
Megumi finishes putting the remote back on the coffee table where it belongs and lays his apron over the back of one of their kitchen chairs before he makes his way down the hall. True to his word, the bathroom is steaming and Satoru is already inside the murky water. He's probably loaded it up with body oil for their skin.
“Thank you, now go ahead and make room, you got the big tub for both of us to fit without being crushed together.”
He ignores the whining and then the whistling as he undresses, maybe a bit slower than usual, and tosses all his clothes in the hamper. When he turns, Satoru is resting his chin on his folded arms on the edge of the tub giving him a dreamy look that he thinks is really over the top for seeing him naked for the thousandth time.
“What?”
“Oh, I was just thinking that I'll never get tired of looking at you. And your ass looks so good.”
Megumi snorts and picks up the shower head to give himself a quick rinse and wash his hair.
“Very charming.”
“I wouldn't say it if you didn't like it. Is it such a hardship to have such a loving and considerate husband? I for one am a huge fan of mine.”
Megumi laughs despite himself. He'd be lying if he said he didn’t like the way Satoru spits out one liners like it's his native tongue.
“I don't know, maybe I'll get tired of it after a while.”
“No way! I have new material every day!”
“I’ll give you a performance review after fifty years or so.”
He peeks over to make sure that Satoru knows his little innuendo is as much of a promise as a tease. He can tell by the color creeping down his pale chest that it registers.
“I would love a performance review from you.”
He practically purrs it and Megumi can tell by the shift in the water that Satoru is on his way to riling himself up if he doesn't reign him back in. He needs a long soak, food and possibly a nap before he thinks about trying to satisfy that part of him.
Megumi finishes rinsing off and takes Satoru's hand to step into the bath. The hot water instantly seeps into his skin and warms his bones and he lets out a rare, luxurious groan and closes his eyes.
“Temperature good?”
“Perfect, here.”
Megumi pats his chest, peeking one eye open to see Satoru bite his lip and shuffle closer until he's between Megumi’s legs with his back to his chest, head pillowed on his chest. He pets through his wet hair softly, stretching out his legs and his toes before settling against the warm back of the tub.
He isn't one for expensive things, but the giant tub was an expense he was glad to splurge on. It fits both of their tall, wide bodies perfectly with room to spare.
“Did you have fun shopping today?”
Satoru is uncharacteristically quiet, likely feeling rare guilt over dragging Megumi around so long.
“I liked spending time with you.”
“Not carrying the bags?”
“Hate it.”
Which is only a half lie. Megumi does in fact not like carrying so many shopping bags he can’t see over them, but he likes Satoru so he considers it a compromise. He remembers the first time Nobora crossed paths with them on her own shopping run. She was indignant with disbelief to see Megumi doing something he so often refused to do for her, spouting all kinds of curses at him until Satoru asked if there was any makeup she was interested in.
It was enough to get her off his back and the perfect excuse for him to spoil one of Megumi's friends. Megumi didn't love that either, not wanting them to get used to it or for Satoru to think he needed to buy their attention, but they'd found a nice middle ground over the years.
“You do it for me, though. Because you love me, right?”
The anxiety in his tone has Megumi opening his eyes and looking down to stare at the back of his head, his hand stilling in silky white strands.
“Of course I do. Why?”
Satoru pushes into his hand, demanding to be pet again like a needy cat. Megumi continues only because it seems like he needs the distraction.
“Just get worried sometimes. That I'm pushing it.”
“You’re always pushing it. If I didn't like it, I wouldn't be here. Did something happen?”
What Megumi is really asking is if he did something. He’s sharp with his words, something Satoru normally takes in stride if doesn't love, but he knows there have been times when an insult was handed out at just the wrong time. For all of Satoru’s grandeur and confidence, he’s actually extremely sensitive.
“Not you, no. It’s dumb, let's just forget it.”
“No, you're dumb too and I don't forget you. Tell me.”
Megumi's hand in his hair gives a gentle tug as a warning before he starts scratching at his scalp, his other hand rubbing Satoru’s side to soothe him. It must be something serious if he doesn't want to rant about it.
“I was talking to some old classmates after work last week. They saw me walking and we had coffee, remember?”
“Yeah, you said they were a couple of years below you, right?”
“Mmhmm. It was kind of fun, but when I mentioned I was married they all thought it was crazy. That it must be nice to be rich because someone will marry you no matter how annoying you are. I know they were joking but-”
Megumi stops him with a kiss to his cheek, the hand in his hair covering his mouth. It's rare, but sometimes Satoru will talk about himself like he's not even human, just a legacy. It gets on Megumi's nerves and breaks his heart because he knows exactly how it feels.
“It was a mean joke, Satoru. It's not true, either. The money is nice and all but I have my own. We're married because I like you. I even tried not to for a while when we met but, well, you're inevitable for me I guess.”
Satoru sniffles and Megumi kisses him again. He knows Satoru believes him, that he probably just needed to get out his hurt feelings and get some reassurance, but he also knows he wants to milk it a little. So Megumi gives in, just like every other time.
“I chose you because I wanted to. If we go broke tomorrow we’ll live in the street together and …that's fine…with me.”
The words feel like they have to crawl their way out his mouth, so sweet they hurt his molars. He's not fond of talking in poetics because he's not very good at it, not like Satoru, but Satoru loves it anyway.
“I’m gonna cry, Megumi, that was so romantic.”
“For god’s sake-better? Do you believe me?”
“I do.”
“Good, now get up. Lunch should be done and…”
The words get stuck in his throat, much the same as if he were to try to birth a rock from it instead of being honest with his feelings.
“And?”
Satoru turns in his arms and looks up at Megumi with the wet, teary puppy eyes that make him feel like he's being turned inside out. He swallows and struggles to hold eye contact, face hot.
“I want to…cuddle…on the couch.”
He’s pounced on so quickly that both of them slip and he is nearly drowned under 190 pounds of muscle and stupidity. Satoru’s arms are around his neck and he’s suffocating him with kisses.
“Love you, love you, love you.”
“Then stop trying to drown us and get out!”
Later, when their stomachs are full and Satoru lays over him on the couch, Megumi can’t help but feel the acclamation of every cherished moment sitting warm in his belly. He's not usually sentimental because he's prone to melancholy, but if he can have Satoru like this for even a second longer, just one more day, one more week, then it's hard to not remember how lucky he is.