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Tsuzuru isn't sure how or when it begins, but he dreams.
It's a bit blurry and everything sounds like noises under water, but he dreams of Kumon yelping, "Tsuzuru-san!" while hugging him. Or, supporting him, more accurately, although from the way Kumon heaves and grunts, he sounds like he's struggling. Has he gained weight, Tsuzuru wonders. Half of him wants to blame Omi for the delectable and indulgent night snacks labeled with his name that Tsuzuru keeps finding in the fridge at two or three in the morning when he's ravaging the kitchen for scraps to eat after missing dinner thanks to either scriptwriting or university assignments, but another half of him insists that the few kilograms he gains from that is absolutely worth it, so Kumon should just deal with--what is he on about?
"Help!"
Oh, right. His dream. God, he's so tired he can't even keep track of what's happening in his dream. He's admittedly a little miffed that he's even dreaming at all--if his body is that tired, shouldn't it just shut down so he could enjoy blessed unconsciousness completely instead of this weird, third-person point of view dream where he's seeing Kumon holding his body? Human brain is genuinely so weird sometimes.
"Niichan!"
The way Kumon's face lights up at Juuza sliding in behind him is truly adorable. Tsuzuru wishes any of his brothers would light up like that when they see him--the way they would light up whenever Omi comes over to play with a totebag full of handmade snacks and desserts. Huh, is that a plastic bag filled with sweets to nearly bursting in Juuza's hand? Tsuzuru can't help but smile at the way he abandons the plastic bag to support Kumon--or, he supposes, just hugging him and patting his head.
......it probably doesn't help Kumon much with the deadweight that is Tsuzuru, but Tsuzuru can't help but grin at how Kumon's face scrunches giddily for every pat he gets.
"Oh, Ten-chan, look! Group hug!"
"Huh? Is that---are you sure that's a---hey, Kumon, is that Tsuzuru-san...?"
"Juuza-san, let us in, too!"
"Wha---wait, woah!"
Tsuzuru is genuinely impressed at how strong Juuza has gotten considering he barely flinches as both Taichi and Tenma quite literally flop on him and Kumon. All those trainings with Tasuku must have gotten him somewhere. Maybe Tsuzuru should start, too? Then maybe he'd stop feeling slightly insecure whenever he steals a glance at Omi's gorgeously defined abs, shoulders and biceps.
"Hmph," he hears Tenma huffs and grumps, voice half-muffled as if Tsuzuru's submerged in the pool. There's a pout clinging to his lips that doesn't fit the slight shade of red over his cheeks, nor the hands helping Kumon supporting Tsuzuru's body like it's second nature. Taichi's happy laughter rings, tinkling like the last of summer chimes in early autumn as his arms bring Tenma and Juuza's shoulders closer in, turning their pile into an actual group hug, which, even in a dream, Tsuzuru notes with a smile, feels so warm he instantly just relaxes. Maybe he can even fall asleep within a dream? Like that one movie that he watched with Sakyo-san the other day, about tiered dreams and people who share them--
"Oh? Are we dogpiling Tsuzuru today?"
"Omi-kun!"
"Omi-san!"
Fushimi-san! Tsuzuru thinks, inwardly cheering and turning to look at his boyfriend, except--oh.
Oh.
Group hug warm. World cold and hard. Fushimi-san's boobs on face soft and heaven.
Tsuzuru, quite literally, swoons.
"Hahaha. Did he fall asleep standing again?"
"I was talking to him and then he just---"
"Ahaha! Sounds like Tsuzuru-kun!"
"Omi-san, I think we should get him back to bed."
"I can help. I was going to help Kumon with him anyway."
"That's alright, Juuza, I can take him back. I think Tsuzuru's pretty comfy the way he is now, though."
"Is he smiling? Omi-kun, is he smiling in his sleep?"
"Tsuzuru-san just looks pretty dead to me...."
Tenma, Tsuzuru decides as his surroundings grow even more blurry, isn't wrong. His dream must have decided that he's comfortable enough to finally--
"Mmm, maybe, but this is the most relaxed I've seen him in weeks. Must be the dogpiling."
"It's a group hug, Omi-kun!"
---shut down.
-----o0o-----
-----o0o-----
He wakes up on a carpeted floor.
The ceiling looks familiar. Tsuzuru blinks at it several times until his brain registers that it belongs to his and Masumi's room. Then he blinks a few more times until his synapses are firing enough to notice that his head is pillowed on familiar hard thighs and there's a hand carding through his hair.
He opens his mouth. Exhales.
"Fushimi-san."
The hand in his hair pauses, and a face appears in his line of vision. Tsuzuru focuses on that unfairly gorgeous line of jaw marred by a scar for a second before taking in his boyfriend's entire visage, because otherwise he fears that he might just swoon again.
.....again....?
"Awake, Tsuzuru?" An unfailingly bright smile. The way the corners of Omi's eyes crinkle. Sharp eyebrows that soften with the smile, gently curving like a bow facing downwards. "Hungry?"
Yeah, he's way too out of it for this blinding a smile first thing when he wakes up. Tsuzuru scrunches his eyes in a vain attempt to get used to the smile.
"What time is it?" he mumbles as he does so, shifting to his side until his face presses against Omi's stomach. He feels more than hears the rumble of Omi's amused laugh, vibrating through his entire body the way warmth is clinging to ever inch of Tsuzuru's body right now.
"Ten at night. I was going to put you to bed, but you wouldn't let me go, so here I am."
Damn, that sounds so embarrassing. Tsuzuru smooshes his face sleepily onto Omi's stomach, because he's too sleepy to care about it now. "I was dreaming."
"Yeah?"
"Uh-huh. Had my juniors dogpile me."
"Your juniors," Omi repeats, and from the way his stomach muscles contracts, Tsuzuru can tell that he's holding back laughter.
"Yeah, like. My juniors at Yousei." Tsuzuru yawns, half-tempted to follow the tug of sleep back to the abyss of unconsciousness. "Juuza and Kumon and Taichi and Tenma. And then there was you."
"Me?"
"Uh-huh," Tsuzuru mumbles, nuzzling the patch of skin he can reach where Omi's shirt has ridden up. "You. Boobs. Nice."
For a long moment, silence stretches, and then Omi's entire body shakes. Peals of laughter rain down onto Tsuzuru, amused and gentle and so in love that Tsuzuru can't help but turn his face back up and stare in awe.
"Alright, then," Omi says, and then in one easy breath, he pulls Tsuzuru up into his arms and brings them both to the floor, maneuvering them efficiently so that Tsuzuru lies on top of him, limbs trapped in Omi's arms and face smooshed against Omi's chest. "There you go."
Tsuzuru blinks. Blinks another time. Looks up and digs his chin onto Omi's chest to meet Omi's gaze and says, very seriously, "I was dreaming."
"You really weren't," Omi hums, one hand patting Tsuzuru's cheek gently. "Let's go back to sleep and not worry your juniors, yeah?"
That sounds logical. Tsuzuru lets himself fall face first onto Omi's chest, lets his brain go dumb and thinks, boobs. Then his brains rewires for a short second, enough for him to mutter, "They're good kids."
"They are," Omi agrees, amused and warm and somehow sounding so proud for reasons Tsuzuru can't understand. "Go back to sleep."
Tsuzuru's brain agrees wholeheartedly. It shuts back down with the memory of warmth in the small pile of fairy boys.
He doesn't wake up until dawn.
-----o0o-----