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Atsushi toes his shoes off at the door, but it doesn’t do much to help; his socks are arguably even more soaked. He peels the sopping cotton off his chilled feet and gently places them next to the dry umbrella propped up against the baseboard. Then he tiptoes to the kitchen to plunder the stash of towels under the sink, laying each one out carefully so he can cross the carpeted sitting area without dripping all over the nice soft floor.
Akutagawa’s bathroom is always so shiny. His hatred of baths is well-known to Atsushi by this point, so it’s no surprise that the bathtub looks barely-used, but even the taps on the sink gleam under the soft incandescent light. Atsushi sticks his tongue out at his own distorted reflection in the faucet. His hair is plastered to his scalp but still a bit frizzy where it’s starting to dry; his shirt sticks nearly transparent to his skin, and his pants are so waterlogged that they’re slipping down his hips. The water always takes a few minutes to heat up, so Atsushi wastes no time in getting the bath running, and he stands there wiggling his bare toes against the cold tile while he waits for it to fill.
Before long, however, he’s shedding his clothes and slipping into water so hot it’s just shy of painful. Atsushi lets out a contented sigh, sinking down until only his nose and eyes are above the water. For someone with such strict and anti-bath hygiene standards, Akutagawa’s tub is nice, maybe even Atsushi’s favorite part of the entire apartment. Maybe Gin likes long baths and encouraged her brother to indulge in a luxury bathroom. Or maybe the Akutagawas just rent the nicest apartment they can afford just because they can—Atsushi can sympathize with that, with being just the tiniest bit irresponsible with money just because you never thought you’d be able to, as the growing jungle of succulents and ferns filling his dorm can attest.
But whatever the reason, the nice big tub is certainly getting used now, and will be for as long as Atsushi is coming around, which is going to be for a long, long while.
Someone—that is to say, Akutagawa, because he’s probably the only other person in the apartment—raps twice on the door. And then the identity of the person is confirmed, because he says “Atsushi” in a voice so tense that he must’ve seen the towel trail leading here. Atsushi opens his eyes and sits up a bit, smiling at the man in the doorway.
“Hello, Akutagawa. How are you feeling today?”
Akutagawa folds his arms and frowns at Atsushi. “I am fine. Better than I was last night. Well enough, I suppose, to pick every single towel I own up from my floor, since that is apparently an issue that has arisen.”
Atsushi’s smile turns sheepish and he scoots forward to fold his arms on the edge of the tub and rest his chin there. Akutagawa’s black sweater looks very soft; Atsushi wants to rub his cheek on it. And if anyone had ever tried to tell him he would one day see Akutagawa Ryuunosuke in sweatpants, he would have been concerned for their wellbeing. But here he is, indeed wearing a pair of sweatpants—very recognizable sweatpants, actually, because they’re several inches too short on Akutagawa and therefore definitely used to belong to Atsushi.
At this realization, Atsushi beckons Akutagawa closer, unable to stop the flush in his cheeks and unwilling to tamp down on the fondness buoying up his heart. Akutagawa still looks disgruntled but does come closer, perching himself on the edge of the toilet.
“You’re going to get sick one of these days. Why do you refuse to use an umbrella?” Akutagawa’s face stays scowly and disapproving, but his voice softens into the warm rasp that’s Atsushi’s very favorite.
“I like the feeling of the rain in the summer,” Atsushi replies, sliding as close to Akutagawa as possible while remaining submerged. They’re really only inches apart; Atsushi could probably rest his head on Akutagawa’s knee from here if he really wanted to, if his hair wouldn’t drip onto him and probably give him a chill. The Akutagawas’ apartment is luxurious but it isn’t very big—it could almost be called cozy if it didn’t feel so unlived-in. Atsushi’s ultimate goal is to increase the coziness factor of Akutagawa’s life exponentially.
“Why would you like something like that? Getting wet outside in the summer can still make you sick; and regardless, it’s almost fall anyway. And summer rains only make the air more humid and disgusting.” Akutagawa crosses his legs and arches an eyebrow. He looks so prim and disapproving that Atsushi can’t help but giggle a little bit.
“I promise to take the umbrella next time,” he says, since a little compromise erases the line between Akutagawa’s brows the quickest.
“Do you promise to use it?”
Atsushi only chuckles in response, resting his cheek once more on his folded arms. Akutagawa narrows his eyes grumpily, but—and Atsushi gets a little flicker of surprise—he easily lets it go with a huff. And then he reaches out and tucks the long piece of Atsushi’s hair behind his ear, and smiles.
“Do you want me to wash your hair?” Akutagawa asks, and Atsushi perks up.
“Yes!” he says, grinning.
“Alright. Help yourself,” he gestures to the cluster of hair products on the shelf beside the tub, “and I’ll be right back.”
Atsushi rifles through the bottles until he finds one that supposedly smells like coconut and apple blossoms. He’s just through reading the label when Akutagawa reenters the bathroom, bringing with him an armful of white candles and a box of matches. He scatters them around the various surfaces of the bathroom while Atsushi looks on, stunned speechless. The hiss of the struck match zips along his veins, starting up a glowing flush that spreads down to his collarbones. His cheeks are beginning to hurt from smiling.
When the candles are all flickering lit and a faint smell of roses begins to drift through the room, Akutagawa retakes his seat and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. Still wordless, Atsushi hands him the shampoo he’s chosen and sinks back down into the bath until he can just tip his head back and have it resting on the edge, to give Akutagawa the best angle.
His eyelids droop dangerously, helpless against the permeating heat of the bathwater and the hypnotic massaging of Akutagawa’s long fingers against his scalp. Atsushi’s never wished he could actually purr before, but he wishes it a bit in this moment—it would be the easiest way to let Akutagawa know how warm and safe and sleepy and happy he is.
Akutagawa nudges his shoulder and then is leaning closer, dipping his hands into the bathwater and pouring it over Atsushi’s head slowly to rinse out the suds. He leans over again to get more water, and the position puts his lips right next to Atsushi’s ear.
“I was so happy to hear your key in the lock, for you to just walk in,” Akutagawa murmurs, and then draws back. The water sluices over Atsushi’s head and shoulders and the nape of his neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
Atsushi turns his head to look into Akutagawa’s eyes, and he’s just too full of words to say, too full of strange soft feelings that seem content to go unnamed as long as they flow so freely between the two of them. The light is all yellow and shifts, shimmers, haloes around them both and around each white rose candle and in the soap bubbles drifting through the air. Atsushi reaches out and curls his hot, wet fingers around Akutagawa’s wrist.
A soap bubble lands on Akutagawa’s nose.
Atsushi snorts out a giggle, unable to help himself, and Akutagawa goes cross-eyed to glare at the moment-shattering bubble. But even he can’t hold that sort of grudge; he catches another bubble lightly on his finger and blows it towards Atsushi, where it pops against his eyebrow.
It turns into a full-on bubble war, until the bar of soap has melted down to a sliver and the bathwater is lukewarm. Atsushi wraps himself up in a huge fluffy towel fresh from the dryer and, once he’s mostly toweled off, tugs Akutagawa in so they can both be wrapped up and he can finally nestle his face against the soft knit of Akutagawa’s sweater. Akutagawa’s hands clasp behind Atsushi’s shoulders in an embrace, and the draining tub drowns out all trace of the rain outside.