Work Text:
Distantly, you feel something brush against your cheek with a gentleness that feels out of place. It's light, delicate and soft as something sweeps across your skin, and you bat at it with your hand, sleep still tugging at you as you keep your eyes closed.
"Oh, come on, dove, you can't be that unhappy to see me." Keigo's voice, and the breathy little laugh that he lets out has you squinting your eyes open to look up at him.
"Well, you know, I'm always happy to see you," you mumble, sitting up straight in your desk chair and rubbing some of the tension out of your shoulders as the feather that had been brushing your cheek flutters away. "But I was actually sleeping… why are you looking at me like that?"
"You have, like, a woodgrain imprint on our face," Keigo says bluntly, and you stare down at the wooden top of your desk while he presses a hand to your marked-up cheek.
"How very attractive," you drawl. "What are you doing here? It's like…"
"1am," he supplies when you look vaguely around for the clock.
"Huh?" you blink.
"You, chickadee," he continues, sitting on the edge of your desk and booping your nose gently, "have been sleeping at a right angle in your office until 1 in the morning."
"Well, perks of owning the agency," you sigh. "No one can kick me out at closing time."
"Actually, the perks of owning your own agency mean that if you're tired or burnt out, you can go home," he retorts sternly, and you point at him with mock accusation.
"Why aren't you home, then, hm?" you ask, and he cups your face in both hands to squish your cheeks together ever so gently.
"Because," he says kindly, a gentleness in his voice that has you softening under his touch. "I couldn't help thinking about my lovely, lovely partner who was here, in their horrible, cold office, all alone. And the bed felt very big and very empty without you."
"My office isn't horrible," you mumble, his hands still cupping your cheeks as he begins to rub his thumbs along your skin gently.
"No, it's lovely," he coos. "In the daylight, during normal working hours."
"There are no normal working hours for us, babe, you know that," you counter, but really, it's hard to be mad at him right now. Your neck aches from sleeping face down, and one of his hands slides down to press against the tight muscles because he knows you. And, really, it's hard to disagree with him at all when he's so gentle with you, shifting so that he's leaning against your desk right in front of you, half sitting on it with his legs spread on either side of your desk chair.
"You know what I mean," he coaxes. "Come on, baby, what's going on, hm?"
"Why does something have to be going on?" you ask quietly, and he curls a finger under your chin to lift your gaze up to his.
"There doesn't have to be… but if there is…"
"There isn't," you say gently. "Honestly, shit's just been piling up. I can't get ahead of anything."
"This is why you have employees, by the way," he responds softly, a gentle sort of teasing in his voice.
"Do you know what they say about people in glass houses?" you quip. "Because I do."
"Well, we could work on it together if you'd come home more often," he retorts, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.
"Yea, alright," you sigh - because it's easy to give in to him, really, and you can't see any real reason not to. "I do feel kind of gross."
"Yea, how long have you been wearing that?" he teased gently, tugging at your hero costume gently - and then laughing when you smack his hands away.
"Stop," you say, but really, you can't keep the smile out of your voice. "I'll shower, and then we can go home, ok?"
"Why not shower at home?" he asks, shifting to move out of your way so that you can stand and roll your shoulders back, listening to them click.
"Well, because you've brought it up now," you say accusingly. "And now I'm thinking about it, so I really do feel gross. I'll be quick, ok?"
"Take your time," Keigo waves you off, sliding down into your desk chair and spinning back and forth in it.
"Mhm," you hum.
"But make a noise every now and then so I know you didn't fall asleep and drown in there," he adds, calling after you as you disappear into the bathroom attached to your office.
And you laugh - because, really, you're sure he's joking. But as you peel layers of your hero uniform off and dump them onto the cool marble floor, you catch the red streak of a few feathers following you in.
So maybe, you think idly, you really did worry him this time.
By the time you've emerged, a cloud of steam following you as you swing open the bathroom door, Keigo's lounging on the couch in your office with his feet up over the armrest.
"Make yourself comfortable," you quip as you toss a damp towel onto your desk chair, eyeing the way he's sprawled out.
"I just can't believe you sleep here so often," he retorts, beckoning you over as he sits up to make room for you.
"It's a nice couch," you shrug as you sit down next to him and tuck your feet up.
"No couch is that nice," Keigo counters, slinging an arm over your shoulders and pressing a kiss to your wet hair. "Seriously. We can buy a new bed if you want."
"Our bed is fine," you laugh, pointing at the take-out containers that are piled onto the coffee table, steam curling up from them. "And, uh, speaking of… I thought we were going home?"
"Well," Keigo shrugs, leaning forward to begin ripping open the containers. "You were showering forever -"
"Twenty minutes, maybe -"
"And I figure that once I get you home and into a real bed with, ya know, a pillow and a blanket, you won't be moving for a while," he finishes, holding out a pair of chopsticks for you, waving them back and forth in front of your face a bit when you don't grab them right away.
You think, as you take them from him slowly, fiddling with them as you stare down at the food, that maybe you should say something back. You should joke or quip or something - anything. But there's a sort of ache that's started to settle over you, a weariness that's tugging at you and making you slow as Keigo takes one of your hands in his, putting one of the take-out containers into your palm pointedly.
"Sanctuary, by the way," he says quietly, his teeth scraping against his own chopsticks.
"Hm?" you blink.
"You know," he gestures between the two of you, something gentle rounding his words. "Right here. You can say whatever you want."
"I don't know why I do this to myself," you settle on, and he hums a sort of quiet understanding.
"Because you're a good person," he says softly. "And you want to help as many people as you can."
"No," you sigh. "I'm selfish."
That, of course, makes Keigo pause, golden eyes sliding over you in bewilderment.
"…What?"
"I just want people to think highly of me, you know?" you explain slowly - wearily. "I want people to think that I'm… hard working and that I deserve it and that I - you know. That I'm… good. But that's it."
"You…" Keigo says slowly. "You think you're a bad person because you keep doing good things?"
"Well, it sounds so stupid when you say it like that," you sigh.
"It is stupid - I love you, by the way," he says quickly, and you huff out a quiet laugh.
"I love you, too. I just don't think you get what I'm saying -"
"No," Keigo insists, uncharacteristically firm with you as he shifts to face you more fully. "No, dove, I don't think you get it. You're not… seeing this from an objective perspective."
"And you are? You're in love with me," you counter, but he shakes his head.
"I'm in love with you because I see you - I know you. Baby, if you're not a good person, then none of us are. Look at this - look at you." His fingers come up to brush against your cheek, and then down your arm, tracing scars and marks from your hero work over the years. "You've built your whole life around helping people."
"Selfishly," you murmur weakly.
"No," he laughs. "No."
"I don't know if I believe that right now," you admit quietly, and he smiles at you like he really doesn't mind - like he loves you, despite it all.
"You don't have to believe it right now," Keigo says easily. "You just have to take care of yourself - and let me help. Hm?"
"I don't know if that's a good compromise," you counter softly, fighting against the smile that you can feel tugging on your lips.
"It's a great compromise," he insists, pressing a few kisses across your cheeks and nose. "Now eat something, please - I promise it'll make it better."
And you think, somewhere soft in the back of your mind, that maybe he's right. Maybe a hot shower and good food, maybe him pressed against your side as the two of you giggle and shush each other in the late, quiet hours - maybe it doesn't fix everything, but it does make it just the smallest bit better.