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Fridays. Or technically, Saturday mornings. His most exhausting days, without a doubt. School at 8 AM on Friday, which meant getting up at 5:30 AM to get ready and put his hair into his iconic hairstyle (Iconic, Shouta, iconic), classes till 3PM. Then he’d spend some last moments catching up on paperwork before going for a six hour patrol at 6 PM. Quick trip home, getting rid of enough crust to let his hair down, swapping clothes for something that wasn’t leather and then running to the studio for the 1AM slot that runs till 5 AM every Friday.
Was he insane? Maybe a little. It definitely felt so when he trudged through the door at 5:30 AM, exhausted and ready to collapse into his marital bed.
“I’m home,” he called out quietly, hoping Shouta was asleep and he wouldn’t wake him up.
“Welcome back,” his husband’s voice drifted through the apartment.
He wasn’t asleep. Of course he wasn’t, he never was on Saturday mornings, always dutifully staying up to listen to Hizashi’s show (he even stopped pretending to complain about music years ago) while he was grading or reading or just spending time with their cats. He always commented later in the day about new artists Hizashi featured, or a particular bit from his talking segment. Hizashi wasn’t sure Shouta understood how much it meant to him.
How loved it made him feel.
He never went to bed before Hizashi was back home, either. He was always ready to greet Hizashi with lemon honey ginger tea to soothe Hizashi’s throat after a day of excessive talking, just like he was now. He handed Hizashi his favourite mug with musical notes, and kissed him on the cheek, making Hizashi melt at the affection. He helped him take the jacket off, not that Hizashi needed help with that, and then gently took his hand and tugged him towards the couch to drink.
Hizashi settled on the cushions, their cats immediately on either side of him, while Shouta disappeared in the bathroom, returning a moment later with a spray bottle and a brush. The bottle contained a special mixture Hizashi came up with over the years, one that was a surefire way to get rid of the crusty hairgel and hairspray before he had a chance to wash it out properly. Somehow, his hair was still silky and shiny despite prolonged crimes against humanity he was committing on his hair ever since high school.
Shouta motioned him to sit down on the floor, on the pillow he put there, and Hizashi hummed as he slid down and sat cross legged in front of their coffee table. Shouta sat on the couch behind him and started the slow, meticulous task of brushing Hizashi’s hair out.
His careful movements always made Hizashi’s heart grow three sizes. Despite complaining about the amount of products in their bathroom, and teasing Hizashi about this particular fashion choice, he was just as dedicated to making sure Hizashi’s hair returned to its glory at the end of the week. He was spraying Hizashi’s hair in sections, soaking it in the mixture of water and oils, then brushing it out, mindful of any knots.
The care his husband was showing him at 6:20AM in the morning was too much for Hizashi, and if he had more energy, he’d turn around and kiss Shouta, sweet and slow, to show him just how much he loved and appreciated him. Unfortunately, he was exhausted, and Shouta had just put the brush aside and pulled the ultimate weapon in turning Hizashi into a gooey puddle; he started massaging Hizashi’s scalp, gently running his fingertips over the aching scalp.
Hizashi sagged forward, the muscles in his neck and shoulders relaxing in ways he didn’t think was possible.
(It took him by surprise every Saturday morning.)
Shouta moved his thumbs to Hizashi’s neck, working out the tension. It felt like a gentle electrical current running down his spine and away from it. He leaned back, head resting on Shouta’s shins. He was ready to fall asleep right there, cocooned in the warmth his husband’s love provided, safe and secure.
He heard Shouta snort and he smiled a little. He knew what was coming next.
Hair tickled his face when Shouta leaned down, his black hair creating a curtain to shield them from the world. Soft lips found his and Shouta kissed him, once, twice, thrice.
“Come on, Sunshine,” he murmured against Hizashi’s lips. “Time for bed.”
Hizashi groaned. He didn’t want to move, he was comfortable here. Then he thought about their bed, with fresh sheets Shouta definitely put at some point during the night, their fluffy covers, and weighted blanket. He felt floaty just thinking about laying on their memory-foam mattress, and the feeling of Shouta’s arms around his middle as they cuddled for sleep.
He hummed and Shouta kissed the tip of his nose before leaning back and gently nudging Hizashi to get up.
He put the mug on the coffee table, figuring that no one would suffer if he cleans it up later in the morning, when he felt more like a proper adult. Shouta helped him to his feet, and stood up himself, his arms snaking around Hizashi’s waist, pulling him close. Hizashi leaned into his strong chest, his hands finding Shouta’s hair and playing with the locks.
“Bed?” He murmured and Shouta hummed.
“In a minute,” he whispered, kissing Hizashi again. And again.
And again.
Hizashi giggled when Shouta started kissing him down his neck, then gasped when Shouta started kissing a particularly soft spot.
“Bed,” he said decidedly, and started walking backwards, making sure Shouta’s arms stayed around his waist.
As much as he loved what was going on here, he’d rather do it in their bedroom. Even if he knew that the moment they hit bed, they’d be asleep within moments. Oh well, they had the entire Saturday to themselves.
They quickly changed into their pajamas and crawled under the covers. Hizashi felt lightweight the moment his head hit the pillow but there was one last thing to do.
“Love you,” he mumbled.
Shouta tugged him close, making sure Hizashi’s head rested on his chest.
“Love you too,” he whispered back, and Hizashi let the darkness envelope him, feeling safe, secure and so in love.