Chapter Text
Now, Reo would like to preface by saying that, when it came to spoiling Nagi Seishiro, his treasure and soon-to-be (only 5 months, 24 days, and 4 hours left!) husband, he was the reigning champion.
From making perfect breakfasts and hand-feeding the prodigy when he didn’t feel like existing in the regular world, to every form of physical affection known to mankind. From sweet, yet honest words (their monthly couples therapy appointment was helping immensely with that area), to making sure both their living spaces were always in top-notch condition. Did Seishiro use his Brighton apartment for something apart from sleeping and playing on his phone? Technically no, but there is still no excuse for not owning a single pan, Reo points out once again to his imaginary Seishiro. Just because calling the place a shoebox is a funny joke doesn’t mean you can simply exist inside with some protective paper like a half-off pair of sneakers. It was the reason that their time together was mostly spent on Reo’s side of the living arrangements, an open-concept penthouse where comfort wasn’t limited by space or the lack of a French door fridge.
And before he started yet another mental discussion at 1 AM, the central issue, the very thing that was keeping him awake no matter how comfortable Seishiro’s arms around his body were: was that Reo was an expert in treasure-spoiling.
A polyglot in love languages with a master's degree in Nagi studies.
Which made it all the more absurd that they never properly celebrated Seishiro's birthday.
A sick joke by the universe, to say the least.
As if sensing Reo’s annoyance, Seishiro holds him closer in his slumber, the ghost of chapped lips tracing his pulse point. And while usually that would be enough to soothe him, sending Reo back to resting after a bad dream or mild insomnia, today it only adds insult to the injury.
Birthday plans.
The curse of his existence.
The year he met Nagi? Oh, his birthday was a few weeks ago. Good luck next time!
Then Blue Lock, where not even the rich and influential can smuggle enough items to conduct a proper celebration (for someone that always needed more funding, Ego was surprisingly resistant to bribing). Add that wasted opportunity to their personal tale of miscommunications and issues (to this day, it was a silent agreement among their friends to never mention the world blocking around them), and bid farewell to a few more unsuccessful attempts.
Finally, after the World Cup and all that entailed, the universe was finally willing to allow them a break. Both were scouted by English teams, and although they couldn’t live together for a considerable amount of the year, they were still a train ride away. Or helicopter. A little more troubling, but one time Seishiro had a nasty cold, and Reo required desperate measures.
And even living on easy mode like that, Seishiro’s birthday was fucking cursed.
First year in the UK? Seishiro was away in Berlin for a game.
Last year? Reo twisted his ankle and needed complete rest in order to avoid being benched for too long. Hell, even Chigiri and Kunigami, living in entirely different countries, had the opportunity for birthday memories! Unfair, as much as Reo loved them both and would totally cry at their future wedding.
The worst part was that Seishiro never acted like this universal conspiracy against the celebration of his life was a big deal. He’d shrug and ask Reo to buy him a new game or to spend an entire day in bed with him. But that simply wasn’t enough! In the loanshark business of birthdays, Reo’s debt had accumulated years of interest, and this time, two weeks from now, he’d pay it in full.
That particular year, Seishiro’s birthday was a Friday, and neither of them had matches or work commitments on the following weekend. He had three whole days worth of trials, 14 more to put together and present the most perfect birthday extravaganza, carefully tailored to his treasure’s peculiar tastes and wishes. Making him feel cherished and loved, and Reo feel like he was worthy of being his super elite caring husband—
“Why is my future wife still awake? It is nap time, Reo.” Being so lost in his thoughts, Reo lets out a startled shriek once Seishiro’s sleepy voice cuts away his obsessive planning. Even in the dark, he can make out those doe eyes staring.
“I’m just a bit restless, treasure. Don’t worry, alright?” Reo offers, along with running a soothing hand on the man’s face (funny how the years were unable to change Seishiro’s soft features, adorably mismatched with the body he built through effort and much, much complaining).
Neither the answer nor the gesture seems to calm him enough to go back to sleep, though. This is something that did change on his treasure, the proactivity. Unlike many theorized, Seishiro did always care for Reo, but in the first year of their paths being intertwined, that care followed his words like gospel.
A muttering of “I’m fine” would be enough for Seishiro to back off, and his blind trust in Reo’s ability to solve anything was as adorable as it was damaging to them in the long-term.
Reo had to learn to share the burdens. Seishiro learned that sometimes trusting someone also means doubting them, as paradoxical as it sounded. The result of that process was a Nagi Seishiro that would watch him like a fluffy hawk at the first sign of disturbance in their status as equally dependable partners.
And that would now probably refuse to go back to sleep until Reo did the same.
“I’m really fine, promise! Plus you didn’t take a nap earlier, right? I’m not the one that gets moody without 10 hours of sleep. Don’t worry.”
I am simply measuring the deadlines to give you an experience you will never forget!
“Can’t do. Always worry about my boss.”
The same lips that were resting on his neck a moment ago meet Reo’s, a chaste peck that quickly turns into something more heated once Seishiro makes him get the hint and open his mouth.
“And where does that hand think it is going?” Reo asks once Seishiro gives him the chance to breathe, false indignation melting into genuine amusement. The aforementioned hand rests on his waist, thumb rubbing soothing motions, his fiancée's go-to move to, in his own words-
“Spoiling Reo. Technically spoiling myself as well in the process. Can’t?” The question has an almost petulant edge to it, as Seishiro can predict the answer with as much accuracy as Reo can read him.
It’s a fun game to play, the whole coy and naive routine, but not on this particular occasion.
Today, with 14 days left on the calendar, the Nagi Seishiro perfect birthday operation was officially starting, and they needed an adequate first step to that.
“Why don’t I spoil you instead? Maybe tiring myself out would help with the lack of sleep situation, don’t you think, Sei?”
“Reo’s the best.”
Even if it caused Reo to hit the snooze button a few times the following morning.