Work Text:
Isamu stirs. He feels something warm on his face, likely the sun, like a small comforting blanket from his childhood. His lips twitch, smiling ever so slightly, before he realized something is very, very wrong.
First off, his desk in his office doesn’t face the window, and second, his desk is absolutely not as comfortable as whatever he’s sleeping on right now.
His eyebrows furrow. Did he somehow wake up and go home and he just doesn’t remember it? Or did he sleepwalk all the way from his office building to his apartment? No, that can’t be right, there’s no way he could have done that without collapsing in the middle of the street…
Which begs the question, where is he?
Isamu slowly opened his eyes, raising his hand to block the sun off from blinding him. He’s on a bed, a very comfortable bed (unlike his own) with a small, fluffy pillow in his arms.
What the hell?
He looked around, trying to see if he recognized the room or anything in it. When he realized he couldn’t identify shit, sweat started to pool at his forehead as he internally panicked. He has absolutely no idea where he is. Fuck.
Tossing the pillow to the ground, he was about to swing his feet to the floor to get up when he felt something very strong around his waist, caging him in.
Eh?
Isamu tried to look down to see what the hell could be trapping his body to the mattress, but then he froze, feeling a big and very warm body pressing against his back, before it grips his waist tighter.
!?!?!?! what the fuck!! What the fuck!!
Ah… he sees what happened now. He got kidnapped and now he’s being used as a bed warmer. That’s it. There’s no other explanation. Though, why would someone snatch a random office worker instead of an attractive lady? He’s not judging this person’s taste (he is), but it really is confusing!
That warm body twitched before nuzzling his neck and breathing his scent in.
His nose wrinkles. Gross.
Isamu sighs. He puts his feet back under the blankets before turning around to face the stranger.
The first thing he sees is a man, and a very handsome face. This person clearly has strong features like high cheekbones and naturally furrowed brows that are softened by sleep. His short hair is pitch black and mussled, it looks like a bird’s nest, Isamu thinks, and his eyebrows are thick.
When Isamu turned around, he expected to see a gross old man, but this guy is quite good looking! He seems older than Isamu, probably in his late 20s, but other than the subtle wrinkles caused by aging, he could pass as younger with some effort.
While he was admiring his kidnapper’s (?) face, those clean eyebrows furrowed even more before his eyes opened. He stared right back at Isamu. And then he smiled. What the hell.
This is it, I’m gonna die. Isamu’s eyes immediately widened, panic surging through his body as he thought of a way to escape this situation. When he couldn’t think of any, he forced himself to relax and looked the stranger directly in the eyes.
“Who… Who are you?” he muttered, very clearly nervous, very unlikely of him. Sure, he’s probably about to get killed, but can’t he sound a bit more confident before he dies!?
The man looked confused before frowning. “What do you mean by that?” He asks in a deep voice, and wow, Isamu really likes the sound of it.
“What do you mean by what do I mean? I’m asking you for your identity, I don’t know you!” Isamu half yells-whispers. As much as the stranger’s face is handsome and his voice attractive, Isamu rarely has patience for people who ask dumb questions.
The man looks at Isamu like he had grown three heads. “Yasu. Isa, did you hit your head while sleeping? Do you actually not know my name or are you just messing with me?”
Isa? How the hell does this freak know my name, and did he already come up with a nickname for me??
“I don’t know any Yasus. Clearly you’re the one who hit his head because I have no idea who you are.”
The stranger— Yasu— looked even more dumbfounded. His mouth hung slightly open, like he truly couldn’t believe Isamu doesn’t recognize him.
Before Isamu could speak to tell him to let him go and fuck off, Yasu’s eyes widenend before he bursted into a smile.
He let go of Isamu, sitting up. Isamu notices that Yasu’s body is muscular, but not in an unflattering way, it actually looks pleasing to the eye. He can tell the man puts great effort into taking care of and balancing his body.
“I think I know what happened. You lost your memories, didn’t you? Now that I think about it, you do look younger than I remember…” He grabbed Isamu’s jaw, lolling it from side to side.
The audacity! Not only does he dare to act confused when Isamu questions him, he’s shameless enough to grab Isamu’s jaw and inspect him like an object. Not even his most pretentious coworkers would do this to him! So shameless!
“Excuse me, I’m not a thing you can just toss around—”
“Shut up.” Yasu tightens his grip.
Isamu promptly shuts up.
—
When Isamu calmed down, Yasu introduced himself and explained the situation:
First, he did not kidnap Isamu, they’re actually married. They met back when both of them were in their early 20s during an office party Isamu attended.
Second, Isamu is probably not from this timeline. At first, Yasu thought Isamu just lost his memories and reverted back to his 22 year old self, but that wasn’t the case. When he asked Isamu questions that his Isamu would know the answer to, the detective had no idea what he was talking about.
No, he doesn’t know what a beast is, and no, he doesn’t know anything about his brother’s disappearance.
During the whole conversation, Isamu could see that Yasu truly loves his partner. The way he talked about him, all sweet and affectionate, constantly praising him, made him flush.
He’s not even talking about me, yet I can feel my face heating up…
After their little chat, Yasu got started on breakfast.
The kitchen was way bigger than Isamu’s sad kitchenette, and the fridge was stocked with ingredients used for proper meals and baked goods.
Isamu hates to admit it, but he has no idea how to cook. He’s the type of person to somehow burn water while cooking. So, when he saw just how much effort Yasu put into making their breakfast, making sure it’s delicious, he felt embarrassed.
“Do you always cook breakfast for both of you?” He asked, fidgeting with his sleeves.
Yasu’s mouth twitched, “Of course, I make all our meals.”
Can you be jealous of yourself? Because Isamu is absolutely jealous of this version of himself.
“Isamu doesn’t know how to cook,” — of course he doesn’t!— “So I cook for him. He had a horrible diet, so I was happy to make homemade meals for him that aren’t just instant noodles and convenience store food.”
Isamu nodded as Yasu talked. Haah, this version of himself is so spoiled!
He (im)patiently waited for Yasu to finish their breakfast. The smell was amazing, sweet but not too sweet, like a fresh pastry from the bakery. Also, he doesn’t usually ogle at people, but Yasu looks too good in an apron to resist.
While he was dozing off, he didn’t notice Yasu plating three big, fluffy pancakes right in front of him. He kept staring, imagining Yasu hugging his waist again, before he heard a snap right in front of his face.
“Eat.” Yasu commanded, pushing the plate a little closer to Isamu.
Isamu gave him an unimpressed look. “Don’t snap your fingers at me.” he said, picking his utensils up with a huff.
The breakfast tasted just as good as it looked. The pancakes were soft and buttery, not too dense, and they were lathered in a generous amount of syrup. It was so good, Isamu wanted to cry.
The few minutes of silence allowed him to think. Was this guy really his husband? Sure, he saw clothes his size in the bedroom and Yasu treats him as his lover, but what if he’s some sort of sick stalker? Isamu didn’t know what to do next.
Isamu happily ate his breakfast, but Yasu’s stayed untouched. The other man had his arm propped up on the table, his cheek resting on his fist, smiling as he admired Isamu.
That look, it really looks like he’s looking at his beloved!
When Isamu’s eyes darted up to look at Yasu, that smile widened and his eyes went impossibly soft.
Not used to such attention, Isamu flushed red, almost choking on his food. Some of the syrup dripped from his chin.
He was about to wipe it off himself, but then Yasu tilted his chin up, gripping it firmly, before wiping it off with his thumb.
He’s so romantic it makes me sick, Isamu thought.
“You… what would your partner say if he saw you taking care of another man like that?” He challenged, staring directly at him.
Yasu hummed. He tilted his head to the side, tapping the table with his other hand before answering. “I don’t think he would care. You two are technically the same person, and you’re awfully similar to how he acted at your age.”
Isamu scoffed. He rolled his eyes and continued eating his pancakes.
—
Isamu desperately needed to shower and change. You see, this version of himself enjoyed sleeping in Yasu’s clothes which were too large to fit him comfortably, and they ah, didn’t smell the most pleasant.
Yasu gave him a plain white shirt and sweatpants that should fit him just fine. Isamu mumbled a thank you before ducking away to the bathroom.
The bathroom was comfortably large. It had a walk-in shower that was big enough for two people, a laundry basket, a wide countertop with a sink in the middle of it, and some plants in front of the window.
Very cozy!
Isamu placed the new clothes on the counter when he felt a presence behind him. He turned around, only to see Yasu leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. When Isamu froze, Yasu raised an eyebrow.
“So?”
Isamu scrunched his face at him. “So what?”
“Why aren’t you undressing? You were about to just a second ago.”
Isamu was dumbfounded. Just who does this guy think he is?!
He raised his hand and made a shoo gesture, like one would to a cat. “What the hell, I’m not letting you watch me change! Get out, get out!”
Yasu snorted. Like he was holding back laughing at him. Asshole.
“You’re very feisty. When we were your age, he never cared if I watched or not, so I assumed you thought the same. It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”
Isamu went tomato red down to his collarbones. Seeing someone like Yasu, who he is growing increasingly attractive to, want him so openly made him feel things he hasn’t felt before.
He threw a dirty towel right at his face.
—
Isamu regrets throwing a dirty towel at his face.
Even though Yasu gave him fresh clothes to change into, he made a mistake, because these clothes were too small.
The shirt was uncomfortably tight around his shoulders, and the sweatpants squeezed his waist. Isamu doesn’t mind tight clothes, he wears them quite often, but these were both uncomfortable and looked ridiculous on him.
He sat naked on the toilet with his head in his hands. He wanted to die.
Isamu had two options; either put the ill-fitting clothes back on, or wrap a towel around himself. The former is a much better option, since he’s actually wearing something, but the thought of putting on that outfit again made him shiver. Not happening.
So, the only option was the towel.
The detective sighed. He just hoped that Yasu was his actual husband, and not some stalker, because the thought of being half naked in front of someone so obsessive made him shiver.
He walked up to the counter top and bent down to see if any of the drawers contained towels. Luckily, the first drawer he opened had a neat stack of soft towels that were big enough to cover him from his collarbones down to his thighs. Not ideal, but it will do.
He wrapped it securely around himself, making sure it’s sturdy enough to move in it without the fear of the cloth suddenly opening. He shoved the original clothes Yasu gave to him in the laundry basket before getting out of the bathroom.
The apartment Yasu and Isamu lived in was pretty big. It was open space, with only the bathroom, bedroom, and closet being separate rooms. Isamu could hear water sloshing around and plates clinking right when he stepped out of the bathroom.
Isamu made his way to the kitchen, where Yasu was surely washing the dishes. When he got there, he cleared his throat to get the other man’s attention.
Yasu made a confused hm? noise before turning around. His eyes completely widened at the sight in front of him.
Isamu was naked with a towel around his body that barely covered his thighs and chest. He was gripping the towel tight, face red, while he stared at Yasu with an increasingly flustered gaze.
“... Yes?” Yasu finally spoke.
Isamu awkwardly changed his footing from one to another as he spoke, “The clothes you gave me didn’t fit me right. Do you have something else?”
Yasu looked him up and down, from his bare legs to his face, before answering “You could have just gone to our bedroom without having to ask me. Or did you do this on purpose so I could see you naked?”
Isamu’s eyes bulged at his answer. He stuttered, backing up a step or two as his face went red for the nth time that day. He stared at him, at that raised eyebrow, that handsome face, before making a run to the bedroom.
Can you blame him? Seeing a man so attractive and very much his type had isamu feeling things he shouldn’t be feeling. So, before he could embarrass himself even further, he decided to just leave without gracing Yasu with an answer.
—
The shower was nice. The water pressure was good, and the water was boiling hot, which Isamu preferred.
Throughout the shower, Isamu thought about what to do next. He wants to go home, but it seems that he will be stuck in this alternative universe for at least a day. Besides that, he also wants to spend more time with Yasu.
His teasing makes Isamu blush, and sometimes it really is too much, but overall, he seems like good company. Isamu enjoys his steady presence and he would like to get to know him more. To see why another version of himself fell so in love he decided to get married.
Isamu dried himself off and put on clothes. They were from Isamu’s section of their closet, so they fit him comfortably. He chose a pair of loose sweatpants and a black tee, as well as a wool sweater to keep him warm.
When he walked out of the bathroom, Yasu was waiting for him in the hallway. Isamu approached him, which made him realize that Yasu is pretty tall. They have a noticeable height difference, and Isamu has to crane his neck just a little to properly look at him.
Yasu smiled at the gesture. He took Isamu’s hand and kissed his wrist.
“You look comfortable.” He murmured to his wrist.
Isamu looked away with a flush on his cheeks. “Your Isamu owns a lot of sweaters,” he replied, “They’re comfy.”
“I know, I bought the one you’re wearing right now.”
His eyes darted to Yasu’s face before looking away again, “Ah…”. Why is he suddenly so shy?
He heard Yasu chuckle before getting pulled into a hug. Yasu wrapped his arms around him, settling a big hand on the small of his back and pressing Isamu’s hand to his chest. His thoughts raced.
Yasu wore an adoring smile, his eyes so full of love it made Isamu’s heart ache. His features were softened by his emotions, but if you looked close enough, you could see the small undertone of desire on his face.
He tilted Isamu’s chin up, pulling him out of his thoughts. Isamu stilled, heart beating in anticipation at what Yasu is about to do, but Yasu just looked at him with that loving look in his eyes.
Isamu glanced around, suddenly confused at what he’s supposed to do. He looked from side to side before looking back at the man in front of him.
“Ah… what’s that look?” He whispered with an awkward smile.
Yasu let go of him. “Nothing, forget it. Let me show you something,”
He grabbed Isamu’s wrist and dragged him to the living room. Isamu sat down on the black couch while Yasu sat down on the floor. The latter reached for a compartment under the coffee table, pulling out an album.
Isamu observed with curiosity as Yasu faced him with a specific page opened.
The page has pictures of both of them in black kimonos, a smile on their faces as they did various things. The first picture is a headshot of them together, the second is Isamu drinking from a shallow cup, and the third is a picture of them kissing with beautiful greenery in the background.
It’s their marriage.
All thoughts and assumptions of Yasu being a creepy stalker flew right out of the window.
“Yes, you guessed it,” Yasu said with a smile. “These are pictures from our wedding. It was small, since Isamu doesn’t have much family, and we only invited a few people. There’s more on the next page, if you would like to see it?”
Isamu couldn’t hear what Yasu was saying. He stared at their expressions, how happy he looked, how doting Yasu’s gaze was, and was overcome with emotion. The man fisted his sweatpants as Yasu turned the page.
“This is a picture I took of you off guard, because I thought you looked cute. You blushed very hard when you spotted me with the camera—”
He couldn’t finish his sentence as Isamu tackled him to the ground. The larger man let out a startled noise as Isamu pressed their lips together, awkwardly kissing him. The shock was replaced with extreme fondness as he guided Isamu’s head to properly kiss him.
They shared a sweet, loving kiss before pulling away for air. Isamu’s pupils were blown, a small frown on his lips with flushed cheeks.
“I am so, so jealous,” the detective said as he settled on Yasu’s lap, “Of you, of him. I know we are technically the same person, but why can’t I have such a loving husband?”
His lips wobbled, and Yasu worried the man would burst into tears.
“It’s okay,” Yasu comforted him with a pec on his cheek, but Isamu moved his head so the pec landed on his lips. Yasu wanted to coo.
“I know you’re jealous, and I know you want the same love as Isamu has here. I truly hope you find someone that can provide it for you. While you’re stuck with me, why don’t we spend the day together where I spoil and dote on you all day?”
Isamu let out a tiny smile. He sniffled as he scratched his nose. He swallowed, burying his face in Yasu’s neck before inhaling his scent.
“Yes, I would like that.”
—
Isamu wakes up with cold sweat running down his forehead. He’s in his office, pens and paper scattered all around his desk. The paper in front of him is a report he was working on before falling asleep.
He rubbed his eyes, yawned and sat up. The sun was about to rise, and he had spent another night working.
“I need to finish this…” the detective whined with his head in his hands.
Somewhere, in a universe parallel to his own, Isamu wakes up in a warm bed with safe arms around his waist, and not on a cold, messy desk.