Work Text:
Nagito Komaeda was not a demanding man, in the sense he already had whatever his heart could long for, and wishing for more would usually mean losing everything he already had. Or, well, that is what he’d always believed since the dawn of time, but Hinata had done a lot to rip that mentality out of his filthy hands. He insisted he was more than authorized to ask for anything he’d like, and while that might have been somewhat — highly — true, Nagito kept thinking he could not get happier than this.
Alas, he was not the most demanding person. He had the luxury of sharing a cottage with the man of his dreams in an abandoned yet somewhat comfortable island where he could coexist in a space with his friends — friends! — and those he adored the most without having it feel all that overwhelming. He had a ring on his right hand, which was not the most traditional place for it, but he’d thought gold and metal didn’t suit each other all that much, one he adored to gaze at with a longing that never truly got old, as if the big day hadn’t been almost a year ago already.
Because, you see, Nagito was infinitely lucky. He was lucky to have won the lottery a good amount of times in one lifetime. He was lucky to be selected for the school of his dreams and for his presence to actually be asked for this long. He was lucky to be appreciated and called for by people he used to believe were so far from his league, he was lucky to be actually searched for and included. Nagito was lucky for being alive right now, he was lucky his body hadn’t decided to ultimately betray him and kill him. He was lucky, he was ever so lucky, to have such a beautifully wonderful man by his side. He was lucky to be able to call said man his husband.
Hinata had proposed to him so beautifully. He’d gotten down on one knee and dropped the ring in the waves, actually! He’d stared at it, groaned, and dived right in without taking off his clothes just so he could get it back. Nobody had ever done something like that for him! Nagito had never felt so in love with someone else before.
He’d never truly been in love until a pair of gorgeous red eyes pointed a gun at him and tried to kill him. Some crushes, sure, but the love Nagito felt for this one boy, the love that never ceased to exist no matter how many times they were separated, forced to forget about each other, was such an indescribable feeling that Nagito was sure he’d never felt before.
Hinata had told him it was sweet. He’d confessed, through adorable stutters and an even more endearing red face, that Nagito himself was his first serious thing. Which was unfathomable, given how handsome and strong and smart and funny and brave and capable and endearing and perfect his Hinata was, but he’d sworn he was telling the truth, and Nagito trusted him from the moon and back. He’d give him his soul, righteously willingly too, if Hinata ever needed it.
Regardless! Nagito was very much in love, and he still wasn’t sure as of why Hinata loved him right back, almost just as intensely he did — it did not matter how many times they argued about it, nor how many times Hinata had tried to disprove it, Nagito was ever so convinced he loved Hinata more than the stars and galaxies all combined together — and he was so very lucky to be sitting there, on the couch of their shared home, humming under his breath in tune with the song playing in the background, caressing the pages of the book he held in his hands with the fingers made out of human flesh, appreciating the rough texture of paper under his tips.
Hinata had gifted him the vinyl player right next to him after about three years together. Do not get him wrongly, Nagito would never ever dare brag about his non existent talents, and yet Hinata kept on insisting he thought his voice was ever so nice. Nagito had flushed, tried to deny it, but still got asked what his favourite genre could be. And since lying would do nothing, he briefly mentioned being quite fond of the calmer kind of music, the one that sweeps you off your feet and allows your body to move naturally without any sort of overthought. Hinata had asked him to clarify, leaning towards him with that spark of curiosity he felt every time he had the possibility of finding out anything new, looking so unbearably cute that Nagito couldn’t even manage to sway from the question. He mentioned jazz, and just a month later they had a new adding to their house.
Hinata had requested — pleaded, truly, you don’t just request something while hugging someone’s knees, for goodness’ sake — him to sing out loud a little more, sometimes. He had a background melody now, too, after all, so there weren’t really all that many excuses left to avoid the situation. And Nagito, who was nothing but the weakest man in all of creation, could just flush and agree.
As the volume didn’t seem to disturb any of their near friends, Nagito liked to keep it as background noise as much as he could. As of now, he merely appreciated how calming the melody was, while he skimmed over words on pages he’d read countless times and waited for Hinata’s return.
He didn’t mind reading the same thing, truly. Hinata, being the Ultimate Writer, too, had once gifted him an entire series of mystery novels that were actually so brilliantly constructed, so sweet due the silly references to their own dating life he’d sneaked here and there, that Nagito truly could not put it down.
It was a double edged blade, in his opinion. It was wonderful to lose himself in the story and not notice the seconds passing, but it also made him miss his dear Hinata even more than he already did. Hinata, who was currently who knew where doing gigs for whatever the Foundation or their friends had asked of him in that moment. He should be back soon, Nagito figured, Hinata never liked to stay out later than he truly needed to, he either got bored or really homesick, and he always made a point of making sure Nagito had eaten properly, so it was often he insisted they had dinner together. Truly sweet, not entirely necessary, but being pampered felt so nice!
And while he was sure he could call him and Hinata would answer in less than two rings — speaking from experience, Hinata had once answered while both of his hands were occupied. He was soon asked to never do it again. — Nagito wasn’t really fond of the idea of disturbing his beloved more than necessary. He would probably be back soon, and Nagito would greet him with a big smile and a welcome back massage to ease out his surely there grumpiness.
Nagito was no superhuman, not like his husband, who could do everything and anything he wished for, and his vision and hearing was nothing compared to the much better and higher abilities Hinata possessed. Hinata had once been able to prepare a whole dinner for them to enjoy and to surprise him merely by calculating the seconds he would take to prepare each dish and the weather and somehow how easily he could hear Nagito’s footsteps approaching, which was not, in fact, something your average person could do.
How amazing, right? Nagito sighed lovingly at the very memory of that night.
Regardless, despite being weak and frail and honestly quite embarrassing at times, Nagito could also hear Hinata’s footsteps approaching their cabin a little bit. Mainly because they were stomping, dragging over the ground, and overall quite too loud to be simply walking.
Nagito barely had time to lower his book before the door slammed open, actually made a considerably ugly noise when bumping against the wall and surely creaking the hinges, but the sight of his husband right in front, storming inside and kicking the poor door shut with his foot hard enough to make the cottage shake as if there were an earthquake — A considerable option, actually! They had quite a ton of those, just his luck — was quite enough to distract him from complaining.
Nagito blinked. He tilted his head. “Well good evening to you too, dear.”
Hinata did not answer. He came to a halt, actually, merely because his fingers were struggling to properly tug off the tie he wore around his neck, pulling hard enough that if it were anyone else but the Ultimate Breath Holder — or similar, how many talents could someone even squeeze in that marvelous brain? — they would surely have choked by now, letting out a dissatisfied grunt as he threw his head back and settled for pulling at his hair instead.
“Do you know,” Hinata said, “how long does it take to fix a ceiling?”
Nagito paused. “A… ceiling.”
“Yes, Nagito, a ceiling.” Hinata smiled, but his eye was twitching, which made him suspect he was actually on the edge of deliriousness. Not a first by any means. Poor dear. “The ceiling of a beach house, in the specific. Do you?”
“Uhm.” He blinked, “No?”
“Not more than thirty minutes.” Hinata grumbled, “If your phone doesn’t constantly ring in your pocket with emergency calls that require you to run back to your office with concrete still in your hand and having to write a report with your left hand and making counts with your fucking mouth and having to run back to the beach house so it doesn’t dry but surprise! It did! And—!” He stormed over, and all but threw himself against Nagito’s chest, who could do nothing but raise his arm and let him lay where he wanted. “—There’s also a fire! A fire. On the beach. Next to the ocean, where there is plenty of water, obviously.”
“…Do I want to ask for the cause?”
“No.”
“Right. Of course. I knew that.”
“And then—!” He threw his hands up. “There is a constant bug in your ear telling you the report was inaccurate by one number that I somehow overlooked, so now Togami won’t stop fucking bitching in my ear until I fix it and it drives me fucking crazy and I have an headache and keep doing that with your hand please—”
Nagito, who had merely started patting his head, tried a small smile. He hummed, “Looks like your day was not ideal.”
“And that was the afternoon.” He grumbled. “Hold me.”
Nagito, as said, was definitely not a demanding man, nor the one that took the rains in the relationship, so he could really just comply and smile wider at the relieved noise that came out of Hinata’s mouth when he wrapped his arms around him. He placed the book by the armrest of the couch, precisely, and used both of his hands to lightly massage the very much tense muscles that greeted him when he touched Hinata’s shoulders.
Hinata let out the most blessed out groan of sheer relief Nagito had ever been blessed with, so he took it as a sign to keep going.
Hinata merely nuzzled closer and buried his face in the crook of Nagito’s neck, letting out a small sigh. He squeezed him a little tighter, and Nagito chuckled, patting his upper back, somewhat lovingly.
“There you go,” Nagito muttered, “Better?”
“Mfghmfgh.”
“I will take that as a yes!” He kissed the top of his head. “There we go, Hajime… breathe for me, yes?”
“Hmhmh.”
“Good!” Another peck, on his temple this time. “There is our fearless leader! Always so capable and sweet and thoughtful, putting everyone first no matter how uncomfortable he feels…”
Hinata’s shoulders begun relaxing. He leaned into each touch, and in the end he settled for laying his head on Nagito’s shoulder, letting out a breath.
“Thanks bubs.” He muttered, “My head is killing me.”
“Hmm, I get it.” He smiled, “Would you like some quiet time?”
Hinata shrugged. He reached down so he could raise Nagito’s left hand, lightly kissing the golden band around his finger.
“It’s whatever,” He decided, “It’s already better since I came here.”
Nagito huffed out, affectionately as he could only be when it came to his Hinata. He reached over, actually losing the tie he’d been struggling with in haste of impromptu anger bursts, let it hang from his shoulders, shrugging the jacket off of him and undoing his collar at least. He worked on the chest harness he oh so honestly adored, but gently took it off of him just so he could breathe a little better. Hinata let his back rest against the couch’s cushions, not lifting a finger as he let Nagito undress him.
“You’re still ever so tense, hon.” Nagito mused, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather me do something about it?”
“Nah,” Hinata sighed, leaning his head towards the ceiling. “Don’t think you’re responsible for my sore muscles.”
“I do not believe so.” He shook his head, “I just want to help the man I’m hopelessly in love with.”
“You’re talking about being hopeless.”
“Hajime.”
“Sorry.”
“But I can merely step away and let you take a shower if you’d wish.” He smiled, “Whatever Hajime wants.”
“Whatever?” Hinata smiled, too, reaching out to caress his arm, “You could shower with me.”
Nagito raised a brow. He poked his forehead, “You have sore muscles, Hajime. Absolutely not.”
“Hmm, figures.”
He caught the hand in his grip and kissed the back of it. His lips caressed the entirety of each finger, specifically, brushing over each knuckle with care, and only when he was done with them all, he focused on the entirety of his palm. Nagito felt his heart quiver like this were their first time doing this kind of dance, feeling a pair of familiarly warm lips reach his wrist and climb up his arm. He laughed, uselessly trying to squirm away when Hinata was already cupping his back, which meant he was not going to be able to get out of that embrace any time soon.
Hinata kissed his own path up to his shoulder, caressed his neck, and made his way to his lips. Nagito merely sighed out as their hands now interlocked, feeling his right palm being softly squeezed as he lost himself in the feeling he loved the most.
His head felt quite fuzzy when Hinata pulled away, pecking the tip of his nose. The latter smiled a little wider, looking so much better already.
“You’re so beautiful when you have your hair up,” Hinata murmured, raising his other hand to brush over his bangs. “Have I told you that?”
“Only a million times.”
“It brings your face out,” He shrugged, squeezing his palm one more time. “Pretty.”
“You’re so out of it.”
“I’m very lucid, thank you.” Hinata huffed, “Actually—”
Behind them, the vinyl came to a slight halt. It took a few seconds of silence before switching to another track, and Nagito smiled a bit, his ears soon filled with the most wonderful melody.
He kissed Hinata’s cheek, reaching to caress his chin. “Would you like to lay on my lap?”
Hinata, who had been staying at the player for some time, merely blinked back to reality, taking a second to process the question. He then smiled, nodding slightly.
Nagito leaned back and opened his legs enough for his husband to lay on top. Hinata let out a sigh of bliss when mechanical fingers threaded through his hair, softly caressing each string and brushing over the scar Nagito adored to kiss.
The former enjoyed the sight of his closed eyes and relaxed breaths for some time. Hinata, to him, would forever be the most beautiful man he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting in this lifetime. Tanned skin, gorgeous mismatched eyes, a sharp jawline, soft features that mixed perfectly with the spiky yet somehow surprisingly soft strands of hair that decorated his head. Developed muscles that became more evident the more he worked. A deep, soothing voice that worked as the best lullaby.
Nagito had taken quite a long time to truly believe Hinata found him handsome, too. He’d told him so, many times for that matter, and despite their attraction for each other being unmistakably undeniable, self hatred sometimes clouds your thoughts so intensely it is impossible to understand just how infatuated the love of your life is with you, too.
As of right now, watching the way sometimes his eyelids opened just enough to look at him and gaze at his face with the most adoring look Hinata was capable of sending his way, Nagito truly felt beautiful.
It had taken him indeed quite a long time to, but he was getting there. Slowly, he’d learnt it was nice to take more care of himself. It was nice, if it made Hinata so happy. Hinata insisted he had to do it for himself, but truly, he believed they all started somewhere. Nagito, specifically, started from making the man he loved happy.
The atmosphere was peaceful, and there wasn’t all that much noise coming from outside. Perhaps they were all at the restaurant, Nagito guessed, it was indeed pretty late. He figured they would merely join later, when his Hinata had gotten at the very least two hours and a half —counted! — of rest.
When he saw him drift back to closing his eyes, Nagito kept caressing his head and picked the book back up. Reading with one hand might not seem like the best due having to turn pages, but the bad luck of having to lean the object down constantly to be able to compensate for his fast reading abilities was definitely worth the most wonderful luck of feeling Hinata relish in his touch.
The melody behind them, specifically, was so unbelievably good. Nagito hummed under his breath, low enough so he was sure he would not disturb his beloved, letting himself get lost in the story.
And then there was a small tap against his stomach, and he looked down once more to find his love smiling at him. He shared the look, and Hinata kept caressing his hip with the back of his knuckle.
“Hey,” He mumbled, “Can you sing to me?”
Nagito felt his cheeks flush.
Alas, self worth aside, Nagito never truly enjoyed his own voice. A little too raspy, a little too rough. He thought it was unhearable most times, truly.
But it happened one time. Nagito was not one to sing in the shower but for as much as he loved cleaning, sometimes it got a little dull. He was just humming, believe him, merely going over a melody he adored under his breath, as much of a low volume as he could master. He was cleaning. He wasn’t doing anything worthy of a performance.
And yet Hinata heard him. Somehow. Hinata, smart, overworking Hinata, who never left his desk if not for an emergency, somehow approached him and hugged his waist. He remembered how he’d leaned his head against his shoulder and asked him to go on.
“I didn’t know you could sing,” He’d said, sounding so dazed Nagito couldn’t bring himself to argue.
And so sometimes he got this sort of habit, where he’d ask him to sing to him for… whatever reason. Either he wanted for Nagito to help him fall asleep, either he wished to calm down, or he merely just wanted to hear it, it was often that Hinata asked him to curse his ears with a dreadful voice that he seemed to find so charming. Nagito wanted to deny it, really, but Hinata’s eyes would sparkle, so arguing with him was a little pointless when you couldn’t remember how to properly form words.
With no real choice, Nagito let out a little sigh. He tilted his head, “Are you certain?”
“The most.” Hinata’s eyes did that thing. Where they’d go all wide and hopeful and unfairly charming. “Please?”
Nagito gulped. He leaned back in his seat, and let out a small sigh.
“Surely, honey.”
Hinata, like he was a kid and not a grown man, let out the most endearing excited noise and got himself comfortable. Nagito briefly rolled his eyes, and took a breath.
He was somewhat lucky he knew the song playing by heart. Soft, quiet, quite romantic. Sometimes he managed to convince Hinata to dance with him to this kind of music, only sometimes, because despite being the Ultimate Dancer, his Hinata still had that hint of clumsiness that rendered him so precious in Nagito’s heart.
When they did do it, however, staring in each other’s eyes and letting the rhythm guide them, Nagito always felt like he was on top of the world.
The pressure of wanting to sound good for Hinata’s sake kind of made his heart speed up at first. The issue was always there, after all, always doing his best to sound as good as he was possibly capable of, to ensure the highest level of bliss imaginable. And yet, like all things tend to do in life, the feeling slowly drifted away the more Hinata seemed to relax on his legs. His eyes fluttered close, and Nagito smiled fondly, drifting his gaze back to the book in his grip.
(art by @kalacoco !!)
Nagito kept singing until the song came to an end. He kept singing like he was alone, merely humming along to a melody he knew like the back of his hand, enjoying a moment of relax. He was not performing for anyone, and that was okay. He was just quietly singing along to something he liked, for a person he loved to enjoy.
When the disk came to a halt, he was almost disappointed. He tilted his head, reaching over to caress the player, taking a few seconds to consider if he should roll it again.
“It ended the tracks, I see…” He hummed. “Should I play it again? Or would you rather—”
He looked down. Hinata’s chest moved up and down regularly, soft snored coming out of his mouth.
He looked peaceful. His brow, always signed by that permanent frown, was still and relaxed, his lips parted, a soft flush on his cheeks. He was always peaceful when asleep, but this time, he looked like he had no worry at all. Like there was nothing to be upset about, all just by dozing off due his husband’s voice.
Nagito felt his heart melt.
He placed the book on the stand where the player laid, He kissed his own fingers, and brought it to Hinata’s forehead. He used both of his hands to caress his lover and when he felt him unconsciously nuzzle back into the touch, he smiled and closed his own eyes, too, leaning back on the cushions.
Nagito could never be a demanding man. He already had all he could possibly wish for, after all.