Work Text:
Okuyama leaned over his computer, brow furrowed in concentration. Whatever he was working on, Tanaka knew he hadn’t gotten up, hadn’t so much as looked away, in the last few hours. Taking hesitant steps, he approached the blond.
“Hey, Okuyama,” he whispered, hoping to give the other a little warning he was there. No response; his eyes didn’t even leave the screen. “Okuyama,” he repeated a little louder, this time tapping him on the shoulder as well.
Coming from someone he generally saw as calm and rational, it was surprising to see Okuyama practically jump at the gentle prodding. The blond nearly ripped out one of his earbuds, explaining his earlier indifference, before looking up at Tanaka wearily.
“Did you need something?”
“Oh, I was just wanted to check up on you--your progress. How’s it going?”
“I’ll be done on time.”
Tanaka frowned. This conversation was already feeling awfully one-sided, just the opposite of what he’d intended.
“Would you still finish on time if you took a break?”
“A break?”
The word seemed foreign in his mouth, tripping awkwardly off his tongue. Tanaka knew Okuyama preferred to finish work all at once, whether it took an hour or a day, but it always worried him. He was far from a medical expert, but he knew sitting in a dark room staring at a screen all the time couldn’t be healthy.
“I think it’d be good. Well rested people work better, y’know.”
“You think my work won’t be good enough?”
“Wait, I didn’t mean...I meant….uh,” Tanaka winced at his own word. Feeling his face heating up, he internally thanked the blond’s choice in dimly lit rooms. Meanwhile Okuyama was resting his face on his palm, carefully concealing a slight smirk.
“Yes, I can take a break,” he finally agreed, much to Tanaka’s satisfaction. He pushed away from his desk, grabbing his cane as he stood up. Even at his full standing height Okuyama had to look up to meet Tanaka’s eyes, but he didn’t mind. Tanaka was taller than most people anyway.
As the pair left Okuyama’s room they headed toward their makeshift kitchen.
“I’m assuming you had something in mind when you asked me to take a break?”
“Oh, sort of. Nothing that concrete, really. I didn’t think you’d say yes,” Tanaka rambled on.
The kitchen space was far from luxurious, only equipped with a microwave and fridge, but it did its job. Their furniture consisted of what had once been part of a restaurant booth, and an old crate with labelling so worn it was unreadable.
Okuyama slumped onto one of the seats, resting one arm on top and leaning his head into his sleeve. The kitchen lights were bright enough to reveal the dark circles beneath his eyes, ever present for the last few weeks.
“Coffee? Tea?”
“Tea’s fine,” Okuyama mumbled. Tanaka filled and slipped two questionably clean mugs into the microwave. The blond let out little groans of annoyance at the shrill beeping of each button. Once it was working, Tanaka turned to settle onto the couch substitute, sitting close to Okuyama. Not that the seat allowed for anything else, but he enjoyed the slight contact. The blond seemed to as well, because a moment later he leaned his full weight back against Tanaka.
Relaxed as the motion seemed, Okuyama’s body seemed tense and exhausted even while pressed against him. It was too easy to forget that while he trained the blond was working just as hard. At least with Gen and Takahashi he reset frequently, but with Okuyama’s infrequent deaths it was hard to hide the blond’s stress.
Hesitantly, Tanaka rubbed at one of Okuyama’s shoulder blades. He didn’t jolt when Tanaka touched him this time, instead leaning forward to give the taller man’s hand more space.
“This is okay, right?”
“It feels good.”
Taking his words as a sign to keep going, Tanaka pushed a little harder as he massaged Okuyama’s back. The blond let out a little noise of satisfaction, subconsciously leaning toward Tanaka. If Tanaka had been asked when first rescued what he saw for his future, this definitely wouldn’t have been what he’d imagined. It was somehow much more fulfilling, like he’d been given a little shred of the quiet life he’d expected before his capture.
The illusion of serenity was shattered by the sounds of the microwave, now grating harder on either of them than before.
“We can leave it for now.”