Work Text:
kentarou is standing by the printer. two identical articles in his hands because he accidentally clicked the print button twice. could have sworn he proofread it at least four times except there are missed typos that say otherwise and this is very bad.
well, the double copies and errors can be easily managed. not as if this kind of thing doesn’t happen from time to time. what’s more urgent is the reason why he’s standing with two typo-riddled articles. and why he found himself with extra portions for lunch today. and why he’s been daydreaming far too often about soft brown hair.
kentarou frowns and makes his way to his desk, sighing as he goes. whatever infatuation he has can’t be good since he keeps losing focus at work. he really can’t afford to lose focus - he needs this job. it was a miracle he passed the interview since, according to his friends, kentarou isn’t the most pleasant person. he doesn’t even purposely-
“mail!”
someone grabs kentarou by the shirt and yanks. his surprise morphs into gratuity when he sees nishinoya speed past with his mail cart. kentarou has only been at the publishing house for a little over a month; nishinoya has almost run him over once a week. his managing editor assured him that he’d get used to it but kentarou is pretty sure he has one foot in the grave already.
“thanks,” kentarou says after the slideshow of his life has finished playing before his eyes.
“no problem,” his saviour says. kentarou raises his eyebrows because this guy speaks like flowers should start sprouting in the centre of the room. “you get used to it.”
“near death experiences?”
the man laughs. a few heads turn and gazes linger. kentarou wonders whether the guy knows he’s suddenly become the object of everyone’s affection. “something like that,” he answers.
“sugawara-san,” a small blonde girl appears, holding a folder. an air of nervousness surrounds her which kentarou can’t fault her for. he’d likely be constantly anxious knowing he had to report to someone so beautiful. “t-there are some designs for you to um, look over.”
the girl looks more nervous, if at all possible, when sugawara smiles at her and takes the folder. “let’s get to it then,” sugawara says, and gives kentarou a small wave as the two walk off.
kentarou stares for a moment, then remembers he’s meant to be doing his own assignment. he proceeds to his desk while crumpling the papers in hand.
the object of his affections - kentarou won’t lie to himself - is sat spinning slowly in his desk chair. he’s studied dozens of vocabulary words, been writing official documents for the latter part of two years. but he always gets stuck on how to properly describe yahaba shigeru. it’s frustrating.
his stomach does flips for no apparent reason. yahaba notices his presence and raises a stack of papers so kentarou can see. “guess what we get to do?” he says with fake cheer in his voice.
kentarou is kinda grateful but also what the hell. he didn't sign up for all these feelings when he accepted the offer. in a way, he's been cheated.
☼ ☼ ☼
“are you and yahaba-san dating?”
“suga-san, that’s inappropriate!”
“i was just curious.”
there is no further input showing he isn’t the only one.
“no.” it’s low. dismissive.
a soft murmur of assent. the sound of fingers hitting keys.
“you should ask. i think he’ll say yes.”
a wish, however small, flourishes. “maybe.”
☼ ☼ ☼
it’s windy the day when kentarou finally asks. he and yahaba are leaving the office later than usual due to a new project that practically fell in the lap of the copy editors. he hasn’t been at the company long enough to be annoyed by the huge tasks accompanied by irrational deadlines. everyone tells him he’ll grow to hate it. and love it.
a gust of wind nearly sends the manuscripts kentarou has clutched flying. if he weren’t so tired, he’d regret the lazy decision that led him to carry them instead of packing them away like he normally does. he swears beneath his breath.
kentarou looks up and yahaba is laughing a little to himself. his key ring is hanging off his pinky finger but he’s paused to take in the sight of kentarou struggling like it’s a joke to him. yahaba looks a bit rumpled from having to go back and forth on the hard copies of this project. really he’s typed and sent emails all day, he’s probably tired.
but the light from the streetlamps in the parking lot catches him just right. and kentarou watches the way the breeze moves through his hair, the way his lips don’t only pick up in a smile once he’s amused but how his whole face brightens as well.
“need help?” yahaba says at the same time kyoutani goes, “go out with me.”
yahaba blinks three times in rapid succession and kyoutani tries to beat a quick retreat with a whispered, “never mind.” he hopes yahaba never mentions this to anyone.
“ah,” kentarou would prefer not to hear the rejection because then he can pretend it never happened. “wait.” yahaba reaches for kentarou but pulls back, looking unsure.
kentarou must be a masochist for listening to him and standing there like an idiot. “i shouldn’t have said anything, i’m-”
“no,” yahaba’s face is the slightest shade of pink. not that he’s biased but kentarou thinks it’s the prettiest shade of pink he’s ever seen. “i was sorta hoping you would… i was too scared to ask.”
the pink intensifies as yahaba spots his wide-eyed stare. “i think,” yahaba licks his lips and grins, “they started a betting pool.”
a laugh escapes him. yahaba follows suit with a laugh of his own. the wind is still blowing, kentarou has manuscripts he has to review, but they’re laughing in the parking lot and kentarou is a little in over his head.
“you didn’t give me an answer,” kentarou says when they’ve calmed down.
“i thought it was obvious,” yahaba replies stepping closer. “yes.”
maybe he should have taken suga’s advice the very same day it was issued. although, the feeling in his chest made the wait worth it.
☼ ☼ ☼
“you asked him.” a statement, confident.
“yes.” the answer is happy.
that seems to be the end of it until-
“does sawamura-san know you ran a betting pool?”
“who do you think gave me the idea?”
☼ ☼ ☼
their first kiss happens nothing like a modern romance. it isn’t even romantic. it just happens and kentarou is instantly addicted. he can’t figure out what about yahaba shigeru has him so hooked.
he walks yahaba home on a sunday evening, tempted to hold his hand. the bag of novels yahaba is swinging prevents him from doing so. most of their dates aren’t extravagant. kentarou enjoys them anyhow. they both do.
the relationship is in its early stages and their pace slow. yahaba says it only becomes a big deal once they’ve been together for at least six months. kentarou doesn’t say he’s surprised that yahaba believes they’ll be together that long. he got the impression yahaba would move on before that.
“what are you thinking so hard about?” yahaba asks causing kyoutani to glance over. his boyfriend (“you can call me your boyfriend; what are you, shy?” “shut up.”) has his hair pulled back under a headband. he tends to wear them outside of work and kentarou is half-way to convincing yahaba to wear them in the office too.
“you,” kentarou replies honestly, directing his full attention to yahaba.
yahaba falters a bit and turns away in an attempt to hide his blush. kentarou’s discovered it gets pinker when he mentions how pretty it is. “what about me?”
kentarou smiles. he takes the bag from yahaba and switches hands so his right hand can intertwine with yahaba’s left. “just thinking about holding your hand.” his smile widens.
“problem solved,” yahaba pinks up and is so genuinely happy, kentarou melts.
yahaba starts swinging their arms as they near his apartment. their conversation continues easily. kentarou loves how he could talk to yahaba for days and days yet never get tired. there are a lot of things about yahaba that he loves, it’s hard keeping it to himself.
they stop at yahaba’s front door, kentarou making another stray comment concerning the headband.
yahaba rolls his eyes. “imagine if i did wear it,” he says and leans against the door. “you’d get nothing done.”
“yeah,” kentarou agrees because he’s so absolutely right.
kentarou thinks, oh, when yahaba’s hand lingers despite them being in front of his home. he thinks, oh, as yahaba’s free hand reaches up to pull him in. he stops thinking when their lips meet. if kentarou could define euphoria, it would be those eight seconds.
“that was nice,” yahaba mumbles and kentarou suspects he means the kiss but he’s too busy moving in for a second, a third, a fourth. kentarou learns he has a new obsession.
☼ ☼ ☼
the question plus a degree of shock. “what do you mean you don’t like calpis?”
a shrug.
“it’s heavenly.”
“no, it isn’t.”
“yes, it is!” it’s almost childish.
“i’m not doing this with you.”
there’s a snort. “kentarou, c’mon,” now there’s warmth at his side.
“your taste in things is questionable at best.”
the brown eyes staring at him crinkle before evening out into something more tender.
“i don’t know,” arms overlap behind his neck. his hands touch bare thighs. “i like you, don’t i?”
“... whatever.”
☼ ☼ ☼
sounds of activity wake kentarou and he gazes at the slashes of sunlight filtering through the blinds on his windows. his left arm searches in vain although he already knows the other side of the bed is empty.
after a quick trip to the bathroom, he enters his kitchen to see pots on the stove. early rising on days off isn't exactly his strong point. sometimes he manages to sleep in until twelve. other times he’s up by eight. he’s never actually upset about it.
not as long as he’s greeted by his boyfriend. especially when he is half-dressed. additionally if he’s wearing one of kentarou’s shirts. he claims that one is his favourite. how anyone can pick a favourite after three visits is beyond kentarou.
“hey,” kentarou says. he’s pressed against yahaba’s back and he feels the shiver that runs through him. yahaba has told him he likes kyoutani’s voice in the mornings. it’s deeper. rougher.
“good morning,” yahaba replies. the nudge kentarou receives is not very welcome. “i’m trying to cook, quit that.”
kentarou ignores him instead choosing to draw loose shapes on yahaba’s hips with his fingers. he does it partly for the reactions but mainly for the gratification he gets.
“do you have to go in today?” kentarou asks.
“not till later.”
“perfect.”
he lets his hands run beneath the shirt and yahaba sighs contently. kentarou watches him turn the burners down. yahaba spins around in kentarou’s arms, putting his hands on kentarou’s face.
“okay,” he announces. “all yours.”
“all mine,” kentarou nods to which yahaba giggles.
yahaba kisses him. because that’s how it always starts. yahaba kisses kentarou. with joy and comfort and so much, kentarou can feel it inside his own chest. he kisses yahaba. because that’s how it always continues. kentarou kisses yahaba wholeheartedly, so much so that his chest opens up.
“i love you,” he says. words that he’s held back far too long. words he’s been dying to whisper along yahaba’s skin.
there’s a small hiccup and yahaba is kissing him and kissing him and kissing him. “i know, me too,” it’s like yahaba can’t get the words out fast enough. “me too, ken. i love you too, kentarou.”
yahaba breaks the kiss and sets his eyes on kentarou. it’s a look kentarou hasn’t ever seen prior to their confession. it’s almost as if yahaba has caught the sun in his hands and refuses to release it.
yahaba kisses kentarou. kentarou kisses yahaba. and it ends with them both feeling so much, too much, for each other and it’s incredible.