Remixed from this fill by kiriska as prompted by yours truly, blanket permission has been given! Hilariously, I also have a porn drabble from months ago which ALSO perfectly fits this art.
-
A lot of things are easy, when Aoyagi and Teshima move in together. They already know each other's likes and dislikes, what to buy for their household when either goes to the grocery store, how to divvy up the chores so neither is stuck with the jobs he likes least. They slide into the rhythm of living together like slipping into a pair of old jeans — it's comfortable, familiar, and all the work of breaking things in has already been done.
Their schedules don't line up, going to different universities. But they see each other coming and going, and find themselves eating meals together late at night when they're both kept up studying. Even on days when they don't see each other at all night will find them crawling into bed together, too weary to say more than murmured goodnights before their heads hit the pillows.
Some nights, Aoyagi stays up drawing, out in their tiny sitting room with only the desk lamp turned on. Teshima will stand in the doorway, watching Aoyagi from around the corner for the way the warm yellow light from the lamp casts a halo against his hair. His arm moves in slow, subtle motions, and though Teshima turns away alone, he does so smiling.
The bed feels a little bit emptier, on nights when Teshima enters it first without Aoyagi right behind him.
But his body warms it up soon enough, and though he's grown used to the comfort of sleeping as two, many long years have prepared him for the periodic happenstance of sleeping alone. He drowses in that twilight space inhabited only by him, until the bed dips, and no matter how soundly he may insist he'd been sleeping, Teshima always finds himself craning his neck toward the door.
Aoyagi slides in behind him, a subtle weight denting the mattress before familiar arms curl around Teshima's waist. In the darkness, he sees nothing, just the vague landscape of the room beyond them smudged into the indistinct gloom. He doesn't need to see anything. He has the touch of Aoyagi's fingertips against his hipbone, his waist, skirting across the flat expanse of his stomach, and the light exhale of Aoyagi's breath breathed out against his cheek.
"Junta," Aoyagi always whispers, when he crawls into bed second. The sound of Teshima's name is like a lullaby breathed into his ear, condensed down to its very essence and passed along on a sigh.
"Goodnight, Hajime," Teshima whispers back, as Aoyagi curls closer still, presses his nose to Teshima's shoulder.
Teshima still remembers how to sleep alone, but it's happier, when he has Aoyagi's company instead.
FILL: TEAM FUKUTOMI JUICHI/KINJOU SHINGO, T
Word Count: 441
Remixed from this fill by
-
A lot of things are easy, when Aoyagi and Teshima move in together. They already know each other's likes and dislikes, what to buy for their household when either goes to the grocery store, how to divvy up the chores so neither is stuck with the jobs he likes least. They slide into the rhythm of living together like slipping into a pair of old jeans — it's comfortable, familiar, and all the work of breaking things in has already been done.
Their schedules don't line up, going to different universities. But they see each other coming and going, and find themselves eating meals together late at night when they're both kept up studying. Even on days when they don't see each other at all night will find them crawling into bed together, too weary to say more than murmured goodnights before their heads hit the pillows.
Some nights, Aoyagi stays up drawing, out in their tiny sitting room with only the desk lamp turned on. Teshima will stand in the doorway, watching Aoyagi from around the corner for the way the warm yellow light from the lamp casts a halo against his hair. His arm moves in slow, subtle motions, and though Teshima turns away alone, he does so smiling.
The bed feels a little bit emptier, on nights when Teshima enters it first without Aoyagi right behind him.
But his body warms it up soon enough, and though he's grown used to the comfort of sleeping as two, many long years have prepared him for the periodic happenstance of sleeping alone. He drowses in that twilight space inhabited only by him, until the bed dips, and no matter how soundly he may insist he'd been sleeping, Teshima always finds himself craning his neck toward the door.
Aoyagi slides in behind him, a subtle weight denting the mattress before familiar arms curl around Teshima's waist. In the darkness, he sees nothing, just the vague landscape of the room beyond them smudged into the indistinct gloom. He doesn't need to see anything. He has the touch of Aoyagi's fingertips against his hipbone, his waist, skirting across the flat expanse of his stomach, and the light exhale of Aoyagi's breath breathed out against his cheek.
"Junta," Aoyagi always whispers, when he crawls into bed second. The sound of Teshima's name is like a lullaby breathed into his ear, condensed down to its very essence and passed along on a sigh.
"Goodnight, Hajime," Teshima whispers back, as Aoyagi curls closer still, presses his nose to Teshima's shoulder.
Teshima still remembers how to sleep alone, but it's happier, when he has Aoyagi's company instead.