historically inaccurate but well-meaning t-rex (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scriveyner) wrote2014-09-27 08:54 am
scriveyner) wrote2014-09-27 08:54 am
Samurai Flamenco - Always Will [Gotoyoshi]
Title: Always Will
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: NSFW
Length: 3253
Summary: "I didn't write you a song, Masayoshi." "I would hope not, I bet it would be terrible."
Masayoshi seemed completely oblivious to the fact that his birthday was fast approaching.
Gotou studied him over his coffee - Masayoshi hadn’t run a comb through his hair yet, his bedhead was legendary, and entirely different every morning. He was eating quickly, eyes focused on the television at the end of the room.
He had argued and argued - the new apartment was too big, too extravagant for just the two of them, there was nothing actually WRONG with his apartment, it was just cramped - but now having lived here, he recanted at least half of his prior arguments. It was nice to have breakfast at an actual table with chairs, have an actual proper kitchen instead of a bachelor’s tiny kitchenette - and now if they had visitors he didn’t have to surreptitiously check to see if the bedspread had been, um, stained.
“You’re blushing,” Masayoshi said, and Gotou blinked and set his coffee down. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and suppressed a yawn.
“No I’m not,” he mumbled. Masayoshi nudged his foot under the table and smiled knowingly. “I’m not, Masayoshi … just thinking about how you were right about this place.”
Masayoshi brightened a little at that. “I like it,” he said. “It’s a place that’s ours.”
Gotou laughed a little at that and put his hands around his coffee. “Considering you bought most of the furniture, and it’s your position that’s paying for it….”
“We’re married,” Masayoshi reminded him. He picked at his plate with his chopsticks. “That makes it yours too, by default.”
“I guess so.” Gotou sipped his coffee, thought about that warmth that swelled in his chest every time he looked at Masayoshi, and couldn’t suppress the smile. He wasn’t used to this happiness, it felt like if he didn’t focus on it it would fade suddenly. The words were on the tip of his tongue - what do you want for your birthday, Masayoshi? - but then Masayoshi stood up suddenly.
“Is that really the time? Ishihara’s going to yell at me, I have to be ready-”
“I’ll get the dishes, Masayoshi,” Gotou said, before Masayoshi could start stacking plates. “Go get ready, you’ll be fine.”
Masayoshi came around the table and wrapped his arms around Gotou’s head and shoulders, and then leaned down to kiss the crown of his head. “I really love you, Gotou-san,” he said happily.
Gotou leaned into the warmth of his embrace for a moment. “Didn’t you just say you were going to be late?”
“Ah!” Masayoshi said, and hurried off toward their bedroom. Gotou looked down at his coffee. What was he going to do?
#
The first birthday Masayoshi had that Gotou knew him was in the wake of the Sawada incident. Just days after it, in fact - Gotou had not been in much a mood for celebrating, and actually had not even known that Masayoshi’s birthday had passed until the day after the fact. He felt horrible about it, but Masayoshi didn’t seem to care so much - he was more worried about Gotou, and that only made Gotou feel worse.
He’d bought Masayoshi a piece of cake from a sweets shop - and Masayoshi had lit up when he came to visit Gotou that night. He was so excited about a single piece of cake it was almost embarrassing. He’d offered Gotou a bite of it, achingly shy, his face very red - and Gotou had taken it from him. They’d both blushed and looked away and Masayoshi had stammered something about a television program and they’d both been grateful for the distraction.
Gotou sighed, his chin in his hand as he stared blankly at the laptop’s screen before him. He wasn’t even aware that he was being addressed at first - until Totsuka’s fourth, now clipped - “Gotou-kun.”
He sat up in his chair and spun just enough so he was facing his superior. “Sorry, sorry, I was just-”
“You were lost in thought,” Totsuka said. Gotou rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, and then sighed. “Again. What on earth is bothering you?”
“Masayoshi’s birthday is next week,” he said, after a moment’s consideration.
Totsuka’s expression didn’t change, but he nodded his head knowingly. “Ah,” he said. “An important thing to consider. But perhaps it is something to ponder on your own time.”
“Yes sir,” Gotou said.
#
“Take him to a convention,” Nick, another officer stationed at the koban said, sitting at his own desk. He came in at the halfway point of the shift, when Totsuka’s ended. He was a junior officer to Gotou, and had the late-night shift. “I’m sure there’s some kind of sentai fan event going on that weekend. There’s always something.”
Gotou had his elbow on the desk again, chin in his hand. “He’s a Flamenger, he’ll get mobbed. He might like his fans but this is for his birthday, I want to do something special.”
Nick shrugged his shoulders. “He’s also President of the World and he walks around without a security detail. Hasn’t anyone ever talked to him about that?” Gotou raised his head and LOOKED at Nick, who chuckled. “Ah, married life,” Nick said, and Gotou ran a hand through hair and groaned.
#
“Take him to a love hotel,” Mari said, chewing on a piece of pocky idly.
“Write him a song,” Moe said, her hand in Mari’s.
“Can’t you just buy him another action figure?” Mizuki asked.
#
Masayoshi’s shoes were overturned in front of the door. Gotou set them upright and set his own beside them. “I’m home,” he called, but didn’t get a response.
He wasn’t in the living room - although he’d left the television on. Gotou turned it off and walked down the hall to one of the unused rooms that Masayoshi had earmarked for his new collection, where he found Masayoshi on his stomach, two opened boxes from an online store around him and flipping through a tattered old magazine. “What’s all this?” Gotou asked, and Masayoshi looked up, clearly surprised to see him.
“Gotou-san? What are you doing home, it’s-” Masayoshi really looked up, out the window at the dark skyline and then he flipped his phone over and scrambled into a sitting position. “How is it SEVEN?”
“It’s not like we were doing anything tonight,” Gotou tried to placate him, as Masayoshi hauled himself to his feet.
“I was going to try to make you dinner, since I was home early.” Masayoshi sounded so disappointed that Gotou felt guilty for the heartbeat of relief he felt. Masayoshi’s cooking skills were slim to none - and while Gotou’s weren’t much better, he had at least never set off the smoke alarms. “I can’t believe I lost track of time like that.”
“I can,” Gotou murmured, amused. Masayoshi sulked at him, and prodded him out of the doorway. “Wait, you’re not going to try to cook now?”
“How else are we going to eat?” Masayoshi said mock-patiently. “Unless you want take-out again.”
“Or,” Gotou said. “We could always go out.”
Masayoshi thought about this for a moment, and then nodded his head. “I thought you didn’t like going out,” he said, squinting at Gotou.
Gotou smiled. “I like being with you,” he said truthfully. He didn’t like the fact that he was guaranteed to end up in a magazine somewhere every time he went out with Masayoshi, and while the photographers were obnoxious they were at least usually granted some modicum of privacy in the restaurants themselves. He was dealing with it better than he had when this first started, but - he knew what he was getting into.
Masayoshi crossed the hall to their bedroom. “What do you want, then?” he called out, as Gotou crouched over the pile of old magazines and flipped one over. The room had more display cases than figurines, the first thing Masayoshi had done was outfit it with storage, he’d work on filling that later. He could always get him a figure but that seemed so … cheap.
(Besides, he’d gotten Masayoshi a deluxe Red Axe action figure that was almost one entire paycheck for Christmas. It wasn’t like he wanted for anything, living with Masayoshi - but damn the price tag on that thing had dropped his jaw….)
“I don’t care, I’m hungry.” Gotou turned the light off and pulled the door to behind him. “You pick.”
“I hate deciding,” Masayoshi yelled from the bedroom.
“Tough, you’re the one who lost track of time, you pick, Masayoshi!”
#
Gotou’s finger paused on the contact on his list. He could count the number of times he’d spoken with any of the Flamengers without Masayoshi’s presence on one hand. It just seemed out of the blue to contact them and say “hey, I can’t think of what to buy my husband for his birthday. ANY IDEAS?” Gotou sighed and pocketed his phone.
It was going to be a late one tonight, he knew that he’d be going home to a dark apartment so it seemed as good a night as any to go window-shopping.
He was really stumped, and he hated it.
#
Masayoshi used one of the empty rooms in their apartment to work out in. There were four rooms in total - their bedroom, the one for Masayoshi’s collection - the other was ostensibly a guest room but it was used mostly for storage, and this one that Masayoshi had claimed as a workout space.
Gotou stood in the doorway, shoulder against the door frame and watched as Masayoshi did stretches, punches and kicks, not quite as disciplined as kata but his own routine. The morning sun was peeking through the buildings in the distance - the blinds weren’t drawn, and it painted the room - and Masayoshi - in varying shades of gold.
“Ah,” Masayoshi sat on the floor, stretching out - he had just realized that Gotou was in the doorway watching him. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry, I tried to be quiet.”
Like I would miss this, Gotou thought. He yawned and covered it, and smiled sleepily. “How late did you get in?”
“Wasn’t that late, but you were out like a light,” Masayoshi could do the splits, god bless his flexibility. Gotou covered his mouth with his hand to surreptitiously ensure his nose hadn’t started bleeding. “Ishihara-san told me all my appointments this weekend were canceled.” He frowned at Gotou. “You didn’t have anything to do with that, right?”
Gotou blinked innocently. “Do you really think that if I asked Ishihara to clear your schedule, she’d do so? Do you remember how much a pain it was to get time off so we could go on our honeymoon?”
“Point.” Masayoshi hauled himself to his feet and rubbed one shoulder thoughtfully. “Someone’s up to something. I still haven’t eliminated you,” he added, shooting Gotou a calculated look.
“If someone’s throwing you a surprise party, they’ve left me out of the loop,” Gotou said. Masayoshi stared at him and Gotou stared back - and only broke the gaze to yawn again. Masayoshi wiped his face off with a towel and nudged Gotou out of the doorway.
“Move, move. I’m gonna take a shower.”
Gotou caught Masayoshi’s arm with his own and entwined them, pulling Masayoshi close enough to kiss his bare shoulder. “Gotou-san,” Masayoshi said, and pushed at him.
“I’ll join you,” Gotou said - and the flush of exertion on Masayoshi’s face deepened for just a moment. Then he leaned back into Gotou and properly kissed him. They smiled at each other, and then Masayoshi tugged Gotou into the hallway, heading toward the bathroom.
#
Saturday evening they spent in. They fought over cooking - Masayoshi wanted to try to cook something that was far beyond his skill level and Gotou very much did not want to spend one of his rare weekends off sick - they’d compromised on curry, familiar and easy and sat on the couch and watched DVDs. It was nostalgic and strangely perfect.
Masayoshi leaned into Gotou’s side, and he slid his arm over Masayoshi’s shoulder. He didn’t want to speak - he’d get shushed anyway, Masayoshi was watching the television intently - but this was, strangely, everything he’d never realized he wanted. He pressed a kiss to Masayoshi’s hair, which didn’t even distract him, and grinned.
#
“No surprise parties, right?” Masayoshi’s breath hitched a little - his forehead brushed Gotou’s, slick with sweat, and Gotou put his head back into the pillows and groaned.
“Do we have to talk about this now?”
“I like a - captive - audience.” It was nice when Masayoshi’s voice shuddered. Gotou gripped him a little tighter, digging his fingers into the hard press of Masayoshi’s hip. Masayoshi grinned and wet his lips, looking down at Gotou.
“Don’t tighten -” Gotou surged upwards and Masayoshi had the utter gall to laugh, delightedly. “Brat!”
“Love you too, Gotou-san,” Masayoshi murmured, and shifted his entire body. Gotou had forgotten what the entire conversation was about by the time he came.
#
Gotou woke first, Masayoshi half on top of him. Despite everything - even a bigger bed, with plenty of room for the both of them to sprawl - he always woke up either with Masayoshi mostly on top of him, or mostly underneath him. Gotou smiled muzzily and nudged Masayoshi, enough so that Masayoshi grumblingly rolled off of him.
“Hey,” Gotou said, and brushed his hair back from his face. “'yoshi, wake up.”
Masayoshi screwed up his nose, making a face, but didn’t open his eyes. Gotou kissed his nose and slowly, blue emerged from between those exceeding long lashes. Masayoshi blinked slowly, not quite there yet - and Gotou nuzzled him. “Happy birthday,” he said.
“Than’ you,” Masayoshi mumbled, and burrowed his face into Gotou’s neck. “Can we sleep more? Tired.”
“We can do whatever you want,” Gotou said, hugging Masayoshi tightly to him. “I’m all yours.”
“Love you,” Masayoshi said, and yawned.
“Love you too, Masayoshi,” Gotou said softly.
#
“A song?” Masayoshi had the parfait fork sticking out of his mouth. “She seriously told you that? Has she heard you sing?”
“Shut up,” Gotou said.
Masayoshi took the fork out of his mouth. “No, that’s - I mean, that’s amazing.”
“I didn’t write you a song, Masayoshi.”
“I would hope not, I bet it would be terrible.”
Gotou glared across the table at Masayoshi. “It would be better than anything you’d write. You’d write something hideous about justice that would be an affront to anyone with intact eardrums.”
Masayoshi scowled at him. “You take that back!”
“Can’t take back the truth.”
#
It didn’t rain, although it threatened to, with shallow gray clouds and the occasional break of bright blue sky behind them. They went to a movie - with the promise that Masayoshi would be on his best behavior. “I’m not a child,” Masayoshi said indignantly. “When have I ever done anything-”
“We went to that one premiere,” Gotou started.
“That’s different. That’s a different thing entirely. You’re buying me snacks for that insinuation, Gotou-san.”
#
They sat on a park bench and ate crepes from a vendor - it had rained while they were in the movie, but the clouds had crept away, clearing to a beautiful blue sky. Masayoshi laughed when Gotou managed to make a mess of his, and Gotou wiped his dirty hand on Masayoshi’s face, who ducked and laughed more.
When they’d cleaned up Gotou pulled a small package from his pocket. He’d been carrying it around all day - and he presented it to Masayoshi almost shyly. “It’s not much,” he said.
Masayoshi opened the package carefully, to reveal a familiar old takoyaki charm. Masayoshi held it cupped in his hands, and then looked up at Gotou questioningly. “It’s the charm from your umbrella…?”
They hadn’t talked about her a long time. Gotou looked up at the sky above, such a large expanse of blue. “I think she’d want you to have it,” he said finally. “To keep it safe.”
“Hidenori,” Masayoshi said quietly. He so rarely addressed Gotou by his first name he looked to Masayoshi in surprise, but Masayoshi was looking down at the charm in his hands. He closed his hands over it, and looked up at Gotou with a smile. “This is something so important to you.”
“Masayoshi, you’re important to me,” Gotou said quietly.
“I know.” Masayoshi very carefully put the charm back in the tissue paper. “I’ll treasure it.” He tucked it away and then leaned forward on the bench, catching the front of Gotou’s shirt so he could pull him into a kiss.
“Happy birthday, Masayoshi,” Gotou said, and wiped Masayoshi’s eyes with his thumbs.
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: NSFW
Length: 3253
Summary: "I didn't write you a song, Masayoshi." "I would hope not, I bet it would be terrible."
Masayoshi seemed completely oblivious to the fact that his birthday was fast approaching.
Gotou studied him over his coffee - Masayoshi hadn’t run a comb through his hair yet, his bedhead was legendary, and entirely different every morning. He was eating quickly, eyes focused on the television at the end of the room.
He had argued and argued - the new apartment was too big, too extravagant for just the two of them, there was nothing actually WRONG with his apartment, it was just cramped - but now having lived here, he recanted at least half of his prior arguments. It was nice to have breakfast at an actual table with chairs, have an actual proper kitchen instead of a bachelor’s tiny kitchenette - and now if they had visitors he didn’t have to surreptitiously check to see if the bedspread had been, um, stained.
“You’re blushing,” Masayoshi said, and Gotou blinked and set his coffee down. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and suppressed a yawn.
“No I’m not,” he mumbled. Masayoshi nudged his foot under the table and smiled knowingly. “I’m not, Masayoshi … just thinking about how you were right about this place.”
Masayoshi brightened a little at that. “I like it,” he said. “It’s a place that’s ours.”
Gotou laughed a little at that and put his hands around his coffee. “Considering you bought most of the furniture, and it’s your position that’s paying for it….”
“We’re married,” Masayoshi reminded him. He picked at his plate with his chopsticks. “That makes it yours too, by default.”
“I guess so.” Gotou sipped his coffee, thought about that warmth that swelled in his chest every time he looked at Masayoshi, and couldn’t suppress the smile. He wasn’t used to this happiness, it felt like if he didn’t focus on it it would fade suddenly. The words were on the tip of his tongue - what do you want for your birthday, Masayoshi? - but then Masayoshi stood up suddenly.
“Is that really the time? Ishihara’s going to yell at me, I have to be ready-”
“I’ll get the dishes, Masayoshi,” Gotou said, before Masayoshi could start stacking plates. “Go get ready, you’ll be fine.”
Masayoshi came around the table and wrapped his arms around Gotou’s head and shoulders, and then leaned down to kiss the crown of his head. “I really love you, Gotou-san,” he said happily.
Gotou leaned into the warmth of his embrace for a moment. “Didn’t you just say you were going to be late?”
“Ah!” Masayoshi said, and hurried off toward their bedroom. Gotou looked down at his coffee. What was he going to do?
The first birthday Masayoshi had that Gotou knew him was in the wake of the Sawada incident. Just days after it, in fact - Gotou had not been in much a mood for celebrating, and actually had not even known that Masayoshi’s birthday had passed until the day after the fact. He felt horrible about it, but Masayoshi didn’t seem to care so much - he was more worried about Gotou, and that only made Gotou feel worse.
He’d bought Masayoshi a piece of cake from a sweets shop - and Masayoshi had lit up when he came to visit Gotou that night. He was so excited about a single piece of cake it was almost embarrassing. He’d offered Gotou a bite of it, achingly shy, his face very red - and Gotou had taken it from him. They’d both blushed and looked away and Masayoshi had stammered something about a television program and they’d both been grateful for the distraction.
Gotou sighed, his chin in his hand as he stared blankly at the laptop’s screen before him. He wasn’t even aware that he was being addressed at first - until Totsuka’s fourth, now clipped - “Gotou-kun.”
He sat up in his chair and spun just enough so he was facing his superior. “Sorry, sorry, I was just-”
“You were lost in thought,” Totsuka said. Gotou rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, and then sighed. “Again. What on earth is bothering you?”
“Masayoshi’s birthday is next week,” he said, after a moment’s consideration.
Totsuka’s expression didn’t change, but he nodded his head knowingly. “Ah,” he said. “An important thing to consider. But perhaps it is something to ponder on your own time.”
“Yes sir,” Gotou said.
“Take him to a convention,” Nick, another officer stationed at the koban said, sitting at his own desk. He came in at the halfway point of the shift, when Totsuka’s ended. He was a junior officer to Gotou, and had the late-night shift. “I’m sure there’s some kind of sentai fan event going on that weekend. There’s always something.”
Gotou had his elbow on the desk again, chin in his hand. “He’s a Flamenger, he’ll get mobbed. He might like his fans but this is for his birthday, I want to do something special.”
Nick shrugged his shoulders. “He’s also President of the World and he walks around without a security detail. Hasn’t anyone ever talked to him about that?” Gotou raised his head and LOOKED at Nick, who chuckled. “Ah, married life,” Nick said, and Gotou ran a hand through hair and groaned.
“Take him to a love hotel,” Mari said, chewing on a piece of pocky idly.
“Write him a song,” Moe said, her hand in Mari’s.
“Can’t you just buy him another action figure?” Mizuki asked.
Masayoshi’s shoes were overturned in front of the door. Gotou set them upright and set his own beside them. “I’m home,” he called, but didn’t get a response.
He wasn’t in the living room - although he’d left the television on. Gotou turned it off and walked down the hall to one of the unused rooms that Masayoshi had earmarked for his new collection, where he found Masayoshi on his stomach, two opened boxes from an online store around him and flipping through a tattered old magazine. “What’s all this?” Gotou asked, and Masayoshi looked up, clearly surprised to see him.
“Gotou-san? What are you doing home, it’s-” Masayoshi really looked up, out the window at the dark skyline and then he flipped his phone over and scrambled into a sitting position. “How is it SEVEN?”
“It’s not like we were doing anything tonight,” Gotou tried to placate him, as Masayoshi hauled himself to his feet.
“I was going to try to make you dinner, since I was home early.” Masayoshi sounded so disappointed that Gotou felt guilty for the heartbeat of relief he felt. Masayoshi’s cooking skills were slim to none - and while Gotou’s weren’t much better, he had at least never set off the smoke alarms. “I can’t believe I lost track of time like that.”
“I can,” Gotou murmured, amused. Masayoshi sulked at him, and prodded him out of the doorway. “Wait, you’re not going to try to cook now?”
“How else are we going to eat?” Masayoshi said mock-patiently. “Unless you want take-out again.”
“Or,” Gotou said. “We could always go out.”
Masayoshi thought about this for a moment, and then nodded his head. “I thought you didn’t like going out,” he said, squinting at Gotou.
Gotou smiled. “I like being with you,” he said truthfully. He didn’t like the fact that he was guaranteed to end up in a magazine somewhere every time he went out with Masayoshi, and while the photographers were obnoxious they were at least usually granted some modicum of privacy in the restaurants themselves. He was dealing with it better than he had when this first started, but - he knew what he was getting into.
Masayoshi crossed the hall to their bedroom. “What do you want, then?” he called out, as Gotou crouched over the pile of old magazines and flipped one over. The room had more display cases than figurines, the first thing Masayoshi had done was outfit it with storage, he’d work on filling that later. He could always get him a figure but that seemed so … cheap.
(Besides, he’d gotten Masayoshi a deluxe Red Axe action figure that was almost one entire paycheck for Christmas. It wasn’t like he wanted for anything, living with Masayoshi - but damn the price tag on that thing had dropped his jaw….)
“I don’t care, I’m hungry.” Gotou turned the light off and pulled the door to behind him. “You pick.”
“I hate deciding,” Masayoshi yelled from the bedroom.
“Tough, you’re the one who lost track of time, you pick, Masayoshi!”
Gotou’s finger paused on the contact on his list. He could count the number of times he’d spoken with any of the Flamengers without Masayoshi’s presence on one hand. It just seemed out of the blue to contact them and say “hey, I can’t think of what to buy my husband for his birthday. ANY IDEAS?” Gotou sighed and pocketed his phone.
It was going to be a late one tonight, he knew that he’d be going home to a dark apartment so it seemed as good a night as any to go window-shopping.
He was really stumped, and he hated it.
Masayoshi used one of the empty rooms in their apartment to work out in. There were four rooms in total - their bedroom, the one for Masayoshi’s collection - the other was ostensibly a guest room but it was used mostly for storage, and this one that Masayoshi had claimed as a workout space.
Gotou stood in the doorway, shoulder against the door frame and watched as Masayoshi did stretches, punches and kicks, not quite as disciplined as kata but his own routine. The morning sun was peeking through the buildings in the distance - the blinds weren’t drawn, and it painted the room - and Masayoshi - in varying shades of gold.
“Ah,” Masayoshi sat on the floor, stretching out - he had just realized that Gotou was in the doorway watching him. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry, I tried to be quiet.”
Like I would miss this, Gotou thought. He yawned and covered it, and smiled sleepily. “How late did you get in?”
“Wasn’t that late, but you were out like a light,” Masayoshi could do the splits, god bless his flexibility. Gotou covered his mouth with his hand to surreptitiously ensure his nose hadn’t started bleeding. “Ishihara-san told me all my appointments this weekend were canceled.” He frowned at Gotou. “You didn’t have anything to do with that, right?”
Gotou blinked innocently. “Do you really think that if I asked Ishihara to clear your schedule, she’d do so? Do you remember how much a pain it was to get time off so we could go on our honeymoon?”
“Point.” Masayoshi hauled himself to his feet and rubbed one shoulder thoughtfully. “Someone’s up to something. I still haven’t eliminated you,” he added, shooting Gotou a calculated look.
“If someone’s throwing you a surprise party, they’ve left me out of the loop,” Gotou said. Masayoshi stared at him and Gotou stared back - and only broke the gaze to yawn again. Masayoshi wiped his face off with a towel and nudged Gotou out of the doorway.
“Move, move. I’m gonna take a shower.”
Gotou caught Masayoshi’s arm with his own and entwined them, pulling Masayoshi close enough to kiss his bare shoulder. “Gotou-san,” Masayoshi said, and pushed at him.
“I’ll join you,” Gotou said - and the flush of exertion on Masayoshi’s face deepened for just a moment. Then he leaned back into Gotou and properly kissed him. They smiled at each other, and then Masayoshi tugged Gotou into the hallway, heading toward the bathroom.
Saturday evening they spent in. They fought over cooking - Masayoshi wanted to try to cook something that was far beyond his skill level and Gotou very much did not want to spend one of his rare weekends off sick - they’d compromised on curry, familiar and easy and sat on the couch and watched DVDs. It was nostalgic and strangely perfect.
Masayoshi leaned into Gotou’s side, and he slid his arm over Masayoshi’s shoulder. He didn’t want to speak - he’d get shushed anyway, Masayoshi was watching the television intently - but this was, strangely, everything he’d never realized he wanted. He pressed a kiss to Masayoshi’s hair, which didn’t even distract him, and grinned.
“No surprise parties, right?” Masayoshi’s breath hitched a little - his forehead brushed Gotou’s, slick with sweat, and Gotou put his head back into the pillows and groaned.
“Do we have to talk about this now?”
“I like a - captive - audience.” It was nice when Masayoshi’s voice shuddered. Gotou gripped him a little tighter, digging his fingers into the hard press of Masayoshi’s hip. Masayoshi grinned and wet his lips, looking down at Gotou.
“Don’t tighten -” Gotou surged upwards and Masayoshi had the utter gall to laugh, delightedly. “Brat!”
“Love you too, Gotou-san,” Masayoshi murmured, and shifted his entire body. Gotou had forgotten what the entire conversation was about by the time he came.
Gotou woke first, Masayoshi half on top of him. Despite everything - even a bigger bed, with plenty of room for the both of them to sprawl - he always woke up either with Masayoshi mostly on top of him, or mostly underneath him. Gotou smiled muzzily and nudged Masayoshi, enough so that Masayoshi grumblingly rolled off of him.
“Hey,” Gotou said, and brushed his hair back from his face. “'yoshi, wake up.”
Masayoshi screwed up his nose, making a face, but didn’t open his eyes. Gotou kissed his nose and slowly, blue emerged from between those exceeding long lashes. Masayoshi blinked slowly, not quite there yet - and Gotou nuzzled him. “Happy birthday,” he said.
“Than’ you,” Masayoshi mumbled, and burrowed his face into Gotou’s neck. “Can we sleep more? Tired.”
“We can do whatever you want,” Gotou said, hugging Masayoshi tightly to him. “I’m all yours.”
“Love you,” Masayoshi said, and yawned.
“Love you too, Masayoshi,” Gotou said softly.
“A song?” Masayoshi had the parfait fork sticking out of his mouth. “She seriously told you that? Has she heard you sing?”
“Shut up,” Gotou said.
Masayoshi took the fork out of his mouth. “No, that’s - I mean, that’s amazing.”
“I didn’t write you a song, Masayoshi.”
“I would hope not, I bet it would be terrible.”
Gotou glared across the table at Masayoshi. “It would be better than anything you’d write. You’d write something hideous about justice that would be an affront to anyone with intact eardrums.”
Masayoshi scowled at him. “You take that back!”
“Can’t take back the truth.”
It didn’t rain, although it threatened to, with shallow gray clouds and the occasional break of bright blue sky behind them. They went to a movie - with the promise that Masayoshi would be on his best behavior. “I’m not a child,” Masayoshi said indignantly. “When have I ever done anything-”
“We went to that one premiere,” Gotou started.
“That’s different. That’s a different thing entirely. You’re buying me snacks for that insinuation, Gotou-san.”
They sat on a park bench and ate crepes from a vendor - it had rained while they were in the movie, but the clouds had crept away, clearing to a beautiful blue sky. Masayoshi laughed when Gotou managed to make a mess of his, and Gotou wiped his dirty hand on Masayoshi’s face, who ducked and laughed more.
When they’d cleaned up Gotou pulled a small package from his pocket. He’d been carrying it around all day - and he presented it to Masayoshi almost shyly. “It’s not much,” he said.
Masayoshi opened the package carefully, to reveal a familiar old takoyaki charm. Masayoshi held it cupped in his hands, and then looked up at Gotou questioningly. “It’s the charm from your umbrella…?”
They hadn’t talked about her a long time. Gotou looked up at the sky above, such a large expanse of blue. “I think she’d want you to have it,” he said finally. “To keep it safe.”
“Hidenori,” Masayoshi said quietly. He so rarely addressed Gotou by his first name he looked to Masayoshi in surprise, but Masayoshi was looking down at the charm in his hands. He closed his hands over it, and looked up at Gotou with a smile. “This is something so important to you.”
“Masayoshi, you’re important to me,” Gotou said quietly.
“I know.” Masayoshi very carefully put the charm back in the tissue paper. “I’ll treasure it.” He tucked it away and then leaned forward on the bench, catching the front of Gotou’s shirt so he could pull him into a kiss.
“Happy birthday, Masayoshi,” Gotou said, and wiped Masayoshi’s eyes with his thumbs.