Chapter Text
He doesn't like sweets as a rule. Shintarou’s tastes run plain. But sometimes, when work is long, his eyelids heavy and his stomach is complaining like a petulant child, he feels he needs something a bit different.
Sometimes he craves sweets. Not many. He isn’t like Atsushi, who can down a whole box of pocky within a five minute period and wonder if there’s any left in the kitchen cupboards. He just wants something that will dance on his tongue.
He drops by the convenience store, feet dragging as he walks from the train station. He recognises the cashier, nods in his direction as a greeting. He looks dead on his feet, almost as much as Shintarou feels, with dark circles under his eyes, looking like bruises. Shintarou's aren't as mottled, but he knows he's got the beginnings of some serious bags.
He sways when he comes to a stop in front of the lolly section. Shintarou slowly scans their colourful packaging, barely acknowledging the words on them but rather recognising the patterns and colours he's gotten so used to seeing on the middle shelf of their pantry. He frowns, idly pushing his glasses into place again before he picks up one, then two, then three, different packets of lollies, pocky, gummies, some pink, some yellow, some green and blue. He decides on one of the chocolate bars Atsushi has been fond of lately for himself, but continues to pile several bags of chips, sweet biscuits and finds himself heading towards the fridges for cream before he can think about what he's gathering. They'll need supplies for the next couple of days though; they've been sure to make their work schedules match and despite how tired he knows they both are, Atsushi will need to eat.
His arms are full, squeezed tight around his spoils when he takes them up to the cashier. It's a messy affair, stacking them on the little bench. The dark haired man doesn't bat an eyelid, working much like a robot as he systematically scans and bags each item, his brown eyes meeting Shintarou's green for a mere moment. He's had a bad day too, it seams.
Shintarou exchanges money and pleasantries, his voice barely a whisper in the little, quiet store. The cashier's in for a long night.
Less than 15 minutes later he's pushing his front door open, quietly uttering, "I'm home" to an empty hallway. He leans heavily on the wall by the door as he exchanges his shoes, both his work bag and his bag of goods clasped in his right hand before he ambles slowly into the apartment.
Atsushi's most likely asleep, Shintarou assumes as he puts his spoils away, after dropping his work bag on the lounge. It's nearly 12:30am and Atsushi's never been one to wait for him when he feels like a nap.
With shaky hands, Shintarou pushes his own chocolate to the side so he can put the kettle on and grab his well used mug off the sink. It's something his sister and Kazunari had picked out for him a few years back for his birthday; it has a frog on it. It has lopsided googly eyes. Usually Shintarou can't help but fondly realise how utterly foolish it looks, but his brain isn't working properly and is slowly shutting down as he slows for the night. He doubts he'll be thinking much at all in five minutes.
With that knowledge tucked in a corner of his brain, Shintarou barely acknowledges that their home has seats inside until his tea is finished and warming his cool hands as he sips at it. He sits at the table with a huge sigh. Letting himself sag back against the chair's wooden back, head tilted so he's looking at the ceiling, neck creaking and crunching. Shintarou winces.
It's been a long day.
Time passes swiftly.
Shintarou feels as though he's blinked, but when he reaches for his mug it's cooler, almost cold. He sighs again, rolling his body forward so he can reach for his chocolate. He just needs a little something in his stomach before he falls asleep. Something to wake up with.
The packaging screams throughout the room, as silent as it was. But Atsushi sleeps like a log, bogged down in deep mud, and their room is a fair distance away anyway. He quickly breaks it in half, then in half again, nibbling on a corner, delighting quietly in how sweet it is as he wraps the rest and places it in the pantry with the rest of the treats.
Sometimes he understands Atsushi's love of sweets. The chocolate's almost alive on his tongue, sweet, with the tang of bitter cocoa. Shintarou can't help the little happy sound he makes when he slowly sucks the little bite into a lingering taste on his tongue.
This continues until he's finished. He's still hungry, but his craving's been sated. He stands, rinses his mug and continues to suck on the little piece of perfection left in his mouth. He pads into the bedroom, turning off lights on the way, tired, half closed eyes fond when he finds Atsushi spread across the entirety of their bed, arms and legs akimbo. If his limbs were the tiniest bit longer, he'd be able to reach each corner of the bed.
Shintarou changes slowly, after he flicks his small bedside light on and kicks off his slippers. His pants are placed neatly over one of their chairs, leaving him in his briefs before Shintarou starts working on the buttons of his white shirt. Shintarou shivers as he pulls his nightshirt on, swiftly sliding his glasses off and placing them on the table as he drops onto the bed.
He jostles Atsushi, but the other man doesn't budge. It's typical.
Shintarou isn't gentle when he starts to inch under the covers. His cold feet push Atsushi's over to his side as he curls one of the taller man's arms up so he can lie his head on it. Then he presses the length of his body to Atsushi's and nudges, pushing gently because Atsushi is a child and often refuses to budge simply because. It's an energy sapping process. By the time he's comfortable, yawning hugely, Shintarou barely has the energy to reach out to turn off the light.
He almost convinces himself to not bother, when his outstretched hand is pulled back and he finds himself wrapped in impossibly long limbs, hot breath being blown across the back of his neck and shoulders as Atsushi murmurs.
"Mmmmm... Tarou-chin," Atsushi plants a slow, chaste kiss to his neck, "You're late."
"The surgery lasted longer than expected." Shintarou replies just as slowly. "Then there was an accident on one of the main roads. I am lucky to be home at all."
"You missed dinner."
"I apologise."
"Mm."
Shintarou lets himself be rolled onto his back, eyes practically closed as he feels Atsushi's still sleep riddled gaze regard him. It's hot, burns him. Always has, if the green haired man's to be completely honest. Sometimes, when he has more energy for thought, he thinks Atsushi wants to eat him up. He slides his eyes completely closed, sighs slowly. He tilts his head back into the pillows the slightest bit. His neck hurts.
"It's your day off tomorrow?" Atsushi asks, long fingers framing Shintarou's face as his thumb circle under his eye. Usually the question would annoy Shintarou, because of course it's his day off. It's Atsushi's too.
"Yes."
"Spend all day in bed with me?"
Shintarou sighs contently when he feels chapped lips press to his own. It's a simple kiss, light in pressure. They're both tired; Shintarou from surgery, Atsushi from his early shifts at the patisserie. He does manage to lift his own hand to curl his fingers into Atsushi's hair when he presses a second kiss to his lips, only slightly more enthusiastic in that Shintarou feels a slick tongue flick at his lips. He parts them. Melts.
He hears Atsushi groan when he cards his fingers through his long hair, as he scratches lightly at the back of the other man's head. Shintarou's grateful when his lover does the same to him.
"You taste nice," Atsushi whispers.
Shintarou cracks his eyes open to attempt a glare that falls far shorter than any of his most terrible, "You haven't brushed your teeth."
"Neither have you. You hypocrite, Tarou-chin."
Strong fingers tug lightly on Atsushi's hair when Shintarou feels it start to descend, "Turn the light off first."
He gets an unimpressed, self-pitying sigh as a response, but Atsushi does it. He barely moves, simply reaches, but their smothered in darkness a mere moment later and Shintarou can't help but sigh again, as he feels Atsushi's cheek settle against his chest. He's wrapped in long, long arms, and Atsushi lays half over him, his hair tickling at Shintarou's chin.
It used to annoy Shintarou, how Atsushi would cover him. Now he finds it comforting and the call of sleep becomes impossible to deny. It's all heat and the smell of baked goods and fruit and icing.
He counts Atsushi's breaths idly.
One.
Two.
Then there is warmth and darkness. There is fitful rest and comfort.
They sleep like that until morning.