"Why are you so pretty?"
Tamamori just rolls his eyes, knowing Miyata will see it in the hotel room's mirror, as closely as Miyata watches him. He sneaks a glance himself, using the reflection, sees Miyata stretched out on Tamamori's bed on his stomach, cheek pillowed on his folded arms, expression mild and affectionate as he watches Tamamori.
"I dunno," Tamamori answers eventually. He turns away from his reflection to cross his arms. "Why do you ask weird stuff?"
Miyata just laughs, and it occurs to Tamamori belatedly that they're continuing their conversation from earlier in the day, while Miyata was waiting for his turn at solo shots. He's dressed more or less the same now, although his T-shirt has an obnoxiously bright anime logo splashed across it, and his sweatpants are bright purple rather than the soft gray. Still, they look soft and well-worn, comfortable, and even dressed badly Miyata looks like he had that afternoon.
Hot. It's all just facts, like Tamamori said. It's Miyata that changed, not him. He wasn't supposed to go and do that, he's the one causing all the trouble.
They've been staring at each other for a weirdly long time, Tamamori eventually realizes. "What?" he asks.
Miyata pushes himself up without answering, twists to sit on the edge of the bed and reaches out to snag Tamamori by the bottom edge of his T-shirt. Tamamori doesn't put up a fight really, just lets Miyata tug him closer, close enough to wrap arms around Tamamori's waist.
Tensing in anticipation of whatever weirdo thing Miyata's going to try next, Tamamori raises an eyebrow when all Miyata does is rest his cheek against Tamamori's stomach and let his eyes flutter shut, apparently content. Then nothing.
Nothing for long enough that eventually Tamamori unfolds his arms and lets them rest on Miyata's shoulders instead, but still Miyata doesn't move. He doesn't say anything gross, doesn't try to sneak hands in new places, doesn't make any advances at all, and Tamamori hasn't a clue how to respond when there's nothing for him to get all loud and annoyed about.
"Oi," Tamamori says, annoyed at the lack of annoyance, and he digs his thumbs into the back of Miyata's neck a little. "You aren't doing anything."
"It's true." Miyata's eyes stay shut, but his mouth curves up just a little.
"Why not?" Tamamori demands, and then narrows his eyes suspiciously when Miyata tilts his head back to look up at Tamamori, resting his chin on Tamamori's stomach instead.
"You want to do something?" he asks. Tamamori scowls down at him fiercely, letting his expression answer. Miyata shrugs a little. "Tama-chan's been letting me get away with a lot this trip. Guess I'm worried I'm pushing my luck."
"Eeeh," Tamamori grumbles, but he shifts too because it's the truth. Somehow, lately, he's been lazy about pushing back when Miyata gets too close. It isn't that he doesn't see Miyata's campaign of touches or his steady gain of territory, Tamamori's not an idiot. He knows he's being worn down gradually.
Here in Macau, maybe not so gradually.
Miyata still isn't doing anything.
"You're just gonna stop?" Tamamori wants to know. "Are you?"
"If there's something Tama-chan wants, I'll do it," Miyata tells him, voice with a little of the usual silliness, but soft and serious too. "I love Tama-chan, so anything is all right. You just have to ask."
Tamamori feels his cheeks heat up against his will. Letting Miyata do as he wills is one thing, but this is way too much. He'd storm out of the room, except it's his room; he'd tell Miyata to stop doing all this weird shit, except Miyata's not actually doing anything.
"You're so annoying," Tamamori growls, voice low, and he can feel Miyata shiver where his arms are still wrapped around Tamamori. He puts his hands on Miyata's shoulders and pushes back hard, making Miyata fall back on the bed with a whoomph. Tamamori crawls up beside him and lies down on his side, close just because the bed is narrow and he wants some of the pillow. "I'm going to sleep, we've got early shoots tomorrow."
Miyata rolls up on his side too, mimicking Tamamori's position so that they're at eye level with each other, his knees brushing warm against Tamamori's. "It's okay if I stay?"
"Do what you want," Tamamori tells him, then rolls over to get under the blanket. He comes to a stop with his back to Miyata, settling against the sheets, and closes his eyes. There's the rustle and the shift of the mattress as Miyata stands, and for a second Tamamori thinks he's actually going to leave, but then there's the click of the light and the bed dips as Miyata crawls back in. "Don't think you're winning, though."
"Tama-chan," Miyata chuckles, voice close to Tamamori's ear.
His body settles in against Tamamori's back in a heated line, his arm curling around Tamamori's waist, but it seems like way too much trouble to shake it off.
"It's totally a fact that I'm winning."