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Rain patters against the windows, loud and insistent, as Osamu zones out for the umpteenth time that afternoon. He makes a few clicks with the remote in his hand and lowers the TV volume yet again. It’s barely audible at this point, with the weather outside winning out and giving him a stark reminder of why he’s spending his day cooped up inside. Why they’re inside.
Osamu’s gaze drifts across to where Akaashi occupies the other end of the couch, long, lean legs propped up on the ottoman, book in hand. Some kind of novel that he already forgets the genre of – something smart. For as much as Akaashi claims to be open to anything, with novels his preferences are more set than with movies or shows. He likes stories that use metaphors that are inaccessible to the common man and where, often, not much happens plot-wise. Highbrow literature. The kind that wins plenty of fancy awards.
Raising his free hand, Osamu muffles a laugh behind it.
His boyfriend’s discerning taste is half why they’ve ended up like this, engaged in their own separate activities. Not that he minds that, but his choice has run dry in the fun department. He’s bored. And maybe a little attention-deprived, but Osamu feels justified in that. Had the weather not turned on them, he could have been knee-deep in festival food and equally delicious company.
A smirk spreads across Osamu’s lips, curling them at the corner. He focuses more on the vision before him, tracing the wisps of dark, wavy hair that hang down into Akaashi’s face. The more he looks, the more his fingers twitch to brush them back. Usually that garners a pretty nice reaction and a blush if he times it right. Surprise is his friend when the goal is a flustered Akaashi, and that’s almost always the goal.
Briefly, Osamu glances back at the television. Nothing life-changing seems to be playing out on-screen so he clicks it off.
New game plan – take back some of the affection he’s missing out on. They’re both busy during the week so he hates wasting time when the free blocks in their schedules line up. Besides, Akaashi seems to be having far more fun reading, and Osamu kind of wants in.
He makes his move.
“How’s yer book?” he calls, testing the waters.
Judging by how Akaashi doesn’t lower the novel to answer, the contents are entertaining.
“The author’s narrative voice is steady so far. I am not certain how I feel about the main character, but he may redeem himself soon if this is going where I think it is.” Akaashi’s eyes flit from one column of kanji to the next, reading at a fervent yet careful pace.
Osamu isn’t sure what ‘steady’ means in terms of writing, but assumes it’s good.
“I’d like to read, too.”
Akaashi peers over the pages at him this time, one brow arched.
“I can lend it to you when I finish. Perhaps tomorrow?”
The smirk on Osamu’s face twitches slightly with amusement. When Akaashi is acting this adorable, creating the conditions to make him swoon is a walk in the park. It’s clear that he has no idea what Osamu has in mind and is too enthralled by his book to wise up.
“Nah, I’ll lose the urge by then. Let’s read it together right now.”
Several blinks occur behind the frames of Akaashi’s glasses.
“How?” he asks after a pause. “Shall I read it to you?”
Osamu hums and the gears in his mind turn, weighing the option. But when he thinks it through, the suggestion doesn’t get him where he wants.
“Nope. Wanna see the pages. C’mere and we can both look.” He pats the cushion next to him.
Akaashi’s gaze narrows.
“I am fifty pages in already. Does that matter?”
Osamu shakes his head. “Nope. Maybe ya can just catch me up on what's goin on.”
“I suppose I could.” Akaashi slots a finger into the book to save his place and moves closer.
They sit side by side, shoulders brushing and eyes peering down in between them at the page. The arrangement serves for a few seconds before Akaashi shifts and Osamu cranes his neck stiffly to look closer at what's written. Their arms knock against each other and though the collision is mild, both of them can already tell this isn't going to work in the long-term.
Osamu can think of two ways it will work, and he likes the latter best.
He reaches over and pats his boyfriend's leg.
"Why don't ya get on my lap?"
True to usual form, Akaashi's mind jumps several steps ahead. Far ahead of what Osamu has in mind for the moment, but maybe those tempting thoughts can be revisited later tonight. He doesn't feel guilty about planting that seed though; he never does.
"What?" Akaashi pauses, voice belying a faint tremble. "How do you mean?"
It's a challenge not to grin, but Osamu manages. All in the name of meeting his goal - closeness. He may still be mourning the idyllic afternoon he had planned: walking the festival with one hand curled around Akaashi's bony fingers and the other carrying an ever-changing array of portable delicacies, but he's content here. Being in public puts limits on the ways they can show affection.
"Swing yer legs over mine and we'll read like that."
"Are you sure?"
"I'll hold ya up, don't worry. Not gonna let ya fall or anything," Osamu promises, smoothing a hand against Akaashi's thigh to reassure him. He keeps their gazes locked until acceptance flickers inside the pools of his boyfriend's gorgeous blue eyes and Akaashi lets out a sigh.
He thrusts the book at him. "Hold this then."
Osamu receives it with a smile. "Take yer time, I'm in no rush," he teases, arching a brow playfully.
"You are incorrigible," Akaashi sighs.
Rising to his feet, he stares down at Osamu, assessing his options. Does he start out sideways and settle in from there, or employ a more direct approach? The mental gymnastics is apparent from the way Akaashi's brows furrow and his lips shift as if muttering suggestions to himself. Amusement tugs at Osamu's lips. Light from the kitchen nearby casts Akaashi's pensive face in a soft yellow glow.
Direct it is - Akaashi surges forward, climbing onto the couch and Osamu's lap, fumbling a bit as he tries to settle how to take the next step. His hands reach out to balance himself, but wind up a bit lower than intended, coming to rest on Osamu's chest. They both freeze.
Outside, the rain picks up force, pelting the apartment windows with a fury. Osamu has a feeling the cadence is nothing compared to the speed at which Akaashi's heart is pounding. Or his.
Pushing past the way his breath wants to catch in his throat, Osamu says, "Who's incorrigible now?"
Akaashi stares at him for a few seconds, then a laugh grudgingly leaves him. His hands move, one perching on Osamu's shoulder. The other cups his chin and tilts it up for better access. Lips press against his mouth sweetly and Osamu hums into the kiss, free hand landing at Akaashi's waist to steady him. Warmth floods his chest, and slowly, his pulse quiets to a soft, contented rhythm.
He waits until Akaashi seems to have gotten his fill, and then leans back into the cushions.
"Let's try that again. Yer legs go like that," Osamu tilts his head to the side. "And I'll have yer back."
Faint, adorable irritation crosses over Akaashi's face like a passing cloud, but then leaves. He follows instructions carefully this time, and maneuvers his body so that he's seated between Osamu's thighs with his legs draped over one of them. Osamu's arm wraps around behind him, giving him something to lean on. Only then does Akaashi take back his book, fingers flipping through to the exact page he'd left off on, even without it being marked.
"So," he says once they're both comfortable. "I should start by saying that this is a mystery. It was translated from French."
Osamu nods. At least the first part has promise.
"The main character is a retired detective who left the profession because-" Akaashi begins to explain, and Osamu listens to the way his voice starts out clear and proper, and filters over time into a rumble that's ten more times endearing because he can hear the excitement in it.
"And that's where I was. I can't tell yet if Jean is supposed to be sympathetic. He gives off more of the unreliable narrator vibe when I compare his introspection to what the other characters are saying. Then again, some of them are suspects."
"Got it. So we're keepin an eye on him," Osamu interjects. He tightens his grip, pulling Akaashi down into his chest until they're flush and he feels the other man luxuriate in the warmth being close generates. Depending on what turns the weather takes, they may or may not need a blanket. This is enough.
"Yes." Akaashi taps a certain kanji. "You can start with me from here. Let me know when you are ready for the next pages."
"Will do."
Osamu's eyes scan the novel's page warily. It's been a while since he's had time to sit down and read anything, let alone had the desire to. Sometimes he likes to binge his way through a tankobon of whatever shounen manga is making a splash at the time. Especially if it comes highly recommended by his favorite editor. Or a cookbook for inspiration. Novels are another animal. He doesn't loathe them, but they require a different focus that Osamu rarely has. But he's determined to try.
Keeping an open mind, Osamu reads along as the detective Jean bumbles his way through another round of interviews with persons-of-interest in the story's main crime. The banter is light enough to hold his interest, but the narration is tougher to keep straight in his head. Instinctively, he knows the author is dropping clues, false leads too, as mysteries do, yet he can't figure out what's what. Osamu's calls for the next page turn from words to low grumbles and hums as his frustration deepens.
The book would have made a better movie in his opinion.
Reining in a sigh, Osamu turns, checking to see if maybe their thoughts are aligned. What he finds, however, is Akaashi staring intently at the words, lost in their sway as he consumes each piece.
So much for being two peas in a pod. Not that he was particularly expecting them to match.
Osamu grins. Even if he's given up on this book, he doesn't have the heart to try to impose that opinion on his boyfriend.
Instead, he relaxes, eyes drifting toward Akaashi slyly whenever he gets a chance. After a time, Osamu zones out of the book completely, studiously taking in the shifts in Akaashi's expression whenever something new surprises him or makes his brain kick into gear to process a lead in the case. More than once, Akaashi has called himself stoic, or people that don't know him well enough have deemed him not very expressive. The thing is, Osamu thinks they just aren't paying attention.
But he does.
When he has time, it's one of his favorite hobbies - watching Akaashi. By now, he could probably write a masterpiece on his observations.
He won't though. All of the knowledge Osamu has gained, he plans on keeping for himself. Maybe that's selfish, but he's beyond caring about his public image. Nothing really matters, so long as he's right with himself and the people he cares about, and that's not a concern.
Snuggling in closer, he watches Akaashi's brow arch at something he reads. Osamu peeks at the page and catches the tail end of a heated conversation between two of the murder suspects. One of them has just blurted out a damning statement that goes against their alibi. Dramatic, but it's early in the book yet, so he doubts it will be pivotal in the overall plot.
It appears to matter to his boyfriend, though, judging by the reaction. Akaashi's shoulder stiffens in anticipation, jolting against Osamu's as he finishes off the paragraph. Gradually, the theory crafting tapers off and Akaashi looks over, clearly hoping they're both ready to move on.
It's in that moment that Osamu can’t help himself. Not with the excitement shining plain on the other man's captivating face. Tilting his head, he pecks a kiss against Akaashi’s forehead. His lips meet the skin and he smiles into the gesture, fondness bubbling up inside his heart.
All in all, the impromptu book club session is proving a decent substitute for their original plans, and he's no longer thinking about it being any different. Even if he's a more casual participant.
Akaashi’s eyes shift toward him for the briefest second before darting away.
“Are you done with this page?”
A blush blooms to life on his cheekbones, pink with embarrassment. Still, Osamu feels Akaashi lean in, nuzzling up to the side of his head. Telling him exactly what he needs to know moving forward. Emboldened, Osamu smiles and admits, “Stopped readin’ ten pages ago.”
Akaashi jerks his head to the side.
“Oh! I’m sorry, you should have told me,” he rushes to say, eyes brimming with apologetic energy. Osamu stares at their gunmetal depths for a few seconds until he needs to blink.
He laughs. “Ya know I can’t do that.”
Drawing lines up and down Akaashi's thigh with his finger, Osamu waits for the panic to recede. When it does, and Akaashi's energy softens, he adds, "'Sides, I like it better when ya tell me about it instead. Yer far more interesting than words on a page, Keiji."
"I believe you're alone in thinking so."
Osamu clicks his tongue. He almost jumps in to call out the self-deprecation before he replays it in his head. If anything, Akaashi sounds mild as opposed to actually critical. Perhaps this once, he can let it slide. There are more important things to respond to.
"If anyone doesn't notice how captivating ya are, it's their loss," he states firmly, and magnetism draws their eyes to meet.
Osamu leans forward, lips hovering close to Akaashi's ear. Before he can do anything else, he smiles at the preemptive shiver the warm splay of his breath inspires in his boyfriend. It's a cheap shot - he knows exactly what he's doing - but Osamu can't bring himself to care. It doesn't matter whether Akaashi was being serious or not; he wants to eliminate his doubts completely.
"And my gain," Osamu whispers, pressing a lingering kiss to the sensitive skin just below Akaashi's ear. He takes his time, slowly dotting a line of kisses down toward Akaashi’s neck until he’s quivering. Perfect . Then Osamu pulls away.
“Got it?”
Fighting back a renewed blush, Akaashi nods, lips creasing into a glowing smile. “I think so.”
Osamu hums contentedly, caught up in Akaashi’s eyes. “Good, and I’ll remind ya every day if that’s what yer brain needs.”
Akaashi’s blush spreads from his face to the tips of his ears and creeps its way down below his shirt.
“Don’t get so far ahead of yourself. At some point, the reminders may grow tiring.”
Osamu just smirks. “Try me.”