[fanfic] Routine
Whoa I leave fanfiction.net for a second and when I come back there are these newfangled things like story covers?? Back in my day, we didn't have fancy buttons telling us to review and the screen was old as bones.
Title: Routine
Fandom: Inazuma Eleven (GO)
Pairings: Tsunami/Tachimukai
Warnings: GO arc despite not having watched GO, m/m
Summary: Domesticity.
Sundays were laundry days. They were also Tachimukai’s lazy days. Tsunami knew this, so he took great care in not shaking the bed more than necessary when he got up, but Tachimukai woke up anyway.
The first thing he did was kiss Tachimukai good morning, as per typical apology for waking the other before necessary. It brought a smile to Tachimukai’s face. The second thing he did was say, “Get changed out of those pajamas when I come back up to collect laundry, okay?”
Tachimukai nodded sleepily, but thought he wasn’t going to do anything of the sort as Tsunami kissed him on the forehead and left the room.
Tsunami was a man of habit, Tachimukai thought, having lost track of how many times he had thought this. The majestic sea was unpredictable and Tsunami was a professional at riding what came at him, but on land he was a stickler to a schedule. In the mornings, he’d go out for a surf. It was better here on the coast, because Tsunami had a near existential crisis back when they lived in Tokyo together over the tradeoff between surfing every morning or being on time for work. Now with the ocean at their disposal, that was no longer a problem.
He thought of the sea while tangled up in the comforter, legs dangling out and face half buried under a particularly large fold of blanket. Tsunami loved it, but Tachimukai was a man of the earth and nearly drowned when he tried to surf. The daily concern of Tsunami’s nearsightedness flitted through his mind but he knew Tsunami left his glasses at home, on the kitchen table.
The back door creaked open just as Tachimukai was about to fall back to sleep and he blinked. There was the sound of footsteps up the stairs, and after a while, the sound of the shower running. Tachimukai thought Tsunami would enjoy it if he’d surprised him by stepping into the shower with him, but it was his lazy day so he wouldn’t. The surfboard would be lying on the grass outside in the back. Tachimukai saw all this in his mind’s eye and knew it to be true.
Tsunami reminded him again after his shower, poking his head into the bedroom and seeing his comatose boyfriend staring blankly at him. “You can leave those clothes on the corner of the bed and keep sleeping,” he said, grinning, hair damp. Tsunami was wonderful, Tachimukai thought, from the wonderful vantage point of blankets and bedspread. No one else would indulge him like this for one day of the week. I love him, I love him.
Tachimukai stared at the ceiling. From the sounds of it, Tsunami was making toast for breakfast, since it was the easiest and the fastest. There was the sound of the coffeemaker, because Tachimukai was addicted to the stuff. It got him through his lazy days. It was the soundtrack of his mornings, with not a single tune of out place. He did not have to be there to recognize the clatter of the jars in the fridge as Tsunami opened it to grab the jam, and he could almost see through the walls at Tsunami browsing the newspaper in midbite. It was all morning, every morning.
Routines weren’t very interesting, Tachimukai thought.
Tsunami went around to every other room besides their bedroom first. Tachimukai heard the soft thuds of clothes against clothes down the hallway. He ought to slip out of his pajamas and let Tsunami do laundry like he always did every Sunday, Tachimukai thought. But that would be making it too easy.
Tsunami was not upset or surprised at all to find Tachimukai still enveloped in blankets with pajamas still on and merely went around the room collecting the various clothes lying around that needed washing. Tachimukai looked at him pointedly to say he was not to have his way easily.
“Alright,” Tsunami announced, standing over the bed when all clothes had been collected save the ones on Tachimukai’s back. “Take those pajamas off.”
“So perverted,” Tachimukai mumbled, still staring pointedly at him. When Tsunami didn’t react, he frowned. “Take them off yourself if you want them.”
Tsunami extracted the brunette from the comforter and began unbuttoning the top of the pajamas. This wasn’t sexy at all, Tachimukai thought vaguely, staring at a random point above Tsunami. Tsunami was a slave to routine. After laundry he’d come bother him about waking up and then cave and bring him breakfast in bed. Something like that. Tsunami slipped the light green shirt off Tachimukai’s shoulders without so much as an appreciative glance at the revealing of skin.
Tachimukai slithered out of Tsunami’s grasp and leapt off the bed.
“Hey,” Tsunami said, a little startled at this development, the shirt hanging limply from his hand. Tachimukai stood defiantly a few feet away, a mischievous look on his face. “Give me those pants.”
“You’re going to have to catch me first,” Tachimukai challenged, before darting out of reach.
“Yuuki,” Tsunami said, a little exasperatedly, although his face said he was definitely amused. Tachimukai remembered when Tsunami called him by his first name for the first time by accident in high school and he knew his feelings were requited. Throwing the pajama shirt into the hamper, he set off on a wild Tachimukai chase. It was a close match, as Tsunami surfed and Tachimukai still played soccer, but after Tachimukai slammed the door behind him to the bathroom, there was a clear stalemate.
“Yuuki,” Tsunami called from behind the door. “I gotta do laundry. I’ll play with you later.”
It was silly, Tachimukai thought, his back against the door to keep Tsunami from coming in because the lock was broken. Here he was, a grown man, running around in only pajama bottoms in the late morning. But he’d thrown a wrench in Tsunami’s plans. He’d knocked him clean off the wave he was comfortable on. He’d only remembered flustering Tsunami like this (only a little more dramatically, laundry was nothing to fuss about) twice: once, when he hugged Tsunami out of view of everyone else after the International Football Frontier, and the other when he’d mentioned casually during an outing that it felt suspiciously like a date (which Tsunami was to admit to after they got together).
Tsunami kept knocking, insistent on the pants, so Tachimukai stepped back to let the door open. When Tsunami came into the bathroom, he slid forward and kissed him right in the doorway.
“How about I help you do laundry later,” Tachimukai suggested, his breath hot against Tsunami’s mouth, “and you spend time with me now?” He guided Tsunami into the bathroom slowly, satisfied that there was no resistance. “Take another bath with me.”
There was a hint of another existential crisis in Tsunami’s eyes (laundry or bath?) so Tachimukai kissed him again.
Tsunami eventually took off the pajama bottoms, but they lay on the floor of the bathroom for a while.
Title: Routine
Fandom: Inazuma Eleven (GO)
Pairings: Tsunami/Tachimukai
Warnings: GO arc despite not having watched GO, m/m
Summary: Domesticity.
Sundays were laundry days. They were also Tachimukai’s lazy days. Tsunami knew this, so he took great care in not shaking the bed more than necessary when he got up, but Tachimukai woke up anyway.
The first thing he did was kiss Tachimukai good morning, as per typical apology for waking the other before necessary. It brought a smile to Tachimukai’s face. The second thing he did was say, “Get changed out of those pajamas when I come back up to collect laundry, okay?”
Tachimukai nodded sleepily, but thought he wasn’t going to do anything of the sort as Tsunami kissed him on the forehead and left the room.
Tsunami was a man of habit, Tachimukai thought, having lost track of how many times he had thought this. The majestic sea was unpredictable and Tsunami was a professional at riding what came at him, but on land he was a stickler to a schedule. In the mornings, he’d go out for a surf. It was better here on the coast, because Tsunami had a near existential crisis back when they lived in Tokyo together over the tradeoff between surfing every morning or being on time for work. Now with the ocean at their disposal, that was no longer a problem.
He thought of the sea while tangled up in the comforter, legs dangling out and face half buried under a particularly large fold of blanket. Tsunami loved it, but Tachimukai was a man of the earth and nearly drowned when he tried to surf. The daily concern of Tsunami’s nearsightedness flitted through his mind but he knew Tsunami left his glasses at home, on the kitchen table.
The back door creaked open just as Tachimukai was about to fall back to sleep and he blinked. There was the sound of footsteps up the stairs, and after a while, the sound of the shower running. Tachimukai thought Tsunami would enjoy it if he’d surprised him by stepping into the shower with him, but it was his lazy day so he wouldn’t. The surfboard would be lying on the grass outside in the back. Tachimukai saw all this in his mind’s eye and knew it to be true.
Tsunami reminded him again after his shower, poking his head into the bedroom and seeing his comatose boyfriend staring blankly at him. “You can leave those clothes on the corner of the bed and keep sleeping,” he said, grinning, hair damp. Tsunami was wonderful, Tachimukai thought, from the wonderful vantage point of blankets and bedspread. No one else would indulge him like this for one day of the week. I love him, I love him.
Tachimukai stared at the ceiling. From the sounds of it, Tsunami was making toast for breakfast, since it was the easiest and the fastest. There was the sound of the coffeemaker, because Tachimukai was addicted to the stuff. It got him through his lazy days. It was the soundtrack of his mornings, with not a single tune of out place. He did not have to be there to recognize the clatter of the jars in the fridge as Tsunami opened it to grab the jam, and he could almost see through the walls at Tsunami browsing the newspaper in midbite. It was all morning, every morning.
Routines weren’t very interesting, Tachimukai thought.
Tsunami went around to every other room besides their bedroom first. Tachimukai heard the soft thuds of clothes against clothes down the hallway. He ought to slip out of his pajamas and let Tsunami do laundry like he always did every Sunday, Tachimukai thought. But that would be making it too easy.
Tsunami was not upset or surprised at all to find Tachimukai still enveloped in blankets with pajamas still on and merely went around the room collecting the various clothes lying around that needed washing. Tachimukai looked at him pointedly to say he was not to have his way easily.
“Alright,” Tsunami announced, standing over the bed when all clothes had been collected save the ones on Tachimukai’s back. “Take those pajamas off.”
“So perverted,” Tachimukai mumbled, still staring pointedly at him. When Tsunami didn’t react, he frowned. “Take them off yourself if you want them.”
Tsunami extracted the brunette from the comforter and began unbuttoning the top of the pajamas. This wasn’t sexy at all, Tachimukai thought vaguely, staring at a random point above Tsunami. Tsunami was a slave to routine. After laundry he’d come bother him about waking up and then cave and bring him breakfast in bed. Something like that. Tsunami slipped the light green shirt off Tachimukai’s shoulders without so much as an appreciative glance at the revealing of skin.
Tachimukai slithered out of Tsunami’s grasp and leapt off the bed.
“Hey,” Tsunami said, a little startled at this development, the shirt hanging limply from his hand. Tachimukai stood defiantly a few feet away, a mischievous look on his face. “Give me those pants.”
“You’re going to have to catch me first,” Tachimukai challenged, before darting out of reach.
“Yuuki,” Tsunami said, a little exasperatedly, although his face said he was definitely amused. Tachimukai remembered when Tsunami called him by his first name for the first time by accident in high school and he knew his feelings were requited. Throwing the pajama shirt into the hamper, he set off on a wild Tachimukai chase. It was a close match, as Tsunami surfed and Tachimukai still played soccer, but after Tachimukai slammed the door behind him to the bathroom, there was a clear stalemate.
“Yuuki,” Tsunami called from behind the door. “I gotta do laundry. I’ll play with you later.”
It was silly, Tachimukai thought, his back against the door to keep Tsunami from coming in because the lock was broken. Here he was, a grown man, running around in only pajama bottoms in the late morning. But he’d thrown a wrench in Tsunami’s plans. He’d knocked him clean off the wave he was comfortable on. He’d only remembered flustering Tsunami like this (only a little more dramatically, laundry was nothing to fuss about) twice: once, when he hugged Tsunami out of view of everyone else after the International Football Frontier, and the other when he’d mentioned casually during an outing that it felt suspiciously like a date (which Tsunami was to admit to after they got together).
Tsunami kept knocking, insistent on the pants, so Tachimukai stepped back to let the door open. When Tsunami came into the bathroom, he slid forward and kissed him right in the doorway.
“How about I help you do laundry later,” Tachimukai suggested, his breath hot against Tsunami’s mouth, “and you spend time with me now?” He guided Tsunami into the bathroom slowly, satisfied that there was no resistance. “Take another bath with me.”
There was a hint of another existential crisis in Tsunami’s eyes (laundry or bath?) so Tachimukai kissed him again.
Tsunami eventually took off the pajama bottoms, but they lay on the floor of the bathroom for a while.