Archive of Our Own

Nanami could feel the deep exhaustion surge through his body as his fingers pressed the password of his door lock. He sighed, remembering the day he just passed, another day of him dealing with those obnoxious coworkers, boss, and Excel sheets. 

The door dinged, telling him to enter. He went in, hung his coat on the hanger, and removed his shoes. The apartment stood in silence, devoid of the comforting laughter he craved to ease his stress.

Perhaps, he could get a drink or two to replace the lack of familiar warmth in the living room. He looked down at his watch. 11 PM. Of course, his husband was already asleep. Weary, he shuffled to the kitchen, placing his car keys into the bowl that was placed on the table for such items. He opened his fridge, expecting to see his beers, only to be met with a bowl full of karaage and a cinnamoroll-framed note. 

Nanami snickered as he finished reading the note. The handwriting was messy, so Satoru-like, but he could sense the love behind it. A small smile crept into his face when his eyes noticed the small doddle of Satoru begging for forgiveness under the message. He took out the bowl and folded the note nicely before putting it in his wallet.

Satoru didn't know this side of him, and Nanami hoped that he wouldn't. The side of Nanami who kept every note he had written—yes, even his penis drawing—both in his wallet or his journal. If he felt corny, he would use one of Satoru's little notes as his bookmark. Satoru would tease him until his death if he knew it. 

Without delay, he warmed up his karaage, eagerly anticipating the hearty meal, a shower, and the embrace of the man who had awaited his return.

—

Nanami felt better after his shower and dinner. Droplets trickled down his cheeks as he dried his hair. He slipped into his boxer shorts before finally making his way to the awaiting bed.

A smile graced his face as he approached and noticed the tousled white hair peeking out from the blanket. He laid down slowly, not wanting to wake him up. Satoru can sense the weight, though, for he unconsciously shifted to give Nanami some space. 

Felt comfortable enough, he planted a fleeting kiss on his husband's temple, pulling Satoru closer to him. He carefully lifted the taller man's thigh to wrap around his waist, desiring Satoru to be one with him. 

"'Nami…?” Satoru suddenly asked. His voice sounded rough with sleepiness. 

"Hmm," came his response as he slid his hand beneath Satoru's shirt, gently circling his hip bone—a subtle apology for waking him up. “Tadaima .”

A sleepy smile adorned Satoru's face upon hearing that word. “Okaeri.” He grabbed Nanami's chin to kiss him in the mouth, but the room was already too dark, leading his lips to land on the corner of Nanami's lips instead. Nanami chuckled, shifting his head so they could kiss properly. 

“How's your day?” Satoru later asked after kissing. His eyelids eventually opened, revealing his blue eyes that were much brighter in the dark. 

“Draining. Someone put the wrong data, forcing me to redo it all over again.” Nanami shrugged. “Bet you had a happier day than me.”

Satoru gave him pity noises. “I met Megumi and Tsumiki today.” 

Megumi and Tsumiki . The siblings who instantly made Satoru fell in love the second they stepped into an orphanage months ago. Nanami ached for them, learning that they lost their parents in an accident. It broke him further when Tsumiki told them, during one of their visits, that their father was abusive with hushed whispers as she didn't want Megumi to hear her. 

Perhaps, that's why Megumi consistently wore a stern face, distancing himself when Satoru attempted to approach. Nanami understood; why would he trust strangers when his own father, who should have loved him, betrayed that trust?

Tsumiki, though. She went through the same trauma. She trusted them, however, opening her heart wide open. She kept her smile even though Megumi was being distant. Tsumiki is strong—stronger than he ever could be.

He vowed to himself to make them have a much better life under Satoru and his care—they deserve it.

“Without me?” Satoru squeaked a small “i'm soooory” at the response. “How are they?"

“They're fine. Tsumiki taught me crocheting. How patient of her since I keep making mistakes. I gave up, though.” he gave a sheepish smile. Nanami's finger can't help but poke his nose. “She crocheted two beanies for us. She asked about you, by the way. She missed you!”

“How sweet,” he praised, already planning to wear the beanie for the rest of winter. “I miss her, too. Megumi?” 

Satoru beamed, couldn't contain his happiness. “He was nicer today.” he said, almost squealing. “He let me play with him and even lent me his favorite toy car. I almost cried on the spot, Kento!” 

Nanami's eyes widened. “Really? That's good news.”

Satoru nodded energetically that his white strands fell into his eyelids. Nanami thought he needed a haircut. “He asked about you, too. Said that he preferred your presence to me.”

Nanami laughed softly. “I'm flattered.”

“I can't wait to bring them home soon, Ken.” Electric blue eyes shine with affection. “I already love them more than you! Just so you know!”

“As long as Megumi likes me better than you, I'm fine with that.”

A whine escaped from Satoru's lips at that statement. Nanami snickered, pinching his cheeks. 

The thought of seeing the siblings fill their home with warmth thrilled him. He pictured Satoru being a good father—he would, he's sure of it—whether braiding Tsumiki's hair or pestering Megumi with all his remarks. 

He wouldn't have it any other way. 

“We can surprise them with their favorite things,” he suggested. “As their welcome gift.”

“That'll be amazing! We can get Tsumiki a new jacket since hers is already torn in some parts. Hmm. I'll give Megumi a Hot Wheels track set. I bet he'll love it and like me better than you!”

“Oh, that's your strategy, huh? Then, I'll compete harder.” His brown eyes gazed at the digital clock on their table. 12.47 AM. “We can discuss it later, yeah? It's late.”

“Okay. See you in my dream, hottie.”

“See you, my darling.”

Nanami closed his eyes, briefly thinking that he didn't mind his draining job as long as he could come home to this. 

—

“Kento, what do you think their favorite colors are? It’s a nice touch to paint their bedroom in those colors, don't you think?” 

“Go back to sleep, Toru .”