Stay Here Tonight

This Time

[A/N] Bad of me to begin a new fic when FTR's got rockets in your pockets already? Maaaaybe. :P But this is pretty short and just has to be gotten out of my head before it drowns in fluff. Speaking of which, I should probably put in a warning here: FLUFF! A KAJILLION TONS OF IT! It's so freakin' fluffy that it's not even 'fluff', it's 'FLOFF' with an O! There, don't say I didn't tell ya. And it's in present tense…because I find present tense kinda sexy. (Those of you who read Daylit Storm before I had to take it down might see why. XD)

Ah, and Hiroki might seem pricklier than usual here because this is towards the beginning of the Egoists' relationship 'n everything…can't deny he was a bit of a live wire back then. (Though still deredere an adorable. Heh.)

oOo

Nowaki can't concentrate anymore. He hasn't been able to for a while now; his ears are straining for the sound of rain falling against his windows, his door, anywhere. But there's nothing. The storm has gone as suddenly as it came.

Hiroki is still teaching…or can it be called teaching, when the only listener is not taking in a word? The man is absorbed in his material, index finger flitting from a textbook placed carefully off to the side to rest briefly on the notebook that is serving as a substitute chalkboard, then back to the text, his eyes dancing in perfect tandem with the pen-clutching hand, and his voice weaving through both motions like a conductor's baton. It's a lovely sight, but partially lost on his student, who is only half there no matter how he tries to focus on the present.

Just ten more minutes, then dinner, then I have to leave.

There's nothing different about Hiroki tonight that makes his lover of just a week so burningly anxious to stay on. He's impatient, harsh, falsely reluctant…and helplessly cute. It's the same as always, and yet Nowaki is suddenly unable to face the prospect of going back to his own apartment as he watches the pale pink lips form words that have lost all meaning. He struggles to remember what an effort his Hiro-san is making to set aside so much time and tutor him; it works for all of twenty seconds before he's zoning out again, only to be pulled back by the sound of his name.

'Nowaki.'

He jerks out of his daze with an apologetic 'I'm sorry', keeping his gaze trained on the table. It makes so much more sense for him to enjoy what time he does happen to share with Hiroki. Now if only it weren't so ridiculously difficult. And if it's difficult to enjoy something…it can't be enjoyable, can it?

'Nowaki, should we eat now?' Hiroki is saying, rapping briskly on the wood with two slim knuckles. 'You're completely out of it.'

Nowaki decides that meeting his lover's eyes is worth the risk, and is somewhat taken aback at the flat concern in them.

'If you're not paying attention, it's not fair to the teacher, who's talking to empty space, and certainly not fair to the student, because this is the first and last time I'll be covering this.' The lips twist in a grimace. 'Just get dinner started.'

The blue eyes lower again. He's had a whole ten minutes taken off his time now; a cruelly fitting punishment, he supposes, for wanting more time in the first place. 'I'm sorry', he mumbles again. 'I'll start cooking then. What do you want?' he adds absently, slipping into the little ritual that unfolds every time he cooks at Hiroki's place: the man is not a fussy eater, but Nowaki feels compelled to ask anyway, knowing the answer full well.

'Anything's fine.'

But he can't really say that it's one of the things that makes them a couple, not when they've only been together for seven days—exactly seven days, I wonder if he realizes?—not when it's been happening since long before they began going out. As he unfolds his long legs and crosses over to the fridge, his mind taking hurried inventory of the supplies and deciding on tonjiru*, he reminds himself that they will have plenty of time to form more routine exchanges, more gestures. Plenty of time, if they last that long. Is it possible to be absolutely sure?

And with all the youthful enthusiasm of somebody who has an entire lifetime awaiting them he decides that yes, he will be absolutely sure. 'Hiro-san, I'm making tonjiru', he calls over his shoulder, pleasantly surprised at the 'good' that he receives in reply, because that's a first.

oOo

They eat in silence; that's normal. Hiroki, unlike his younger lover, has no problem directing all of his considerable mental faculties to whatever task he's immersed in. Unlike Nowaki, he does not glance at the person across the table every two minutes.

And Nowaki's still praying for rain.

There had been a sporadic burst of wild, thundery rain when they began the study session, and come to think of it, he is now wont to blame his newfound separation anxiety on just that—if it hadn't been for the storm, he wouldn't have thought I won't be able to go home if this keeps up and his heart wouldn't have leapt a mile and a half, and he wouldn't have found himself imagining what it would be like to sleep over at Hiro-san's apartment once, just once. The storm started everything and bailed without so much as offering to fix it.

The food's complete and total mush in his mouth and he realizes that he's been chewing the same morsel for quite a while without swallowing. Which means that not only has he lost his appetite, but his entire body is thinking of ways to stretch out the time between this and his ultimate departure. It doesn't matter, of course. If Hiroki wants him out, he'll be out before he can say 'what'.

Thinking of the power that his lover holds over him in so many ways brings an utterly miserable sigh to his lips.

Hiroki looks up to raise his eyebrows. 'Really, what's with you today?' he asks quietly. 'You've never spaced out when I teach.' The underlying assertion that it's his teaching that so captivates Nowaki seems to surface a second later, accompanied by a slight tinge of color to the usually-pale cheeks. It makes the boy smile faintly.

'It's nothing, Hiro-san.' That's all he can offer as an explanation. Not I want to stay tonight, and tomorrow morning, and every day after that, because those words would mean everything and yet nothing if the man has no idea what it would cost his lover to say them.

'I don't want to leave', he doesn't say. After the gentle negation of how perceptive Hiroki shows himself to be at times, Nowaki resumes eating and successfully attempts not to look up for the remainder of the meal.

Dishes are washed.

Seconds are spent, painfully noticeable.

Shoes are slipped on. Nowaki is clinging to every moment, though his mood is marginally lightened at the thought that Hiroki sees him out these days, rather than just grunting an acknowledgement from his place at the table without so much as looking up.

Suddenly, 'Listen.'

'Yes, Hiro-san?'

'How are you going back?'

'I have my bicycle chained up outside.'

A pause. 'It'll have gotten wet in the rain.'

'…Yes.'

He has been treading carefully for so long now.

Maybe too long if he can't stop the hands that finally pull Hiroki to him. It's easy to set the man off, but Nowaki's lips literally leave no room for dissent as they seek the mouth that has imparted so much wasted knowledge over the hours. The kiss is long and silent.

Hiroki is not struggling. Far from it. Nowaki is almost weepy with happiness as he feels a second pair of hands hug him back. It's one of the memories that he will take back with him, replay in his mind and body when he feels discouraged, to remind himself that the wall he's up against is more pliable than he thinks.

'Good night, Hiro-san', he murmurs, allowing his chin to rest briefly on top of the shaggy brown head before leaning a bit further away; directly and indirectly, he's often received the impression that Hiroki somehow resents the difference in their heights, and he has no desire to rub this in. Another thing that I can fix with time and love? He wonders, gazing at the perpetually tousled cinnamon locks that cling to the fabric of his jacket.

Before he can answer this question, though, he has to tend to an external one. 'Nowaki?' the smaller man is saying, voice gruff against the broad chest with what the boy knows to be embarrassment. Nowaki hums softly, knowing he will have to let go now. Happier and yet now even unhappier.

Hiroki's arms tighten almost imperceptibly. Nowaki is still relishing the feel of them against his back when the growl picks up again, deeper and softer this time, all but inaudible, but nonetheless as clearly heard as the thunder that began all of this.

'Stay here tonight.'

oOo

[A/N] Tonjiru: Pork miso soup.

By the way, the M rating means that I will take my chances against FF's new censorship with a softcore lemon somewhere around chapter 3…only not so much a lemon as an aezotropic centimolar solution of lime juice. *SCIENCE NERD!* (1 Molar solution=1 liter of solvent containing the numerical value of the solute's molecular weight in grams, i.e. one mole of solute; centimolar solution=0.01 Molar) (Aezotropic mixture=a mixture of two (obviously miscible) liquids that cannot be separated by fractional distillation)

…So that's your science for today. :D Sorry if all of you already know this and I'm just sounding silly for explaining :O! But anyway, you can read the full-blown concentrated version on where I now have an account under the same penname. Updates will take place simultaneously on both sites. :)

As always, reviews are very, very welcome.