A/N: Happy birthday, Takao! Here is a future MidoTaka fic. It's short and its sweet, but it's the prequel to the naughty nurse Takao cosplay & doctor Midorima story that's to come later. I just didn't have time to do the smut yet.
Also, I finally got an invite to AO3! So, you can now find my steamier stuff there, on tumblr, and on liveournal! Thank you to everyone who still favorites and follows me here even though I don't post much to ffnet anymore! You're the best.
Midorima glanced at the intricate gold and quartz clock on his desk. It was already ten o'clock. Two more hours and the day would officially be over. Dropping the pen in his hand onto the stack of papers he had been studying, Midorima leaned back in the chair and closed his tired eyes. He wasn't going to make it home in time. Again.
How many birthdays did this make now? How many had he missed over the grueling years of college, medical school, a hellish internship that seemed like it would never end, and now the exhausting first years of his own practice?
He knew, though, that when he came crawling into bed at two or three in the morning, there would be no recriminations, no tantrums or sulking that he had missed yet another birthday. Instead, Takao would simply smile drowsily at him and greet him with open arms, a softly whispered, "Welcome home, Shin-chan," on his lips.
Guilt was not an emotion Midorima felt often. He was intelligent, strong, driven. If something he did or said upset or angered another person, well it was only because that individual was too weak or couldn't handle the truth. He always saw things as either right or wrong, black or white. Yet Takao existed in the grey space inside him that he hadn't known was there, not until high school. Now, if he managed to hurt Takao in some way, if he let the other man down, guilt would eat at him until he fixed the problem he had created.
Only there was no way to make this right. You couldn't postpone a birthday.
The long hours he was putting in at the hospital were brutal, and there was no end in sight. Even when he did manage to finagle some time off, it usually conflicted with Takao's schedule. As the newest head coach of Shūtoku, Takao was often on the road on the weekend at matches and tournaments. They were both extremely busy men, and while each of them found their choice of careers fulfilling, it left scant little time to spend together. Even on birthdays.
With a sigh, Midorima opened his eyes and rocked forward, hand moving to the drawer on the right side of his desk. He hesitated for a moment before opening it. There, nestled amongst his neatly arranged office supplies, was a small, velvet box. Takao's present, and the single biggest decision of Midorima's life, even bigger than choosing to go into medicine. That box represented his future and the dashing of all the hopes and dreams his parents had for him.
He hadn't made the decision lightly, knowing it signified a kind of finality, and end to all the "what might have beens." Yet, none of those possible futures could compare with what he had now with Takao, and what they would have in all the years to come. Ah, he was being fanciful, poetic even. It was a good thing Takao couldn't read his thoughts. He would never here the end of it.
Takao's answer was, of course, a given. At least in his mind. The sometimes annoying, frequently thoughtful, easily excitable and amused man had been chasing after him since their first year of high school. Longer, if Takao was to be believed. Since a basketball match in middle school that Midorima didn't even remember, but kind of wished he did.
While this might not be the future he envisioned as a child or young adolescent, this was the path he had chosen and Midorima had no regrets. He loved Takao with every fiber of his being, and though he rarely said those words aloud, a mix of pride and embarrassment stilling his tongue, his partner knew.
Takao had always known, what he was thinking, what he was feeling. It had been aggravating at first, but now he welcomed it. He'd always had difficulties communicating with others, his singular focus and pursuit of perfection often causing misunderstandings and even envy. Midorima didn't have to worry about any of that with Takao. Those exceptional eyes of his saw through Midorima's aloof outer shell straight through to the man within. He'd been called a Miracle in his youth, but to him Takao was the true miracle, and he thanked the gods of fate every day for bringing the other man into his life.
Taking the blue box out of the drawer, Midorima rubbed his thumb gently over it, green gaze distant and just a bit yearning. Without thought, his other hand grabbed the phone and dialed Takao's cell number.
"Shin-chan," Takao's melodic voice breathed into his ear through the speaker.
"Takao," he said and then stopped, unsure where to go from there, not even knowing why he called in the first place, other than he just wanted to hear Takao's voice.
"Something wrong, Shin-chan?" Takao sounded concerned, pulling Midorima out of his stupor.
Setting the box down, he massaged the bridge of his nose. "No, I just … wanted to say Happy Birthday since I'm not going to make it home before midnight."
There was silence on the other end, followed by husky laughter. "You wished me happy birthday this morning before you left. This isn't like you. Is Shin-chan getting sweet and cute in his old age?"
"And you're obviously getting senile," Midorima snapped, knowing his face was red and glad Takao wasn't there to see it. "Maybe I should just hang up then," his finger hovered over the disconnect button, thinking he'd been a fool to make the call in the first place.
"Waah! Wait, Shin-chan, wait!" Takao cried urgently, though there was still amusement in his tone. "I was just kidding. Well, not about the 'sweet and cute' part, but the 'old' part was definitely uncalled for."
"Takao," he infused the other's name with warning.
"Sorry, sorry," the man on the other end replied meekly, before bouncing back with a lively, "But, I'm so happy you called! I was lonely all by myself."
That tug of guilt pulled at Midorima's insides again. Tapping his fingers on the desk, he stared out at nothing. "It can't be helped. I have to get all of these charts ready for tomorrow. I …," he trailed off, wondering if this is where he was supposed to apologize.
He didn't have to. Like always, Takao knew what he was thinking.
With a happy sigh, Takao spoke, and Midorima could practically here the affectionate smile in his words. "It's okay, Shin-chan. I'm not upset. In fact, I'm so proud of you, helping all those people like you do, staying dedicated no matter how long it takes. It makes me fall in love with you all over again."
Midorima's heart actually thumped. That doki-doki feeling was surely more appropriate for teenage girls, yet he was experiencing it nonetheless.
"Takao," he started, unsure of what he was going to say next, and somehow ended up blurting out, "will you marry me?"
As soon as the question left his mouth, he was horrified. He couldn't believe he had just asked such an important, life-altering question over the phone.
Apparently neither could Takao. "Wh-what did you just say, Shin-chan?" he squeaked.
Standing up for no reason at all, Midorima took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. "I … it was nothing. Forget it."
"Nonononono! You can't do that. You can't go and say something so important and then tell me to forget about it! It doesn't work like that, Shin-chan."
Midorima could tell from the sounds coming out of the phone that Takao was up and pacing.
Frowning, he picked up the velvet box again, opening it this time to gaze at the glinting gold ring inside. A matching one, slightly larger to accommodate his bigger finger, was hidden in his coat pocket. This wasn't the way he had intended to pop the question. Dinner and candelight, with the soft strains of classical music drifting in the background, that had been his strategy. All his plans gone up in smoke because he let his emotions get the better of him. He, Midorima Shintarō of all people. It was completely out of character, and 100% Takao's fault. He always managed to mess up Midorima's pace in some way. But, if he were honest with himself, the green-eyed doctor knew he wouldn't have it any other way.
"Shin-chan?" Takao murmured his name when he didn't say anything for several moments.
"Well, Takao?" he put his glasses back on and sat down again.
"Well, what?" the other man was clearly confused.
"Well, what's your answer then?" Midorima growled with arrogant impatience. No use crying over spilled milk and all that. Might as well get it over with and find out Takao's answer or he would never be able to finish the rest of his work for the night.
A noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob echoed over the phone. "That's no fair, Shin-chan. Asking me to marry you over the phone. That's not romantic at all."
"Say no then," Midorima barked, not really meaning it, just mortified and perplexed by his own actions.
Takao blew his noise loudly, causing Midorima to crinkle his nose in disgust, and wailed, "You're so cruel! Of course I'm not gonna say no!"
Letting go of a breath he didn't know he was holding, the doctor slumped forward in his chair. "Great," he whispered in relief, quickly coughing to cover it up. "Okay, well, we can discuss the details tomorrow. I need to get back to work now."
His tone was brisk and dismissive, not really the way someone who had just proposed should speak to their future spouse, but he needed to get off the phone before he humiliated himself further.
"Shin-chan," Takao stopped him before he could hang up, his name a cross between a sniffle and a chuckle.
"What is it?" grouchy embarrassment made the question sharp and exasperated.
"This is the best birthday ever.I'll be happy to marry you. I love you so much."
The phone clicked softly in his ear, not giving him a chance to respond.
"I love you, too," he repeated softly, feeling a lump in his throat as he squeezed the ring box close to his chest.
Midorima didn't know how long he sat there like that, but when he realized what he was doing, he coughed again and put the box down, reaching for the charts in front of him. He wasn't aware, but a small, joyful smile curved his lips for the rest of the night.
Fin.
