Sometimes Goto regrets moving in with Masayoshi. Usually these times happen before six am, in the dim light that for Goto at least indicates "too early for functional humanity." Unfortunately Masayoshi doesn't seem to be quite human, certainly not when it comes to his pre-dawn energy levels.
The fact that it's Christmas morning isn't helping.
"Goto-san!" Usually Goto likes the sound of Masayoshi's voice. This is not one of those times. The cheer that usually characterizes his speech is piercing at the present moment, dragging Goto up far closer to consciousness than he wants to be. "Merry Christmas!"
"Go back to bed," Goto groans against the pillow, makes a grab for Masayoshi's waist to drag him back down to the mattress. This backfires, as it puts his arm in range for Masayoshi to grab at his wrist, and with the advantage of being properly conscious he's dragging Goto bodily from under the covers before the other has a chance to resist.
"Let me go," he growls, but he's waking up in spite of his attempts to cling to sleep, and Masayoshi is smiling at him with enough excitement that it catches contagious in spite of Goto's best attempts to resist it. "I'm asleep, idiot."
"But it's Christmas!" Masayoshi insists, like that is any kind of a decent argument, and then he's leaning in close to Goto's face, near enough that Goto is tipping his head up in bleary expectation before lips press warm against his forehead, and that is a far better argument than words ever could be.
"I need coffee," Goto declares by way of a capitulation. He is half-hoping for a few minutes of continued rest, enough time to finish out his dream or at least drowse until Masayoshi's return. He is not expecting Masayoshi to turn to reach behind him before he comes back to press a mug hot with the liquid inside into his hands.
"I thought you would," Masayoshi chirps, and he's gone again, sliding off the bed and fairly running around the corner. Goto stares after him, the steam from the coffee easing the worst of the tension from his shoulders; he's still glazed out-of-focus when Masayoshi returns with a bathrobe, returning to his position on the bed with enough of a bounce that Goto's coffee is briefly in danger of ending up over the sheets instead of staying in his cup.
"Be careful," Goto demands, but Masayoshi just laughs and comes up on his knees so he can sweep the robe around Goto's shoulders with a flourish. It probably looks quite artistic from the outside; Goto is more concerned with the warmth against his skin, the way the robe captures the fading warmth of sleep close against him so he can relax some of the hunch along his spine. He still doesn't want to be awake, but he seems to be now in spite of his best attempts, and the warmth and the rising aroma of the coffee is almost enough to make it bearable.
"Can we open the stockings?" Masayoshi asks, jittery with so much excitement the mattress is trembling under his weight. He's like an overenthusiastic puppy; Goto can almost imagine a tail wagging with excitement to match the soft devotion in his eyes.
He represses the smile that tries to break over his expression into a frown better suited to his assumed early-morning grumpiness. "Go and get them," he sighs, like it's a terrible chore to allow Masayoshi to run through the house, and it's not until the other has turned to scramble out of the room that Goto lets his eyes go soft and his mouth form itself into the smile that always follows Masayoshi's presence.
He lifts his cup to his mouth as Masayoshi returns, uses the excuse of a swallow of burning-hot coffee to cover his expression. He doesn't need to bother; Masayoshi has eyes only for the pair of matched stockings loaded so heavy they pulled the hooks out of the wall and had to be laid out on the floor instead of left to hang. Goto knows everything that is in Masayoshi's, but when his own is offered to him he takes it and sets it in his lap, far more interested in the other's reactions than his own gifts for now.
He had almost forgotten in the last few weeks. It was necessary to push the knowledge back in his head to keep the secret, crucial that he keep his mind off the information to avoid accidentally tipping Masayoshi off. Luckily Goto is good at keeping secrets, better at fooling himself than most people are, and it's only now, with Christmas-morning coffee in his hands and Masayoshi sparkling over the stocking on his lap, that the anticipation truly hits him.
Masayoshi barely looks up, and it's only that that saves Goto from being found out. He can't control the panicked excitement rising in his blood, shaking into his hands until his coffee is rippling in tiny waves against the edge of his cup. It's not the special edition DVD that is making it hard to breathe, not the box of curry that pounds his heartbeat into overdrive, though Masayoshi is equally delighted about both of those. It's the very last item in the stocking, the smallest in size by far, so Masayoshi doesn't realize it's there until everything else has been spread out across the bed.
"Is there one more?" he asks, but the question is rhetorical; he's already sliding his fingers back into the stocking, feeling out the inside seams until he reaches the box tucked into the very toe. Goto looks back down at his coffee, takes a mouthful so long he drains more than half the remaining liquid while Masayoshi is withdrawing his hand and bringing the last of his presents out into the light.
"What's this?" He's really asking, the words bright with curiosity and sincerity until there's no question about whether he suspects anything.
"You don't know?" Goto blurts, disbelief audible in his throat. "How do you not know?"
Masayoshi glances up at him, his eyes wide and violet and glowing with delight, and for a minute Goto can't breathe, can't remember how to work his lungs under the force of Masayoshi's expression. Then the black box comes open under Masayoshi's fingers, and those purple eyes drop down to look at what's inside, and Goto lets all his breath out in a rush of cold panic.
"Do you know now?" he asks. He can't look down at the box; he knows well enough what's inside it anyway, spent hours picking out that particular band of plain gold. And it's Masayoshi's face he wants to see anyway, the tremble in the other's lip that he's interested in and the shine of liquid spreading over his eyes.
"Goto-san," he says, and it sounds like a sob even before he tips his chin up to fix Goto with that damp gaze.
"I wanted to get you a ring," Goto says, quickly, before emotion catches and tightens his throat past coherency. "You don't have to wear it." He looks away, gulps another mouthful of coffee. "You don't even have to say yes." Defensiveness tightens his shoulders, pushes past his mouth without his intention. "You did propose first, you know, but if you want to go back on that -"
"You never answered!" Masayoshi wails, and Goto looks up just in time to brace himself for the impact of Masayoshi flinging himself at the other's neck. The robe slips off his shoulder, his coffee splashes against the edge of the mug, but Goto isn't thinking much about the coffee anymore; he's reaching up instead, wrapping his arm steadying around Masayoshi's waist to keep them from falling backwards. Soft hair crushes in against his face, brushes against his lips and nose so he can smell the faint sweet of Masayoshi's shampoo, and he turns in without thinking, shuts his eyes and presses his face in against the other. His lips bump Masayoshi's ear, Masayoshi is crying into his shoulder, and Goto is smiling against Masayoshi's hair, starting to laugh before the sound goes wet and turns into a shaky almost-sob on his tongue.
"Here," he says, pushing Masayoshi off him so he can reach for the box. Masayoshi tightens his grip on the case but Goto reaches in inside to slide the ring free, hook it over the tip of his finger and pull it back.
"I want it," Masayoshi says, reaching to grab at Goto's hand in an attempt to drag the ring back towards him. "I want it, Goto-san, let me have it."
Goto pulls his hand back, curls his fingers and brings the ring in close to his chest. "Not yet," he insists, swallows back the tightness in his throat. "You have to say yes first."
Masayoshi rocks back over his knees, lifts a hand to scrub at his damp cheeks. "You have to ask before I can answer."
Goto's fingers clench tight. For a minute he can't breathe at all, his chest is stalled still on unsaid words. Then Masayoshi drops his hand, and lifts his head to stare at Goto, and everything shifts, and clicks into place, and Goto takes an inhale and speaks.
"Will you marry me?" He loosens his curled fingers, twists the ring so he's offering it between thumb and index finger.
Masayoshi's smile is blinding, bright as the dawn and twice as warm. "Yes."
Goto lets out a breath so hard it sounds like a gasp. "Good." He ducks his head, blinks hard, not sure if he's about to laugh or cry. "Good." His hand is occupied; it takes him a moment to realize he's somehow still holding his coffee, another to turn and set it down on the bedside table. By the time he turns back his hands are shaking so badly it takes both together plus Masayoshi's attempts to help to fit the band on the other's finger. It does fit, it fits perfectly, and for a moment they are both silent, staring down at the gold on Masayoshi's hand and Goto's fingers bracing his wrist and palm.
Then Masayoshi looks up, still smiling so bright Goto wants to squint, and he draws his hand free, reaches out to curl both hands against Goto's shoulders as he slides in closer to fit himself into the other's lap. His hands are warm, even the cool of the unfamiliar metal flushing into comforting heat almost instantly, and Goto's hands fit in at his waist as easily as the ring itself fit onto Masayoshi's finger.
They both taste of salt, when their lips come together, the faint damp of tears blending together to tingle against Goto's tongue. Masayoshi is smiling and laughing against Goto's skin, and Goto still has the bitter richness of coffee at the back of his throat, and their lips fit together without any effort, and Goto doesn't regret anything at all.