"You know, I've been observing you for awhile," Souichi commented. "And I've come to a conclusion. You know what you are?"

"A demonic fag?" Tetsuhiro asked, not turning his gaze away from the coffee pot.

He paused. "You know what else you are?"

"Untrustworthy?"

He sighed. "When did you get so cheeky?"

Tetsuhiro winked over his shoulder with a smirk. "Around the same time you let me call you Sou-kun."

"Fuck you," he spat. "It's only here, when we're alone, that you're allowed to do that."

"And you blush every time through your death threats. Continue."

"Well, I've come to the conclusion that you, Tetsuhiro, are excellent wife material."

He turned completely to stare at his lover. Souichi's arms rested upon the countertop, his hair loose and his eyes twinkling as a smirk played upon his lips. Ah, he looked so beautiful...eight years after their first encounter, he'd only grown more lovely in Tetsuhiro's eyes—especially now that he'd become more accepting of their relationship.

"Wife material," he repeated. "Me."

Souichi nodded. "I mean, look at you. You cook and clean without complaint, and you do both of them well. If you weren't an untrustworthy demonic fag, you'd be an excellent marriage partner." He snickered. "Maybe that's why women flock to you."

Tetsuhiro tapped his finger upon the counter, his tongue in his cheek. "Really? Because evidence would show that you are more the wife than I am."

"Bullshit," he scoffed. "By what grounds?"

"I mean, look at you. Needy and hard to please—wife."

"I'm needy? You're the one always screaming 'love me, love me!' and crying when I don't say 'welcome home' to you! Wife."

"However, I am this household's main provider. That makes me the husband."

"But I'm the one who runs this place."

Laughter burst up from Tetsuhiro's throat. "By what grounds? You said it yourself, I'm the one who does the housework! Besides, whose idea was it for us to live together in the first place?"

"My sister. Remember?"

He stared at Souichi. "Oh, fuck, you're right."

Souichi nodded slowly, mockingly, a soft chuckle dripping from his lips.

"Well, who picked it out?"

"Based on price, location, and aesthetic. Men wouldn't have cared about the last thing." He pointed to Tetsuhiro. "Wife."

He sighed deeply, his head lowering.

"See? You are the wife, and I am the victor."

"Really?" He looked up, an innocent glint in his eyes. "Sex."

Souichi's face fell, and he glanced to the side.

"Yes, let's talk about sex for a minute," he drawled, stepping closer. "We've been together three years now, and every time we've had sex, who was the receiver? Who was the one whimpering and moaning as a throbbing dick filled him up?" He slipped an arm around Souichi's middle and pulled him closer, his lips grazing against his ear. "Who was the one asking for more?"

"Don't do that," he grumbled, moving his head away. "It's too early for your sex bullshit."

"And he whines about some circumstance preventing his desire for sex. Wife." He kissed Souichi's temple and squeezed him tighter.

"Piss off. You're way more sentimental than I am."

"I know." His fingers trailed through the ash blonde silk that angels had woven into his scalp. "More tolerant or not, you're still so cute when you're flustered. That's why I'm cheekier."

"'Crueler,' you mean?"

He laughed under his breath before pressing their lips together.