I Want You Here! I Want You Now!
(by oneforfall)
A DaiSuga Fic
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters made by FURUDATE HARUICHI.
And this story isn't really a part of the actual HQ-verse. It's an alternative universe using Furudate-san's characters. You've been told.
AN: HEEEEY. This is my first legitimate fanfiction for HQ and I'm so hyped about it (and seriously crying because I just boycotted my thesis writing duties for this. Oh deer. oh deer. Sorry groupmates). R and R friends!
At 5:30 in the afternoon, Daichi finds himself practically bolting out of his desk to get to the biometric scanner and get the hell out of the office. Kunimi's already anticipated Daichi's dash to the 5:30-clock-out since 5:09 PM. His bet against Tsukishima has earned him his free hotpot dinner for Friday night since Tsukishima expected some tragic 'casualty' that'd make Daichi dash to clock-out as late as 5:35PM.
Tsukishima should've known better. His high school senpai would go through hell and back just to get out of the office at his designated time, the "right time". With a push of his glasses, he goes back to 'Development' sector, ignoring the knowing smirk on Kunimi's lips as he passes by.
"Wonder what's got Sawamura-kachou in such a hurry," Kindaichi drawls out loud. Kunimi shrugs. "Beats me, but whatever it is, it's gotten me a free hotpot dinner this Friday night. Wanna come?"
At 5:45 in the afternoon, Daichi finds himself squished into the corner of the trolley cart, a self-sufficient oven run by bodies. While others fan themselves, loosen their ties and grumble, all too aware of the reality of the haunting summer heat of this time of day and unwanted bodies that stick to them, Daichi survives with a daydream. The humid heat turns into the thick warmth of a freshly-ironed blanket. The sweat trickling from his forehead, traveling down his neck turns to cool fingers gently running across his skin, soothing him and testing him, caressing him. The push and pull of the crowd in the trolley becomes the small jabs and punches of a laughter-filled ash-blonde that peppers him with kisses afterwards.
'Damn,' he runs his hand through his face. 'I wanna get home already.' He kneads the space in his chest, hoping to stop the tightness in his chest. 'I wanna see him.' He moves to sit at the nearest vacant seat. He hold his folded up blazer closer to his chest. 'I have to see him.'
At 6:05 in the evening, Daichi's giving everything he's got just to get to that apartment. Well, practically everything. He's practically lost his shoe twice on his way out of the station. His blazer's just about to give up from hanging onto his arm for dear life. His suitcase was about to go on ahead and do it for it. But somehow, Daichi's managed to remain intact, despite the fact he looks like a psycho murderer's hot on his heels.
'Got to get there!' He lets out a puff of breath. 'Got to get there!' A shaky cry escapes from him. "SUGAAAA!" The last letters must've practically end up in loud sobs.
Or else the passersby wouldn't have had their eyes glued to some bus, car or taxi in front of Daichi, thinking he's doing something dramatically romantic like that of the TV drama they've been seeing every night, wherein the boy chases after the bus that's ferrying away his beloved girlfriend, wife or bride, whatever you'd make out of that limbo relationship they've been having.
None of them got it exactly right. Daichi was chasing something. But it was more of the ghost of that smile that greeted him whenever he gets home at night than it was of a bus of a girl who made a guy cry.
At 6:20 in the evening, passersby have declared a certain man dead as he lies face first in front of a certain shared apartment. It took everything this man has got to get to said apartment; sweat, voice strain, eye strain (from all the glaring that prevented an 'accident' today), shame, muscle pain, blisters, and even more sweat that had his clothes sticking to him.
But, none of it seemed to bother him –a worrisome thought if you asked his partner about it- because his neighbors had done worse (read as crazy, ambiguously legal and downright embarrassing) for their beloveds and Daichi is mildly proud of himself he's done something mild compared to them – yet another worrisome thought.
He manages to get up and look for his house keys that may've gone ahead to fulfill the suitcase's plan. Once found, he attempts the impossible task of making himself look halfway decent. After the fourth attempt to make himself look more than a quarter-way decent, he opens the door.
"I'm home," he calls out. He takes care to remove his shoes and place it by the pair as worn out by the day as his in their shared shoe rack. He raises a brow when he's met with no sound. "Suga?" He steps into the living area, composed of the living room and kitchen and catches no sight, smell or sound from his mate. With careful steps, he checks the laundry room and the bathroom.
"Hm. And to think I rushed all the way home." He lets out a sigh as he loosens his tie and places it into his hamper, standing right beside their shared hamper for all the fabrics they've soiled together. He catches a glimpse of Suga's hamper, suddenly keen at the sight of the clothes Suga wore for work today. 'That's odd. Koushi would never leave the house without a note...' he thinks as he gazes at Suga's hamper.
With a soft laugh, quietly notes the volume of Suga's clothes that Daichi would be washing. 'People would've been sadly mistaken seeing all this. It's like Suga wears nothing but suits and work clothes in a week.' His laugh grows louder when a thought comes up. 'And I wear more sweats and shirts than I do suits.' "But it's not my fault Suga's always had his way with in my clothes." He stifles his laugh. 'He'd be able to wear more clothes if he'd stop showing up in mine.'
He unbuttons his dress shirt with a thought in his head. 'I think I know where he is.' A small smile spreads across his face.
After a quick scan of the area for any intruding and sugar-induced neighbors and a quick trip to the bathroom, he pads his way to their bedroom, a little refreshed now that he's fresh-faced and done in nothing but his boxers and undershirt –awful sure no barrage will happen after a minute or two, and bare-footed in his house slippers.
Soon enough, the moment he opens the bedroom door, he catches a glimpse of the bare feet and curled figure of sleeping Suga on their bed.
He silently coughs away the laughter and tight warm feeling in his chest as he sees Suga's little curled toes buried into the comfort of his body pillow. The laughter somehow manages to tone down into a warm smile. 'Well, someone looks comfy.'
He makes his way to his partner's side then takes a seat on the little space by the edge of the bed. Suga doesn't respond to the sudden dip, but nuzzles his face closer to the body pillow. Daichi folds in his lips, bites them steady lest he'd might end up waking up Suga with kisses. He gently runs his fingers through Suga's hair, then lets it settle on a spot somewhere at the back of his head. 'It's really warm. He must've just turned to this side just now.' He runs his thumb over sleep-mused locks. 'Did I wake you just now?'
Sleep-heavy eyes flutter halfway open. Daichi doesn't speak. He silently watches sleepy hazels register his presence. "Mh, Mh," Suga mumbles, muffled by his pillow. 'Hey there to you to, dear,' Daichi mentally conveys as he also hums a 'mhm' to his drowsy partner. Suga's eyes droop close.
Daichi leans forward with a small smile on his lips as he presses a kiss on top of Suga's head, lets himself linger on that spot for more than a minute or two, then moves back, drawing his hand away along with him. Suga immediately stirs at the loss, letting out a miffed sound as soon as he feels Daichi's fingers leave his hair.
"Don't worry. I'm going to change in a bit," he mumbles over the top of Suga's head, mindful of the fact that drowsy Suga is more prone to being miffed by loud voices and usual tones. When there's no negative response from the curled-up bundle, just steadied breathing, Daichi heads on over to their closet and immediately slips into fresh set of shirt and boxers the moment they're drawn out.
He sits on the space beside Suga, just so Suga could note the dip in the bed, but Suga doesn't stir. 'Oh.' Daichi lets a small frown settle on his lips. 'Suga's fallen back to sleep.' Daichi takes a glance at the digital clock on his side of the bed. 7:15.
He looks over to Suga whose back slowly rises and falls with sleep. 'Well, he's pretty much out like a light. And I'm not that hungry now.' Daichi lies down on their bed. 'May as well take a nap too.' The follow up thought 'maybe he'd be more than welcoming in my dreams' practically sends a tear rolling down Daichi's eyes as he gazes at his spouse's back.
But then Suga stirs. Daichi watches with alert attention at the sudden development. Suga languidly makes a big turn, his arms and legs releasing his plush body pillow to fly up into the air and land on width of Daichi's shoulders and torso. Daichi is frozen for a moment, a little too shocked to see a sudden development in his spouse's sleep. Somehow, his brain kick back into speed when Suga tries to hold Daichi against him, just as how he would with his pillow, his miffed noises loud and clear in Daichi's ear.
'Oh,' he thinks to himself with a small smile. He complies, letting himself mold and fill the shape made by Suga's body. Daichi and the barely-conscious Suga somehow make a compromise and somehow manage to make Daichi Suga's body pillow.
In this lock of limbs, Daichi finds pressed flush against Suga, with one arm filling the little space between Suga's hips and the bed, and the other slung across the width of Suga's chest and settled over the width of Suga's back.
In Suga's embrace, where one arm makes itself a pillow for Daichi's head, the other draped over his shoulders, Daichi naturally settles against the space that begins from beneath Suga's chin to the top span of his chest.
He could also see the tiny, tiny mole on Suga's collarbone, a little marker he couldn't help but kiss. It makes Suga hum and stir. Suga scoots down until he could bury his face onto the top of Daichi's head. From where Daichi lies, he could tell Suga's practically filling up chest with Daichi's scent. The leg draped across Daichi's torso tells no lies from the way it tries to pull Daichi closer and tighten their lock of limbs.
'I love you, Koushi,' Daichi mouths against Suga's skin. Suga pulls him closer. Some sleepy hums come from Suga, muffled by Daichi's hair, before he settles a cheek over Daichi's hair. In his sleepy embrace, Daichi relaxes, feeling himself soon catch up with Suga's stupor. He knows this comfy embrace won't last long. Suga would eventually get cranky or numb, or maybe a mix of both from being this way, and decide to let go of Daichi, but Daichi won't feel the loss as much as he should feel because somehow, in some way, they'll find themselves connected, tangled, in contact, then tangled again all throughout the course of the night. But while the comfort of this tight embrace lasts, Daichi will enjoy every moment of it.
AN: Those who've seen this in the other non-profit site with a '3', under the same name, under the same penname, yes. It's mine. I'm the same author. And R and R guys! Constructive criticism is a definite yes. Tell me what you're all thinking! Talk to me! Talk to me!
(and all probable questions will probably be answered afte 4 weeks. AFTER MY 2nd round of THESIS DEFENSE. Ugh. Murder me.)