"Are you going to stay there all day, En-chan?"
En considers. It's an easy calculation to run, with the weekend stretching out before him and himself stretched out over the comfort of the couch. "Probably."
"You're so lazy," Atsushi says, coupling the words with a glance over his shoulder and a smile so soft it strips the statement of any judgment it might have had. He's been moving around the house all day, though En's not completely clear on what he's doing; it's more effort than it's worth to actually keep track of the other's actions unless he's in En's immediate proximity.
He's there now, though, rocking up on his tiptoes to run a duster against the top edge of a picture frame. His shirt shifts with the stretch, the fabric pulling up as he reaches; En watches the fabric move, judges the possibility of getting a glimpse of skin. It's not good - the fabric barely makes it to the edge of Atsushi's waistband before he's dropping back to his heels - but his attention once drawn points out the familiarity of the fabric, the way it's sitting a little too loose over Atsushi's shoulders.
"Is that my shirt?" En asks without moving from the couch.
Another glance, another flickering smile. "Yeah." Atsushi turns back, moves farther along the wall while En judges the distance between them. "I needed something to wear while the laundry finishes."
"You could go without," En says reasonably as Atsushi moves another foot. He shifts his weight on the couch, rolls onto his side so he can let his arm dangle over the edge. "It's just us."
"I could not," Atsushi protests, though it's weak and framed around the sound of nearly a laugh in his throat. "You'd never let me get the chores done if I did."
En doesn't have a retort. It's true enough, after all, there's no point wasting energy arguing about something they both know already. He watches Atsushi instead, tracks the rhythm of his motions as he dusts across the tops of the picture frames and the table set in the corner as he maneuvers around the room. It doesn't take very long - the pattern is efficient from practice - and by the time Atsushi steps in towards the couch En is ready for him. It's an easy motion, a matter of reaching out over the few inches of distance, and then En's got his arm around Atsushi's waist, is curling his fingers in against the other's belt loop as a handle to tug him down to the couch. He gets a yelp of protest for his trouble, a stutter of motion as Atsushi tries to catch himself, but then En gets a hand up under the loose of Atsushi's shirt and against his side and in the first ticklish shudder Atsushi falls compliant against him.
"Stop," he manages, but he's breathless around giggles and his hand is coming out to fit against En's hair. "En-chan, I need to dust."
"Later," En soothes, pushes the fabric of the shirt up higher so he can fit his hand in against the dip and arch of Atsushi's spine. "You have all day."
"I have other things to do too," Atsushi protests, but he's tipping in at the pull of En's hand, his smile coming close enough to reach.
"Do them later," En says, decisive like that's the end of the matter, and Atsushi smiles in the soft way that means he's surrendering as En lifts his head to kiss against the other's jaw. Atsushi's head tilts back, he sighs a tiny exhale of satisfaction, and when he reaches up it's just so he can drape the cloth in his hand over the arm of the couch. Then he's pressing in close, fitting himself against En's chest and the slide of his hand, and when En reaches up his fingers fit easy against the back of Atsushi's neck. Atsushi tastes like tea, sugar-sweetened and rich against En's tongue, and when he laughs the sound hums into harmony with En's purr of satisfaction.
They don't stay there all day, but it is over an hour before Atsushi gets back to dusting.