i am on a roll! (finals season, guys. finals season. here's some domestic fluff because daisuga is literally so married, i swear.)

inspired by this prompt: You found me crying on the kitchen floor in the middle of the night surrounded by a shattered jelly jar AU

Something wakes Daichi in the middle of the night.

He considers waking up fully to deal with whatever had interrupted his sweet, sweet dream that involved a sauna, himself, and his lovely fair-skinned better half, but then remembers that it was a Thursday night, and he had to take off in the middle of his shift to bail Tanaka out of jail (who was a good kid, really, but Daichi really wishes he wouldn't think with his heart instead of his brain), not to mention apologize to the customers when Hinata spilled an entire pot of curry. Deciding that the noise is probably just his imagination, he rolls over, stretching out his arm to tug his partner closer.

Except. There's no one next to him.

Frowning, Daichi blinks open his eyes and confirms that, yes, the spot next to him on the bed is empty and cold, meaning that Suga has been gone for a while. Reluctantly more awake, Daichi squints at the clock. 3:14 am. He glances forlornly back at the empty spot next to him. He just wanted a good night's sleep after the hectic day's events.

Sighing slightly to himself, Daichi swings himself out of bed, tugging on a sweatshirt as he goes. There's light coming from the kitchen, so he follows it.

"Suga? What are you d0-"

Daichi stops abruptly at the sight before him. There's red stuff all over the floor, and even more red splatters all over the cabinets. Amongst the horrifying red are glittering shards of glass, haphazardly littering the floor. There's a knife in the corner glinting threateningly. It looked like a murder scene. Daichi really needs to stop agreeing to the horror movie marathons that Suga likes so much-

And Suga.

Right in the middle of the gruesome mess sits Suga, his arms clutching his head, sobbing into his knees. His slender body shakes with his anguished cries, making him look much smaller and much more fragile than he is. Daichi can feel that painful ache in his chest whenever he sees his lover upset. He blinks once more at the chaos his kitchen has become, before carefully picking his way through the debris and sticky red stuff.

"Suga? Suga, darling, are you okay?" He kneels down next to the other, reaching for his hands.

"No!" is the muffled reply, a wet, choked sound that causes Daichi to flinch slightly. Suga lifts his head, his face a splotchy red mess of tears and frowns. "No, I'm not okay, Daichi! Does it look like I'm okay?"

Daichi glances around them, then back at Suga, who is sniffling loudly, his face still pulled into an ugly pout-though, of course, even such a terrible expression would never look 'ugly' on Suga. He's stopped sobbing like the world is ending, at least.

"What happened?"

Suga lets out a wail, putting his face in his hands again. "I hate everything," he cries, and when Daichi leans closer to try and comfort him, he suddenly swings out a hand, successfully punching Daichi in the stomach. "Life sucks! Everything sucks! I suck!"

Daichi grimaces, quietly nursing his stomach. He should've seen that coming. Suga tends to pack a punch at the strangest of times. And by packing a punch, he means packing a punch. "You don't suck, Suga."

"Yes, I do! I suck! Nothing's going right and I don't know why and I know they think I can't do it, but I have to, Daichi, I said I would-but I don't know how-what if I can't? What if I let everybody down? I can't do anything right! I suck, I suck, I suck!" Suga gestures wildly at their kitchen. "Look at this! It's proof! I suck!"

Daichi sighs to himself. Sometimes Suga tends to become dramatic and childish, not that any of their friends will believe Daichi. (That's okay though, because Suga only becomes like this with Daichi, and only Daichi. Sometimes it gets tiring being everybody's second mom; sometimes Suga wants to be spoiled, too.) He leans forwards, pulling Suga towards him. Gently, he wipes the tears away, stroking silver locks until Suga quiets down, leaning against him tiredly.

"You don't suck, Suga," Daichi repeats. "It's just a bad week, okay? Everything's going to be alright. You're fine."

Suga doesn't say anything, but he turns his face into Daichi's shirt. Somehow they've shifted until Suga is practically sitting in Daichi's lap, allowing Daichi to hold him tightly, one hand still petting his head softly. Suga mumbles sleepily into Daichi's chest, signifying he's tired himself out, calmed down from his little tantrum. Daichi smiles. He'll be alright. Tomorrow morning, he'll pretend this never happened, smile like he's the perfect angel everybody's fooled into believing, and conquer whatever's got him this stressed out in the middle of the night.

Speaking of being stressed out... Daichi glances around the kitchen again.

"Um, Suga. Can I ask you something?"

"Mm. Depends."

"Okay... How did you manage to make such a mess with a jar of jelly? I mean, it looks like you murdered somebody in here... which is pretty impressive, but..."

Suga's hands tighten around Daichi's collar. "Please stop talking. Or you'll be the one murdered in here."

Daichi chuckles. "Okay, okay, sorry. Love you."

"Mm. Love you, too."