Disclaimer: Junjou Romantica is the rightful property of Nakamura Shungiku. This is a fanwork written purely for both your entertainment and mine.
These fics are a series of barely-connected one-shots I'm writing for Terrorist. They are set ten years into the future, after Shinobu's family discovers their relationship.
Shinobu had grown up.
This occurred to Miyagi randomly, one day as he was watching the younger man sit across from him at the breakfast table in the apartment they shared together. Just as it dawned on Miyagi that he was stupid for never really thinking about it earlier, Shinobu had looked up from reading the paper and caught Miyagi's gaze on him. The older man looked away a little too late to avoid the question.
"What's wrong?"
Something was always wrong, after all. It was just the way life was.
"Nothing. I was just thinking how much you've grown up."
"Of course I grew up, idiot. I was only fifteen when we first saw each other, only eighteen when we became lovers..."
"Not necessarily in that way," Miyagi smirked, taking the last slice of toast.
"In what way, then?"
"Other ways."
"You would say something like that," Shinobu replied, rolling his eyes, and Miyagi laughed.
"It's a compliment."
"I hope so," Shinobu replied, dryly, before pausing."What do you want for dinner tonight?"
"Cabbage."
"Don't tease me, old man."
"Fine then. Fish will do."
Shinobu nodded, getting up to take his plate to the sink before attempting to walk past Miyagi to the front door. Miyagi stopped him calmly with a hand around the waist, a movement so natural to him now that he was sure he'd panic if he thought too much about it.
"I love you."
Shinobu smirked, and brushed away the toast crumbs from the corners of Miyagi's lips.
"I know."
Shinobu was taller than Miyagi now.
Not that much taller, just an inch or two. But it was enough to make Miyagi feel small when Shinobu kissed the top of his head.
"I'm sorry. You must have shrunk in your old age."
"Yeah, yeah. I know, I'm old."
"I thought forty-five wasn't old?"
"It isn't, but you treat me like I'm a centenarian."
Shinobu laughed, stood on tiptoes, and kissed the top of Miyagi's head again.
Miyagi always felt happy when Shinobu was happy. It was if his laughter was infectious, and his good feelings overflowed from his own heart and straight into Miyagi's. This was the way Miyagi liked Shinobu best.
The fish they had for dinner was a little dry, and Shinobu blamed himself.
"Nevermind. No use crying over spilt milk."
"I'll run across to the convenience store and get some pizza bread."
"How is this your fault?" Miyagi chuckled, catching Shinobu's hand before he reached the front door.
"It isn't," Shinobu replied, "But I want you to be happy."
"I am happy," Miyagi replied, "Don't tell me you're still putting yourself down?"
"You'll get hungry later."
"We'll worry about that if it happens."
"Fine," Shinobu sighed, resigned to Miyagi's stubbornness.
"I remember when you would have fought with me, tooth and nail, to prove you were right."
"Some things change," Shinobu replied, face flushing briefly with uncertainty.
Miyagi laughed and raises his hand to the back of Shinobu's neck, skin warm as he smooths at the fine hairs on the back of Shinobu's neck with his fingertips.
"And some things never will."
Shinobu's hair was getting a little too long. Miyagi could feel it under his fingertips, against his skin; the slight rough, uneven tickle made him shiver.
Shinobu enjoyed the attention a little more than he'd usually let on, lying languidly in his lover's arms, bared down to the skin with toes curling against the rough, new cotton sheets he'd bought to replace the worn set Miyagi had brought from his old apartment in Tokyo.
"You should get it cut soon," Miyagi murmured, toying with a strand of Shinobu's golden-brown hair between his fingers.
"Why?"
"I don't think your bosses would appreciate one of their new employees looking like nobody owned him. But maybe that's the problem."
"What is?" Shinobu asked, propping himself up against the mattress with his elbow.
"You already belong to me, and after you finish work for the day you miss me so much that coming home to see me becomes your top priority."
"Stupid Miyagi," Shinobu murmured lazily, but there was no malice in his tone. He rolled over until he and Miyagi were chest-to-chest, and Miyagi smirked, one arm coming up to slide around Shinobu's waist, holding him there.
They stayed like that for a moment, Shinobu's big toe brushing against Miyagi's ankle, teasing.
"What time will you be home from work tomorrow?"
"Friday, right?" Shinobu questioned vaguely, "Around four o'clock."
"Good, don't be late."
"Why?"
"Fridays nights are always the best nights."
"We do the same thing we do every other weeknight."
"Aaah, but we both get home earlier, so we get more time to do it," Miyagi smirked, hands slowly moving downward, along the length of Shinobu's spine, to rest on the curve of hip and thigh.
"If I have extra time, perhaps I should take your suggestion and get my hair cut," Shinobu replied sarcastically, squirming against Miyagi's embrace.
"Don't be like that," Miyagi replied.
"You would," Shinobu whined.
"That's beside the point," Miyagi murmured against the shell of Shinobu's ear, fingers curling to grasp soft flesh. Shinobu whined again, in a way that made warmth swirl straight to the pit of Miyagi's stomach.
"Miyagi..."
"Hmmm?"
"... nothing," Shinobu replied, hips jerking reflexively downward as Miyagi's hand slipped between his thighs.
"Of course," Miyagi hummed, rolling the both of them over and pinning Shinobu's wrists to the pillow with his hand.
"I'm sorry, but I won't."
That was the first thing Miyagi heard from Shinobu when he returned home on Friday night.
The younger man had his phone pressed against his ear, fingers shifting and shaking.
"I told you, I won't be coming."
Miyagi frowned, tossing his briefcase and keys onto the table before approaching Shinobu from behind and slipping his arms around him. Shinobu jumped, breathed in sharply, but then relaxed when he realised it was his lover.
"I'm going now. Please don't ask me about this again."
Shinobu snapped his phone shut, and Miyagi frowned.
"Who was that?"
"My father."
"Oh," Miyagi replied. This was never a happy topic.
"He called to tell me that Risako is getting married again."
"Oh," Miyagi replied, already feeling extremely stupid for not knowing how to react.
"He told me that Risako said she wanted me to be there."
"Oh, really?" Miyagi replied. It was really time for Shinobu to patch things up with his family; what was in the past was in the past. When their relationship had been discovered, Miyagi had resigned from his position at M University quietly and he and Shinobu had moved southward and restarted their lives from scratch. Shinobu's family had barely contacted since then, and Shinobu was convinced that they were ashamed of him.
"Me. Not us."
"I can't imagine why your big sister would want her ex-husband at her wedding, Shinobu-chin."
"This is the first time they've spoken to me in about eighteen months," Shinobu growled, "And what my father says annoys me. I'm not a child anymore, he treats me like I don't know what I'm doing or how I feel..."
Miyagi sighed and gently ruffled his lover's hair, which he noticed was now neatly trimmed against his neck.
"I won't force you to go if you won't feel comfortable. But I don't like you having such a bad relationship with your family."
"I've told you before, you're my family too. And who are you to speak? I don't know anything about your family!" Shinobu snapped, "You've never told me!"
"You've never asked me," Miyagi smirked, "Fine, what do you want to know?"
"Anything!"
"Alright," Miyagi grasped Shinobu's wrist and tugged him towards their couch, pulling his younger lover down onto his lap.
"I'm the youngest of two children. I have one older sister named Miki who moved to America two years before I graduated from university. She married an American and has a son. My parents moved to Hokkaido after we both left home. They... didn't really approve of my relationship with Sensei, so after she died I moved to Tokyo and lived on-campus at university and worked two part-time jobs until I could afford my own place. I married your sister and things were patched up, briefly. I told them I was getting a divorce and we haven't spoken since. It wasn't even a bitter conversation, we just don't talk all that often."
"Really?" Shinobu asked, blinking as Miyagi nodded, "I'm sorry, I didn't know."
"Don't be sorry, brat. Does it seem like it bothers me?"
"I'm not a brat," Shinobu pouted, "I just don't know why he tries to tell me how I feel about you."
Miyagi sighed and nuzzled Shinobu's cheek with the tip of his nose.
"I know. I said I wouldn't force you into it."
Shinobu moved closer and murmured, "I never said I didn't believe you."
"Come to bed, Shinobu."
"I have to finish this paperwork."
Shinobu was sitting at the small desk in their bedroom, wearing only one of Miyagi's work shirts. Miyagi could remember when one of his shirts would have swamped Shinobu's frame. Shinobu was still thin, all long limbs and pale skin, but he was taller than Miyagi now, and the shirt didn't quite cover his lower half as well as it used to.
"You can finish it tomorrow. It's Saturday tomorrow."
Shinobu paused to look at the digital alarm clock on the bedside table, before commenting, "It's Saturday now."
"Then you should probably be in bed and asleep."
Shinobu sighed, haphazardly tossing his fountain pen onto the desk. It was the pen Miyagi had bought him for his twenty-first birthday; it was seven years old and was in need of a replacement, but Shinobu refused to stop using it, despite the fact that he'd been thoroughly unimpressed with the gift when he had first received it.
"Come on, you're obviously getting pretty stressed so you should give up while you're ahead," Miyagi said, and Shinobu nodded slowly, shrugging the shirt off his shoulders. He slid in between the sheets, into Miyagi's embrace, against his skin.
"Miyagi?"
"Mmm?" Miyagi grunted against Shinobu's throat, tasting the salt on his skin.
"I don't think I've changed at all."
"Huh?" Miyagi looked up suddenly, and his heart sank to see Shinobu looking so troubled.
"You told me yesterday that you thought I'd grown up, but in reality, I don't think I've changed at all."
"You have."
"My height doesn't count."
"No, no..." Miyagi chuckled, biting down on on Shinobu's earlobe, "You've matured."
"I haven't," Shinobu replied.
"Settle down," Miyagi murmured, "Is this about your father?"
"No. Well, not only that."
"Then what's wrong?"
"When we first started going out, I was always afraid that I would never be as mature as you."
"And I told you you were an idiot," Miyagi replied evenly, "I don't want you to be any other way."
"I still can't face my father."
"You don't have to."
"You told me that I shouldn't be on bad terms with him."
"Calm down," Miyagi said, and Shinobu shook his head, "Shinobu..."
"... I haven't changed at all," Shinobu repeated, gritting his teeth.
"And I told you, I don't want you to have to feel like you owe anything to anyone," Miyagi said calmly. Shinobu shied away, burying his face into Miyagi's shoulder. Miyagi sighed, petting the back of Shinobu's head.
"Perhaps you haven't changed."
Shinobu flinched.
"But then, perhaps it doesn't matter to me," Miyagi grinned, "Because I think you're adorable, no matter what."
Shinobu nuzzled further into Miyagi's shoulder.
"Shut up, old man."
"And I also told you, I'm not old."
Shinobu turned his head to face away from Miyagi, his face shameful.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Miyagi replied. Shinobu's gaze was still averted, and Miyagi smiled, kissing Shinobu's bare shoulder and rolling over to turn off the bedside lamp.
"Miyagi?"
"Yes?" Miyagi asked, rolling back over to face Shinobu.
"I love you."
Miyagi smiled, kissing his lover chastely on the lips.
"I know."
END