"Ooffh."
It's like a brick has dropped in his bed. Taichi raises a brow and slips a bookmark between the pages of his light reading. "Yeah?"
"Eyes hurt," whines Chihaya, squirming and worming her way beneath the blankets. Her feet press against his ankles, on the thin strip of skin between sock and pajama pant, and her toes are like ice.
It takes everything in him not to jolt away from her. But he doesn't, and instead allows Chihaya to selfishly siphon his heat like the clueless doofus she is. "Go to sleep then," he says, as if it's obvious. Because it is. There's no sense in keeping herself up staring at their tv screen, no matter the reason. "You'll wear your eyes out like that."
"You're superstitious," she mutters sleepily, face pressed to her pillow. "I had the lights on. It's fine."
You'll wear your brain out like that, he thinks instead, but wisely keeps it to himself. Taichi's known her too long now to realize that reasoning with her is a losing battle. Once Chihaya's got her sights set on something there's no stopping with her. Stubborn like a bull and pretty like a doll, the duality of a queen.
He chuffs and shuts his book.
"Nooo," Chihaya says, shuffling, hands winding through sheets and blankets alike.
He thinks maybe she's reaching for him but manages to tie herself up in the bedding like a pretzel instead, and sits up to set his bedtime reading on the nightstand beside him instead of helping her unravel. Chihaya huffs and plops beside him, a defeated lump of blanket and silky hair, bangs staticy and standing on end.
It's cute. He hates how cute it is. She's so dumb.
"What're you reading?" she asks with her eyes shut. Taichi can't keep himself from brushing her bangs back from her face, forehead pale and smooth beneath his hand. "You don't have to stop because of me…"
"It's bedtime," he says.
"Nooooo…"
Despite the knot she's tied herself into she still manages to press those cold toes against him. She's got her foot up his flannel pant leg now, halfway up his shin. "You have an early morning tomorrow," he says, because it's the truth, but also because he selfishly wants her to stay like this, languid and comfortable and cuddly, and he'd give up almost anything, he thinks, to remain in this life like this with her for a little longer.
He loves Chihaya when she's lively, of course. He loves that trademark spark in her eye, her boundless energy, even her tendency to full-body tackle people when she's got her mind set on something - but he loves this Chihaya too, the one who lets her guard down and melts into his sheets like a sluggish cat. Maybe because it's not a version of her he'd ever thought he'd be privy to. Maybe because it's domestic and sappy and Taichi's spent a long time yearning, okay.
"Read to me?" she asks, turning her head, cheek resting on the pillow. She looks at him, eyes bleary with sleep, lashes dark.
He blinks once, twice. "Are you wearing mascara?"
"... Nngh."
"Hey," he says, leaning over her. It's easy to wrestle her down when she's legarthic like this. Chihaya is not one to wear makeup on a regular basis, and it's not that he's angry or anything, no. It's more like… curiosity.
She blinks back up at him now. Vaguely, Taichi realizes he's got her pinned down now, one knee pressed next to her hip, the neck of her (his) sleep shirt stretched askew enough for her pale shoulder to glow white in the light of his desk lamp.
There are dark smudges beneath her eyes. Well, she'd said her eyes hurt. There's no doubt Chihaya had been sitting cross-legged in their living room, staring at the tv and scrubbing her eyes.
"... Why?" he asks.
"I can't?"
He didn't say that. Taichi lets go of her wrists and plops down next to her. He doesn't get a say in what Chihaya can and can't do, and he doesn't really want to have a say in that, either. Chihaya is Chihaya, and she'll do what she pleases - all he can do is hope she won't get herself into something dangerous. Or forget to eat.
Chihaya yawns and seeks him out again. This time, he helps her find her way over, guides her arms and long, long legs through the mess of bedding she's made, and doesn't jump this time either when she tugs up the legs of his pants and warms her toes on him. He doesn't get a say in what Chihaya can and can't do, but he can be here to nurse her through whatever sleepytime desires she has, and if it's warmth and a shoulder to snooze on, Taichi is happy to oblige.
"It's not fair," she says, pouting a little. "Your lashes are longer than mine."
"They're not."
"They are!" She tugs at the hem of his shirt now, and Taichi tries not to shiver beneath the feeling of her fingers on his skin, pressed greedily to the warmth of his stomach. "They tickle."
Chihaya, competitive to a fault. Never one to just take a loss and accept it, even with something as miniscule and inconsequential as the length of their eyelashes. As if she's not the prettiest thing he's ever seen. Stupid.
"Sorry," he says, because he's too content to bicker with her over it, and rolls onto his side to gather her in his arms. Those fingers on his stomach shift around to press to his back instead, palms pressed flat to him, and he's not quite tall enough to tuck her face into his chest without scooting up, but bumping noses with her is still sweet, in its own way.
She might be cold but her breath is still warm on his lips. He gets lost in it for a spell.
"I still think you should read to me."
"Bed."
"Then roll the other way," she huffs. "Can't sleep with you facing me like this, there's no room…"
"You roll the other way," he says.
"My hair's not braided or anything. It's too looong, you'll suffocateee…"
Excuses. She just wants to be big spoon again. Greedy Chihaya. He huffs again and levels her with a look, lips pressed together, but she just closes her eyes and tips her jaw just enough to kiss him with the gentlest of touches, and his heart jumps in his chest, unbidden.
Competitive to a fault. It's unfair, using such methods against him.
"Roll over, Taichi," says Chihaya, lips grazing his. "'M tired."
Yeah. Alright. Chihaya can crawl into his bed and demand her way, that's fine. He's too content to really argue with her anyway. He waits half a moment, just long enough not to appear too eager, and settles into her arms without further complaint. Her palms slip back beneath his shirt, one hand pressed to his heart, the other cupping his waist, and if he were less comfortable, he might let his mind run away with this - Chihaya and her warm hands, Chihaya and her blunt nails, dragging down his chest - but this is nice too, cuddling, existing with her, and whatever, Taichi thinks, pressing a blushing cheek to his pillow.
Whatever. He'll wake up tomorrow to smudged mascara on his pillowcases and Chihaya drooling in his hair. There's nowhere else in the world he'd rather be.