Makoto is on his third small glass while Haru is polishing off the rest of the bottle, red faced, getting clumsy, making Makoto oh-so-glad it's Friday and they don't have to be up early. On his way back from the bathroom, he collects a pillow and a blanket, leaving them on the side of the couch, hoping Haru might get the hint but… he doesn't.

That's not to say he doesn't flop down, making himself a little nest, it's just that he traps Makoto under his legs in the process, and hugs his pillow up to him. He looks so vulnerable Makoto would feel like utter crap to just leave him to work himself into sleep like this, so he stays, and lets his hands go to Haru's ankles, stroking and rubbing just up his shins, digging just into the calf muscle on the sides enough that Haru can feel it.

"Does it bother you?" Haru suddenly blabs, and even though his eyes are half slitted shut they're still just so big Makoto can feel him staring.

"Does what bother me?" he asks, calmly, tilting his head.

"That I'm gay," he grunts.

Makoto squeezes his ankle. "Why would it bother me?"

Haru just shrugs, and apparently that's a sore spot? He can imagine he must have experienced his share of homophobia… maybe lost friends over it… "Some people don't like it."

"I don't think Kisumi minds…?" Makoto asks, even though he's more than a million percent sure Haru must know this.

Haru bursts into giggles. Spluttering, drunken giggles. Making his pillow all soggy as he bites down to keep it in check, get that stoic mask back on, but he's failing. And Makoto suddenly has a question answered.

"Kisumi's gay too, huh?"

"Straight as a circle," Haru beams up at him.

Makoto smiles softly. "Does Rin never bother that you two are so… close?"

He fingers the pattern on the couch, tracing it. "Used to… I think he got over it," and his face relaxes. "Kisi's Kisi."

"He told me you two fight a lot… is that why you don't want to go home?" he feels a bit like he's prying, but at the same time… he trusts Haru's still got enough of his faculties, he's just bubblier, chattier, dare he even say cute.

"Money and stuff," Haru shrugs. "Work…" sits up, scoots over, legs hooked over Makoto and puts both hands on his shoulder, leaning his chin on them. "Doesn't approve," he growls.

Makoto brings his arm around his back, just a little comforting squeeze. "You don't have to talk about it," because Haru's gotten upset now, retreating back into himself.

"Doesn't matter… Gou's a bad influence."

Makoto snorts now, and brings his other hand up to tousle Haru's hair. "She can be pretty demanding…"

"Well you would know."

"Hey!" he squeezes him again, rougher this time. Haru yawns. Makoto seizes his opportunity. "Come on. It's been a long week, yeah? Sleep this off for a bit… something tells me you're not much of a drinker."

"Hn," Haru nods, but goes limp against Makoto, apparently preferring to be manhandled onto his back, and Makoto is a gentle as he can be, tucking the pillow under his head and splaying the blanket out over him, making sure his feet are covered.

"I'll leave my door open."

Haru doesn't know why Makoto would leave his door open, but he appreciates it a few hours later when he's waking up with the shaking beginnings of his pathetic excuse for a hangover, and scoops up his blanket to mindlessly make his way into the room, seeking out comfort, seeking out just plain company in his sleepy, still a bit drunk, not exactly coherent state.

And here, he has it, as he wraps up in the blanket and slides under the duvet next to Makoto, who's lying on his back. Haru makes use of one of those bulky shoulders as a pillow and snuggles in. If he'd let Makoto take him home, he'd be on the bad end of a hasty makeup kiss and trying to get comfortable in the cold, empty expanse of their bedroom, no Rin for hours.

And he hates that.

Makoto wakes up with the sun, a bright, beautiful early spring day, and squeezes instinctively around the body next to him.

…

Body next to him?

"Haru?" he mumbles, blinking his eyes open, and oh.

Right.

So Haru's next to him… what exactly is he supposed to do about this?

Nothing, he decides, squeezing around him again and shifting Haru's head onto his chest just a little bit, giving his arm more blood flow. It's probably not appropriate, but he also decides he doesn't care, when he brings his other arm up and around him. Hopefully Haru decides to have the same amount of patience for his affection as he does with Kisumi's.

The next time he wakes up, Haru is gone from his side, and he hears the bath running and knows right where Haru will be. He pads quietly into the bathroom, Haru already sitting in just a puddle in the bottom of the tub.

"Sleep well?" he asks, stroking one hand through Haru's hair as he passes him to make it to the toilet to sit down on the closed lid.

"Hn," Haru agrees, looking hard at the wall of the tub, anywhere but Makoto.

"Feeling better?"

Haru grunts. Makoto translates it as "hungover." He's not surprised.

It's not late in the morning, barely nine, so Makoto's pretty impressed he's managed to get up at all. He even looks well rested, and so much calmer than last night. "What time does Rin usually get in?"

"Sixish," Haru mutters, looking away again.

"You spend the morning together, right?"

A nod.

"Don't wanna keep him waiting any longer, hmm? I bet he misses you."

Haru's not so sure. In fact, Haru's pretty sure he's going to face a weekend of harsh stares and rough sex. And still have to sleep alone after all of that.

Makoto leaves him to his bath, going to get dressed and pulls out some clothes for Haru, who tiptoes into the room in a towel half an hour later.

"Shrunk this in the wash a while ago," he explains, handing Haru the tshirt and some boxers. "I didn't have the heart to throw it out… it was my favourite. You might as well keep it."

It's green. Haru never wears green, with a cat on the front, wearing glasses, peeking over a wall, everything that screams "dork", Makoto's soft, tender side just embodied in one image. He pulls it on, and it's warm and soft and smells sort of woodsy… herbal… like Makoto.

Haru insists on making them breakfast, nudging Makoto away from the frying pan and rescuing the eggs before he does god knows what to them with whatever was in that little sprinkler he was aiming for. Haru is also sorely disappointed at the lack of fish in Makoto's fridge.

"You know," Makoto starts, tucking in. "Does Rin have any room to talk? About your choice in career?"

Haru blinks at him.

"I mean… he does… that…"

"What's wrong with it?" and even though Haru's scowling, Makoto smiles. He's so protective.

"Well it's just… ah… erm… what is it he does again?"

Haru narrows his eyebrows. "He's a police officer."

No shit. "Dammit, Kisumi," Makoto mutters, face heating.

"What about Kisumi?"

"Nothing, nothing," he has his hands up, batting away the conversation. Haru persues it.

"What did Kisumi say?"

Makoto sighs. He can't lie, and Haru's glare just has him pinned. "He told me itwashisstripperoutfit."

Haru's eyebrows shoot to the ceiling. "Come again?"

"Kisumi told me he was a stripper… when he came into the shop in his uniform and… god, I'm sorry, Haru…"

And then, the most miraculous thing begins to happen. Haru's eyes widen and his mouth hangs open, and the most glorious sound erupt from him.

Haru is laughing.

Really, really laughing. So hard he almost chokes on a bit of yolk, so hard his eyes are streaming and his hands have balled up and he's just vibrating with hilarity. Makoto sits back, feeling a little bit smug that he's managed to cause this reaction, even if it was unintentional.

"I'm sure he only fusses because he loves you," Makoto tries to soothe.

They're parked outside Haru's house now, having coaxed him into the car when he was still recovering from his laughter.

"Hn," Haru acknowledges, looking warily at the dark windows.

"You think he's in bed?" Makoto wonders, and thinks it's likely, if Haru's not there to hang out with. Haru nods. "Go on… give the poor guy a cuddle. I bet he misses you."

A little light turns on in Haru's eyes. "I miss him too…"