Tags: Post-Canon, Future Fic, Mob is 30 and Reigen is 44, Established Relationship, Flashbacks of Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Bottom Reigen Arataka, Bottom Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo, Top Reigen Arataka, Top Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo, they're switches here, Mob's down bad (me too bro. i feel you), Reigen's down bad too (but it's complicated for him), Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Meeting the Parents, Homophobia, Marriage Proposal, Not Beta Read

Chapter One

When you're fourteen, twenty-eight feels like eons away.

But twenty-two hours ago, Shigeo turned thirty and his middle school graduation ceremony feels like it happened only five years ago.

Twelve hours ago, he sat in his boss' office and listened to the worst feedback he'd ever had since he joined the company five years ago. He was sure his boss nagged him for two hours, but his co-worker said it had only been for half.

Ten hours ago, said co-worker persuaded him to get a fancy lunch. "To lift your mood," he said. Shigeo arrived back in the office after an hour, even though he felt it had only been ten minutes.

Right now, as Shigeo takes off his shoes in his apartment's entryway, he is thirty years, twenty-two hours, sixteen minutes, and nineteen—twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, and so on—seconds old. But when he glances up to find a half-naked Arataka peeking at him from the living room with nothing but a pink apron, a ladle, and wide eyes, Shigeo feels twenty-three again.

"Oh, I thought you'll be home later than this," forty-four-year-old Arataka says awkwardly. He peers down at his half-naked self before meeting Shigeo's eyes again, a crooked grin in place. He shrugs. "Well. Happy thirtieth birthday, Shigeo." He opens his arms wide and tilts his head a little. "...ta-da? Please accept your birthday gift?"

Shigeo Kageyama blinks twice, then bursts into laughter.

Time is a strange concept, especially when Reigen Arataka is your lover.

"Do you know how much this apron costs?"

"How much?"

"Two thousand yen! That's equal to two portions of beef miso ramen down at Onigawara's!"

"How many portions of takoyaki would that be?"

"Five. Four pieces each. See just how valuable the apron is?"

Shigeo looks up from his fettuccine at this. He takes in Arataka's pale complexion and the jut of his collarbones against the apron. The fabric dips a little to show Arataka's fine dark hairs. After a while, he says, "Well, it does look good on you."

"Not enough for you to fuck me in it?"

"But I am hungry, Shishou… I have not eaten since lunch."

Arataka's eyes narrow dangerously. "You're being unfair by calling me that, y'know?"

"Do you mean 'Shishou'?" Shigeo returns to his fettuccine and twirls it with his fork. The Alfredo sauce is thick and creamy, sticking well to his fettuccine. Arataka has always been the better cook of the two. Shigeo has cooked something like this once and, even though he used the same recipe, the sauce came out too runny and the pasta was too hard to chew. "You can call me 'Mob' anytime."

Arataka chuckles. "For old time's sake?"

Shigeo has a hard time hiding a smile. "For old time's sake."

A ringtone from Arataka's phone cuts their conversation short and he goes to the balcony to take it. He returns after a while and goes on a little rant about the client he received that day—something about a bald man coming to remove an evil eye curse. "I am so successful and rich, someone with an evil eye must've been jealous enough to curse me with hair loss, turning me bald!" Arataka parrots with flailing hands.

He recalls Serizawa's and Dimple's conclusion—that it was simply a case of alopecia and an inflated ego, having seen no sign of supernatural deviations on the man. Said man left with a grin after getting Arataka's house special: a two thousand five hundred yen full-body massage.

"Speaking of jobs…" Arataka puts down his fork on his empty plate as he continues, "I have an exorcism job tomorrow morning. From the sound of it, this one seems like the real deal. Serizawa canceled last minute for a medical check-up. Do you think you can come with me and Dimple tomorrow?"

"Going back to the habit of requesting my help last minute, I see," Shigeo says without looking away from his pasta.

"I would've just gone alone, but I know you'd give me an earful for it." Arataka goes to the sink with his empty dish. "So what do you say?"

"You already know my answer." His gaze follows Arataka's naked buttocks as the man starts to wash his dishes. "But we would have to finish before lunch. We promised my mom and dad we would visit."

"Oh! You're right. Sorry, it slipped my mind somehow…" Shigeo can hear guilt between Arataka's words. "I reckon the job won't take long if you're helping, though. We can even drop by the fruit parlor in the morning to get your parents something."

Shigeo takes his last bite and brings his empty dishes to the sink, too. Arataka is about to wash the pots and pans before Shigeo stops him. Says to leave them all to him.

"Oh. Okay," Arataka relents and moves over to lean on the kitchen counter to watch Shigeo washing the other dishes.

Soon enough, a comfortable silence fills the space—or what Shigeo feels comfortable with anyway, because Arataka seems to disagree. He starts to tap his feet against the floor and shifts his weight a few times.

Arataka's never one for quietness, unlike him. That's just the way he is. It's one of the things about their relationship that fascinates Shigeo. They're so different, but they complement each other so well.

However, now that Shigeo thinks about it again, their differences haven't always been a blessing. He still remembers that day when he snapped at Arataka back in middle school, telling him to shut up when he kept lecturing him on how to cook his meat properly.

Arataka is too chatty, while he's too quiet.

He also remembers when Arataka scolded him for getting scammed into a multilevel marketing scheme involving a 100,000 yen aromatherapy in college. "You're too naïve for your own good, Mob. You should learn to be more skeptical like me," he remembers his ex-mentor said.

Arataka thinks that Shigeo's too gullible, while he himself is too distrustful.

But those are nothing compared to their two major differences that cause most of their fights.

Arataka often gets mad at Shigeo for being overly jealous, going as far as to antagonize the clueless Serizawa for being touchy with Arataka. On the other hand, Shigeo often gets mad at Arataka for not caring when girls flirt with Shigeo. The older man even said, "That girl's really kind and pretty. You'd both make a cute couple."

Shigeo is too easily consumed by jealousy, while Arataka isn't.

(Shigeo was fuming. But after a while, he figured Arataka is just like that because he believes his partner will always deserve better than him, which isn't true. Shigeo can't think of anyone else most deserving of love than Reigen Arataka.)

He doesn't like that Arataka's often silent about his issues, either—unlike him.

Shigeo deems himself an open book. He has known this about himself ever since he fused with his inner demon back in middle school. He no longer represses his emotions, and he finds that making friends is a lot easier.

Arataka, on the other hand, has always been an extremely private person despite his extroverted facade. Shigeo has lost count of the many times he tries to make Arataka open up when something is clearly bothering him. He'd get defensive when confronted, and his favorite line was "Everything's fine!" which he quoted more times than the entire population on earth quoted "to be, or not to be: that is the question."

Arataka often acts like he's stronger than he lets on. That's what he's good at: pretending. He's made a career out of it, after all. A true professional. And Shigeo doesn't deny Arataka his strength—he believes no single soul in God's green earth is as resilient as his Arataka.

But he also knows that Arataka only bends so much until he breaks (in the metaphorical sense, as he already bends in the literal sense for Shigeo daily—bless him for his generosity). And when that breaking point's reached, he crumbles like fallen leaves in autumn and Shigeo believes it is his duty to be the spring that puts Arataka back where he belongs. That's what he's been trying to do, anyway. Because old habits die hard and Arataka is used to dealing with things on his own, which frustrates Shigeo to no end.

Luckily, their fights are far in-between now.

The seven-year-old relationship has taught them what makes the other tick and lets them reach a point of compromise. Shigeo has stopped antagonizing every person Arataka's close with, and Arataka has stopped trying to matchmake Shigeo with every girl he deems suitable for him. Shigeo has learned to give Arataka space until he's ready to open up, and Arataka has learned to be more honest about his feelings. Shigeo has lost his naiveness by now, and Arataka has trusted other people more.

Because when you love someone, you're bound to adopt some of their traits you would never otherwise have.

After all, what is love if not becoming one and only one?

In a few seconds, he'd start another conversation , Shigeo thinks. He never lets silence takes over for more than five minutes unless he's doing so on purpose.

True to his prediction, Arataka stops tapping his feet and opens his mouth. "So, how about you?" He asks, crossing his arms. "How was your day? Got any present from the office?"

Shigeo smiles as he scrubs the bottom of the pan. "I did, actually. My team gave me a stationary set and a planner. They bought a cake, too."

"A planner?" Arataka raises an eyebrow. "Don't they know it's May? It's five months too late for that."

"It was certainly better than the apron," he lies to tease, smile never leaving his lips. He really has grown to adopt so many of Arataka's traits.

"Oi, you were the one who wanted me to wear this!" Arataka lightly punches Shigeo's upper arm. "You really think I'd wear this on my own? I'm too old for this."

Shigeo blinks. He pauses his dishwashing and turns to Arataka. "Really? When did I say that?" He really does like Arataka in that skimpy outfit, but he didn't remember ever saying he wished for it.

"A month ago! We were binging that ecchi maid anime Serizawa recommended to us when you told me you wanna see me naked with an apron for your birthday." Arataka flails his hand at this. "Geez, I can't believe you don't even remember."

Shigeo blinks. "Oh." He doesn't remember it at all. Must've been during one of their Mobflix and Chill sessions. They often get a little drunk while doing so. "I'm sorry, I do not remember," he mutters lamely. He feels awful just by saying that. Guess he really hasn't stopped being so blunt.

Arataka shrugs. "Eh, it's fine. I'll go get changed. It's getting too cold, anyway."

But when Arataka's about to leave, Shigeo stops him by grabbing his wrist.

He ignores his wet palm and pulls Arataka closer. His eyes are drawn to their joined hands. "I'm sorry… please do not think that I do not appreciate it." He rubs Arataka's wrist in small circles. Slow, soft, foamy. He can feel wrinkles under his thumb.

Shigeo thinks that everything about them is messy and weird. He likes it—no, loves it. Wants to be one with Arataka in every way possible. Wants to be inside him. Wants Arataka inside him. To be around each other. Fuse with one another, just like he and his inner demon back then.

Can he?

Can they?

Will Arataka ever say yes ?

"I think you look really good in the apron," Shigeo mutters without meeting his lover's eyes. "I could not stop looking at your backside whenever you turned around." Too blunt. Too honest. Mayday, mayday. He's about to crash and burn.

Where are the lies he has adopted from Arataka?

"Do you mind waiting another minute? I'm almost done with the dishes. I…" He finally lifts his gaze and rakes on Arataka's half-naked form. "I would like to have my dessert, please."

To say that Arataka turns red like boiled crabs is an understatement. Eyes wide, he gapes at Shigeo and takes a few seconds to close his mouth again. "I. Can't. Fucking. Believe. This." He wipes his face with his free hand and exhales loudly. "Look at you! You have your way with words now. Where did my innocent disciple go?!"

"He is still here." Shigeo chuckles. "He just becomes more and more like you."

"Yeah, well. Tell him to stop. His sweet words might get me into cardiac arrest."

He knows Arataka's joking, but Shigeo doesn't like that, still. Can't imagine the day Arataka finally leaves him for good. Not because of an ominous third party or Arataka's insecurity or any other worldly ordeals. But because of death. It is plausible, possible, feasible—what with their age difference being so big and the telltale signs of Arataka's wrinkling skin and greying hair.

Shigeo has never said it out loud. But that's what he's most scared about: to be left on earth when another is gone. Because there's no greater grief than that.

"Okay. I shall stop," he says quietly before washing the last dish.

Arataka's still standing beside him when he's done. Shigeo wipes his hands dry with a towel before pulling Arataka to him by the small of his back. Their faces are only inches apart now and Shigeo has to bend his neck down to look at his lover's eyes, the scar on his forehead, then his lips.

Arataka trails his finger down his cheek before cupping his jaw and pulling him down with it. Shigeo closes his eyes and melts into Arataka's kiss, pulls him even closer and crashes their bodies together. Arataka's lips are soft, warm, malleable; and he can feel Arataka's stubbles scratching him a little, making the skin there itchy.

Shigeo can smell a hint of garlic, cheese, and wine, and he's sure Arataka can smell the same on him. Alfredo fettuccine and Brunello di Mobtalcino 2017. Not the fanciest thing out there, but at least they're not Onigawara's beef miso ramen nor Mobdaco takoyaki.

Shigeo doesn't care, though. Arataka can offer him a plate of buttered carcasses with hardened cement for breakfast, and he'll still eat them gladly. He'll recite "Itadakimasu" before eating and "Gochisousama deshita" after eating. He'll even lick the whole plate clean if it means Arataka doesn't have to do the dishes.

Because he's in love, and he's in love, and he's in love.

And maybe he's in love a little too much. Shigeo wonders if it's a good thing or a great thing.

Bad thing is not part of the question. Because loving someone too much can't be a bad thing, right?

Right?

He presses Arataka against the kitchen counter before lifting him up to sit above it. "Whoa!" Arataka exclaims, losing balance for a second before claiming it back. "Slow down, Mob." He spreads his hairy legs and slouches a little so that his head won't hit the upper cabinets.

"Okay, Shishou," Shigeo obeys as he nuzzles Arataka's ear like a little kitten. He does the same to his cheek, then lower to his neck. Arataka lifts his head slightly to give Shigeo access. Shigeo kisses the skin there, licks it, then bites hard. He wants to make sure he leaves a hickey, so that everyone who sees Arataka knows he's taken.

Too possessive. Too envious. Mayday, mayday. He's about to crash and burn. Where's the indifference he has adopted from Arataka?

"M-Mob… behave," Arataka whimpers.

They're playing the game of teasing and nostalgia again. "Mob" and "Shishou". "Shishou" and "Mob". To Shigeo, Reigen Arataka will always be his Shishou. In the past, present, and future. And to Arataka, maybe he'll always be Mob, too.

Time is a strange concept, especially when Reigen Arataka is your lover.

With his thumbs, Shigeo brushes Arataka's nipples over the fabric of the apron. He pulls the apron down a little, exposes the pink buds, and wipes his tongue over them one by one. He doesn't stay there for long. He goes lower, lifts the bottom flap of the apron, and holds his lover's cock with one hand. Jerks it a few times, then swoops in and kisses the slit. Arataka's breath hitches as if the Grim Reaper has just taken his soul.

Shigeo then plays with Arataka's foreskin with deft fingers, pulling it back and forth a little, stimulating the head. He nuzzles on the cock lovingly and mouths the base with a hum. All around him is the smell of soap, musk, and sweat. All around him is the sound of Arataka's soft whimpers. Shigeo feels dizzy with lust. He'll gladly do this for eternity.

"You're… you're doing great, Mob," Arataka mutters weakly when Shigeo flattens his tongue and licks Arataka's cock from bottom to top along the veins. Long fingers find Shigeo's black locks and play with its strands. Arataka twirls them and pats Shigeo's head like he's encouraging a star pupil.

Shigeo's pants suddenly feel a few sizes too small. Every little compliment from his lover pushes him closer to insanity. So, to reclaim his composure, Shigeo stops teasing and puts Arataka's cock directly inside his mouth. He hums as he does so, to make sure Arataka feels the vibration. Lets his tongue glide under the hard length as he pushes the cock further inside.

He closes his eyes, breathes in the musky smell of Arataka, feels his lover twitching inside him.

He can feel Arataka's pre-cum sticking on the roof of his mouth, so he sucks and swallows, drinking all the fluid that leaks out of his lover like it's milk for dessert. Shigeo swallows every bit of the liquid he can have, and he licks every inch of Arataka he can reach. His lover's thighs are quivering, but he holds them still.

When he opens his eyes and looks above, Arataka's looking straight back at him. His pupils dilate, skin all flushed, and he's biting his lower lip. The hand on Shigeo's head slides down to hold his jaw gently. It's moving with him as Shigeo goes up and down Arataka's length, squelching noises echo through the kitchen.

"J-just like that. Keep doing that, please." Arataka rolls his hip to get himself deeper and deeper into Shigeo, and Shigeo lets him. Takes him all in. Shigeo doesn't try to control Arataka and hold him in place. He simply touches and rubs the man's hip in small circles. A form of encouragement.

Shigeo closes his eyes again and fastens his pace, sucking as hard as he can while jerking the length he's not able to reach with his mouth.

But then he abruptly stops.

He pulls away with an audible pop, a string of saliva still connecting his lips to Arataka's cock. He looks up to see his lover shaking and edged, all oxygen stolen from his lungs. Arataka strokes his cheek gently with raised eyebrows, silently asking what's wrong.

But then Shigeo dashes to their shared bedroom and snatches a bottle of lube. He comes back just as fast as he went away. Arataka's looking at him as he squirts a generous dollop onto his palm. Shigeo meets his eyes and sees realization dawn upon his lover.

Arataka's red from the tip of his ears to the ends of his toes. He's staring at him with lust-filled half-lidded eyes. Then he mumbles, "My legs feel like jelly. If you're planning to prepare me, I might need your help to raise 'em up." He tries to lift his legs on both sides of Shigeo. They rise from the counter for an inch, tremble, then drop back down.

"Oh. Right." Shigeo wipes his wet hand carelessly on his cloth before bending down to hold Arataka's heels. He lifts them slowly as Arataka leans back onto the counter, propping himself on his elbows.

Shigeo's about to place Arataka's legs on the edge of the counter when he hears Arataka yelp, "Ouch! My back, my back!"

"Wait. What?" Shigeo looks up at Arataka in panic. In front of him, Arataka scrunches his face like he's in great pain.

"Fuck!" He slams the marble counter repeatedly. "Put them back down! Put them back down!"

"O-okay!" Shigeo does as he's told and stares awkwardly at Arataka splaying on top of the kitchen counter like a deflated tube man. His cock is still hard inside his slacks, while Arataka's is slowly deflating behind his apron. Shigeo winces when Arataka groans in pain. "Is there… is there anything else I can do to help ease the pain?"

Arataka doesn't reply for a while, too occupied with the pain he's currently experiencing. He's gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. After a few minutes, he finally opens one eye and peeks at Shigeo through his frown. "Uhh… I'm sorry, Shigeo, but… I think we should call it a day." He takes some long breaths before continuing, "You mind helping me get to the bed? I don't think I can walk in this state…"

Shigeo takes it as his cue to swoop in and carry him. His lover groans a few times on their way to the bedroom, which Shigeo assumes is because of the continued strain of his spine.

Shigeo finally lays his lover down on his side and brings him a glass of water and Imobprofen. He sits down behind him on the bed and, once Arataka finishes taking the medicine, runs to get him a pack of ice for his lower back. Shigeo applies it and stares at the way Arataka's skin glistens from the ice pack's condensation. He finds himself saying quietly, "Please don't die on me."

Arataka bursts out a laugh, then gives Shigeo a look over his shoulder. "Nobody dies from back pain!"

"We do not know that. Let's ask Ritsu tomorrow."

"It won't make any difference." Shigeo can hear from his tone that Arataka's rolling his eyes.

"It will. He is an orthopedic surgeon, after all."

"We don't need any doctor's opinion on this. This is simply the symptom of getting old. I'm getting old, Shigeo." Arataka waves his hands wildly.

"Forty-four is not old."

"Yes, it is, especially compared to you."

"Thirty is not young."

Arataka sighs. "Y'know what? Forget anything I said or we'll be having this argument for the jazillionth time now."

"Jazillionth is not a word."

"It is now, because I say so," Arataka replies dryly.

Shigeo chuckles. "Whatever you say, Shishou." Arataka's silliness is so endearing to him and it makes him want to continue what they were doing. But he knows that Arataka's health is more important than his lust, so he has no choice but to re-focus on applying the ice pack on his lover's back.

"Hey," Arataka blurts.

"Hm?" Shigeo doesn't shift his gaze from Arataka's back.

"...I'm sorry."

Shigeo looks up then, frowning. "What for?"

"Today should've been your day," Arataka mutters without turning around, "but I ruined it."

Shigeo feels a sharp pang in his chest. He then lays down behind Arataka, pulls him to his chest, and kisses his nape. The ice pack has been discarded somewhere on the bed and he's now rubbing Arataka's naked hip gently, just below the apron's tie. He nuzzles Arataka's blonde hair and recognizes the smell of the cheap strawberry shampoo they bought from the drugstore down the road.

"That is not true. I got to eat your delicious cooking. Besides, we can always have sex some other time." His cock has gone limp by now and his voice comes out slurry. Guess he's more tired than he thinks. It is almost midnight.

Arataka places his own hand atop Shigeo's and laces their fingers together. "You sound sleepy."

"Mm-hmm." Shigeo nods weakly, then closes his eyes.

"Okay. You're right. Let's save it for another time."

"M'kay."

"Hey," Arataka taps the back of his hand. "Happy thirtieth birthday, Shigeo."

Shigeo smiles a little, then turns the lights off with his powers so that he doesn't have to part from Arataka. He tightens his hold on his lover's. "Thank you."

Now that they're both quiet and ready to sleep, a serene atmosphere blankets the room. Spring is well underway now, and it renders their air conditioner and heater useless. A thick wool blanket is folded neatly by their feet, ignored by the two men. The room's pitch black and the curtains are closed.

Occasionally, Shigeo can hear the faint roars of motorcycles or cars passing by. They live next to the main road, after all. Noise pollution has been the source of poor sleep quality and the reason they often wake up cranky. So, maybe, once they've saved up enough, they can rent a place in a residential area much quieter than this one.

The vision of a quiet, small house lulls Shigeo to sleep. It should have ample enough kitchen space for Arataka to cook (if he isn't lazy, which most times he is). The new place should allow them to have pets, too, because Shigeo had always wanted to buy Arataka a dog. He still remembers the way Arataka quietly grieves over Uu-chan's disappearance so many years ago. If Shigeo could erase all the unpleasantness in the world for Arataka, he would.

He really would.

"Shigeo…" Arataka whispers. The room is quiet for another full minute. "Are you… happy?"

But Shigeo doesn't hear him clearly enough. The words don't register above his delusion of a house for two and the actual noises of vehicles passing by. His dream and reality merge for a moment. And in Shigeo's half-asleep state, Arataka's voice enters like an upslope fog. So, Shigeo can only reply with a weak, "Hm?"

Arataka doesn't respond, at least not after another minute or so. When he speaks, it is quieter than when he threw his initial question. "Nevermind… good night," is all he says in the end.

That night, Shigeo dreams of taking their laundry out of the washing machine and handing them to Arataka. His lover brings them to their new backyard and hangs each piece of clothing on the clothing line, mumbling something like the weather's going to be awful that day and that the laundry won't dry until tomorrow.

Shigeo smiles.

To be Continued