Title: yours, mine, and ours
A/N: For the Seasoned Love zine! Kojiro coaxing Kaoru into a relationship is like an owner calling for their cat—will it happen? Who knows, not even the cat.
Summary: At some point, Kaoru had gotten used to Kojiro's habits. At some point, his apartment had gotten filled with an extra toothbrush, oversized shirts, and fresh food in the fridge. He wasn't sure when Kojiro had invaded his home. He wasn't sure if he liked it.
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The bed was empty. Kaoru cracked an eye open as his hand hit the empty spot beside him, the bedsheet long cooled and any impression of Kojiro's body faded at best. An alarm blared on his side lamp and Kaoru reluctantly opened his other eye and sat up. "I'm awake, Carla."
The alarm cut off.
Kaoru glanced at the spot next to him as he ran a hand through his hair. "What time did he wake up?"
"Six-thirty," Carla stated, her soothing monotone voice filling the empty room.
And it was empty because Kojiro, for all of his numerous, numerous flaws, always woke up earlier than Kaoru. It irritated him more than he cared to admit. It was far easier to think of Kojiro as a slob—even now, his clothes were scattered haphazardly across the floor, long forgotten after last night's activities.
Yet in this one aspect he had Kaoru beat. Grinding his teeth, he slipped out of the bed, carefully picking his way past Kojiro's crumpled jeans and unzipped sweatshirt as he made his way to the bathroom. "What's my schedule for today, Carla?"
There was no need to ask. His day-to-day remained more or less the same, and to Kojiro's credit, he wasn't as impulsive as he pretended to be. Stability was the only thing Kaoru craved and he found it in his schedules, his plans, his organization of even the minute details.
Like his toothbrush holder, which now unfortunately housed a tacky neon green brush. A manual brush, something best left behind with childhood toys and dreams. Even worse, Kojiro had looked ridiculously proud when he'd slotted it in two months ago, as though he had won an award instead of just ensuring they both got proper dental health.
Kaoru grimaced as he reached past it to grab his own electric brush. "Why does that oaf insist on using such a relic?"
"He claims that his technique makes up for it," Carla replied unexpectedly. "Your first appointment is at nine."
Kaoru frowned as he glanced at the speaker in the bathroom. And what was that response, Carla?
His worst fears were coming true: Kojiro was infecting Carla.
A small red mark caught his eye and Kaoru turned slightly as he examined his neck in the mirror. A small red mark that clearly was a hickey. He clenched his jaw. A love bite. Again. He'd have to wear a high collar today.
"Why does that moron always do this?" he grumbled. There were few rules in their strange arrangement—this was a casual thing, they weren't dating, and no one could ever find out about this. That last one was important. Kaoru could barely handle Adam's insufferable smirk whenever he saw them together; add in Reki's and Langa's innocent questions and he'd die.
Why was Kojiro's cologne in the cabinet? Because it was easier that way.
Why was a quarter of the closet filled with loose-fitting shirts? Because Kaoru refused to let Kojiro leave in the same clothes. Who knew who would pick up on that?
Kaoru's brow furrowed as he studied his closet. Actually, Kojiro's handful of shirts was starting to dominate the space, taking up almost half of the rack. "He brought more clothes."
"Two weeks ago," Carla chimed in helpfully.
Something must be wrong with him if hadn't noticed in two weeks. Kaoru gingerly flipped through the outfits. "How far is the nearest donation bin?"
A few seconds later and Carla answered, "A ten-minute drive or a fifteen-minute skateboard ride."
As tempting as that was, Kaoru wouldn't be able to carry any of this while skateboarding. The warm aroma of freshly toasted bread wafted in and he whirled around, marching to the kitchen. At least the culprit hadn't gone too far.
A culprit who looked as innocent as can be as he leaned against the kitchen counter, a garish green mug in one hand, his phone in the other. His thumb slid up the screen as he looked up. Spotting Kaoru, Kojiro smiled softly. "Morning, babe."
The pet name should have rankled him more but Kaoru had gotten used to it. Tugging on his collar as he stepped forward, he growled, "I told you, below the neck."
"That's not what you said last night," Kojiro teased, giving him a wolfish smile.
He coloured slightly. "That's not the point."
"Is it?" Kojiro shrugged as he took a sip of coffee. "It's not my fault you contradict yourself."
Kaoru gritted his teeth, forcing back his blush. "Well, I'm not contradicting myself now. I'm running out of collared shirts."
"Alright, I'll keep that in mind," Kojiro replied blithely, sounding every bit as insincere as he was. He gestured at the plate next to him. "I made you breakfast."
"I could smell that." Kaoru glanced at the plate as he grabbed his own coffee mug. More than food, he needed the caffeine, especially if he had to deal with Kojiro now. As usual, there were sausages and eggs on the plate, the former only in the apartment because Kojiro had restocked Kaoru's fridge after he started spending the mornings here.
The man had claimed it was appalling to find a fridge in such an empty state. As expected of a cook, he cared more about the fridge than any other room.
"You know there's thing called Japanese breakfast?" Kaoru asked lightly. He inhaled his coffee with a sigh. Even the merest whiff was enough to kickstart his brain. "We don't need to have toast everyday."
"I'm an Italian chef." Kojiro smiled crookedly. He leaned past Kaoru, his muscular arm brushing his chest as Kojiro plucked the lightly browned bread out of the toaster. "I'm making you an Italian breakfast."
"I'm pretty sure this doesn't count as an Italian breakfast," Kaoru scoffed, gesturing at the sausage. "Those are German, I saw the packaging when you bought them."
"Close enough," he chuckled. Setting down his mug with a hard thud, he grabbed a sausage and ripped a bite off. "Still tastes good, no?"
"Definitely a no." Kaoru frowned as he glanced at the mug. "And don't put that down so hard, you'll chip it."
Kojiro scowled. "Hey, you said I could do what I want with my mug."
"That doesn't mean you should—" Kaoru froze.
Kojiro's mug. Toothbrush. Clothing. Perfume. The food in the fridge, the space in his closet, the piles littered around the floor. Now that he was thinking about it, there was a lot of Kojiro's things in the apartment. Especially considering they weren't even dating.
Quietly, he stated, "You're here a lot these days."
"Yeaaah?" Sensing something off, Kojiro replied slowly, stretching out the word as he tried to figure out if he was in trouble or not. He eyed Kaoru wearily, like he was facing an angry bull.
"You have a lot of your…shit here," Kaoru clarified diplomatically. There were a dozen worse abuses he could think of to describe the garish items in his house, each looking more and more out of place in comparison to Kaoru's sleek minimalist and traditionalist style.
Kojiro reeled back, mock offended. He clutched his chest. "It's not shit."
"They are shit. You know this is my apartment, right?" Kaoru set down his mug, watching him carefully. A strange, unknown feeling unfurled within him. He hated unknowns.
Taking the matter as lightly as ever, Kojiro burst into laughter. "Wait, seriously, that's what this is about?"
Kaoru clenched his jaw. "Answer the question."
"Fine, fine. I got it." Kojiro laughed again and wrapped an arm around Kaoru, pulling him close. He nuzzled his neck affectionately. Kaoru could feel his smile on his skin as he placated, "This is your apartment."
Somehow, that didn't make him feel as good as it should have. Actually, if anything, it bothered him more. That strange, unknown feeling grew and Kaoru couldn't describe it as anger or disappointment or some other myriad emotion. The only thing he did know was that he didn't like it.
The only thing he did know was that it was Kojiro's fault he felt like this.
"As long as you understand," he mumbled.
"Just one thing." Kojiro lifted his head and leaned close until their noses brushed. His breath warmed Kaoru's cheeks, his eyes glowing a dark amber.
"What?" Kaoru breathed, spellbound.
His voice was husky as he asked, "You know, isn't this starting to feel like our apartment?"
"Our?" Kaoru's jaw dropped. A single word broke him from his stupor.
Kojiro shrugged. "Well, I mean, we're dating—"
"We're not." Kaoru retorted, pulling away.
"—and I've been staying over for months now." Kojiro tightened his grip. He peppered Kaoru's cheeks, nose, eyes with kisses in a futile attempt to distract him. "So, I think this is a good time as any, right?"
Kaoru bristled. "'Good time'—"
A tender kiss cut him off, Kojiro finally landing on his lips. Kaoru sighed despite himself, his fingers curling into Kojiro's shirt, his hands half-heatedly pulling him closer. Kojiro tasted bitter, like coffee, like any spats they had. It was such a contradictory taste considering how soft the man could be.
All too quickly, it ended. Kojiro gently brushed away a lock of hair, his hand cradling Kaoru's cheek as he pulled back. "Just something to think of."
Kaoru wasn't quite sure he could think of anything right now.
"Anyways, running late now!" Mission accomplished, Kojiro withdrew entirely, untangling their limbs with ease. He waved cheerfully as he headed to the door, acting like nothing had happened. "See you later!"
The door slammed shut before Kaoru regained his senses.
Our apartment.
Our.
Immediately, he dashed to the door and yanked it open. "You'd better pay half the rent then!"
From further down the hall, near the elevators, he heard a laugh. "Deal!"
There was a small ding and Kaoru closed his door just as the elevator left. Now that the adrenaline left him, he wasn't sure if he'd made a terrible mistake or a good deal.
Our apartment.
They weren't even dating.
Our.
God help him, that small word made him far too happy.