Archive of Our Own ^beta

All things considered, Narumi blames the press.

=-=-=

Or maybe the press isn’t to blame. Maybe it’s Narumi’s own big mouth, and his frequent lack of a brain-to-mouth filter.

Heaven knows, Hasegawa has said enough about it to him that he really should know better. He’s just never had to care about it.

=-=-=

The neutralization operation in Setagaya district proceeds as smoothly as all other neutralization operations before it. The battle is as good as over once Narumi shows up on the field to take care of the honju, and his Division is strong enough to mop up the remaining yoju with ease.

In fact, it hadn’t even been necessary for Narumi to join this one. This particular honju had been of a relatively lower fortitude for its class; Hasegawa or Kikoru or maybe even one of his platoon leaders could have dealt with it just fine, although they would have taken longer to do so than him. It was just that Narumi had been bored, having finished his latest video game that morning, when the alarm had gone off.

Narumi whistles as he flicks the safety switch of his bayonet’s rifle back on and swings his weapon to rest on his shoulder. He climbs off the pile of kaiju carcasses that he has left in the middle of the street, and saunters over to where a reporter and a cameraman are recording the scene.

As he draws within earshot, he hears the reporter say, “Joining us now is the Captain of the First Division, Narumi Gen. He has single-handedly neutralized all the kaiju within a four-block radius from where we stand.”

Narumi grins as he steps up to stand beside the reporter. She turns smoothly to hold her microphone towards him. “So, Captain, what will you be doing after this fight to celebrate your victory?”

Narumi takes a deep breath. Now, he thinks, would be the perfect time to say something cool.

Unfortunately, that’s also when his earpiece crackles to life – something about a second honju of the same species appearing in Mitaka district, but with a higher fortitude than the first. The Third Division was already at the scene – when really, Narumi thinks with irritation, doesn’t Mitaka fall under the First Division’s territory?

Vice-captain Hoshina is engaging the second kaiju, reports the control room.

“Hoshina,” grits Narumi out unthinkingly.

“Oh!” the reporter gasps breathily. Her cheeks pinken. Before them, the cameraman chokes.

And that’s when Narumi realises that firstly, he might have said Hoshina’s out loud; and secondly, how that might have sounded on air.

=-=-=

“Explain,” the Director-General Itami Keiji says. There’s a spread of the usual mainstream newspapers and a bunch of tabloids across his desk. Captain Narumi Gen claims clandestine relationship, a headline boasts. First Division Captain and Third Division Vice-Captain: A Sordid Affair? another headline questions.

Behind him, Chief-of-Staff Nogizaka Juuzou clears his throat and places a tablet computer onto the table. There’s a clip of Narumi’s ill-fated interview playing on the screen – and, alright, objectively speaking, Narumi can see why the press might have formed their tragic misimpression. The Narumi on the screen looks distracted, his attention focused miles away instead of on the camera immediately before him. His grimace at the thought of Hoshina stealing his kill, looks more like a stiff, awkward smile. It wouldn’t have been too far of a leap for anyone to see it as a shy smile in the circumstances, as though Narumi was bashfully confessing his affections on-camera…

No, Narumi’s definitely blaming this one on the press.

“Explain,” Itami repeats.

“There’s absolutely nothing between Vice-captain Hoshina and me, sir,” Narumi says, remembering to tag on the honorific at the very last minute. “I was receiving a report on the second attack in the Mitaka district. I –”

“Then I’m sorry to hear it,” Itami interrupts.

Narumi falters. “Sir?”

This time, it is Nogizaka who speaks. “The Defense Force has always had difficulty with our level of public approval. The public appreciates what we do, but we also attract our fair share of critics: property damage, disruption of people’s daily lives, members of the public who think that we could have run our operations differently…”

“But we’ve never cared about that before,” Narumi retorts. “Why now?”

“You, maybe, have never cared about that,” Nogizaka replies, long-suffering patience audible in every word. “Our Publicity Unit certainly thinks otherwise. They have suggested to the Director-General and me, and we agree, that we should not let this golden opportunity slip by.”

“What opportunity?” Dread forms a leaden lump in Narumi’s belly, cold and heavy.

Nogizaka clears his throat again. “The public have a relatively good image of both Vice-captain Hoshina and you. They will be supportive if there is a romantic relationship between the two of you. In turn, the Defense Force’s publicity will benefit from having another golden couple. We have not had another one since Shinomiya Isao and Hikari.”

“It will be for half a year,” Itami adds. Narumi would almost describe his tone as sympathetic, if not for the fact that it is quite clear from the direction of this conversation that Itami has none for him. “Enough time that when you and Vice-Captain Hoshina announce that you have broken up, the public will assume that it is natural in the course of your relationship.”

“Why not just clarify now? I can contact that first reporter, do another interview –”

“Because the public may then assume that you were playing a prank on them,” Nogizaka cuts in bluntly. “That would not be beneficial for our public approval ratings.”

“We anticipate that there will be significant media attention at the start,” Itami continues smoothly, as though there had not been any interruption. “For it to be as convincing as possible, you will live with Vice-captain Hoshina in his personal apartment on your mutual days-off. Nogizaka will have a look at the First Division’s and the Third Division’s duty rosters to ensure that Vice-captain Hoshina’s and your days-off are as aligned as possible. We have already spoken with Vice-captain Hasegawa, and he is aware of the upcoming arrangement. Besides him, you are not to speak with anyone else about this arrangement.”

Narumi gapes.

“Is there anything else, Captain?”

He’s dimly aware that he should be saying something. Anything. Like how this might be a spectacularly bad idea. But the tip of his tongue remains firmly stuck against the roof of his mouth, and his head gives a traitorous shake.

“Good,” Itami says, satisfaction clear in his voice. “You’re dismissed. Vice-captain Hoshina should be waiting outside the door – ask him to come in when you leave.”

Narumi flees.

=-=-=

Hoshina’s briefing takes an agonizing twenty-five-and-a-half minutes which Narumi most certainly does not count as he paces in the waiting room outside the Director-General’s office. When Hoshina finally emerges, his expression is not like anything that Narumi has ever seen on his face before, as Narumi’s brain struggles and fails to find an appropriate adjective.

In that moment, Narumi feels a twinge of sympathy. It can’t be any more fun for Hoshina than it will be for him. He’s self-aware enough to know that he’s far from anyone’s ideal roommate; and that’s not even counting the fact that anyone who maintains their own a place outside, as a refuge from the crowded dormitories in the Force, would hate to have any roommate suddenly thrust upon them.

He steps towards Hoshina, with a vague notion that he might maybe apologize.

Said notion promptly dies the next instant, when Hoshina’s features settle into his usual fox-like smirk.

“What?” he snipes, because offence is frequently the best defense.

“If you had wanted to be roommates so badly, you should have just told me,” Hoshina drawls, his Kansai accent a teasing lilt.

Narumi, most assuredly, does not blush. “Shut up,” he snaps. “I had nothing to do with this stupid plan.”

Hoshina raises his brows.

Narumi grits his teeth.

Silence draws out beneath them, awkward and speckled with the dust motes that dance in the sunbeam slanting between them from the window.

“Out of my way, Bowl-cut,” Narumi finally mutters. It’s tempting to knock into Hoshina as he shoulders past him – a childish, retaliatory gesture – but he manfully resists, and even feels proud of himself for doing so. He’s not retreating, he tells himself. He’s not.

“I’ll see you at joint-training later,” Hoshina calls out from behind him. It’s not a question.

Belatedly, he recalls that today also marks the start of a two-day joint-training exercise between the First and Third Divisions. He had yawned when Hasegawa had informed him about it last week. Now, he wishes that he had protested more. Shit.

The morning’s training passes by in a blur. They’re simulating a triple-honju event, and while the officers keep their eyes fixed firmly on him as he barks out orders, the collective weight of their gazes feels different from previous such exercises. Narumi can’t decide if he’s being overly sensitive, or if the stares from some of the Third Division’s officers and cadets carry a distinctly hostile edge. On the other hand, he swears that he can spy smirks on almost every one of his own men; but when he turns to regard them directly, their faces are placid masks.

“Pay attention!” he barks, and tries to ignore how Ashiro Mina’s gaze lingers on him for a beat too long before she re-focuses her attention on their troops. Hoshina stands beside her, posture at ease and a light smile on his lips, seemingly unaffected by it all. In that moment, Narumi wants nothing more than to –

Ignore him.

Yes, ignore him.

Narumi swallows resolutely as he tightens his grip on his weapon, and tries not to think about how his mouth seems suddenly and inexplicably dry.

His plan mostly works until lunchtime when, meal tray in hand, he approaches the usual table in the mess hall where his platoon leaders sit, and they look up as one from Shinonome’s cell phone.

“Hey, Captain,” Tachibana calls, “this article says that you were crushing on Vice-captain Hoshina during your first joint-training exercise with him three years ago. Is that true?” He grabs the cell phone from Shinonome’s hand to flash its screen at Narumi, and barely winces when Shinonome elbows him in his gut.

The picture on the screen is one of Hoshina and him, leaning against a wall on the opposite ends of the photograph. Hoshina is talking to someone off-frame. Narumi is looking away in the other direction. He doesn’t even remember when that photograph could have been taken.

Hiding his love in plain sight, a captain’s longing!, the caption beneath the picture exclaims in bold.

Tachibana had been there when Narumi had asked Hoshina to join their Division, Narumi recalls.

Tachibana, Narumi decides, is an ass.

Without missing a beat, he strides past his platoon leaders, heading for an empty table on the other side of the mess hall. The other officers and cadets in the hall keep a respectful berth from him – a much-needed respite, until another meal tray slides onto the table in front of him.

“What?” he glares, as Hoshina smiles beatifically down at him.

“Didn’t you hear the Director-General this morning?” Hoshina says, in an undertone as mockingly polite as his smile.

“He didn’t say to eat with me when we’re both in the same base,” Narumi hisses.

“But what better time to do so, now that our relationship is no longer a secret?” Hoshina replies breezily. He takes the seat in front of Narumi and picks up his chopsticks, as casual as someone commenting on the weather.

“Fine,” Narumi grits out. He shoves an angry bite of rice into his mouth, and most certainly does not look at Hoshina’s pale and elegant wrist as the other man lifts his bowl of miso soup to his mouth. A bite of food, and another, and a third, and –

“That can’t be all you’re eating.”

Hoshina’s brows rise as his chopsticks hover over his side dish of blanched spinach dressed in sesame sauce. “What’s wrong with my food?”

“There’s not enough meat.”

“Vegetables are healthy.”

“You need protein too. Your muscles break down when you exercise.”

“I already took some of the chicken,” Hoshina says, nodding his chin at the plate on his tray that holds a couple of pieces of chicken karaage.

“But not enough,” Hoshina sniffs. He eyes his own plate contemplatively. Then, decision made, he picks it up, and pushes a third of his portion of fried chicken onto Hoshina’s plate. “Eat it,” he says, as Hoshina stares at the new mini-mountain of chicken on his tray. “Hasegawa would tell you the same,” Narumi adds, because he is, if nothing else, well aware that his Vice-captain’s words usually carry more weight than his in such matters.

Then, he looks down and resumes shoveling his food into his mouth, because Hoshina is no longer looking at his lunch but at him. Hoshina’s eyes beneath his weird fringe are opened wider than Narumi has seen in a while, and Narumi’s stomach does an odd little flip.

Indigestion, he tells himself, and slows down his eating pace.

=-=-=

It’s another week before Narumi moves into Hoshina’s place. The apartment is a cozy affair, with a modest living space and a separate bedroom to the side, in the heart of the Jimbocho neighborhood. Narumi spares a moment to mull over how well Hoshina’s apartment seems to suit its owner – from the warmly colored tatami mats on the floor to the neat row of potted succulents along the window sill, from the tidy stack of books on the side table next to the low sofa to the gleaming coffee machine on the kitchen counter – before he turns his mind to the most pressing question: “Where am I going to sleep?”

“Here,” Hoshina replies, gesturing towards his living room with a broad sweep of his arm. “I got you a new futon,” he adds, almost in afterthought, tone skipping past helpful and straight towards amused at Narumi’s expense. “Sleeping on the floor is good for your back.”

Narumi wonders how his expression must look. Pretty stunned, is his guess, based on the way that Hoshina seems to be biting back a smirk. He’s loathe to give Hoshina’s entertainment more fodder, but still, “For half a year?”

“It’s only six months,” Hoshina says, sounding infuriatingly reasonable. “You’ll still be spending at least half of that at the base anyway. Besides,” he continues, gaze flicking over the single large suitcase and the pair of equally large boxes in his genkan, “it’s not like you packed along too much.”

Narumi decides not to mention that it was in fact Hasegawa who had helped him pack.

To Hoshina’s credit as a host, he helps Narumi move his stuff from the genkan into the living room and lays out the new futon, before he excuses himself to his bedroom and leaves Narumi to his own devices.

They have been given two weeks of down-time. It’s the longest break that the Defense Force has ever granted him since he formally joined their ranks. Narumi wonders if it’s Itami’s and Nogizaka’s indirect apology for getting them into this farce.

By the fifth day, he revises his opinion: It’s an extended experiment to find out how long he and Hoshina can cohabit as roommates without killing each other. He’s even prepared to wager that there’s a betting pool back at the base.

Hoshina’s still too polite as a host to say anything about how Narumi’s belongings have swiftly but surely take over his living room, and even his kitchenette, but his growing disapproval is palpable every time he wades gingerly through the sea of Narumi’s things to check on his plants by the window.

In turn, Narumi discovers that Hoshina isn’t as put together as popular lore in the Defense Force would have one think.

For one, the man is in his twenties but he is still incapable of drying his hair after a bath, and he drips wet tracks across the living room – and, by extension, Narumi’s stuff – whenever he crosses the apartment from the bathroom to his bedroom.

For another, his choice of breakfast thus far has abysmal: a cup of coffee or three, and on one occasion, a slice of toast. His lunches and dinners are somewhat better, but Narumi – who has always believed in eating his fill whenever he can, and who has been on the receiving end of multiple lectures from Isao and Hasegawa about the importance of balanced meals – is of the firm view that Hoshina can still eat more.

On the afternoon of the sixth day, Hoshina simply barrels through the living room. His foot catches on the wire connecting the television to the power socket, and the screen goes black just as Narumi is about to lock in a new high score. Words are exchanged. Narumi storms out, and only returns in the evening when his temper is finally in check. He also returns with two bulging bags of groceries, putting an end to the dominion of salads and coffee beans in Hoshina’s refrigerator.

After that, things get slightly better. Narumi starts to fold away his futon when he’s not asleep on it. He picks his dirty laundry up from the floor, and tries to remember to put his things away after he has used them. Hoshina’s living room still isn’t as neat as it was before Narumi moved in, and certainly nowhere as neat as Narumi’s own room after Hasegawa has had a go with it, but Narumi thinks that Hasegawa might still be proud of him all the same.

In turn, Hoshina graciously accepts the hair-dryer which Narumi orders for him from Yamazon. He lets himself be coaxed into sitting in the living room after his nightly bath, a towel draped over his shoulders, while Narumi plugs the hair-dryer into an electrical socket. Hoshina’s hair is like fine silk, and Narumi is unable to stop himself from combing his fingers through it repeatedly as he parts it in segments to blow-dry.

By the middle of the second week, their mornings fall into something of a routine. Hoshina leaves for his morning run, and returns to find a cooked breakfast for two people, of eggs and fried ham with toast, or of rice balls with soup and pickles. In the evenings, Narumi sets the rice-cooker to cook before going for his own run. He times it well enough that, when the rice-cooker beeps, he’s managed to grab a quick post-run shower and is finishing up with cooking the rest of dinner.

“This is good,” Hoshina had said, the first time that Narumi cooked for him, and Narumi was torn between pride and irritation at just how surprised Hoshina looked.

“Don’t you know that I’m the best at everything I do,” he had snarked back, and does not mention that the last time he had cooked was years ago before he joined the Force. “I bet you were a pampered son in your family and you never spent a day in the kitchen.”

Hoshina had rolled his eyes, but he’d also ducked his head. Afterwards, he joined Narumi at the kitchen sink, a tray of dirty dishes in his hands, and Narumi made space for him wordlessly.

Back in Narumi’s early days of joining the Defense Force, when his superiors still thought that Narumi was going to crash out as a plain rank-and-file cadet, one of them, in a fit of misguided well-intentions, had left him a stack of self-help books. Narumi had glanced at them once, and then left them untouched in a corner of his dormitory room, forgotten until he got promoted in rank and was allowed to move to a better room.

One of the books had a quote on its cover: It takes at least eighteen days for a habit. Narumi doesn’t recall much else about that book; something about developing good habits, explained in a hundred and fifty excruciatingly dull pages and wrapped in a condescending title. These days, however, he finds himself thinking about this line, his mind turning the words over and over like a handful of worn pebbles in a palm.

It’s the eighteenth day since Narumi first moved into Hoshina’s apartment. By now, they’ve resumed their usual duties at their respective bases. In fact, they’re both on active duty that week. There’s absolutely no reason for Narumi to return to Hoshina’s apartment in the evening, when he has a perfectly comfortable set of quarters in the Ariake Base.

Hoshina stills as Narumi approaches him on his doorstep. He has one hand extended towards his front door, his keys pinched between his fingers. His other hand is carrying a plastic bag – a ready-made meal from the convenience store nearby. “Oh,” he says.

“Is that all you’re eating?” Narumi demands, snatching the bag from Hoshina to peer more closely at its contents.

“We can’t all be gluttons like you.” Hoshina’s tone is light as he unlocks the door. He makes no attempt to reclaim his dinner from Narumi.

Their shoulders bump as they enter the apartment.

=-=-=

“Get up,” Hoshina says. As though to emphasize his words, he yanks Narumi’s pillow out from under his head.

“Hey!”

“Get up,” Hoshina repeats. This time, he punctuates his order by mercilessly flinging a bundle of clothes onto Narumi’s face.

“Wha -?” Narumi manages as he struggles to sit up, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head with one hand. On closer inspection, the clothes turn out to be a set of the Defense Force’s formal dress uniform. His dress uniform, to be exact, all properly ironed. He’s pretty sure that Hoshina’s would be slimmer in the shoulders. More importantly –

“I didn’t pack this,” he says.

“No,” Hoshina agrees, far too cheerful for someone who has just rudely woken Narumi up from his afternoon nap. “Vice-captain Hasegawa just brought it over. He says that you have a thank-you reception with the Force’s donors tonight.”

Narumi groans. “I’m off-duty.” Finally, after two grueling weeks. “I’m sleeping in,” he declares, flopping back down onto his futon.

“Out of the question,” Hoshina retorts. He’s no less merciless as he snatches Narumi’s blanket off and digs his toes pointedly into Narumi’s side, ignoring Narumi’s yelp. “All the Division Captains are supposed to be there.”

“You can’t make me,” Narumi glares when he finally manages to sit up again. “You’re not Hasegawa.”

“I’m not, but he has entrusted me with the responsibility of getting us both there and on time.”

Later, Narumi will blame the fact that he was still only half-awake, and trying to fend off Hoshina’s determined attempts to shepherd him into the bathroom, that he only thinks to ask as Hoshina locks the door behind them, “Us?”

“I’m your boyfriend, aren’t I?” Hoshina says airily as he starts towards the elevator lobby, leaving Narumi to scramble to catch up. The elevator arrives with a cheery ding. “The Publicity Unit has suggested to our esteemed commanders, who agree, that it would be good for our media exposure if I attend as your partner.”

It makes sense. There are usually reporters at these events, and the commanders and captains who are married do typically bring their partners. But, “Why aren’t you in your dress uniform?”

“I’m attending it as your partner,” Hoshina replies, light and matter-of-fact, as though it is explanation enough.

“You’re as much a member of the Force as the rest of us,” Narumi disagrees. “You should be dressed like us.”

“You just want me to be suffering as much as you,” says Hoshina airily, right when the elevator door slides open. There’s a taxi waiting for them in front of the apartment block. Hoshina slides into its backseat, effectively ending the discussion.

Narumi slides in after him mulishly, and jerks the door of the taxi shut with more force than necessary. They spend the journey in silence, Narumi studying Hoshina from the corner of his eye while Hoshina looks out of the window.

If he’s honest with himself, he’s not even sure why the thought of Hoshina attending the reception as a civilian, and as his partner, bothers him so much. Maybe it’s the idea of someone with as much overwhelming skill as Hoshina, being stripped of his identity as a member of the Defense Force and attending an official event, organized by the Force, as a mere accessory. Narumi had heard the idle gossip, back when Hoshina transferred into the Eastern Division. He knows now how untrue it all was; how much stronger and more talented Hoshina is compared to all the gossipers put together. But he had heard the gossip, and had believed it at first, until he finally saw Hoshina in action. Hoshina must have heard the same gossip. Maybe Hoshina had believed it too. Maybe Hoshina still believes it, even though he’s now a Vice-captain in his own right.

Narumi bites his lip.

Or maybe, Narumi thinks, it’s because Hoshina looks far too damned good in his suit.

Hoshina’s face is still turned away from him, his eyes fixed firmly on the passing scenery. Daringly, Narumi risks a more direct look, hoping that Hoshina won’t notice it from their reflection in the window glass. Hoshina’s blazer is a dark charcoal grey, draped smoothly across his shoulders and nipped in at the right places to emphasize his waist. Hoshina’s neck is slim, almost delicate, above his neatly buttoned shirt collar. The knot of his bow tie sits just so, the dark fabric a sharp contrast against Hoshina’s white shirt and pale skin.

Narumi’s fingers twitch. The urge rises in his mind, unbidden, to touch, to trace…

The taxi jolts to a stop. “We’re here,” Hoshina announces.

Narumi blinks. They’ve arrived at a hotel, presumably where the reception is being hosted. Details like that aren’t something which Narumi usually bothers himself with. It’s what he has Hasegawa for.

Now, however, he wishes he had paid more attention to Hasegawa, and to the Publicity Unit, when they had taken turns to brief him. He watches mutely as Hoshina pays their driver, before following him out. There are reporters in front of the hotel – more, in fact, than Narumi recalls from similar receptions in the past – and they turn as one towards Hoshina and him when they spot them, cameras poised and microphones in hands.

Like sharks just before a feeding frenzy, Narumi thinks unkindly.

“Mess this up and I’m telling Publicity that it’s your fault,” Hoshina mutters at him. He sounds as calm as ever, but his eyes look genuinely concerned that Narumi might go off the script.

Narumi wants to scoff. Instead, he flips his fringe off his face, hooks his arm with Hoshina’s, and leans forward to murmur against his ear, “Lead the way, princess.”

The angle makes it difficult for Narumi to see Hoshina’s expression, but the pointed elbow in his ribs is answer enough. Narumi swallows his grin, and lets Hoshina guide them towards the main entrance. He smiles and poses for the cameras – he knows all his good angles – and gives throwaway, flippant answers to the banal questions that accompany the microphones thrust at him.

“How long we’ve been dating? For a while.”

“Dating a fellow officer? He understands my job.”

“Do I find him cute? Certainly.”

“What’s cute about him? Everything.”

“Are you happy?” asks a reporter just as they reach the front steps leading to the main doors of the hotel. Her cheeks are flushed – from the cold of the night, or the heat of the scrum, it’s difficult to tell – and she clutches her recorder like a lifeline.

Narumi turns to face her directly, but Hoshina beats him to it. “Of course,” he says, saccharine sweet.

Then, he shifts, standing slightly on tip-toes, and presses a soft kiss against Narumi’s cheek.

The reporter lets out a small squeak. The cameras around them explode in a series of clicks and white flashes, nearly blinding them. Hoshina’s lips linger for another beat, his breath fluttering against Narumi’s skin, scalding hot. Then, he withdraws, winking at the reporter as he does.

The reporter looks like she might start to hyperventilate. Narumi feels like he can relate.

Instead, he clears his throat. “That’s all you’re getting tonight,” he says as he throws his arm around Hoshina’s shoulders, and begins to steer them past the doors and into the hotel lobby. The doors fall shut behind them, muffling some of the cacophony outside.

“Thank goodness that part is over,” he groans, dragging his hand through his hair.   

Hoshina clicks his tongue. “I wasn’t aware that the great Narumi Gen had so little energy for the media,” he laughs, reaching up and smoothing out the hair strands which had been left unruly in the wake of Narumi’s fingers. “Don’t you ego-surf?”

“Shut up, it’s different.” Narumi rolls his eyes. “Wait. Who told you that!”

“My sources remain secret,” Hoshina smirks. His hands are brisk as he tucks a curl of hair behind Narumi’s ear. Narumi almost leans into Hoshina’s palm, chasing that fleeting touch, before he catches himself.

“Come on,” he coughs, “let’s finish up the rest of tonight.” And, because he can’t resist, adds, “You should be more excited. You’re about to see just how much of a celebrity I am.”

“Really? Last I heard, Mina was still beating you in the popularity polls,” Hoshina replies, but he lets Narumi rest his fingers on the small of his back, and Narumi swallows his retort as he begins guiding them deeper into the hotel, towards the banquet hall.

It’s the first time that Narumi is bringing a partner with him to a work event. He’s had no reason to do so before; the Force doesn’t leave him much free time to socialize outside of it, and he’d rather hoard what free time he does have for himself. He sees no point in meeting the expectations of people who mean nothing to him, even while the same people always get so flustered when he does not. It’s just too tiring.   

Hoshina, however, seems to know exactly what the expectations are for a couple attending an event like this. He remains close by Narumi’s side for most of the evening, their shoulders or elbows or hips occasionally brushing. He laughs at Narumi’s jokes. He engages the newcomers who approach them when Narumi is already speaking to someone else, waiting for the right moment to draw them all into the same conversation. He’s so good at it, that Narumi finds himself wondering if this isn’t the first time that Hoshina has played this role; if Hoshina has had any other girlfriends or boyfriends before this fake, workplace-mandated relationship with him.

In fact, he can already picture it. After all, Hoshina is popular. Not as popular as Ashiro Mina, but he has appeared in enough photographs in the media that he’s still easily recognizable as the Vice-captain of the Third Division. Narumi still wishes wholeheartedly that he had insisted on Hoshina going back to change into his formal uniform. Nearly half of the people who approach them, do so because they want to speak with Hoshina, not Narumi. The ladies flutter their eyelashes at him and giggle behind their hands at his compliments, while the men greet him with a slight bow and clap him in on the shoulder when they leave. It’s all too easy to imagine Hoshina taking things a step further with any of his admirers: wrapping his arm around this lady’s waist to tuck her close against his side, or perhaps leaning back against that gentleman’s chest, just like Hoshina unconsciously does sometimes with Narumi when they watch television together in Hoshina’s living room.

The thought sits uncomfortably with Narumi.

Someone – one of their larger donors – is wrapping up his speech on the stage. It’s one of the rare moments during the reception when Hoshina isn’t next to Narumi. Instead, he’s standing a little way to the side, speaking animatedly with Ashiro. They make a striking pair, her dark formal uniform beside his charcoal grey suit. She has her face tipped up towards him as she murmurs something to his ear, and he tilts his head down towards her to listen attentively.

Narumi’s stomach gives a sour lurch. He downs his remaining champagne in a gulp, and signals to one of the waitstaff circulating around the hall for another.

Unfortunately, someone else reaches him before the waitstaff. 

“So,” Hoshina Souichirou drawls. “My brother and you.”

“If you’re going to give me the ‘hurt him and you die’ speech, don’t bother. Most of the Third Division has already conveyed that.” Joint-training sessions and encounters between the First and Third Divisions had been even more tense than usual in the first month after the news broke on Narumi’s and Hoshina’s supposed relationship.

“It’s not that,” says the elder Hoshina lightly, as Narumi mulls over just how much more annoying a similar set of facial features can be when on another man and when accompanied by a long braid instead of a bowl-cut. “I was just going to say, it’s funny how he has never mentioned you to me or our family before.”

“Why should he? Seems like it would be more troublesome for him if someone like you knew,” Narumi retorts, his mind already drifting away from the conversation. His Hoshina and Ashiro are still talking, and Narumi watches as Hoshina throws his head back in a laugh that looks more genuine than Narumi has seen from him all evening, his tiny fang peeking out from beneath his top lip.

Finally, the waiter reaches him. Narumi grabs the nearest champagne flute and empties it in a long swig. As he drinks, he ignores the tiny voice in his head that sounds a lot like Hoshina, telling him that idiots like him should take it easy. Then, he replaces the empty glass back onto the tray, and gives the elder Hoshina a curt nod. “If you’ll excuse me, Captain Hoshina.”

He marches over to where his own Hoshina is, hooks an arm around Hoshina’s temptingly trim waist, and begins to tug his pretend-boyfriend out of the banquet hall. He tries not to pay attention to the two pairs of eyes watching them, one startled and one far too contemplative for his liking.

They make it back to the hotel lobby before Hoshina finally regains his footing, and sputters, “What was that!”

“I’m not wasting the rest of day-off with those idiots in the reception,” Narumi growls.

Hoshina looks like he has more to say on the topic, but something ahead of them catches his attention. He straightens his jacket, and huffs, “And how are we going to explain this to that lot?”

It’s all the warning Narumi receives, before he pushes the doors open and finds himself confronted, once again, by the scrum of reporters outside. Narumi can practically see their thoughts on their faces as they look up as one, like a pack predators sensing prey, their nosy minds whirring with all sorts of possible reasons why Hoshina and him are leaving the reception early, as their hands clutch their cameras and microphones and recorders eagerly.

Maybe the champagne is finally catching up with him. He feels overheated, his blood thumping through the veins at his temples, making it hard to think. So, he resorts to instinct. He does what he has learnt to do from the very beginning – from before this pretend relationship started, from even before he had joined the Defense Force, from when he was still a scrappy orphan figuring out how to live.

If you don’t want someone to talk about something, you give them an even bigger thing to talk about.

He cups a hand on the small of Hoshina’s back and reels him in, until the slightly shorter man is pressed satisfyingly close against his front. With his other hand, he tips Hoshina’s chin up. He has a brief glimpse of Hoshina’s eyes – the widest yet that he has ever seen, startled and uncertain. Then, he fits his mouth over Hoshina’s lips, and kisses him as good as he’s got.

At first, Hoshina is stiff in his arms. His hands press against Narumi’s chest, his fingers crumpling Narumi’s uniform, to push Narumi away, or to pull him closer – Narumi isn’t sure, and frankly, doesn’t care. He focuses instead on tracing the tip of his tongue along the seam of Hoshina’s lips, seeking entrance, begging for –

And then, it doesn’t matter what he’s begging for, this tumble of emotions all tangled in his chest, because Hoshina moans. Narumi swallows the sound greedily and presses forward, licks in. Hoshina’s mouth tastes like the raspberry dessert at the reception and the champagne that they’ve both been drinking, slick and hot and dangerously addictive. He’s dimly aware of Hoshina’s arms coming up to drape around his neck, and of the press going wild around them, but all those don’t matter because Hoshina has started to kiss him back, equally hot and wet and desperately needy.

He keeps kissing him – bends him back a little just so, to fit their mouths together better – because his many various Hoshina-linked irritations from the night have finally found an outlet. He pours them into Hoshina with the kiss, and accepts Hoshina’s hitched breaths and muffled moans as his recompense, drinking them thirstily until they’re both gasping for air.

He keeps kissing him, because Hoshina is pressing back into the kiss with a fervency that Narumi cannot find a name for, and at some point, it has started to feel like a competition which Narumi doesn’t want to lose.

He keeps kissing him until Hoshina finally tears his mouth away, chest heaving for breath. Hoshina’s lips are berry-red and ripe, and it takes all of Narumi’s self-control not to dive in and claim those lips again. That, and the way Hoshina’s eyes are still so wide as they stare at Narumi, dark with pleasure and something more.

Narumi meets Hoshina’s gaze squarely, and swallows.

Oh.

Oh no.

All too belatedly, Narumi realizes that he might have a problem. A large, Hoshina-sized problem.

=-=-=

At some point, Hoshina moves into Narumi’s quarters at the Ariake Base.

It had seemed perfectly natural and logical when it happened: Hoshina was spending more time at Ariake Base, what with his bonding sessions with the weaponized Kaiju Number 10, and the higher-ups insisting that Narumi and him should practise syncing up for a possible duo-fighting strategy. The Base was already short on dormitory rooms, having to accommodate more officers and staff from Tachikawa Base while the latter is being re-built. As the Captain of the First Division, Narumi’s quarters are relatively large. Therefore, not only would Hoshina sharing Narumi’s quarters help sell the story that they are dating, it also made the most logistical sense.

Narumi even bought Hoshina his own futon set.

“Here,” he said on the first day that Hoshina showed up in his room with an overnight bag slung over his shoulder, thrusting the large Yamazon carton into Hoshina’s hands. “A thank-you gift for your earlier generosity.”

“That’s very kind of you,” said Hoshina in response. “Did you have to borrow money from Shinomiya for this?”

And Narumi had called Hoshina a number of choice names, but he had also help Hoshina set up the futon.

The futon now lives as a permanent fixture in Narumi’s room, folded neatly at the foot of Narumi’s bed when not in use, because Hoshina is a neat person who automatically puts his futon away every morning. Other signs of Hoshina pepper Narumi’s room, too. A second mug sits on Narumi’s desk alongside Narumi’s usual one, while a potted succulent squats on Narumi’s window sill. A new coffee machine occupies a place of pride on Narumi’s tiny kitchenette counter, beside Narumi’s beat-up kettle. Its delivery was the only time that Hoshina was more excited than Narumi about receiving a Yamazon parcel.

All the members of the First and Third Divisions seem to approve of this development. Joint-training sessions become less tense. Individual training sessions with Kikoru and Kafka usually end with them telling him that they’ll tidy up the equipment, that Narumi should go back to his room before Vice-captain Hoshina finishes up in the laboratory with Weapons Number 10. Hasegawa stops coming into Narumi’s room regularly to tidy it, and Narumi swears he caught Hasegawa and Hoshina discussing household cleaning products just the other day. His platoon leaders smirk whenever they see him enter the mess hall with Hoshina for breakfast, but they make room easily for Hoshina at their table as though Hoshina is one of them. 

In fact, living with Hoshina while on duty at Ariake Base feels as easy as living with Hoshina when off-duty in Hoshina’s little apartment in Jimbocho – like a natural extension, almost, although Narumi can’t quite pinpoint the reason why – that Narumi thinks he can be forgiven for taking a while to realize the downsides of sharing a room so closely with someone else.

Namely, that without the bedroom door in Jimbocho separating their sleeping arrangements, it was inevitable that Hoshina would grow more closely attuned with Narumi’s daily habits.

Narumi only realizes this one very late night, when he lets himself into his room close to four o’clock, to find Hoshina waiting up for him.

“I thought so,” Hoshina says, while Narumi stands in his doorway feeling over-exposed in his training gear. “Are you doing this for Director-General Shinomiya?”

Narumi hesitates. His throat is tight, and his eyes suddenly prickle suspiciously. Oh, what the hell. “For the old man, yeah.” He watches warily as Hoshina comes forward to meet him, but lets Hoshina take his elbow and tug him gently towards the center of his room. “For my dumb disciple too. And for Kafka, and Hasegawa, and Tachibana, and Shinonome, and…” He knows he’s rambling now, exhaustion finally catching up on him. For you, he wants to say. “For everyone,” he finishes lamely instead, because Hoshina has clearly stayed up well past his usual bedtime to wait for him, and neither of them needs to deal with Narumi’s emotions right now.

Hoshina doesn’t respond. Instead, he sits on the edge of futon and pats its middle. “Lie down.”

“On your front,” he adds, when he sees Narumi hesitate.

Gingerly, Narumi lies down on his belly. And then nearly scrambles back up again, when he feels the futon shift and dip as Hoshina kneels above him, thighs straddling his hips.

“Stay still,” Hoshina says, more an order than a request. “I’m going to give you a massage. It’ll help your muscles recover. I can tell that you’re too tense.”

Narumi rolls his eyes. “I can recover when I’m dead.” But he does try to relax as Hoshina begins to loosen out his back.

Hoshina’s hands are strong, a product of his swordsmanship, and his fingers are steady and sure as they seek out the knots in Narumi’s muscles and dig in. Narumi winces, then groans, pain giving way to pleasure as his shoulders finally begin to relax.

“Why?” asks Hoshina, after a while, as he finishes working Narumi’s left trapezius muscle and moves on to his right.

It takes even longer for Narumi to realize that he is being spoken to. “Why, what?” he asks, words slurring languorously.

“This late at night,” Hoshina clarifies. Adds, a second later, “Every night.”

“Can’t let them know,” Narumi grins, lazy and wide. “They just think I’m up all night playing games.”

Above him, Hoshina laugh softly, a tiny puff of air. “Proper sleep is also part of training.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Narumi drawls.

Hoshina seems content to leave it at that, and they lapse into silence once more. This time, however, the quiet proves to be a double-edged sword, because Narumi’s attention, free again, chooses to focus on Hoshina instead.

He realizes too late that lying down on Hoshina’s futon may have been a strategic error. Hoshina’s scent envelops him, a combination of mint bodywash and fruity shampoo, of the choji oil which Hoshina uses to oil his swords, and of a warm, woody, cypress sweetness that Narumi has grown accustomed to associating with Hoshina alone.

Narumi bites his lip and tries desperately not to fidget as Hoshina’s hands work their way down his lats, his obliques, his glutes, his calves. By the time Hoshina sits back on his heels and announces that he’s done, Narumi is painfully hard.

“Great,” Narumi rasps. “I’ll just… grab a shower first, before I sleep.”

He waits until Hoshina has turned away, before he springs up, grabs his towel from its hook by the door, and flees.

Not for the first time, Narumi is grateful for how the late hour means that he is alone in the common showers – now more so than ever. He groans in relief as he wraps his hand around his dick. Imagines that it is Hoshina’s hand on him instead. Hoshina’s mouth.

He pictures Hoshina in the shower with him now, and he grunts as he gives his dick another tug.

Hoshina would be braced with his back against the tiled wall, all slippery and wet beneath the shower spray and perfectly slutty, as he hooks one of his legs around Narumi’s hips, pulling Narumi closer.

He would beg Narumi to fuck his thick cock into his pretty pink hole, and Narumi would gladly oblige. Hoshina’s eyes would widen beneath his silly bangs with every thrust, and his breaths would shatter in staccato gasps. Narumi would grip those his gloriously muscular thighs, those same thighs that had been straddling Narumi just a while ago. He would dig his fingers into that firm flesh and feel the muscles tremble, as he hoists Hoshina up against the wall and carries on fucking him as deep as he can go, while Hoshina sobs his name and begs Narumi to let him come, begs Narumi to breed him…  

Narumi comes with a hoarse gasp, Hoshina’s name falling from his lips, Soushirou.

He lingers in the shower after that, waiting until Hoshina is likely to have fallen asleep, before he towels himself off and makes his way back to their room.

No, his room.

His room, which Hoshina has been sleeping in, on-and-off, for two months and counting.

Ah, shit. He’s so screwed.

=-=-=

Happily, after Narumi’s display on the front steps of the hotel after the reception, everyone seems to accept that Hoshina and him must be dating. The number of internet articles and forum posts that debate the legitimacy of their relationship, finally dwindles. The media no longer camps en masse for them, and the reporters who interview them no longer ask them questions about each other on camera. The most they have to contend with is the occasional paparazzi whenever they go out on runs together, or to do the groceries together, or on their weekly “dates” to whichever new café catches Hoshina’s eye in order to keep up appearances.

Hoshina never asks Narumi about the kiss, although Narumi spends the full week after that with his heart in his throat, waiting for Hoshina to do so. Eventually, Narumi concludes that Hoshina must have written it off as something Narumi had done to sell the relationship, no different from all the other times that Narumi has wrapped his arm around Hoshina or held Hoshina’s hand or even kissed Hoshina’s cheek while on their “dates”.

In fact, Hoshina has been remarkably good about playing along. He shares his desserts with Narumi, feeding Narumi with pieces of cake from his own fork. He twines his fingers with Narumi’s as he leans over to nuzzle at the soft patch of skin under Narumi’s jaw. He does it all so well that Narumi, who should know better, half-wonders sometimes if they are really dating.

That is, until Narumi habitually reaches for Hoshina’s hand while they are in the supermarket aisle, or throws his arm across Hoshina’s shoulder, only for Hoshina to duck away neatly without missing a step, and Narumi remembers that there are no cameras about.

Narumi can’t help the way that his gut twists whenever that happens, but he’s working on it.

In contrast, battling kaiju is a welcome distraction.

Narumi arrives at the scene, just in time to watch the honju get hit by Ashiro Mina’s cannon. It explodes in huge, chunky bits, splattering him with goo. He frowns.

“That should have been the First Division’s kill, and you know it,” he calls out to Hoshina, who is watching the proceedings from across the road, just outside the splatter radius. 

Hoshina laughs. He stretches with his arms above his head as he saunters towards Narumi, picking his way past several yoju carcasses. “Maybe it would have been, if your Division had moved faster.”

Narumi grimaces as he tries to wipe the goo off his face with a hand. “My Division was busying cleaning up the yoju which escaped your Division.”

Hoshina steps into the space right before him. He clicks his tongue as he drags his eyes over Narumi’s body, taking in Narumi’s goo-covered state, and then jabs his finger at the cleanest spot in the center of Narumi’s chest. “But weren’t those yoju in districts under the First Division, Mr Stay-Out-of-my-Territory?”

Narumi sputters. “You’re so… you’re so juvenile, with your stupid slitty eyes and your stupid bowl-cut and your stupid pointy fingers.” He makes a grab for Hoshina’s hand, determined to drag it through the thick patch of goo on his stomach.

Hoshina smacks Narumi’s hand away as he dances just out of reach. He smirks, tiny fang flashing. “Wow, I’m glad that our living arrangements have not sullied our wonderful working relationship. I had been worried.”

Narumi snorts. “It’s only been six months,” he says, the words tumbling unthinkingly out of his mouth. “You make it sound as though it’s been much longer.”

Then, he freezes.

Six months.

It’s already been six months.

He supposes that he should be relieved. By tomorrow, the Publicity Unit will contact them with a copy of the press statement announcing their amicable break-up. Both Hoshina and him will finally get their own places back to themselves, and they’ll no longer have to keep up this farce. He should be relieved, he repeats to himself. Happy, even. But his chest feels tight, and Narumi suddenly wants nothing more than to retreat back to the base and make for the showers, where no one can accuse him of crying.

Instead, Narumi forces himself to smile.

Hoshina is still smirking at him, seemingly unaware of the significance of Narumi’s words, or the emotional crisis which they have caused.  

“Tell you what,” Narumi says, after he makes another futile goo-covered dive at Hoshina, “I’ll forgive your Division for this if you treat me to ramen later.”

Hoshina’s gaze is incredulous. “Are you saying this because you’re broke again?

Narumi mock-pouts. “Can’t I just want ramen for supper?”

Hoshina hesitates, then sighs. “Fine. The usual place?”

“Deal,” Narumi says, and tries not to look too relieved. “I’ll meet you there at nine.”

Nine o’clock at night gives Narumi exactly four hours to re-group with his Division, conduct the de-brief, shower, and make his way to the tiny hole-in-the-wall ramen shop that’s near Hoshina’s apartment. It’s not a lot of time, but it’s enough for Narumi to think.

Contrary to what the old fogeys in the Defense Force like to believe, Narumi doesn’t actually rush into a battle blindly, fueled by nothing but impulse. He considers his options. He strategizes. He runs the various possible scenarios through his head methodically, turns each point and over, until he is reasonably satisfied about his plan of attack. He just prefers that those fogeys continue to think that way about him, because he loves their expressions when he proves them wrong.

Objectively, his current situation with Hoshina is no different from any having to formulate a new attack plan.

Point 1: He can no longer imagine not having Hoshina in his life.

Narumi now knows why Hoshina chose to have his apartment in Jimbocho when he could have had a slightly larger and more modern one elsewhere; that Hoshina had been especially charmed by the small park with gingko trees at the foot of the apartment block, where the gingko leaves a brilliant gold in autumn. He knows Hoshina’s favourite bookshops in the neighbourhood, all of them warmly lit and scented with old paper. He knows Hoshina’s regular coffee shop when he’s off-duty, a tiny space that’s two streets away from Hoshina’s apartment, where the owners play music on vinyl records and the customers order their drinks by selecting their coffee beans.

He knows how Hoshina likes his coffee (black, no sugar), and how Hoshina has no qualms about eating cooked tomatoes but will avoid eating raw ones if he can help it. He’s still working on improving Hoshina’s food choices at mealtimes, but he knows that Hoshina will eat anything that he puts in Hoshina’s bowl.

He knows the lithe curve of Hoshina’s back whenever Hoshina sits in front of him to have his hair blow-dried, and the way the top two knobs of Hoshina’s spine peek out above the neck-hole of oversized t-shirt that he wears to sleep, pale and delicate and just begging to be kissed.  He knows the way that Hoshina’s breathing evens out when he falls asleep at night, and the tell-tale hitch in Hoshina’s breath when he begins to stir in the morning.

He knows the warmth of Hoshina’s touch when their limbs brush. He knows the dazzling brightness of Hoshina’s unguarded smiles.

He would fight before he gives up any of this knowledge to anyone else.

How do you unlearn someone when they have carved themselves, stroke by stroke, into your very being?

Point 2: For Narumi to retain his position by Hoshina’s side after today, he must ask Hoshina out.

Just the thought of confessing makes Narumi’s mouth go dry. There are so many ways that this could go; so many ways that this could go terribly wrong. His mind races double-time, sieving through and discarding all the possible permutations of words and scenarios as swiftly as his brain can think them up. Nothing seems good enough. After all –  

Point 3: In order for his plan to succeed, Hoshina must like him back enough to say yes.

God, he really hopes that Hoshina will say yes.

=-=-=

“You’re being weirdly quiet tonight,” Hoshina says as they duck through the exit of the ramen shop.

“Yeah?” Narumi shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. The streets of Tokyo are noticeably colder than the inside the shop, November suffusing the air with a crisp autumn chill. He wonders if he should offer Hoshina his scarf. Hoshina had earlier forgotten his scarf. Hoshina might be more inclined to accepting Narumi’s confession if he’s warmer and wearing Narumi’s scarf.

“Yeah,” Hoshina mimics. “I was expecting you to remind me to take the bill.” He sounds nonchalant, but Narumi been around with him for long enough by now to hear the undercurrent of worry in his voice.

“I knew you would remember,” Narumi replies, trying for casual, but even he can hear how distracted he sounds.

Habit guides their feet as they begin to walk back towards Hoshina’s apartment. Beside him, Hoshina has fallen quiet. The ensuing silence stretches out between them, as delicate and as brittle as spun glass.

Narumi takes a deep breath. “Wait.”

Hoshina pauses. He turns to face Narumi, head cocked inquisitively.

“It’s about tomorrow,” Narumi blurts.

Hoshina raises his brows.

“It’s just,” Narumi stammers. “That is to say. I mean, I, erm…” Already, he can feel the night shattering around them.

He grits his teeth, unwinds his scarf, and wraps it around Hoshina’s neck.

Then, he grabs Hoshina’s face with hands, and kisses him.

Hoshina’s mouth is slack with surprise. Narumi takes full advantage of this, and surges forward to deepen the kiss. Hoshina tastes of the garlic that he had spooned into his ramen in ungodly heaps. It should be gross, but really, it only makes Narumi happier, because he’s fairly certain that he must be the first person to have kissed Hoshina while Hoshina tastes like that. Besides, he’s pretty sure that his mouth doesn’t taste any better.

But whereas the kiss in front of the hotel was all about making a statement for the press, this kiss is supposed to be different. Narumi forces himself to gentle the kiss, pulling back to nip softly at Hoshina’s lips, tender and sweet. He plants a series of butterfly kisses along the line of Hoshina’s jaw before nosing at the sensitive skin behind Hoshina’s ear. In his arms, Hoshina shivers, and Hoshina’s hands come up to clutch at his shoulders as Hoshina makes a soft whine.

Smiling, Narumi nibbles his way back to Hoshina’s lips, kiss-swollen and tempting, before finally away with a light peck.

Hoshina peers up at him. His hands remain on Narumi’s shoulders, and his gaze is the most vulnerable that Narumi has ever seen.

“About tomorrow,” Narumi’s begins again, now more certain of himself.

Unfortunately, that’s also when a camera flashes across the street.

The effect is instantaneous. Hoshina’s eyes fall to half-mast, his expression literally shuttering. He turns away from Narumi and continues to walk in the direction of his apartment. “Come on,” he says without looking back.

Neither of them speaks for the rest of the journey back. Narumi watches miserably as Hoshina heads straight into his bedroom after they return to the apartment, the bedroom door falling shut behind him with resolute click.

Suffice to say, Narumi really, really hates the press.

=-=-=

Morning dawns, as it always does. Narumi wakes slowly. He huddles in his futon. Smushes his face into his pillow. Anything to postpone getting up and seeing Hoshina once more.

It’s funny. He had never thought of himself as a coward, until today.

When he does finally get up, the apartment is unusually empty. It’s Sunday – the one day in the week that Hoshina forgoes his morning run in favor of an extra hour in bed and a longer breakfast.

And yet, Hoshina is nowhere in sight. Narumi even checks Hoshina’s bedroom twice.

He wonders if he should get started on their breakfast. It’s entirely possible that Hoshina is already breakfasting somewhere else in the city, away from Narumi, to celebrate his first day of freedom. Or maybe Hoshina has gone straight to the Publicity Unit’s office in Ariake to hurry them about the press statement.

Hell, after that look which Hoshina had levelled at him last night, Narumi won’t even be surprised even if Hoshina decides that he’d rather not wait for their colleagues in Publicity, and makes the announcement himself on his socials.

The thought makes Narumi’s nose feel strangely stuffy.

He’s still trying to decide what to do with himself, when there’s a familiar jangle of keys at the front door. Narumi turns towards it, just as Hoshina steps into the apartment. There’s a beat as their gazes meet, and they freeze.

“Oh, you’re up,” Hoshina finally says.

At the same time, Narumi blurts, “I didn’t kiss you last night because of the camera.”

They continue to stare at each other.

“Um,” says Hoshina.

“Are you going to close that door?” Narumi asks.

Hoshina blinks, then mutely does as Narumi suggests. Narumi shifts his weight nervously from foot to foot as he watches Hoshina toe off his shoes and step into the living room, before looking up to face him squarely.

He gulps. “Last night,” he tries again. “I didn’t know that the paparazzi had someone there.”

Hoshina tilts his head, the universal gesture for I’m listening.

“I wanted to ask you out last night,” Narumi continues, the words pouring out of him in an uncontrollable rush. “I wanted us to still be together today.” He swallows. With Hoshina standing this close in front of him, the urge to reach out, to touch, is almost unbearable.

Tentatively, Narumi stretches out his hand. He closes his fingers around Hoshina’s wrist, and squeezes just hard enough to feel the delicate bones shift beneath his palm. Hoshina’s skin is so warm to touch. Narumi would miss this warmth after today.

“But I’ll understand if you don’t want to,” he continues. “We can go back to being colleagues. I’ll cooperate with Publicity about the press statement. It’s just that I’ll…” He exhales shakily as he drags his other hand down his face. “I’ll really, really miss you,” he finishes, looking down at his feet. “Shit, I sound like a lovesick fool. Why aren’t you stopping me?”

Hoshina’s hand is trembling in his grip. Alarmed, Narumi snaps his head up, just in time to see Hoshina’s shoulders start to shake. “Wait, why are you laughing?!”

“Idiot,” Hoshina says, softer and fonder than anything Narumi deserves. He reaches up with his free hand to brush Narumi’s fringe from his forehead. His callused fingers trace the side of Narumi’s face, before caressing Narumi’s jaw. “I know.”

Narumi blinks. He must have misheard. Maybe he’s still asleep, and this is all a dream. “You –”

“I stayed up last night thinking about it,” Hoshina says, sounding incredibly wry. “If my complexion is poor today, I’m blaming you.”

Narumi gulps. “So… is that a yes?”

Hoshina leans forward. His lips brush against Narumi’s, soft and fleeting.

It’s not enough.

Narumi tugs Hoshina forward again before he can fully withdraw. His other arm wraps around Hoshina to cradle the back of Hoshina’s head. He tangles his fingers in Hoshina’s hair and tugs, tilting Hoshina’s face up until that teasing, perfect mouth is at the right angle for Narumi to claim.

It’s a while before either of them speaks.

“This confession didn’t go as I had planned,” Narumi complains when they finally pull away, an inestimable amount of time later.

Hoshina’s cheeks are still pink, but he sniggers. “You mean you had a plan?”

Narumi splutters. “I did! And it was awesome!”

“I’m sure it was,” Hoshina says, managing to sound only eighty percent mocking.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Narumi obliges. Gladly.

“I went to the store and bought some stuff,” Hoshina says, eventually. They’re both breathing hard. He holds up the hand that Narumi had been gripping. A plastic bag dangles from it, with the logo of the nearby supermarket that Hoshina only ever visits when Narumi insists that they get fresh groceries together. “I wanted to make breakfast for a change, but the fridge was empty.”

“Give that here,” Narumi says as he grabs the bag from his now-boyfriend, and throws in another kiss, a quick peck, for good measure. “You couldn’t make a proper breakfast to save your life.”