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Tooru knew—objectively—how he’d ended up here. A delayed flight, a last minute bus, a canceled reunion, a blizzard. He knew all that. But it felt almost fabricated, just how comically the universe seemed to have aligned against him.
A delayed flight: fine, he could be a little late, it was no big deal. If he caught the last bus, he would probably make it on time, even if he wouldn’t get much use out of his hotel room with its soft, king bed. The airport was practically empty; no one wanted to travel in weather like this and flights were being grounded left and right.
But Tooru had forgotten a critical piece of information. His flight might have been delayed, but Tobio’s flight had been scheduled to arrive late. In other words, the last bus out was almost empty, except for Tooru and, in another row, as far away as he could get, Tobio.
And then, just as they were leaving the city limits and Tooru’s service was starting to dip and waver with the weather, he got a notification. An email from Yamashita Ao, his class president at Kitagawa Daiichi who had organized this whole thing in the first place. Due to weather, blahblahblah, he’d work to organize something if the storms passed, etcetera etcetera, he hoped everyone was safe and healthy, he’d reach out again soon. Judging from the muffled curses and the souring scent coming from the back of the bus, Tobio had received it as well.
And then, something like halfway through their trip, as the bus struggled alone through the dark and increasingly snow-covered roads of Fukushima prefecture, the real blizzard hit. They managed to make it as far as the next village—if it could even be called that, each building far removed from the next, more a loose collection of unaffiliated houses than anything—before the driver pulled over and stopped the bus.
“Sorry,” he said with a shrug when Tooru asked him (in a normal and not at all panicked way) why they were stopping. “Can’t drive in this. If it clears up tomorrow, maybe we can go, but unless they clear the roads out here, there’s nothing I can do.”
The driver was a beta with an infuriatingly mild scent, but Tooru and Tobio’s agitation was more than enough to make the confined bus unbearable. “We can’t just stay here,” Tooru said, trying not to raise his voice. Tobio was still sitting, still there, but silent and unmoving. “I can’t just stay here with-” He cut himself off before he said anything stupid, anything too revealing or too not mature-and-moved-on.
“You can go find somewhere to stay,” the driver said, unbothered. “I suggest at least finding some warm food. But I wouldn’t go out without a coat, the radio said it’s well below freezing.”
Tooru didn’t have a coat—not one suited for this freak weather anyway—but he didn’t care. He gathered his things quickly, doing his best not to look in Tobio’s direction, and stormed towards the door. “Let me off,” he demanded. Maybe there was someone with a truck with- with those chains on the tires or something like that. Maybe they’d take him anywhere else. At the very least, he wasn’t going to just stay there with him.
With another half hearted warning about the weather, the driver opened the door. The wind was so bitter and biting that it literally howled as it snaked through the bus, bringing with it flurries of snow that stung Tooru’s cheeks. He almost changed his mind, but then he happened to glance back and caught sight of a head of sleek black hair, big blue eyes peering over the back of a bus seat, wide and watchful. There were worse things than the cold, he decided, and stepped off.
The doors closed quickly behind him, and Tooru was filled with an instant regret as snow quickly wet his shoes and filled the open bottoms of his pants, chilling him quickly to the bone. He didn’t regret getting off the bus, not really anyway. He regretted agreeing to this whole thing in the first place. The reunion, the trip home, the overnight bus ride. He should have at least had the common sense to step off the bus the second he realized Tobio was on it too.
But there he was instead, trudging through snow so thick it dragged at his legs and whipped at his face, heading in the direction of- Well. Something, surely, though it was increasingly hard to see even the glow of lights through the storm.
The snow muffled all sounds, and anything that did manage to get through was quickly stolen away by the wind, so it took a minute or two before Tooru heard it: his own name being called, almost frantically, in an all too familiar voice.
He pretended to ignore it for a little longer, hoping Tobio would just give up and get back on the bus, but he just grew louder, closer, more insistent. It was too cold, Tooru thought, gritting his chattering teeth tight. Too cold, too late, too dangerous. Neither of them should be out, really, but Tobio got sick easily, and if Tooru had left the safety of the bus to escape him, then for god’s sake, he should have just stayed put.
Tooru paused reluctantly, the cold settling in even quicker, and waited for Tobio to catch up. When he did—his bag over his shoulders, his little puffer coat zipped up to his chin—his skin was already splotchy red over almost translucent white, his eyes squinted against the wind and snow, his ebony hair dusted with frost and snow. He looked miserable and freezing in just a matter of seconds. Minutes, maybe? Tooru realized he couldn’t even see the lights of the bus anymore.
“What is it?” he demanded, his casual deadpan tone ruined by the way he had to scream over the wind.
Tobio got as close as he could manage to drag himself, closing the distance between them so he could lean in to speak. “It’s too cold!” he yelled back. “We can’t be out here!”
At that, Tooru had to roll his eyes. Or rather, he would have, if it didn’t feel like they were freezing to his eyelids. “We wouldn’t be out here if you had stayed on the bus!”
Tobio just stared back at him with that dead-fish kind of stare he got when he was going to be impossibly stubborn about something. Tooru knew better than to argue. Either that, or he was going to die on the spot if he had to spend one more second standing still in the snow, so he just made a frustrated sound, turned around, and kept walking. This time, Tobio was right at his heel.
The storm was disorienting. Not only did Tooru have no clue where they were going (and he felt a little like he might be getting frostbite on his extremities), but he couldn’t hear anything. After whipping around three times in a panic upon realizing he couldn’t hear Tobio’s footsteps behind him only to come face to face with the startled man himself, Tooru grit his teeth and refused the urge. If Tobio got lost, that was on him, and if he died in the storm, well then he had no one to blame but himself. That was all.
After a while, though, Tooru couldn’t even think about that. All he could think about was how much the cold hurt, how it was impossible to see anything in the dark except the untouched whiteness ahead of him, and how the chances of him actually dying seemed to be getting higher with each step he took. They’d been walking for far too long, hadn’t they? And the storm was only worsening.
Tooru didn’t know how long it was before he suddenly heard Tobio calling for him again, quiet at first, and then far more animated than he had any reason to be. With stiff limbs and a short temper, Tooru turned, ready to tell him off for making them stop again, but then he caught sight, off in the distance, of light: bright and yellow and warm.
“Tobio,” he whispered, though there was no way Tobio could hear him. “Tobio.”
“Tooru, light!” Tobio was yelling, reaching out with hands that were red and swollen from the cold. “Light, there!”
“I see!” Tooru yelled back, too overwhelmed with relief to bother being annoyed. “Let’s go, let’s go!”
Tobio didn’t need to be told twice. Already, their feet were moving forward, pushing through the quickly piling snow in the direction of the light that would hopefully be their savior.
The closer they got, the clearer it became, until it became obvious that it was a house, not just some lone streetlight or vending machine or something like that, and Tooru couldn’t help but pick up the pace once the shape of it slowly came into view.
And then, suddenly, they were at the door. Tooru’s hands were so cold they burned, but he pounded at the door with abandon, quickly joined by Tobio as they called for help, hoping someone would hear them.
The door opened so suddenly they almost fell through, and when Tooru looked up, he found a man around his age in the doorway: tan skin, dark hair, broad shoulders, all warm and soft looking in a knit sweater and pajama pants, his feet dry in his slippers. An alpha, probably, but Tooru’s nose was somehow stuffed and runny at the same time and he couldn’t really breathe in to catch it. He looked… oddly familiar, for some reason, and he was looking at them like he was thinking the same.
And then Tobio said, “You!” and the man’s gray eyes widened slightly and he said, “Goody two shoes?” to which Tobio replied, “No!” to which Tooru said, “Can we please come in before I lose my fingers, please?” And the man moved aside quickly and ushered them in, shutting the door firmly behind them.
Some snow had already blown in with them, so Tooru didn’t feel so bad about struggling out of his shoes in the genkan, but for some reason, the man cursing at the sight of the snow that fell out of his pant legs didn’t exactly make him feel any better about the way his skin was mottled red and burning with pain. Tobio had at least tucked his pants into his socks on the bus, it seemed, so while the cold, wet had been inescapable, at least the snow hadn’t been on his skin. Still, neither of them had been spared from the bitter cold, and it showed as the man rushed away to grab towels and dry clothes for the,
“Who is he?” Tooru hissed through chattering teeth when the man was out of sight. “You know him, right?”
“The Inarizaki twins,” Tobio loudly whispered back, peeling soaking wet socks off his almost purple toes. “He was the wing spiker. His hair was gray, the other was blond, remember?”
Tooru did, vaguely. He’d never played them, but they’d been pretty famous. The other one had gone pro, he was pretty sure, though he hadn’t paid too much attention to the world of volleyball in the last few years. “Miya… Atsumu’s the blond one, who’s this one?”
“Osamu,” came a voice from above them, and Tooru almost fell on his cold, wet ass as he reeled up. Miya Osamu was there, holding out some dry towels for them. “Yer Oikawa, right? And I remember you, Tobio-kun.”
Tooru frowned a little at the familiarity, and the way Tobio accepted the towel silently with a ducked head. “Yeah. Oikawa Tooru. Sorry for the intrusion, but thank you for letting us in.”
“No problem, you’d have died out there. Hell, ya still might by the looks of ya. I drew up a bath for ya. Warm, not hot. You can go warm up together. Yer datin’ right?”
Tobio blanched a somehow even sicklier shade of white, and Tooru forced out a sharp laugh. “No. Dating, us? No, haha, that was just- that was ages ago, no. Hah!”
Osamu looked back and forth between them with an unreadable look. “Well,” he said finally, drawing it out a bit, “yer still welcome to go to the bath together. I don’t think either of ya should stay this cold for long, for yer own health.”
“Right,” Tooru said, managing a smile. “Yes, that sounds like something we should do, right Tobio-chan? Off to the bath, come on!”
“Straight down the hall,” Osamu told them, stepping out of their way. “I left dry clothes for both of ya, though they might be a little big.” He wasn’t much taller than Tooru, and maybe not any taller than Tobio at all, but he was admittedly much broader than either of them. Still, any clothes that weren’t the heavy, frozen things Tooru was currently wearing were absolutely perfect in his eyes.
He and Tobio murmured their thanks as they filed off to the bathroom, their joints practically creaking as they shuffled in on bare feet, pants pushed up to their knees to avoid dripping on Osamu’s soft wooden floors. Warm floors, Tooru realized with painful delight as he stepped out of the genkan.
The bathroom was big—from the little Tooru had glimpsed of the house, it seemed spacious and new, though it had a certain older charm to it, like someone with a lot of money had remade a traditional home with all the features of modern comfort—and Tooru and Tobio stood inside in silence for a moment, taking it in rather than… well. Talking, or anything like that.
It was nice, with what appeared to be an unusually large bathtub on one side (probably a worthwhile purchase for someone of Osamu’s stature) and a long rectangle rainfall shower along the other, partially separated by a glass divider in the center of the room. The bath was still steadily filling, and Tooru saw it was set at just thirty seven degrees, which made his nose wrinkle in distaste even if he understood.
“Warm,” he reminded Tobio sternly as he made his way into the shower, his clothes still soaking wet and stuck to him, “not hot.”
“Mn.” Tobio said, following him in. Tooru turned the water on, not bothering to stay out of it until it warmed. Even the cold water was better than the storm outside, and Tobio seemed to agree, because he stepped in too.
They both hissed out twin breaths as the water began to warm, though Tooru knew by any objective measures it was still plenty cold. He didn’t care though, it felt too good, and he wanted it on him and not his icicle clothing now.
He supposed his and Tobio’s… history came in handy as they both began to pull off their clothes with renewed fervor, but after so many years in locker rooms and with his current state of desperation, he probably wouldn’t have thought twice about stripping naked in front of anyone. Still, there was something… comfortable—familiar—about it with Tobio, even if they didn’t touch, didn’t look-
Slowly, as the water warmed and Tooru’s nose cleared, he began to catch Tobio’s scent again. It wasn’t all bitter and distressed like it had been on the bus anymore, and Tooru tried to be subtle as he breathed it in.
Once he was finally clean and… not-exactly-frozen, his and Tobio’s clothes discarded in a soggy pile against the wall, Tooru took a calming breath, and stepped out of the water. “I’m going to… get in the bath.”
“Oh,” Tobio said after a moment. “Right. Um.”
“It’s big,” Tooru said, because it was. Bigger than the one in the apartment they’d shared for- for a long time. “You should probably warm up too.”
Tobio was quiet again, for so long that Tooru bit his cheek and started to walk away. Then the shower turned off, and when he glanced back, he could make out the fuzzy shape of Tobio’s body moving quickly behind the steamed up glass. He looked away quickly, and then sunk himself incrementally into the heat of the bath.
Seconds later, there was Tobio. It was impossible, really, to not look at him, so Tooru tried to just… keep his eyes somewhere safe. Like Tobio’s shoulder or something, flushed an angry red from the meager heat of the shower. Tobio stood there for a second before finally stepping forward, and then Tooru did have to look away as Tobio stepped into the tub one leg at a time, gasping quietly in relief or pain or something in between as he joined Tooru in the water.
Tooru bit back a sound when their legs slid together, and they both quickly angled themselves a little against opposite walls of the tup, a few centimeters of space between their legs. Tooru allowed himself to look up again, and he found Tobio there looking back at him, his blue eyes big and his face set in that I-won’t-show-anything look of his that gave away much more than intended.
“Better?” Tooru asked after a moment, not knowing what else to do.
Tobio hesitated before sinking down a bit until his chin and mouth were underwater, and nodding slightly. Even now, even after so long, he looked so young still. Tooru wondered if he looked like that too, or if Tobio still saw him the way he always had: the untouchable, inscrutable tyrant he’d been when they met.
He looked away again, down at his own hands distorted under the water, slowly regaining their color. He didn’t really know what else to say. Ideally, he’d planned to avoid Tobio as much as possible all weekend, but obviously that wouldn’t be happening. But Tooru wasn’t… It had been a long time, maybe, but not long enough. What, three years? Four?
How many years did it take to forget the feeling of knowing someone completely? Tooru was still counting, it seemed.
He lost track of time as his body slowly thawed in the tepid water, but Tobio had never been particularly patient. Even when they’d bathed together back then- Well, Tobio could be convinced to… stay in the bath, so to speak, but he’d never had patience for bathing. Clearly that hadn’t changed.
The water dropped and lapped at the sides of the tub as Tobio moved, pulling himself up with his hands on the edge. “I’m going to…”
“Yeah.” Tooru shut his eyes and tipped his head back. “Go ahead.” He resisted the urge to say anything about the alpha outside, or the apparent familiarity between the two of them. Tobio drew himself out of the tub, and it was another few moments before he finally walked away. Tooru, eyes firmly shut, wondered if he’d been watching him.
There wasn’t much in the way of steam in the bathroom, but Tobio’s scent still lingered in the air. He smelled the way he always had, like blueberries just shy of ripeness—more tangy than sweet—and soft, milky vanilla. Tooru sucked in lungfuls of it and told himself he hadn’t missed it at all.
He ended up lingering until the water stopped feeling warm and even the faintest hint of berries dissipated, leaving the clean, musty smell of soap and still water, and his own scent, heavy over it all like a blanket of snow.
Finally, he got out, limbs dragging, and set the tub to drain. When he dried off, there was a set of clothes waiting for him. Now that he could breath and smell again, he finally caught Miya Osamu’s scent: smoky pine and mossy earth, and the faintest hint of black tea. It was… it was fine. Tooru had no opinions, and certainly no positive ones. He did not take any kind of a breath (especially not a deep one) as he pulled the soft, thick sweater over his head.
Osamu had been right in that it fit a little large, which was a pretty new experience for Tooru. He had always been tall, not just for an omega, but for anyone really. Same as Tobio, though he’d gained a few centimeters on Tooru somewhere along the way. That was all though, really, especially since he’d left volleyball. Osamu was big in other ways. Breadth-wise, that was.
Tooru had the sweater, a pair of thick, blue sweatpants, and some warm, wool socks. In the hall waiting for him were a pair of slippers, quilted with a greenish floral cloth that looked distinctly grandma-ish. Still, they were close in size and he was still cold, so he wore them.
When he shuffled back out to the living room, not knowing where else to go, he found Tobio sitting on a cushion by what appeared to be a wood burning fireplace, until Tooru got a little closer and realized it was gas. The room itself had big glass walls, floor to ceiling windows wrapping around just the corner of the house from the front door to the well behind them, interrupted only by the column of the stone fireplace. For how close the storm seemed to be raging outside, the room was toasty and warm.
Tobio, in front of the fire, was wearing navy sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt, and he had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape or cocoon. He looked far from the picture of health, his color still off and a suspicious sheen of sweat on his forehead to accompany his red cheeks, but he looked more man and less icicle, which was an improvement.
He was also listening to the gray Miya with wide, attentive eyes, his body leaning forward—away from the warmth of the fire—as he nodded along to something Osamu was saying. Tooru couldn’t make out any words, just the low, lilting cadence of the alpha’s words.
Tobio was the first to see him, and when he straightened slightly, head turning, it drew Osamu’s attention too. Rather than meet either of their gazes, Tooru looked out the window instead. It was hard to see with the wildness of the storm in the dark, but he could make out the blur of snow whipping around outside, directionless and in all directions all at once. It sent a shiver through him just looking at it.
“You should sit by the fire before you get sick,” Tobio said, his tone brusque but his voice a little quieter than it should have been. Osamu was already up and grabbing another cushion, setting it opposite Tobio’s and picking up a blanket to bring to Tooru. Tooru took it, reluctant but desperate, and Osamu gestured for him to sit as he passed by him and made for the kitchen.
“I’ll make both of ya tea and somethin’ to eat. Any allergies?”
“No,” Tooru said, at the same time that Tobio said “Tooru can’t eat spicy food.” Tooru’s head snapped over, but Tobio was already staring fixedly at the floor. Tooru couldn’t tell if the red of his ears was because of the fire, the cold, or something else entirely. He didn’t say anything, though, he just nodded when Osamu glanced over to confirm, and finally went over to sit by the fire.
Tobio’s scent was mellow and soft, but it grew a little sharper as Tooru approached. He ignored him as he sat cross legged on the cushion Osamu had left him, the fire instantly warming his skin, but not yet sinking in. If he let himself, he would probably just lean closer and closer until he was pressed against the undoubtedly burning-hot glass, and there maybe the heat would sink into his cold-damp bones.
While Osamu was in the kitchen—although the kitchen was by all accounts just an extension of the living room—Tooru took the opportunity to speak, his face turned away towards the sofa. “You should have stayed on the bus. You should know better than that.”
Tobio’s scent spiked a little. “I’m not a kid,” he snapped under his breath. “I can do whatever I want.”
“Oh, and you do, don’t you? It’s always about what Tobio wants.”
“You’re the one who got off first! Was I supposed to just let you go get lost in the snow?”
“Yes, actually,” Tooru hissed, his fingers gripping tight to the blanket around his shoulders. “Yes. We’re not- We’re nothing, there was no reason for you to follow me! And look at you now-” He turned to Tobio, eyes blazing, to take in his splotchy skin and the redness of his nose, the chapped blue-tint of his lips. “If you’re not sick yet, you will be by tomorrow. If you’re not a kid, stop acting like one!”
Tobio glared at him, his dark eyes fierce and maybe a little glassy. “Because you were so mature, running into a blizzard because you couldn’t stand sitting on a bus with me for a few hours? Sorry i can’t just- just move on like we were-”
“Sorry to interrupt,” said Osamu, standing in front of them with a carefully neutral expression on his face and a tray of food and tea in his hands. “My ma always says it’s bad form to argue on an empty stomach. It’s easy to mistake hunger for somethin’ else. Here.”
Tooru glared at him for a moment before remembering himself—or more specifically, remembering that without this unfinished twin set, he (and Tobio) would still be caught in a blizzard and/or dead by now—and bowing his head in thanks as he took the tray.
He set it on the hearth between him and Tobio and took a deep breath, but before he could muster up thanks, his stomach let out a loud and rather humiliating growl. Tobio seemed to also forget himself, and his lips curled up a little momentarily before he forced them flat again. Osamu, for his part, just huffed out a sound that could have passed for a laugh, and moved back towards the couch.
“It smells delicious,” Tooru mumbled, covering his embarrassment with appreciation as he took a bowl in his hands and ladled out some warm oden.
“It better be,” said Osamu, his voice finally carrying something of that inescapable cockiness the Miya’s had been oh-so famous for. “If I can’t cook, I’ll be out of a job.”
Tooru lifted his head in question, but it was Tobio who answered it. “Your restaurant is in Tokyo, isn’t it? What are you doing out here?”
“New branch openin’ in Fukushima,” Osamu explained, pride shining through his words. “I just got this place a few weeks ago and I’ve been settlin’ in. I’m lucky I got in last night or I would’ve been stuck in the same storm as you two. I brought plenty of food with me, so we should be okay for a while if it doesn’t let up.”
“Oh,” Tobio said, slightly surprised, “we don’t want to intrude. I’m sure there’s an inn around here we could-”
“I couldn’t tell ya how to get there right now even if I knew,” Osamu told him with a shake of his head. “From how the two of ya showed up, I wouldn’t send ya back out there at all without some real snow gear and at least a little visibility.” He offered them a toothy grin then. “I don’t wanna be questioned if they find yer bodies like human ice-pops in a few days.”
Tobio gave a quiet giggle that made Tooru scowl. “Itadakimasu,” he said, not in the mood to entertain… whatever sort of friendliness Osamu and Tobio seemed to have. Tobio echoed him and took a spoonful of broth before going right back to his conversation. Tooru, not at all willing to set his bowl down once he got a taste, listened with feigned disinterest as they spoke.
“My brother told me all about ya,” Osamu was saying, making Tobio groan in shame.
“That’s not fair, we had a bad first impression. And he works with Hinata, so he only hears embarrassing stories…”
“Ya don’t seem half bad,” Osamu said, sounding on the verge of laughter. “He was excited to meet ya, really. A setter, an omega, and better than half the alphas in the place. He wouldn’t shut up about it.”
Tobio stammered, “I don’t do that anymore! And Tooru was- I mean. Oi- Tooru-san was all that too, back then.”
“That’s right,” Osamu said agreeably. “I don’t think ya ever met though, did ya?”
Tooru, his cheeks stuffed with rice cake and jammy egg, looked up and shook his head. Osamu smiled at him a little.
“Enjoyin’ the food?”
Tooru nodded. He could admit that some of his animosity was fading a little as he ate and warmed up. “It’s very good, thank you.” Tobio still hadn’t eaten much, and Tooru frowned at his full bowl. “Tobio, eat.”
Tobbio looked at him, startled, and then down at his bowl. Cheeks dark, he nodded and began to eat.
Osamu was observing them carefully when Tooru looked over, and he didn’t pretend otherwise when he realized he’d been caught. He met Tooru’s gaze with his own, those steely gray eyes boring into Tooru’s unflinchingly, as if trying to solve him like a puzzle.
Before either of them could say anything, Tobio suddenly sneezed so hard he jumped, sending his oden spilling onto the hearth and the edge of his blanket. Tooru has just enough time to set his own bowl down, reach forward, and snatch Tobio’s from his hands before the single sneeze became a series of five or six that seemed to wrack through him like a bolt of lightning, leaving all three of them silent with anticipation when the sneezing stopped. Finally, Tobio looked up.
He looked absolutely miserable, in a drowned rat kind of way, with his nose redder and snottier than before, his eyes glassy with tears, and his lips pulled down in a tight little pout.
They were all silent for a long while, and then Tooru let out an undignified snort of laughter, fighting to reel it in as soon as it passed through his lips. The damage was done though: Tobio turned a blushy pink, his pout trembling into a shy smile, and Osamu burst into laughter, low and raucous and unashamed.
“Is that normal?” Osamu finally asked, after their laughter dragged on right through a second round of sneezing.
“Yes,” Tooru said, his voice clipped from the effort of holding back his laughter. He didn’t dare look at Tobio again.
“Sorry,” Tobio groaned, nasally and wretched. “I think I’m sick.”
“You’re obviously sick,” Tooru retorted, rolling his eyes. “I told you you should have stayed on the bus.”
And just like that, the jovial mood was gone. Tooru glared tersely at the bowl in his hands, and then set it back down between them, leaving his own bowl where it was.
“Thank you for the food,” he said to Osamu, who had also stopped laughing, “but I don’t have much of an appetite. I think I’m also coming down with something, and I’d like to rest, if that’s alright.”
Honestly, Tooru didn’t even know how he was expected to rest at all with a strange alpha and… and Tobio, so close again… But it would be better, probably,to go lie down in the dark somewhere and pretend this whole situation was some kind of weird fever dream, than it would be to stay here and keep dragging up bad feelings like he was fishing for them.
Osamu narrowed his eyes at him slightly, considering, and then nodded. “I only have one guest room, but yer welcome to it. It’s a pretty big bed, but this couch isn’t half bad if you’d rather not…”
Not sleep together, was probably the intended ending for that sentence. Face hot and lips pursed, Tooru nodded his head, got to his feet, and let Osamu lead him away. Tobio sat small and still by the fire, watching them go.
The guest room was colder than the living room, since there was no fire in it and Osamu surely hadn’t been expecting company, but it was shockingly well furnished for a house that had just recently been inhabited. As if sensing Tooru’s confusion, Osamu pulled a few extra blankets from the trunk at the foot of the bed and gestured vaguely at the room around him.
“My brother—Atsumu—helped me move in, so this was his room for a little while. Didn’t feel fair to leave it to the last, y’know?”
“Sure,” Tooru said neutrally. “Thanks for letting me- letting us stay.”
Osamu waved him off. He’d tossed one or two of the extra blankets onto the bed, but he kept the rest in arm. Probably to take out to Tobio, who would be sleeping on the couch. “Seriously, I don’t mind. I grew up with a twin and a loud family, I never got used to a quiet house anyway. I’d probably go a little crazy here alone. Besides, what was I s’pposed to do, leave ya to die?”
Tooru just shrugged. He supposed it was different for Osamu, but if two strange alphas suddenly appeared at Tooru’s door in the middle of a blizzard, he’d be hard pressed to let them in, much less let them stay. For an alpha, two omegas showing up might be a treat. Especially if one was Tobio, who he apparently already knew.
When he didn’t respond, Osamu nodded his head and made for the door. “Help yerself to anythin’ you need,” he said as he left. “Y’know where the bathroom is now, the toilet’s right beside it, and yer welcome to anythin’ in the kitchen too, if ya get hungry.”
“Right. Thanks.”
Osamu just took a last, measuring glance over his shoulder, and then left with a nod, closing the door quietly behind him.
Tooru felt cold again, so he climbed into the bed, intending to sit there and sulk for a while before sneaking out to get some food, but the exhaustion of the day crept up on him with a viciousness he hadn’t expected. Within seconds of sitting in the dark, quiet room, piled with thick, downy blankets, Tooru’s blinks started getting longer and longer. Before he even had time to fully lie down, he was sound asleep.
Tooru woke up to the glaring light of cold winter sun reflecting off of thick white snow and equally thick white clouds. It shone through the curtains—heavy enough to ward out the chill, but not thick enough to swallow the light—and made it increasingly difficult for Tooru to keep his eyes shut.
He was… comfortable maybe wasn’t the right word, what with the way he’d ended up curled on his side atop the pillows, neck pressed to the headboard, but settled, maybe. Like gelatin. He had cemented himself into this little mold of tightly curled warmth, and the thought of moving so much as a single finger out of place seemed like far more trouble than it’d be worth.
After all, he thought, it wasn’t like he had anywhere to be.
Although, he did have someone to check on. Unfortunately.
Reluctantly, and with a head heavy enough to let him know he was decidedly unwell, Tooru dragged himself from the heavy nest of blankets he’d ended up in, and shuffled out of his room, opening the door as quietly as he could. He stopped by the toilet on his way, but skipped his usually fifteen minute face wash routine, even though he had his stuff with him somewhere.
When he made his way to the living room, he found the fireplace still on and the room toasty despite the mostly glass walls. On the couch, under another stack of blankets, was… Well, it was probably Tobio, but all that was visible was the very tippy top of his head, his smooth black hair vaguely mussed from sleep, but nothing like Tooru’s riotous waves.
His scent was… dull, and not just because of the blankets. Swallowing a wave of concern, Tooru shuffled around the couch and coffee table to Tobio’s side, tugging down the blankets until the younger omega’s face was revealed.
He looked even worse than he had the night before: his face flushed and lips chapped, his brows furrowed in discomfort. Every exhale was accompanied by the faintest hint of a whine.
Tooru didn’t need a thermometer, but he wanted one anyway. He could tell it was bad, but he needed to know how bad. Tobio was- Tobio was fragile, delicate like- like something precious. Tooru had to get his fever down, but he didn't know where anything was-
“How is he?” Osamu’s voice sounded from the hall, low and rough with sleep. Tooru’s eyes snapped up to meet him, and Osamu gazed calmly back, his eyes droopy and tired, but not in the bone-aching way Tooru felt.
“Sick,” Tooru croaked, ignoring the way his voice cracked, or the way his eyes stung. “He’s really sick.”
Osamu came to life a little, his eyes sharpening and back straightening. “I’ll grab a thermometer and some medicine. A fever?” At Tooru’s nod, he gestured in the direction of the kitchen. “Go wet some towels. There are dish towels in the drawer to the left there. Not too cold, but we want to lower his temperature.”
Tooru nodded, but it took considerable effort to get himself up and away. He didn’t want to be away, he wanted to be right there, just in case. Which was- Which was silly, after everything. Stupid, even. But he still rushed back with the cool, wet cloth and a bowl of water, crowding close to get a trace of Tobio’s scent of blueberries and sweet vanilla.
Osamu bustled in shortly after, while Tooru was carefully wiping cool water over Tobio’s face, letting the cloth linger on his forehead. He had a thermometer and a packet of fever reducers, and an extra pillow that he had Tooru push under Tobio’s back when they propped him up a little.
“He’s not wakin’ up?” Osamu asked. His scent was like bitter tea, distress creeping through the wet earth and winter pine. “He needs to take this.”
Years of habit kicked in before Tooru could stop it, softening his own scent into something calming, pumping it out in soothing waves. He’d always been the one to settle those around him, the one with perfect control no matter what. It had made him a great setter, a better captain, and now it helped him calm the alpha beside him, his own feelings set aside for now.
“Just be patient,” he murmured, focusing on the dark line of Tobio’s lashes against his pale, blotchy skin. “If we can lower his temperature a little, he’ll wake up. Get some of these blankets off.”
Osamu did as he said, peeling the top layers of blankets off until just one was left, soft and warm without the stifling heat of the layers above it. Tobio made a small noise in his sleep, hopefully of relief, and his brows unknit a little under the cool towel.
Tooru took the thermometer and checked Tobio’s temperature, pushing his mouth open with his fingertips and wiggling the metal tip under his tongue. He let out a little distressed sound when it beeped. “Forty point three.”
“Is the fire too hot? Should I turn it off?”
“Leave it. We should… Let’s take him to my- the guest room. He should be in a real bed.”
“I can take him,” Osamu said quickly. Something in Tooru’s gut clenched at just how quickly, but he held his tongue.
“Okay. Be-”
“I’ll be careful,” Osamu assured him, already wiggling his arms under Tobio, blanket and all, and getting him situated. His voice was still low, his expression taut with stubborn confidence. Tooru got to his feet and stepped back, making room as Osamu stood with Tobio nestled limply in his arms like a sleeping child.
Tooru led the way, pulling back his blankets and sheets and piling the pillows just right in preparation. He couldn’t help but let the inside of his wrist drag over the fabric as he shuffled things around, letting his scent, soothing and familiar, sink into the bedding.
When Osamu set Tobio down, Tobio’s nose twitched in his sleep and his head turned towards the pillows, searching. He relaxed into the bed with a soft sigh, and Tooru bit back the sudden well of- of feeling that surged at the subconscious action.
“Ya smell good,” Osamu suddenly said, as if he’d also caught the subtle little move. “Like ginger and black sugar. It’s comfortin’, I bet especially since he knows it.”
Tooru ground his teeth together. “It’s comforting because I know how to make it that way,” he said tersely. “It isn’t natural, I’ve worked hard to learn how.”
“I think even if ya smelled burnt like ya did when ya left last night, Tobio’d still find it comfortin’. I don’t mean to pry or anythin’, but from how he looks at ya, I don’t think he’s over ya. Not to a point where yer scent disturbs him.”
“You’re prying,” Tooru said frigidly, keeping his scent under strict control. “He’s used to it, and I’m skilled with it, that’s all. You can go, I’ll stay here until he wakes up.”
Osamu lingered for a little bit, and then dipped his head and left without a word.
When Tobio woke up, groggy and disoriented, Tooru gave him some medicine and plenty of water, and called Osamu in to ask him for some food. “Just leftover broth will do, if you have any.”
Osamu left to find some food, and Tooru pulled out the thermometer to check Tobio’s temperature again. “Open up,” he murmured, holding Tobio’s lolling head in place with one hand. Tobio leaned into his palm and opened his mouth a little. “Bit more,” Tooru urged, “lift your tongue up- That’s it, sweetie.” The pet name slipped without him even noticing, years of habit failing him when he was like this, with Tobio soft and pliant in his hands.
Tobio made a happy little noise, closing his lips firmly around the thermometer and holding still as it read his temperature. His blue eyes, which had been mostly shut even after waking, fluttered open to look up at Tooru. Tooru’s heart did something stupid in his chest at the sight.
“Good job,” he whispered when the thermometer beeped, voice cracking a little. He had to tear his eyes away to read it, but he didn’t move his hand off Tobio’s cheek. “Forty. Still- Still not good, but better. The medicine will help.”
“I have some broth,” Osamu called from the doorway. He was leaning against the doorframe and watching Tooru with a look that said he’d been there a little longer than Tooru would have liked. “I put some okayu on too, but it’ll be a while before it’s ready. Think you can eat, Tobio-kun?”
Tobio hummed softly, and seemed to make an effort to straighten himself up a little. He seemed… Well. Weak. Tooru didn’t want to let go of him, not when it seemed like he might just flop over if left unsupported, so instead he clambered up on the bed beside him, and scooted to his side, accepting Tobio’s too-warm weight against him. He turned to glare at Osamu, who was still watching, unmoved. “Can you feed him?” he asked, swallowing a bitter helping of pride.
Osamu’s eyes twinkled a little, but he didn’t stoop so low as to smile. Instead, he nodded once and made his way over with the bowl of broth, sitting on the mattress by Tooru’s bent knees. When he lifted a spoon up to Tobio’s lips, the bowl hovering below to catch any spills, Tobio opened up easily.
So quiet that Tooru could only feel it, not hear it, Tobio began to purr.
Watching the way Osamu’s eyes trained on Tobio’s mouth as he carefully fed him, feeling the way the alpha’s scent settled into something warm and rich and satisfied, Tooru had to take a deep breath and look away.
By the time Tobio finished the broth, he was practically asleep again. Osamu set the bowl aside and he and Tooru helped ley Tobio down a little more, pulling the blanket back over his shivering shoulders.
Tooru wanted to stay there, just in case, but Osamu clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Yer not the picture of health either, ya know? Come, sit by the fire and eat some okayu when it’s ready. We can check on him again later, he’ll be fine.”
Reluctantly, Tooru followed. He was feeling a little… well, like shit, to be perfectly honest. He should probably take his own temperature too, but it felt silly to do it when Tobio was right there, boiling alive. Besides, even if he did have a fever, there was no way of knowing when the snow would let up and they’d be able to to get somewhere to buy more medicine (or, god forbid, make it to a hospital if Tobio got worse), so Tooru wasn’t going to risk taking any of it himself regardless.
Instead, Tooru crossed to the fire again, took a blanket from the pile Tobio had slept with, and curled up somewhere soft and warm.
Osamu went to check his porridge, and came back a minute later with a mug of tea. Ginger, by the smell of it. Tooru looked at it warily, and then up at Osamu, who just gave him a sly grin and shrugged.
The alpha sat down on the opposite end of the couch, the pile of Tobio’s blankets between them, and watched as Tooru took a sip.e didn’t say anything, so after a while, Tooru was the one to break the silence.
“So, you and Tobio. How do you… know each other?”
Osamu’s eyebrows raised infinitesimally. “‘Know’ is a bit of a strong word, I guess. We played against each other a few times back in high school. Everythin’ else I know about him is through Tsumu—my brother—” as if Tooru didn’t know—“who knows it through Hinata-kun. I think Hinata-kun dragged him along to team dinners at my restaurant a few times, but the chef stays in the kitchen, so I can’t say I ever spoke with him much.”
Tooru’s eyes narrowed a little. “You’re awfully familiar for strangers, then.”
Osamu tilted his head a little. “And yer awfully concerned with my and Tobio-kun’s relationship for someone who’s not his partner.”
Tooru bristled at that, but couldn’t find the words to rebut it. It stung— god, did it sting—but it was true. Osamu brushed him off before he could muster up a retort.
“Even if the two of ya aren’t together, you can stop worryin’. I’m not tryin’ to woo him or anythin’.”
“Why not?” Tooru snapped. “He’s a young and handsome omega, he’s talented by nature and skilled through hard work. I know you liked taking care of him, I could smell it while you were feeding him!”
Osamu’s eyes glittered with something like amusement, and Tooru felt his face heat with annoyance. “If I didn’t like feedin’ people, I wouldn’t be a chef. And sure, he’s a young, handsome omega,” he agreed, “but you are too.”
Tooru’s angry words died in his throat before they could even come to light on his tongue. He blinked, agape, at Osamu. “What?”
“Yer not exactly old and withered yerself. From what I know of ya, yer an exceptionally hard worker, yer loyal and dedicated to the people around ya. Tsumu always saw ya as a rival, which is sayin’ somethin’. From what I can tell, you’ve grown up well. Why Tobio and not you?”
Tooru stalled out. He stared at Osamu, gears grinding slowly away as he tried to process his words. And then an indignant expression crept across his face. “I don’t- You-! I’ve seen the way Tobio’s been looking at you, do you think I’ll just be- be seduced by you the second he’s out of commission?! I have more self respect than that, you-”
“I’d say it’s none of my business,” Osamu interrupted casually, “but since we’re all snowed in at my house, and I don’t have much in the way of entertainment, I hope ya don’t mind my input. Tobio-kun’s still very much in love with ya. And yer in love with him too.”
Tooru’s jaw snapped shut with an audible clack of teeth, just shy of his wagging tongue. Osamu was watching him with a raised eyebrow, as if in challenge. “How dare you,” Tooru finally choked out. “You don’t know anything about-”
“I don’t think I need to,” Osamu said gently. “With things like this, it’s always the heart that wins or loses. The details don’t matter so much. What’s it matter if ya walk away with yer pride intact, but yer heart in pieces? I’m not tellin’ ya what to do, but I am sayin’ that these things don’t just end because you say they’re over. I’m not aimin’ to take yer mate away from ya, or steal ya away from him, that’s all.” While Tooru was blinking in shock, Osamu’s voice repeating mate over and over in his head, Osamu’s sleepy gray eyes wandered down from Tooru’s face to the tips of his socked toes peeking out from under the edge of his blanket, and then back up. “I’ll admit, though, that under different circumstances, I certainly wouldn’t mind the two of ya shoin’ up at my door again. Y’know. For whatever.”
Tooru felt like he was getting whiplash. “Are you- Are you coming onto me? To us? I seriously…” For once, Oikawa Tooru was struck speechless. Oh, if Hajime-chan could see him now.
“I’m not blind,” Osamu drawled. “Yer both attractive and interesting and ya smell like damned desserts. I’ve never cared for florally scents, ya know? But both of ya smell like… a good day in the kitchen.” He chuckled a little to himself. “If the two of ya didn’t show up half dead at my door and ready to fight each other, I would’ve offered my bed instead of the guest room, is all I’m sayin’.”
Tooru’s indignation had been replaced at some point with something equally fierce and bright, but instead of fueling his rage, it seemed to be burning in his cheeks instead. God, Tooru had never really cared for alphas, not when he had- not when there were pretty and cute omegas around who admired him and smelled like berries and- But Osamu was just…
Osamu smelled good, not overpowering, and although he was clearly implying that he was attracted to- to both of them, he hadn’t made a single move to make them feel uncomfortable or unsafe in his home when they had nowhere else to go. He was handsome, of course, and he cooked well, and he’d doubtlessly been very good at volleyball back when he played, if his team and his brother were any reflection of his skill. And he just seemed… oddly kind. Gentle, but steady when he needed to be. Mischievous, but not to the point of meanness. Confident but not overbearing. Not an obnoxious or careless alpha, like so many were.
Not, of course, that Tooru was considering him!! He was just… observing.
Noting that Tooru had gone awkwardly—but not uncomfortably—silent, Osamu chuckled and changed the topic. He nodded his head towards the exterior walls of the living room, with their floor to ceiling glass. The snow was still falling outside. Not as hard, but still piling up against the glass. “Apparently there are shoji doors in a closet somewhere. I didn’t get around to puttin’ ‘em up, but we could, if ya want some more insulation.”
Tooru blinked in surprise and looked a little closer and- Sure enough, there were tracks around the perimeter of the room, closely hugging the glass walls, and even running along the inside of the living room, implying it could be closed off from the entry hall and kitchen if one so desired. It seemed the whole house had been designed as something of a modern version of a traditional home, with all the contemporary comforts and all of the classic charm. When he looked closer, it looked like even the floor to ceiling glass walls of the living room could open in some place, probably for ventilation in the summer. He wondered if there was a big veranda around the house, hidden under all that snow.
Shedding the blanket, Tooru shuffled over and got close to one of the windows. Sure enough, although the double paned glass was decently insulated, as he got cold, he could feel the chill seeping from it like slowly falling smoke. “Sure,” he said eventually, his hand pressed flat against the cold glass. “Why not.”
Osamu beamed, an expression that made him look particularly youthful and cute. “You finish yer tea, I’ll see if I can find the screens.” Tooru, still a little dizzy from their earlier conversation and the sudden switch, nodded dumbly and let him leave.
When Osamu returned a few minutes later, he was carrying two shoji doors awkwardly in his arms, and Tooru had deposited his empty mug in the kitchen sink. Although he knew they weren’t, Tooru couldn’t help but ask “Aren’t they heavy?” It seemed counterintuitive that such a large thing could be light, but Osamu shook his head.
“Just clumsy. Here, help me get these up, and I’ll show ya where they are.”
Tooru made his way over. He helped Osamu set one door down, propped against the couch for the time being, and then the two of them each took a side of the door and set to work getting it on its track.
It took some finnegling and more than a few sharp words exchanged as they tried to figure it out, but in the end it was surprisingly simple to do. When they tried with the second screen, it was much easier.
Osamu seemed quite proud of himself, admiring their measly two screens with his hands on his hips, and Tooru rolled his eyes. The tension had dissipated under the casual teamwork (and Tooru’s trademark bossiness), so he didn’t feel shy anymore. For now, at least.
“Don’t just stand there,” he called, “two down, but how many more do we need? Let’s get to work before Tobio-chan wakes up again.”
Osamu rolled his eyes, but it was clearly lighthearted, and he led the way to the closet with no more dallying.Between the two of them, the task went much quicker. In fact, once they got the hang of the rails, Tooru took over putting the screens up, while Osamu went back and forth to fetch them as needed.
In the end, they covered the outside walls only, leaving the room itself wide and open. It looked cozier than before, though, with the pale, snowy light filtering through the shoji paper. Osamu rolled some of the screens back and forth along their rails a few times, as if making sure they worked, but then they shut all of them, encasing the home in a warm, nostalgic bubble.
“Not bad,” Tooru admitted as they took in the finished product. Although the screens were light, he had worked up a bit of a sweat getting them up and had ended up rolling up the sleeves of his sweater. He felt a little dizzy, and he should probably sit, but it felt nice to do something, even a silly project for a home that wasn’t even his own.
Osamu, for his part, radiated satisfaction. His scent was stronger than before, as if staking his claim on this newly delineated corner of his den. It was a bit ridiculous, but Tooru just scoffed for the sake of it before tottering over to the couch and sinking down, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.
“How’re ya feelin’? Osamu asked a little while later, sounding closer. Tooru just hummed noncommittally. Then he startled a little when a cool hand touched his cheek, and then his forehead. Osamu clicked his tongue. “Yer not lookin’ too hot, Tooru-san,” he murmured. “Want some medicine?”
“No,” Tooru sighed, “save it for Tobio. Just… Some water, that’s all.”
Osamu disappeared, but when he returned, it was with a bowl of warm congee, some more ginger tea, and a damp towel. “Here. Should I get the thermometer?”
“I’m fine,” Tooru dismissed, waving him away even as he accepted the food. “I’ll just sit for a while, I’ll be fine. Can you go check on Tobio?”
Osamu lingered for a little while, hesitant and, from the smell of it, a bit protective, before finally humming in assent. “Cool down a bit before ya eat, alright?”
Tooru waved him away again, and this time, Osamu went.
The next few days passed much the same. Between the two of them, they took diligent care of a slowly recovering Tobio, who managed to stay awake for longer and longer every day, and then Osamu took care of Tooru, when he allowed it. The rest of the time, oddly enough, was spent on little projects around the house. There was still plenty Osamu hadn’t had the chance to unpack or organize, and with nothing better to do, Tooru decided to lend him his far superior aesthetic sensibilities, and a hand at unpacking, and Osamu was happy to let him.
When Tobio was awake, they all huddled close in the guest room that smelled more and more like blueberries and vanilla, and Tobio did his best to keep up with his fever-addled brain. Since he was vulnerable and Tooru was reluctant to snap at him, Tobio seemed to be testing the waters, seeing how far he could push, how much Tooru would let him get away with.
So far, it seemed the limit wasn’t at cuddling, or old pet names, or even scenting, so Tooru wasn’t really sure where it could possibly be. Whenever he let Tobio get away with something more, Osamu would shoot him a victorious little smirk, and Tooru would make a face at him in return. After all, it wasn’t just Tooru who was letting Tobio use his damn sick puppy charm for whatever he wanted; Osamu wasn’t exactly immune either.
Even as the fever faded and Tobio got more energy, when it came time to eat, he’d force Tooru to sit by him or hold him or- and then he’d look at Osamu expectantly and part his lips, waiting. And Osamu, prideful, stupid alpha that he was, would chuff in satisfaction, scoot closer, and feed the damn boy himself. If Tobio was bored, Osamu would find a game or movie to entertain him. If Tobio was feeling tired, Osamu would help him lie down and tuck him snugly under the covers, checking his temperature carefully and telling him how well he was doing, how quickly he was healing. Everything short of calling him a good boy and patting his head, Tooru commented snidely to him one day, and Osamu just laughed, cheeks pink, and shrugged helplessly.
So they were both wrapped around Tobio-chan’s sick little finger, maybe, but they were also… getting to know each other. Even Tobio had noticed, in his waking moments, but they were past the weird, careful wariness they’d had towards each other at the start, and through their days of confinement and little chores, they’d moved onto jibes and banter that was just on the harmless side of pointed. They had a comfortable kind of ease with each other now, and Tobio observed it with watchful blue eyes, his scent carefully controlled beneath the bitter edge of fever.
Finally, on a good day when Tobio’s temperature was solidly down into the thirty-eights, Tooru went to him alone.
“Tobio-chan,” he greeted him, a little awkward as he shut the door behind him and just… stood there.
“Tooru,” Tobio called sweetly, his voice still weathered from sickness, but too familiar.
“I have… a question.”
Tobio tilted his head in question, and then nodded for Tooru to come closer. Tooru went and sat on the bed, somewhere near Tobio’s knees where he could face him.
“Tobio… About Osamu…” He didn’t really know how to phrase it. He didn’t even know what he was trying to ask. How do you feel about us getting along? Do you like him? Do you care that he likes me? Likes us? How do you feel about me? Before he could figure it out, Tobio leaned forward a bit, his eyes wide. His scent, so restrained when he watched Tooru and Osamu interact, was bubbling freely now, sweet and eager.
“Tooru,” Tobio whispered loudly. “Are you two…?”
He didn’t sound upset by it. No, instead he sounded… excited. Tooru frowned unwittingly, a stab of hurt piercing him quick as a needle. Not that he wanted Tobio to be upset, of course, but how could he have such a casual, eager attitude towards something like this? Unless, of course, Osamu (and, maybe, Tooru himself) was completely wrong and Tobio was well over him. Which would make exactly one of them, and that one wouldn’t be Tooru.
“No,” he said a little shortly, and Tobio deflated a little.
“Oh. I thought maybe… You look at each other like- like we do- did. So I just thought-”
“Tobio,” Tooru growled. “I wouldn’t- Do you think I would do something like that with someone else, in front of you, without- without you?”
Tobio looked startled for a second. Finally, when he opened his mouth to speak, what came out instead was a quiet, rattly purr, and he slapped a hand to his mouth to silence it, face reddening rapidly. Tooru stared at him, just as surprised.
“I-” Tobio finally said, testing out his hasty mouth to make sure it would do what he wanted this time. “I didn’t mean that. I mean, I thought- Maybe, since you’ve been… taking care of me, I thought maybe you… You and me, maybe-” He cut himself off, eyes drifting shyly away from Tooru’s face. When he spoke again, his voice was very small. “I thought maybe we could… try again. You and me. And maybe, if- if you were okay with it, maybe we could… try, um. Getting to know Osamu-san too.”
Tooru stared at him, unblinking, and Tobio’s eyes eventually darted back up to meet his too, navy blue and achingly known. Tooru had to blink then, because something unknown and unwelcome was stinging at the back of his eyes, and he whipped his face away with a sniff.
“Tooru,” Tobio called again, quietly, hesitantly. His hand hovered in the corner of Tooru’s vision before settling carefully atop Tooru’s thigh. “Would you? Try again with me? I don’t… I’ve hated being…”
Tobio had never been good with words. Tooru wasn’t either. That was most of what had ended things in the first place, probably. That inability to tell each other how they really felt: the good, the bad, the vulnerable. But that had been then, when they’d been immature and prideful and comfortable with the knowledge that they had each other. Now they were older, more mature. They were still prideful, but they knew the aching pain of losing each other, and if it came down to that or swallowing their wasted pride-
“I want to,” Tooru blurted out. “I want to try again with you, I never-”
“Me neither, I missed-”
“Got over you, I thought about-”
“You so much, I hoped-”
“Us all the time, what happened, what-”
“You’d come back and we could start over-”
“Went wrong, but if we tried again-”
“I promise I’d be better, I swear-”
“I wouldn’t be so bad to you, I’d treat you well, I promise-”
“I want it, Tooru,” Tobio said—sobbed—both his hands now fisted tight in Tooru’s (Osamu’s) sweater, pulling him closer ineffectively. “I want you back, I want you, please-”
Tobio couldn’t move in his position, but Tooru could, and he clambered closer, wrapping his arms tight around Tobio, plastering himself as close as he could. He couldn’t help the way he pressed his cheek to Tobio’s head, rubbing his scent strong and sweet all over Tobio.
Tobio was purring again, still feeble with sickness, but Tooru’s purr was strong and steady in its place. “Let’s try again, Tobio,” he whispered. “One more time, let’s try.”
Tobio nodded fiercely against Tooru’s collarbones, where his face was pressed. “One more time,” he choked out.
Tooru didn’t know how long they stayed there, holding each other and scenting and reassuring each other, but eventually, as Tobio was starting to struggle with exhaustion, there was a quiet knock on the door. A moment later, it cracked open, and Osamu peeked in. When he saw he wasn’t necessarily interrupting anything, he pushed the door a little wider.
“I made dinner. I thought, if yer up for it, Tobio-kun, we could eat at the table? You’ve been in bed for a few days, except for the toilet. Wanna stretch yer legs?”
Tobio perked up with newfound energy and nodded again. Osamu didn’t say anything about the way he and Tooru were wrapped around each other, but Tooru saw the way his eyes curved up a little, a smile twitching at his lips. His scent subtly filled the room, warm and content.
“We’ll be right out,” Tooru told him, and Osamu nodded before leaving, closing the door with a soft click behind him. Tooru turned back to Tobio, who was looking a little peaked still, but eager. Tobio took a steadying breath. “About Osamu,” he said again, and Tobio’s eyes widened a little. “He may have… implied… that he would be open to. Something. With the two of us. And it seems you are too?”
Tobio, cheeks red (and not from the fever), gave a tiny nod of his head. “I know we don’t really, like, know each other yet. But maybe-?”
“I like him,” Tooru admitted quietly, so quietly. “You know I don’t really… with alphas. But he’s… Alpha or not, as a person… When you’re feeling better, you’ll get to know him more too. You sure you want to…?”
Tobio only hesitated a second before nodding. “Can’t hurt?” he offered.
Tooru smiled wryly. “Might hurt,” he corrected. “But… worth it?”
“Worth it,” Tobio whispered, and he had that steadfast look on his face, staring into Tooru’s eyes, and Tooru couldn’t help himself. For the first time in- in so long, Tooru took Tobio’s face in his hand, pulled him in, and kissed him.
Tobio made a weak little noise, but then he melted into it, tilting up to meet Tooru’s lips, letting himself be swept into it.
It wasn’t a long kiss, or a deep one, but it was so long anticipated. It was everything they needed.
Tooru drew back slowly, still holding Tobio still so he could take him in before parting. Tobio’s eyes had shut, but they fluttered open in the new distance between them, and he looked up at Tooru with flushed cheeks and sweetly parted lips.Then, he smiled.
Tooru couldn’t bear it, so he clambered off the bed, face warm. “Come on,” he said instead, “let’s eat.”
He helped Tobio from the bed, helping him stand on weak knees and bringing him into the kitchen, where the smooth wood dining table that had so far been untouched was set and waiting. Osamu was in the kitchen tidying up, but he looked up at their entrance, and smiled at the sight of Tobio.
“Welcome to the real world, Tobio-kun,” he chuffed. “Ready to eat?”
“What, no hello for me?” Tooru demanded, taking Tobio to a chair and helping him ease down.
Osamu rolled his eyes, and then came around the table, grabbed Tooru by the arm, and reeled him in. Tooru didn’t even have the chance to protest the rough treatment before Osamu tugged him slightly off balance, and in a fleeting second, pressed a quick, dry kiss to the edge of his cheek.
“Hello,” he said, his voice rough. His scent was a riotous mess. He wore his feelings right there, no hiding, and Tooru liked it. “Sit down and eat.”
With that, he gave Tooru a little push towards the chair opposite Tobio and took his own seat, smug as anything, at the head of the table. Tooru blinked dumbly, and Tobio, who happened to be right in his field of incidental vision, stared at him hard, lips pursed to hide a smile or a dropped jaw, cheeks bright pink.
Well. Maybe this thing between them would be a little easier than anticipated.