Work Text:
“Watching the game again, Todo?”
Todo’s head jerks up to look at his teammate, Tanemura, passing through the hotel lobby. He pulls an earphone out, and the video pauses on its own. “Ah, yeah, you know how it is,” he laughs sheepishly.
Well, Tanemura probably doesn’t know—that more than watching, Todo’s listening to Chihaya’s commentary on one of last weekend’s games. For the third time.
“You’re one hell of a hard worker,” Tanemura chuckles. “You’re gonna make the rest of us look bad, so try to take it easy sometimes!”
“I’ll do my best,” Todo says quickly, shrinking down in his seat ‘til the raised collar of his jacket covers his chin. He puts his earphone back in, letting Chihaya’s voice filter into his ears for as long as he can before the rest of the team comes down.
…the lineup today is a bit different from what we’re used to. It’s a good point in the season to experiment, with an uninterrupted set of wins under their belts, and I’m curious to see the results of their training. In particular, our leadoff hitter is in the cleanup spot tonight, so it seems they’re shifting priorities in regards to their offense…
The coaches and other staff pore over their games in way more detail than anyone on the outside could. Athletes are actively discouraged from listening to pundits and analysts, citing them as “demoralizing and rarely informative”. Announcers are for the people watching, not for the people on the field. Todo knows all that. But speaking as a baseball fan, Todo still thinks Chihaya does a better job than anyone else out there, even if he’s a little biased.
All things considered, Todo can’t say he’s surprised Chihaya went the commentator route. Out of everyone at Kotesashi, he’d been the best at giving interviews, unless the General was around. Todo gives himself some credit, too. He’d learned how to handle adults and portray the youthful energy they were looking for early on. But Chihaya always had something insightful to say. Something that showed just how deeply he was thinking about each and every game. Pointing out the little things most people would miss.
Part of Todo wishes they were still playing baseball together. But ever since Chihaya took a job broadcasting with the local network affiliated with Todo’s team, going on the road with them to give live commentary on-site, they’ve gone from seeing each other once a month to most days of the week. He can’t complain about that.
The broadcasting crew had been sent back ahead of the team the night before, so they won’t be taking the train home together this time. When the team starts filtering out from the hotel doors, Todo sighs and slips his phone into his pocket as he gets up, keeping the volume low. He grabs his suitcase and hefts another bag over his shoulder, following his teammates to the station.
…while I do see the rationale behind trying a sacrifice bunt there, it was a risky move with Mutou as the runner. Though he made it to third, I’m afraid it’s only put Akasaki in a precarious position as he comes up to bat…
In the first few years of his career, Chihaya’s already managed to gain himself something of a controversial reputation. Just a little.
Technically, Chihaya isn’t an analyst. He’s supposed to handle the play-by-play of what’s happening, while his on-air partner, a former pitcher for Todo’s team, gets into the why. To some people’s chagrin, Chihaya does a bit of both.
He can be opinionated and harsh, things Todo has long since grown used to—even fond of—but he’s just as passionate and witty. Some people like Chihaya’s willingness to voice unpopular takes, while others find his viewpoints downright offensive. Japanese baseball is, at its heart, driven by tradition and gut instinct. Someone like Chihaya, who’s never been the type to lie down and accept things the way they are, is bound to make waves.
Even Todo’s come around to the theoretical aspects, after all these years.
Todo scans through the ticket gate and comes to a stop on the platform, rocking back on his heels with a hand in his pocket, turning the volume up against the noise of the station.
…and that’s a beautiful play by center fielder Gotoh! It’s truly a return to form to see that powerful throw all the way down the line to catcher Kobayashi, easily stopping the opposition’s sprint home. Given the struggles Gotoh has had with his accuracy and injuries earlier this season and throughout spring training…
Chihaya says what he does is more about entertainment than anything else, but Todo doesn’t buy it. Anyone could look at a field and tell if something exciting was happening, but when Chihaya sees a good play and talks at length about why it worked so well, or catches a mistake and picks apart just how it happened, it’s something that could only come from his experience. Most announcers are former pros, but Chihaya’s different. Even though he’d stopped playing after college, he knows professional baseball like the back of his hand. Most people wouldn’t think so, but Chihaya’s the real baseball nut between the two of them.
A hand claps Todo on the back, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Daydreaming, much?”
Only then does Todo notice the train’s already pulled up to the platform. “Just looking forward to getting some rest at home,” Todo grins, holding his hand up to his teammate for a fist bump.
“You can say that again!” his teammate agrees, nodding to let Todo on before him.
Todo likes his team a lot, honestly. He’s been treated well ever since he was scouted, working his way up and seeing the fruits of his labor in making the starting lineup. They’ve got a good team culture, with a healthy camaraderie between players, coaches, and managers alike. He really can’t complain.
Still, he’d grown really fond of Kotesashi’s particular brand of chaos. In a way, coming from a team with nothing makes Todo appreciate the luxuries available to a professional team even more. But there’s just no comparing it to the quirks of a team built up by quitters and amateurs.
It’s been years, but getting on a train with this team still reminds Todo of the one and only time in high school they’d competed somewhere far enough that local trains wouldn’t cut it. They’d almost lost Kaname in the station when he ran off to buy a bento, and Chihaya nearly made them late when he kept insisting on stopping at just one more shop before heading to the platform. They couldn’t justify the cost of reserved seats for the whole team, so they’d ended up standing in the cramped space between the non-reserved train cars on the way back home, on legs that were already weak from a tough game.
It was dumb, but he wouldn’t have traded it for the most prestigious high school in Japan.
As Todo starts nodding off, the rhythmic rocking of the train and exhaustion from back-to-back games lulling him towards sleep, Todo’s phone buzzes. His eyes blink back open, disoriented for a second before he fishes his phone out of his pocket.
aoi-chan!!!!!!!!!!!
A message from Kaname lights up his lockscreen. Todo waits for more to come in, but when it doesn’t, he unlocks his phone with a fond shake of his head.
He starts typing out, what’s up, kaname? But before he can finish his message, another appears.
did u see shunpi went viral??? for talking about u?????
Todo pauses, backspaces, then pauses again. Luckily, he doesn’t need to ask, because a link pops up another second later. Todo taps on it without thinking, his phone’s browser opening up since he doesn’t have whatever app it is that people use lately.
All the post’s caption says is I’ve watched this 10 times and it gets funnier every time. Todo taps on the video, and the audio from the game he’d left playing in the background fades out in favor of the clip.
“You ever seen Todo with his pants down?”
There’s a pause.
Todo blinks at his phone, the video showing himself walking up to the plate and dragging a cleat across the ground before raising his bat above his shoulders. It looks like last night’s game—Todo hasn’t watched it back yet.
“Um,” Chihaya says, audibly thrown off. Todo can practically see the look of catlike incredulity on his face. “No?” Another moment of silence. Chihaya’s voice fills the gap uncertainly. “Like, in shorts?”
“No!” the first announcer, Iwata, responds almost immediately. Todo snorts. “Like, he’s got— he doesn’t have his—” he stumbles, then finally, “no socks showing.”
“Ah,” Chihaya says. “I see what you’re saying.” He laughs shortly. “Well, Todo is the type to run around in short sleeves no matter the weather. He doesn’t pay much attention to his looks.”
“Ouch,” Todo mutters, at the same time Chihaya’s co-commentator does.
“Anyways, I do prefer the pants up look,” Chihaya continues. “Having the high socks on display gives off a more traditional, retro feel. There’s a certain appeal to the uniformity of a team enforcing it, but personal comfort is important too, I suppose.”
“So, what you’re really saying is you’re not a fan of Todo with his pants down.”
“Well, Iwata-san, I’m here to talk about baseball, not fashion, so I’ll keep my opinion to myself.”
“Now that’s a first,” Iwata cackles. “Alright, back to—”
The clip cuts off there, and when Todo minimizes it, his eyes widen at the sheer number of interactions on the post. Not to mention, the realization that this had been broadcast on national television.
there are polls, a new message from Kaname reads at the top of Todo’s screen. When he taps on it, there’s a photo along with the message. It’s a screenshot of a social media post.
Which Todo Aoi do you prefer? it asks. The options: pants up or pants down. There’s a tiny photo thumbnail next to each. By some miracle, considering the number of perverts out there, pants up is winning.
there’s gotta be a better way to phrase that, Todo types out hastily, face heating up despite himself. Then, he notices the circled checkmark next to the second option. oi, why are you voting?!
Kaname sends back a cheeky sticker of a cartoon bunny making a peace sign and sticking its tongue out. my opinion matters too!
i don’t care about your opinion, Todo responds.
ok, but u should care abt shun-chan’s! i guess that means keeping ur pants on tho 😢
Todo’s face burns hotter. shut up, he sends back.
Of all the things for Chihaya—and by extension, Todo—to go viral for… Well, he guesses it is kind of funny. Probably even more for Todo than anyone else. It’s not hard to imagine what might’ve been running through Chihaya’s head in that split second, given that their relationship is a secret to everyone but their closest friends.
It’d sure be a scandal if Chihaya had accidentally let a yes slip.
Todo laughs softly to himself and pulls his earphones out, deciding he can wait the few hours ‘til he gets home to hear Chihaya’s voice properly. Todo settles into his seat and lets himself drift off into a nap, the afternoon sun through the window keeping him warm.
—
“I’m home!” Todo calls out, hanging his jacket up in a closet by the door before neatly placing his shoes onto a rack. When he straightens back up, there’s no sign of movement like he’d expected. “Chihaya? I brought dinner.”
Still nothing. It’s early in the evening, and Chihaya’s a night owl, so he’s probably not asleep. All of his frequently used pairs of shoes—Todo counted—are still by the door, so he’s not out. No sound of water, so he’s not in the shower.
Todo steps past the entryway, leaving the takeout bag on the dining table before padding further into his and Chihaya’s apartment. Their bedroom door is slightly ajar, and when Todo pushes it open, the room is dark except for the glowing rectangle of a laptop screen.
“You’re working?” Todo asks, a teasing edge to his voice, but the Chihaya-shaped lump at the desk doesn’t react.
Enough dim evening light creeps through the closed blinds for Todo to notice the headphones over Chihaya’s ears, the slight rhythmic nodding of his head as he stares down at whatever’s in front of him. When Todo quietly steps closer, he sees one of Chihaya’s elbows propped on the table, his hand messily pushing back his bangs and supporting his head. He’s completely absorbed.
Todo leans forward until his hair hangs in Chihaya’s line of sight, knowing better than to tap him when he’s wearing those noise-cancelling headphones of his. Chihaya still jerks slightly when he finally notices, and he quickly pulls the headphones down to sit around his neck. “Todo-kun,” he says, slightly rough with disuse and surprise, blinking up at him. “Welcome home.”
“I’m home,” Todo repeats since Chihaya hadn’t heard him the first time. “Isn’t today your day off?” He brings a hand up to Chihaya’s disheveled hair and smooths it back into place, making Chihaya’s eyes scrunch up. “What’re you working on?”
Chihaya would deny it, but he’s something of a workaholic. He likes keeping himself busy and having his fingers in a lot of different pots. Lately, it seems like he’s even busier than usual. Todo wonders if he’s working on a new article. Even though he’s in broadcasting now, Chihaya’d gotten his start in sports journalism and he still writes for his old publication now and then. It’s like he’s good at everything he tries. Todo’s always been impressed by it.
“It’s,” Chihaya hesitates, glancing at his desk and back, “just some research.”
Now that Chihaya’s unhunched, Todo sees there are papers strewn across the desk and his laptop’s keyboard, covered in words and numbers and graphs. Before he can get a closer look, Chihaya sweeps them all into a neat pile and shuts the laptop screen over them.
Chihaya’s always been the cagiest about that type of work, too. He never asks anyone for their feedback, and Todo sometimes wonders what it’s like for the editors that have to work with him.
But he doesn’t mind. If Chihaya wants Todo to know, he’ll show him eventually. So he changes the subject.
“Y’know,” Todo says, leaning against the side of the desk and grinning. “I found out today that the internet’s talking about me with my pants down, thanks to you.”
“What?” Chihaya gives him a squinted what the hell are you talking about kind of look for a second, but then his eyes widen. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” Todo imitates. “Iwata’s got no idea the kinda landmine he almost stepped on,” he laughs. “Can’t let that cat out of the bag, huh?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chihaya says flatly. “I’ve never seen anything like that in my life.” That’s Chihaya-speak for I’d never be stupid enough to let that slip.
“Really?” Todo steps around to stand behind Chihaya again, pulling his rolling chair away from the desk. He leans down to murmur against Chihaya’s ear, playing along. “You’re missing out.”
Chihaya lets Todo spin the chair around and looks up at him again, crossing one leg over the other. “On what, exactly?” His dark eyes are defiant, but the tips of his ears are slowly going red.
Todo smirks and raises an eyebrow suggestively. “Maybe I should just show you.”
Chihaya’s mouth opens to speak. A loud growling sound interrupts him.
They stare at each other for a long second, and then Todo busts out laughing. “You forgot to eat lunch today, didn’t you? Seriously, what would you do without me?”
“Shut up,” Chihaya bristles, standing up and pushing past Todo. “I was practically on my own throughout school, and I was fine.”
Todo follows Chihaya back to the kitchen. “So you’re saying you depend on me now.”
“If it makes you happy.”
“It does!” Todo beams.
Chihaya rolls his eyes at him. “Anyways. Food?”
“Courtesy of the Chinese place on the corner down the street.” Todo reaches into the plastic bag he’d set down and pulls out a stack of containers, still hot with freshly cooked food.
Lips curling up the way Todo knew they would, Chihaya reaches out for the container Todo passes him. In a brave showing of self-restraint, Chihaya waits to pop it open and heads for the cabinets instead, grabbing them a couple of bowls.
“Thanks,” Todo says as Chihaya places them down, before taking the seat opposite him.
Chihaya breathes in deeply when he opens his container, aromatic steam rising towards him. “What a coincidence,” he says, snapping his chopsticks apart. “I’d actually been craving Chinese food today.”
“The years have made my intuition sharper,” Todo boasts, shoveling noodles into his bowl. “Just call it my Chihaya-sense.”
Chihaya snorts lightly, starting in on a dumpling. “It’s pretty convenient for me, so I’m not complaining.”
Their meal goes by just like that, trading little quips while they pass containers between each other. When Chihaya asks about Todo’s train ride, Todo tells him about Kaname’s messages.
“I didn’t know discussing a player’s clothing choices was part of our job,” Chihaya sighs. “Sometimes I think baseball just has too much downtime to fill on the air.”
“That’s what makes baseball commentary so special,” Todo disagrees. “You get to know the announcers really well, and they get more time to tell a good story.”
“And make stupid jokes.”
“Well, yeah.”
Chihaya snorts. “Don’t get me wrong. I do like it. It’s thanks to all that downtime that I can even commentate the way I do, without having professional experience as an athlete.”
“Listen, you played through college. It’s not like you don’t know your shit.”
“Sure, but it’s a different level. You can’t deny that.”
Todo pouts, but stays quiet.
“I’ve learned a lot from Iwata-san, too,” Chihaya smiles, picking up a strip of bell pepper from his nearly empty bowl and crunching down on it. “There are some things you can only get a taste of on the field.”
There’s a wistful kind of look on Chihaya’s face, drawing his eyes down. Todo’s chest squeezes. Chihaya had sounded so sure about it back then, what feels like ages ago now. That he wasn’t going to play anymore.
“I’m not thinking about going pro or anything,” Chihaya laughs, meeting Todo’s gaze knowingly. “I’ve been out of the game for too long, anyway. It’s just that lately, I keep thinking to myself, is announcing what I really want to do?”
Todo’s eyes widen. Is Chihaya thinking about changing careers?
He watches as Chihaya pushes back from the table and gets up. He— he’s not just gonna stop talking there, is he?!
“Wait, Chihaya!” Todo stands up, too. “What’re you talking about?”
“Thanks for the food, Todo-kun,” Chihaya says, going to the sink to wash up.
Todo stares at him helplessly. It might be irrational, but he can’t help thinking the worst. That staying this close to baseball without playing it is secretly hurting Chihaya. That he needs a change of pace, and to find some distance.
Todo isn’t sure where he falls on the scale of ‘too close to baseball’.
Chihaya heads back to the bedroom, so Todo quietly busies himself with cleaning up. A million thoughts rush through his mind. When Chihaya went off to university and Todo got scouted, they spent years figuring out how to make things work between the handful of times their schedules lined up, if they even had the luxury of traveling to see each other. Chihaya took this job in part so they could see each other more regularly. They moved in together. They’ve made this place both of theirs, equally.
It can’t be that it was too much, too fast, Todo thinks. Then what?
“Todo-kun.”
Todo looks up, startled. “Y— Yeah?”
Chihaya reappears, clutching something to his chest. He steps towards the dining table again. Todo holds his breath; he thinks Chihaya is, too.
Then, a harsh exhale, like he’s steeling himself for something. “I’ve been working on a proposal.”
Todo blinks. “A proposal?”
On the clean dining table surface, Chihaya sets down what he’s holding. It’s a thick stack of paper. “Well, a few, to be accurate. I think the team could benefit from a more analytical, data-driven approach to its training and strategy.”
The page on top looks like one of the ones Todo had gotten a glimpse of earlier, but there’s a lot more here than he’d seen earlier. “Is this all data?”
Chihaya nods once. “An analysis of it. What’s been collected by the team, along with other data the NPB provides us.”
“You have access to that?”
“Iwata-san helped me meet with our data department. There’s a lot of good information there, but we aren’t making good use of it, in my opinion.”
Todo picks up the stack, holding it carefully to keep the edges aligned while he flips through it, pausing every few pages to scan the words.
“There’s no reason for Japan to be so far behind the MLB,” Chihaya explains. “We have just as many ways to gather data, if not more. It’s our lack of willingness to use it to make decisions that’s the problem.
“There are companies doing motion-tracking so precise that it measures minute movements down to a pitcher’s fingertips, or the amount of force they exert against the ground during their stride. There are interns building models that help refine a pitcher’s release point to make it harder for the batter to tell what they’re throwing. And it’s not just pitchers. Data can help us figure out when to steal, when to bunt. It can be used to analyze stamina and even psychological strength. It helps with scouting. You can’t rely on feeling for everything.”
So this is what Chihaya’s been working on in secret. There are pages upon pages of research in Todo’s hands, companies and tools Todo has never heard of, his own numbers alongside so many other players’. It’s full of the kinds of ideas Chihaya floats during his commentary, always said as a passing thought or in conversation with Iwata, now fully fleshed out.
Todo looks up at Chihaya, awed. “How long did this take you?”
He catches sight of Chihaya’s hand fiddling with the edge of his shirt. “I started looking further into things about a year ago.”
Thinking back, that timeline even lines up with when Chihaya started doing more than just the play-by-play for matches he was broadcasting. And obviously, Chihaya’s always had the mind for this sort of thing. That first year in Kotesashi, before they had a manager, Chihaya was the one handling the bulk of their strategy and planning.
“So,” Todo starts, “what do you want to do?”
Chihaya thinks for a second before speaking. “I want to do something that benefits the sport if I can. Ideally, I’d like to work with athletes and coaches directly and apply theory to practice.” Chihaya pauses, looking at him with pinched eyebrows. “What do you think?”
“You’re asking me?” Todo balks. Usually, Chihaya makes up his mind before he tells anyone else about it. He’s always respected Chihaya’s right to make his own decisions.
“What’s that supposed to mean,” Chihaya grumbles more than asks. “Obviously. You’re the one playing. You know what’s working and what isn’t.”
“That’s…” Todo shakes his head. “For myself, maybe. But I don’t have the big picture for the team. I don’t know what all of the coaches are thinking. If you have an idea that’d help the team, why not go for it?”
Chihaya purses his lips, reaching a hand across the table towards him. Todo taps the stack of papers against the surface to straighten it up before handing it back to him.
“Iwata-san told me he thinks there’s a chance,” Chihaya says, thumbing the corner of a page, “but that plenty have tried and failed, too.”
“So what?” Todo shrugs. “That doesn’t mean you will.”
The look on Chihaya’s face is unconvinced, something between frustration and self-consciousness twisting his features. “I feel like you used to be better at motivational speaking,” he grouses.
Todo snorts. “Listen,” he says, coming around the table to stand in front of Chihaya. He brings his hands up and places them on top of Chihaya’s, clasped around the sides of the stack, waiting for Chihaya to look up again. “I can’t tell you how things’ll go. But no one would spend this much time and effort on something they don’t believe in.”
Chihaya’s eyes are soft and young-looking, peering at him. That type of vulnerability he so rarely shows, so tenuous that it’ll snap and disappear if Todo doesn’t handle it with care.
“So… Do you know how it’s gonna work?” Todo asks. “Can you just give ‘em a presentation?”
“Technically, I’m not employed by the team, so I’d probably have to apply if I want to formally involve myself. But I’m not sure yet,” Chihaya answers. “Talking to the data department is one thing, but we’d need ownership’s buy-in to actually invest in most of these ideas.”
“Well, one step at a time,” Todo says. “Iwata’s helping you out, right?”
“Thankfully.” Chihaya sighs, parting from Todo to place his papers back down. “I don’t know if I’d be able to balance everything, otherwise.”
Todo’s patience runs out and he throws his weight at Chihaya in a heavy hug, winding his arms around Chihaya’s slender waist and pulling him close, ignoring his yelp. “Give yourself more credit, seriously,” Todo complains against the side of Chihaya’s head, nuzzling his hair.
Chihaya’s laugh rumbles against Todo’s chest. “What’s this about?”
“You’re always too humble when you don’t need to be, even though you’re such a know-it-all the rest of the time. It’s annoying.”
“I have doubts just like anyone else, Todo-kun,” Chihaya says lightly.
Todo squeezes Chihaya tighter, leaning on him as much as he can without toppling them over, trying to transfer some confidence to him through sheer force of will.
“Wait.” Something occurs to Todo. “Does this mean I won’t get to hear you saying nice things about me on national TV anymore?”
Chihaya hums near his ear. “I think I’ve had my fair share of critiques too, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yeah, but it’s rare for you to compliment me, so I remember those better.”
Chihaya laughs again, finally wrapping his arms around Todo’s back. “Well, this might mean I could work more closely with the team, eventually,” he says softly. “Wouldn’t it be better to have me praise you during practice when something works out?”
Todo ponders for a second. Sure, he gets a little giddy at the idea of thousands upon thousands of people listening to what Chihaya says on TV, but that’s not Chihaya speaking directly to him, and it’s not really for him either. Imagining him focused solely on Todo, telling him he did something well in front of all his teammates and coaches—
“That might be worse,” Todo admits, his cheeks warming up. He tucks his face further into Chihaya’s neck.
“Is that so?” Chihaya asks, amusement coloring his voice. “I won’t be quitting commentating right away, anyways. We’ll see how things go.”
Pulling back enough to look at him, Todo leaves his hands resting on Chihaya’s hips and meets his warm eyes. He looks more sure of himself now, even with the uncertain factors. “Good. I get to hear it all the time, but it’d be a shame to deprive the world of your sexy voice.”
“Thinking of the people, are you?” A grin stretches across Chihaya’s face, Todo’s flattery landing. “How generous.”
“I like to give back to the fans,” Todo says. “Which reminds me. I think ‘pants down’ is winning the polls now.”
“Please don’t cause a scandal at this uncertain time in my career, Todo-kun.” Chihaya reaches up to wrap a finger around a lock of Todo’s hair, and Todo finds himself dipping closer unconsciously.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. But,” Todo says, lowering his voice, “if you wanna see me with my pants down, I think that could be arranged.”
It’s not his smoothest work, but Chihaya’s drawing closer, close enough to feel his warm breath, and Todo remembers that they haven’t kissed in days while on the road. When they’re barely a centimeter apart, Chihaya’s hands land on Todo’s chest.
“Bottom of the ninth, Todo Aoi stakes the game on a big swing—” Chihaya says, voice rising in anticipation along with his eyebrows, “but strikes out.”
Todo stares at him, caught off guard by the sudden shift in Chihaya’s energy. Then, he deflates. “Don’t use your announcer voice on me,” Todo pouts.
“Oh?” Chihaya tilts his head. “But I thought you just said it was sexy?”
“Not when you’re being mean!”
“I just call it like I see it.” Chihaya’s smile is cheeky, pink dusted across his cheekbones.
“That’s it.” Todo bends down, hooks an arm behind Chihaya’s knees and the other around his back, and lifts.
“Woah?!” Flailing, Chihaya’s eyes go wide, and he wraps his arms around Todo’s neck on reflex. Todo hoists him up easily and doesn’t give Chihaya a chance to squirm out of his grip while he stomps back to their bedroom. “Todo-kun!”
“Congrats on finishing your proposal,” Todo says, ignoring Chihaya’s fist pounding against his back. “I’m with you no matter what you decide to do.”
“Um, okay?” Chihaya’s eyebrows furrow, pausing his onslaught with a warm hand against Todo’s neck.
Todo nudges the door open wide enough to walk through, then kicks it closed behind him. He finally lets go of Chihaya when he steps up to their bed, laying him down on the sheets to crawl over him.
Chihaya looks up at him with smirking, playful eyes, waiting for Todo to make his move.
“Your calls are usually right on the money,” Todo tells him, bringing a hand up to cup Chihaya’s jaw. “But I think I can change your mind on this one.”
He feels Chihaya’s laughter in the palm of his hand, and all it takes is a fondly murmured try me for Todo to close the distance between them.
…
“Todo-kun, you’ve convinced me.”
“Huh?”
“I do like you better with your pants down.”
—