Work Text:
Kurosawa is handsome as an idol with a blinding smile to match. Once, Adachi thought he was too perfect to be believed, and last year, the first few weeks of kindnesses large and small, of noble and adoring inner thoughts, and of grand romantic gestures hadn't challenged those initial assumptions.
Adachi knows now, of course, that Kurosawa is a very real person with very real quirks and flaws. He hogs the covers in his sleep and leaves wet towels on the bathroom floor and internally drafts terrible sappy poetry when he zones out in meetings, and can be so overwhelmingly self-sacrificing that it makes Adachi want to yank his own hair out sometimes. He's not perfect and Adachi loves him for it.
But sometimes Adachi has to wonder if he gets some of his biggest ideas from romance novels like Tsuge’s.
Adachi stands just inside the door of their apartment, surrounded by a thick carpet of rose petals on all sides, and feels a laugh begin to bubble up. He coughs, clears his throat, and tries to push down the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "What's this?" he asks.
"Welcome home," says the embarrassingly mushy man standing in the middle of it all. Kurosawa has paired house slippers with crisply tailored black trousers and a matching trim waistcoat, apron on and shirt sleeves rolled neatly up to his elbows, and Adachi can't help but smile back.
"What?! I was going to surprise you," Adachi complains, still smiling despite himself.
"Were you?" Kurosawa asks, clearly intrigued.
"I changed my ticket to the super-express!" He drops his backpack and unties his sneakers — his work clothes left behind for the last two days spent accompanying Tsuge to a book talk in Osaka. "You had your presentation today! I was going to cook dinner!!"
Kurosawa's grin broadens. Adachi never knew someone's eyes could actually twinkle with mischief before but Kurosawa's absolutely can and do. "You could surprise me tomorrow?" Kurosawa suggests.
Adachi laughs as he struggles out of his jacket. "How would that be a surprise?"
Kurosawa gives it some thought. "You could ... surprise me tonight," he says, voice lowering seductively, and Adachi flushes.
"Okay, okay okay," Adachi says, laughing at Kurosawa’s shamelessness, pressing his hands to his own hot cheeks. He hangs his jacket in the closet and turns back to stare down at the rose petal minefield separating him from both Kurosawa and from the table set with the good plates and dressed with candles.
Can he... Are there petal-free spots he can hop to? Does he step on them? Is that unromantic??
Kurosawa decides it for him. He strides across the room, rose petals fluttering in his wake like the grand entrance of the romantic hero in a shoujo anime, and pulls Adachi into his arms.
The breath rushes out of Adachi’s lungs with the force of Kurosawa’s embrace. "Oof!"
"I missed you," Kurosawa murmurs, breath warm in the curve of Adachi's neck. He's tall and lean and he folded himself down around Adachi like it's nothing to do so, like he always does. Like reaching for Adachi, accommodating Adachi, is as natural to him as breathing.
"I was away for two days," Adachi says, smiling, and Kurosawa squeezes him tighter and rocks back and forth.
Adachi wraps his arms around Kurosawa and presses his mouth to the top of his shoulder. "I missed you, too," he says, and he knows Kurosawa heard the muffled words when he sways Adachi again.
The apartment is quiet. Adachi shuts his eyes and soaks it all in — his tired feet in his favorite slippers, the soft hiss of something bubbling on the range, the press of his boyfriend's familiar body against his. The quiet joy of returning to Kurosawa and the home they've built together.
The ... air warm with delicious-smelling steam? Adachi lifts his head. "Buta no kakuni?" he asks.
“Maybe,” says Kurosawa slyly, but it’s definitely buta no kakuni — one of Adachi’s favorite dishes that takes hours to braise and then simmer.
Adachi wanted to come home and do something for Kurosawa, but this is surely a more romantic evening than Adachi's original weak ideas. Adachi has been learning under Kurosawa's highly capable tutelage, but his cooking is still F-grade. It definitely can't hold a candle to Kurosawa's. No, this is better.
"Adachi?" Kurosawa has stepped back and is watching him, head cocked inquisitively.
Adachi shakes it off. "It's fine; let's eat!"
*
In bed that night, Adachi studies Kurosawa's face. Kurosawa only drifted off ten minutes ago and he has already slowly begun to wind the duvet around himself.
"The only time you're capable of being selfish is in your sleep," Adachi says under his breath, amused, and he watches Kurosawa's eyebrows furrow in a slight frown at the sound of his voice and then relax again.
Adachi really had missed him. They hadn't been apart like that since Adachi went home to visit his mother during Obon and spent three days frantically dodging lovingly pointed questions about his new apartment in Tokyo. It was good to spend time with his mother back then, and with Tsuge now, but he'd found himself counting the hours until he could return home.
Adachi tugs the blanket until he's loosened it from Kurosawa’s vise grip and reclaimed enough fabric to cover his chilly toes, then picks up his book again. He still prefers manga but over the years has amassed a small collection of romance novels too, after he found he enjoyed Tsuge's books and slowly, cautiously branched out.
This one isn't especially good. The two leads are rival shopkeepers and, though the romance has finally started now that he’s halfway through, Adachi is finding all their enmity stressful.
“Do you have to be so petty?” Adachi demands of his book out loud, nose wrinkled.
Oops. He glances to the side. Kurosawa is still curled up in the low light of Adachi’s reading lamp, thankfully — once he’s deeply asleep, he’s almost impossible to wake up. He insists he doesn’t snore, so what he’s doing currently must be “breathing loudly.” The corners of Adachi’s mouth tilt with fondness.
Kurosawa is definitely sweeter and more romantic than the two leads in the novel Adachi’s reading, even if Adachi still sometimes wants to hide from his mushiness. He does so much for Adachi every day. It’s not about keeping score, but Adachi knows he can do more for Kurosawa too. He wants to.
Tomorrow morning, Adachi will wake up early and make coffee, he decides firmly. Kurosawa usually does it, because he’s a morning person and Adachi isn’t. It’s sometimes still hard to believe that this is Adachi’s life now — that he wakes to the smell of home-brewed coffee, rather than making a hasty canned purchase from a vending machine. That if he wants to, he can step into his boyfriend’s personal space to lean against him and groggily wake up in his arms.
It’s nice. It's really very nice.
Adachi can do that for Kurosawa tomorrow. He makes a mental note to set his alarm.
Even over dinner earlier, Kurosawa asked so many attentive questions about Adachi’s book talk trip with Tsuge — like they hadn’t been messaging and swapping stickers constantly on LINE for the past two days — that the meal was almost cold by the time Adachi managed to ask how Kurosawa’s sales presentation went.
If Adachi had been at work today, he would have heard about it directly — from Kurosawa himself, and from overhearing the sales desk’s excited chatter.
Adachi lays his book down, spread open across his chest, and folds his hands over it.
There is a junior planner position opening soon in Toyokawa’s Planning and Development department. Fujisaki-san heard about it from a friend who works under Director Terashima, and she mentioned it over lunch last week with the sort of supportive, studied casualness that meant she was making a subtle suggestion. She’ll probably ask about it when Adachi returns to work tomorrow. He doesn’t know yet what he’ll tell her.
As stressful as Adachi found working on his proposal for cheer-on clips last year, it was exhilarating to have a dream, to work toward a goal — to set his mind to work on a problem and develop solutions. To dream up a product and imagine how people might use it. He loved the work and he loved the way it made him feel.
But Adachi has spent nearly nine years sitting at the same desk, eating the same lunch, riding the same train, organizing the same spreadsheets, working with (most of) the same people. The past year has shaken things up, to be sure, but he’s very comfortable in his role at Toyokawa. It’s safe. It’s like wearing the same pair of worn-in house slippers. Sure, they may be threadbare, but they’ve molded perfectly to your feet and there’s no guarantee that new slippers will be better. What if you take a risk and order new slippers online and they're lost in the mail because you screwed up? What if they do arrive but they pinch and you’ve thrown the old ones away for nothing? What if you ruin your career and your friendships and your relationship with your boyfriend??
Friendly chats with Fujisaki-san over the photocopier about her ongoing studies in labor and social security law, Rokkaku descending on his desk to respectfully demand spell checking, Urabe-san rolling across the aisle to wheedle help with reports, Kurosawa winking and wiggling his pen at him from across the office… It could all change.
Adachi exhales a frustrated breath. He shoves a bookmark into his novel and sets it aside on the nightstand. He switches off the light and rolls sharply onto his side in the dark.
Adachi, historically, struggles with change.
Maybe that’s the one thing that hasn’t changed this year.
*
In the morning, Adachi wakes to the smell of coffee, Kurosawa’s hand lightly touching his arm, and a half-awake sense of failure.
*
“I forgot to set the alarm,” he tells Fujisaki-san morosely over lunch in the cafeteria, frowning down at his double mayo onigiri. He picks them up from the well-stocked convenience store across the street from his and Kurosawa’s new apartment, but they’re just not the same as the food truck onigiri he used to buy every day on his way to the train.
Fujisaki-san holds back her laugh, which Adachi appreciates. “The day after a trip is always tiring,” she says diplomatically. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Adachi-kun.”
He pokes his onigiri. The rice isn’t as sticky as it should be — too much flops out onto the table. It’s easier than making eye contact with Fujisaki-san as he says, “I wanted to do something for him.”
“I think Kurosawa-kun already likes what you do for him,” says Fujisaki-san. “He’s very happy.”
He is, and Adachi knows that. Kurosawa wears his heart on his sleeve (Adachi really doesn’t understand how Rokkaku still has no idea that they’re dating). And yet… “I want to do more. He’s—” He pulls his chair in and leans in closer over the table, lowering his voice, and he doesn’t hide his face but his shoulders rise higher with embarrassment. “He’s very romantic.”
“Mm.” Fujisaki-san sets down her chopsticks with a light tink against her bento box and she gives him her full attention. “I can see that about Kurosawa-kun.”
Adachi’s face is a tomato, he’s sure.
“Things that Kurosawa-kun does for you — do they have to be grand to mean something?”
“No,” he says readily. Sometimes they are grand, because Kurosawa is cheesy and Adachi likes that about him, but Adachi enjoys the quiet moments too. When Kurosawa remembers the laundry detergent that Adachi likes best. When he absently kisses Adachi’s temple in passing or attentively listens to him rant about stationary (and asks very good questions). When he tucks Adachi’s arm through his so they can share an umbrella on a rainy afternoon — a real-life “love-love-umbrella” Adachi never imagined for himself.
Kurosawa is a deeply thoughtful person with a gift for anticipating what would make Adachi happy, and while Adachi doesn't need or expect his boyfriend to do those things — and actively encourages the very rare selfish impulse from him — he appreciates them all the same.
“Then why do yours have to be?” Fujisaki-san asks.
It’s a shrewd question — one that Adachi doesn't have an answer to.
"I, ah, uh." He scratches at the back of his head. "I'll- I'll think on it."
Because she is a kind and generous friend, Fujisaki-san nods and gracefully takes the hint that Adachi is too overwhelmed to continue with this line of questioning and she changes the subject.
Because she is a demon, she changes it to the one other thing he doesn't want to talk about.
"Have you given any thought to the new position in Planning and Development?" she asks.
Yes, Fujisaki-san! He hasn't been able to stop thinking about it since she mentioned it! "I'm not too sure yet," he hedges.
"I heard the application deadline is in two days," she says placidly. She picks up her chopsticks again. "What does Kurosawa-kun think?"
"I ... haven't told him yet," Adachi admits. "I don't want to disappoint him."
"I don't think you could," she says.
Adachi meets Fujisaki-san's eyes again.
"Whatever you decide, Adachi-kun, it will be what's best for you," she says. "I'm sure Kurosawa-kun will be proud." She smiles at him. "And I will too!"
Sometimes it truly is impossible to comprehend how much Adachi's life has changed in only a year.
"Thank you," he says, thick with gratitude, and they smile at each other.
*
That night, Adachi insistently elbows Kurosawa away when he tries to clean up after cooking dinner. Kurosawa protests at first, but he’s eventually successfully distracted by Adachi flipping soapy water at him and the two of them laugh and splash each other.
Adachi laughs even harder knowing that this is exactly the sort of moment that used to feature in Kurosawa’s rose-tinted fantasies underscored by an angelic soundtrack. When, at Kurosawa's insistence, Adachi explains why he's laughing, Kurosawa lifts his eyebrows in arch amusement.
"Oh?" asks Kurosawa, in the playful tone that Adachi knows well. "What kind of fantasies, exactly?" He leans far, far into Adachi's personal space. His innocent expression is a very funny lie. "I must have forgotten. Can you demonstrate?"
They both know very well that Kurosawa has a mind like a steel trap, especially for all things Adachi. Adachi huffs another laugh, standing strong under the full weight of Kurosawa's warm — increasingly heated, along with the teasing hand sliding down to rest in the small of Adachi's back — regard.
While all Adachi says is, "Maybe," he thinks Kurosawa can read the promise in the kiss he reaches for.
*
"We may have begun at odds, but everything is different now!" cried Tanaka.
"Is it? What about our circumstances has changed?" asked Ito Sachiko. The wind whipped around the pair and tugged at her long hair in a perfect dramatic tableau. "You're still my greatest rival!"
Tanaka's face was a picture of agony. "I don't want to compete with you."
"Why not?" she demanded.
"Ito-san—" Tanaka had held in his feelings for far too long. They finally boiled over like a raging river roaring from a breached dam. "Sachiko—! I love you!"
Adachi lets the novel fall and flop open across across his flaming face, his nose tucked into the spine and the pages cool against his hot cheeks and forehead. That confession! So embarrassing! Between Adachi's self-consciousness on behalf of the characters and his own racing thoughts, it has taken him the better part of an hour to read just three pages. He is never going to finish the book.
Thankfully the characters in Tsuge's early books were more measured in their affection, or Adachi would never have been able to make eye contact with Tsuge again. His most recent novel, with cover art featuring a mysterious blond dancer, takes an entirely different approach to romance, but after officially living with Kurosawa Yuichi for several months, Adachi now feels more emotionally equipped to handle it. Critics and readers alike have been praising Tsuge's new book for the joy it finds in the everyday. Adachi could never begrudge his friend that happiness.
However, openly affectionate or not, Tsuge's novels are much, much better written than this one by a lesser author is.
"Like a raging river from a breached dam!" Adachi scoffs, muffled by the book on his face but still louder than he probably should, and he hears Kurosawa shift in bed beside him. Adachi freezes guiltily but Kurosawa only settles again, and after waiting for a few seconds, Adachi releases a gusty breath.
For all his judgment of the overwrought writing, Adachi can admit to himself that the scene made him feel a pang, too. It was undoubtedly romantic, if also extra. Tanaka and Ito have known each other for so long that to finally call her by her given name was shockingly intimate. It laid bare the character's feelings almost more forcefully than the actual confession itself. The author hardly even needed the impassioned speech on a windswept beach in the moonlight.
Gestures didn't have to be grand to be meaningful, as Fujisaki-san had pointed out earlier. Well, she hadn't said it directly, she had hinted and led Adachi to thinking it, which is more Fujisaki-san's style. She hasn't said outright that Adachi ought to apply for the junior planner opening at Toyokawa, either, but he thinks she hopes he will.
Beneath the book, Adachi screws up his face and makes a small pained noise. It’s still overwhelming for people to have expectations of him, but he wants the position in Planning and Development. He can admit that to himself. He thinks he would enjoy it, if he was fortunate enough to be hired. Maybe he could even be good at it someday. He is not the same person who hid at the same desk for eight years. He still doesn't particularly want to be the center of attention, but he wants to grow. He wants to stretch. He wants to continue reaching for something new and being happy with himself.
All at once, he's struck by the wild thought if he doesn't say it now, in the safety of their bed under the dim light of his favorite bedside reading lamp, he won't say it at all.
Adachi shoves his terrible book off his face. "Kurosawa?"
Kurosawa fell asleep with his head half-buried in his pillow and one arm flung over his face, and he doesn't so much as twitch. It is a spectacularly graceless posture that Adachi would fondly laugh at at any other time, but he needs him awake, now. He shakes Kurosawa's warm shoulder once to no response — then does it again, much more insistently. "Kurosawa!"
Kurosawa startles awake so suddenly that he flails and nearly swats Adachi in the face. "Mn?! What?" He squints sleepily up at Adachi, clearly confused. "Adachi?"
Adachi is a villain for doing this to him, but it's too late to turn back now. He swallows. “There’s a new position in Planning and Development.”
Kurosawa blinks and makes a visible, valiant but not-terribly-successful attempt at rousing himself. “Oh?”
Adachi takes a deep fortifying breath. “I think I’m going to apply for it.”
Kurosawa watches him for a long, bleary moment with no change of expression. Then all at once, his eyes widen and he shoots up on his elbows. “What? Really??”
Adachi nods firmly.
Kurosawa stares at him and then shoves himself into a seated position. Adachi mirrors him, the two of them sitting cross-legged in bed facing each other, and Kurosawa begins to smile, broad and helpless. Blinding. “Adachi! That’s such a good idea, you would be an incredible planner. Fujisaki-san can surely look at your application paperwork and I can help you practice for the interview—” He pumps his fist. “I’ll be rooting for you!”
Adachi never really, in his heart, thought that Kurosawa would feel any other way. He has only ever been deeply, genuinely supportive of what’s best for Adachi, regardless of any impact it may have on Kurosawa himself. But still… “You don’t worry?” he asks, and when Kurosawa tilts his head inquisitively, he adds, “We wouldn’t work together anymore.”
The crow’s feet around Kurosawa’s eyes crinkle with his smile. “It only makes sense for a sales representative to learn about the company’s newest products, don’t you think?”
Adachi pictures Kurosawa strolling across the hall to the Planning and Development office, posting up with his hip against a new desk, absently twirling a sleek red pen between his fingers as they talk about customer data or Ragna Crimson plot points or what Adachi wants to make for dinner that night.
Adachi nods firmly, warm from his head to his toes.
“And I’ll see you at lunch and at home!" Kurosawa continues — gushes, really. He's just been woken from a sound sleep and his delight is entirely unfeigned. Adachi loves him. “It would be a perfect fit for you. Are you really going to apply?”
Adachi pins his shoulders back. “Yes,” he says, finally certain. Being brave, making the big decision, is important, yes. But it's the quiet gestures that count, too. Breathe through the embarrassment and screw your courage to the sticking point now, Adachi, like a character in a barely marketable romance novel! He finishes: “Yuichi,” and Kurosawa’s handsome face goes blank.
This would alarm Adachi if he didn’t know Kurosawa intimately by now — if he hadn’t seen Kurosawa’s reaction last year when Adachi first asked him to dinner in an elevator. Bluescreen for Kurosawa.exe.
Adachi waits, certain of his welcome but increasingly anxious as the silence builds, and then, after several long seconds of absolute stillness: Kurosawa lurches back into life all at once and enthusiastically tackles him back into the pillows, and Adachi laughs and laughs.