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A gentle clanking of pots and pans drifted up the hallway leading to their apartment, carried by the wafting spices to welcome Ookurikara home as he stepped out of the elevator. Mitsutada wasn’t the first one home as often as he would like - he lamented endlessly about the lack of opportunities to spoil his dear husband (his words, of course) with a proper welcome.
Not that Ookurikara had ever indicated he wished to be pampered and fussed over in the way Mitsutada was prone to - but if he was very honest, in the privacy of his own mind as the apartment door opened with a quiet beep, Mitsutada was right to think that a part of him needed it.
He slipped in silently, discarding his shoes next to the front door and looking towards the soft glow of the kitchen. It was, oddly, empty save for the humming rice cooker and a pot whose lid wobbled quietly with the escaping steam. But there was no need to announce himself, as warm arms curled around his waist, pulling him into their embrace.
“Welcome home, Kara-chan.” Mitsutada’s lips gently brushed the back of his head, curving into a smile. Ookurikara hummed in response, but didn’t move, letting himself be drawn in closer, “How was work?”
“Fine.” He said, which they both knew meant shitty, so Mitsutada kissed the back of his head again.
Something about it - the soothing brush of fingers against his hips, the intimate glow cast by the kitchen, the tenderness with which Mitsutada spoke - made the ring on his finger feel immovable and yet unbearably heavy all at once, so he gently extricated himself from Mitsutada’s hold, moving to discard his bag on one of the stools surrounding the benchtop. Mitsutada let him go and returned to his post in the kitchen, smiling to himself still, as if he didn’t know exactly what Ookurikara was thinking before he even understood it himself.
It was still surreal sometimes, Ookurikara mused as Mitsutada returned to the stove, when he took a moment to consider it all, like their apartment was a strange dream he returned to after a long day in the real world. He’d had no interest in romance (or even other people, really) before Mitsutada blazed into his life like the sun, illuminating corners of himself he’d never cared to acknowledge, and even so long after the wedding -
Well, Mitsutada hated it when his thoughts wandered here, but a part of him still lived in that world where it only seemed natural for his life to be one spent alone.
“Kara-chan,” Mitsutada said, right on cue, as if he could always sense when Ookurikara’s thoughts were headed down this path, “I’m not quite finished, do you want to hop in the shower?”
“Sure.” He left Mitsutada to his devices, discarding his jacket over the back of the couch heading to the bathroom. He flicked the lightswitch and had to blink furiously, the harsh overheads so much brighter than the warm glow Mitsutada maintained in the kitchen, and nearly tripped over one of Mitsutada’s (excessive, delicious smelling, needlessly expensive) many shower products as he leaned in to turn the hot water on.
He usually showered in a utilitarian manner, his small gathering of products nearly lost in the forest of Mitsutada’s brightly coloured bottles that infested the shelves, but something about the night had him feeling oddly indulgent - enough to pluck out a bottle he remembered as smelling particularly nice and squeeze some out, idly watching bubbles float past his eyes as he lathered it over his skin.
He left his hair wet when he was done, wandering back to the kitchen with his new shirt already damp around the shoulders, in time to catch Mitsutada adding heaping spoonfuls of curry to the rice occupying two huge bowls. A few candles had appeared while he was gone, and he held in a snort of amusement. Mitsutada was such a traditional romantic.
He had barely sat down before Mitsutada was fussing over him once more, sliding the almost comically full bowl in front of him before reaching to smooth his still-wet hair so the strands would dry the way he liked. Ookurikara had learned to let these things happen without a fuss. It seemed to soothe Mitsutada’s own stress of the day in a way that Ookurikara had never learned to do with words or comforting touches - and though Mitsutada had never made him feel like he needed to change these parts of him, there was a nagging feeling that crept up on him sometimes. He was a man of few words and a closed expression, and when faced with Mitsutada’s endless wealth of kindness it began to feel like it wasn’t enough. This, at least, he could do - learn to accept that boundless kindness, and that Mitsutada needed him exactly the way he was.
“I hope you like this one - I tried something a little different tonight, because one of my coworkers said you could stew pieces of apple in the sauce to add a bit of sweetness. You know, this morning…” Mitsutada’s smooth voice filled the air between them, dispelling the last bit of tension sitting in Ookurikara’s shoulders. Mitsutada’s eye was a vibrant and molten gold in the candlelight, his smile crinkling the corner when he looked down to scoop up some of his food, and Ookurikara thought his husband looked so incredibly, exquisitely beautiful.
Mitsutada stood to collect their plates when they were done, and as he came around the table, Ookurikara felt something creep up through his chest like vines, warm and impulsive, compelling him to reach out and snag Mitsutada’s arm before it reached the empty dish. The words cut off into an abrupt silence, but Ookurikara filled it before Mitsutada could react, pulling him down into a kiss as warm and languid as he could muster. The faint taste of the spices lingered on Mitsutada’s lips, which curved into another smile as he relaxed into Ookurikara’s hold, returning the kiss with more passion than Ookurikara had expected.
“Thank you.” Ookurikara said shortly as he released Mitsutada, letting him sweep the plate away but standing to follow him into the kitchen, planting himself stubbornly beside the dishes in the sink that Mitsutada only sometimes let him wash without putting up a fight. There was a faint glow to Mitsutada’s cheeks that might have just been a trick of the candlelight, but he sidled back up to stand beside him as Ookurikara started filling the sink, bumping their shoulders together.
Mitsutada tended to get strangely bashful when Ookurikara returned even the slightest of his affections, though whether that was because Ookurikara so rarely took the initiative or just a quirk of his remained an elusive truth. Mitsutada had taken the first step at every turn - the first to admit they’d been in love with each other for much longer than either had realised, the one to ask Ookurikara to move in, and the one to set up an elaborate yet private proposal, much to the apparent dismay of some of their friends.
You’ve lost me so much money, Koryuu had lamented as Daihannya slapped his shoulder in delight, ignoring the way Ookurikara glowered at him for his very obvious (if comical) dismay after announcing their engagement, I believed in you, dude.
You can’t possibly have thought Mitsutada would pass up the opportunity, he loves spoiling people, Azuki had said before Ookurikara could retort, brows furrowed.
Daihannya had looked profoundly smug, the winner of every wager since before there had been even a possibility of a relationship, as Koryuu whined to Azuki about the romantic core he was sure Ookurikara was hiding, deep down - yes, it’s REALLY deep, but he’s got to have one! He was staring at Mitsutada like he hung the moon for ages before Mitsutada was brave enough to ask him out!
He’d taken some offence at the time, because there’s no way he was that obvious, but Koryuu wasn’t wrong about him, he supposed, scrubbing at a bit of sauce that clung stubbornly to a pot. He’d be damned if he admitted it. So long as Mitsutada understood - and he felt another bump against his shoulder, Mitsutada drawing him back to the present and out of his thoughts - that would be more than enough. Two glasses of red wine had appeared while he was lost in thought, and he turned as he pulled the plug out of the sink, slightly raising an eyebrow.
“You’ve had a long day, hm? Come relax with me.” Mitsutada slid the glass towards him as he dried his hands, and Ookurikara pinned him with a stare, thinking, you obviously have, too. The candlelight flickered in the reflection of the glass, seeming to curl over Mitsutada’s fingers, and Ookurikara nudged him towards the couch, taking his own glass of wine in hand. It was full-bodied, not too sweet, and lingered pleasantly on Ookurikara’s tongue after he took a sip. He wordlessly herded Mitsutada towards the couch, making sure he was seated, comfortable and had his wine in reach before he firmly draped himself over Mitsutada’s lap, trapping the other man in the relaxed sprawl he had chosen when he sat down. His still-damp hair fell across his eyes, but Mitsutada was quick to brush it back with his long fingers, gently combing through the longer strands.
“Okay, okay.” Mitsutada sighed, as if discovering anew that Ookurikara could read him like an open book, and sank further into the couch. Ookurikara prodded his leg with one finger, firmly, and Mitsutada took an obliging sip of his own wine, humming softly as he took in the flavour, “I quite like this one. I’ll have to thank Daihannya for the recommendation.”
Me too, Ookurikara thought, shifting more of his weight onto Mitsutada’s lap to convey the thought, and Mitsutada’s fingernails dragged soothingly across his scalp in response.
Mitsutada prodded him back, and Ookurikara leaned across to the side table to take another sip of his own drink, ignoring Mitsutada’s huff of amusement at the strange angle he’d found to ensure he stayed put. His weight fell back onto Mitsutada again when he was done, fingers returning to his now well-combed hair, and Ookurikara let himself relax completely against the warm frame supporting his.
It still felt a bit like a dream - the comforting blanket of silence in the air, the wavering candlelight, and the way Mitsutada patiently untangled the hair he’d roughly run a towel over without much thought. But Ookurikara had felt this way many times before, and he still hadn’t woken up from this strange, peaceful life he’d found.