Work Text:
Their apartment building stood in the shadow of the train tracks, small and shabby, rented cheaply to students at the university. Haru was right next door, closer now than he was back in Iwatobi, and Makoto was grateful. Haru was used to this. He'd always been self-sufficient and he lived completely on his own all through high school, but this was the first time Makoto lived away from his family. There was no kaa-san here to make his lunches, no Ran and Ren to make sure he got up in the morning (by making flying leaps at him from the doorway), no dad to help him with his homework. He kept two alarms, one of them across the room with the volume at its loudest setting, to force him out of bed to turn it off. He also asked Haru to call him in the mornings, though Haru usually forgot.
Makoto wasn't very good at cleaning, and he couldn't cook at all. If not for Haru, he'd be living on cup ramen and vending-machine tea. Makoto usually ended up in Haru's apartment for dinner. Haru often made lunch for both of them too. It meant Makoto ate a lot of mackerel, but he was used to that. And, he noticed, lately Haru made more effort to include things like vegetables so the meals were more healthy. He was in serious training, after all.
Makoto didn't know how Haru put up with living in such a tiny space when he'd had a whole house to himself for years, especially in terms of the kitchen. Really, other than the bathtub, the kitchen was the heart of Haru's home. Haru's kitchen back in Iwatobi was not huge either, but Haru's Tokyo kitchen made it look like a palace. His kitchen now was basically a long, thin strip of tile with a sink, small fridge and a tiny, two-burner stove---yet he still managed to cook meals for both of them. Sometimes Makoto felt guilty, though Haru always said it was fine, he didn't mind---and Makoto really preferred Haru's cooking to cup ramen.
*****
Haru doesn't dislike cooking. Makoto is hopeless in the kitchen, so Haru doesn't mind cooking for both of them. Before they left for Tokyo, Makoto's mother---who sometimes took the place of his own absent mother---pleaded with Haru to "please take care of him as you always have" with a worried expression (she's where Makoto got his eyebrows), so there's that too---but Haru would do it anyway.
Even before his parents left for America, Haru was largely self-sufficient. His mother taught him the basics of cooking over spring break one year, and was pleased when she discovered he had a knack for it. "You'll make a good husband, one day," she told him. Remembering that now, and glancing over his shoulder at where Makoto sits at the table studying, Haru smirks.
"Do you need any help?" Makoto calls over the sound of the water and the clink of the dishes. "I can help dry..."
"I'm fine," Haru replies, raising his own voice slightly. He feels Makoto's eyes on him for a moment before the other boy goes back to his textbook. Haru goes back to the dishes.
Another few moments pass before he hears Makoto get up from the table and cross the floor toward him. He tracks Makoto's movement without turning. The floor shakes slightly with Makoto's large footsteps, though Haru knows he tries to walk carefully out of respect for their neighbors.
Makoto stops behind him and slides his arms slowly around Haru's waist. Haru doesn't pause in his rinsing, but he does lean back against Makoto slightly. The strong arms around him and the broad chest against his back feel good.
"Haru," Makoto says, in that way he has that always makes Haru's heart ache. He bends to kiss Haru's neck, just beneath the collar of his shirt. "Thank you."
Haru holds in a shiver as the feel of Makoto's lips sends a tingle of electricity over his skin. "For what?"
"Taking care of me," Makoto answers, and kisses his neck again, a little higher this time. "Cooking for me and getting rid of the mildew in my bathroom and helping me study even when you're tired from practice... I'd be lost without you."
"It's fine," Haru tells him, because it is. He puts a plate in the drainer and begins rinsing the other one before he speaks again. "It's late. Stay here tonight."
He feels Makoto tense, very slightly, but knows that slight constricting of his muscles is anticipation. "Okay," Makoto whispers.
*****
Haru was never loud. It just wasn't in his nature. The noises he did make---breathy grunts, tiny strained cries---were more erotic than anything Makoto could imagine. He had to stop himself from being too loud. Though there were no parents or siblings to hide from here, the walls in this apartment were paper-thin and he wouldn't want to disturb their neighbors in the most embarrassing way possible! But being with Haru like this always felt so incredible, it was difficult to remember. The way Haru's fingers clutched at his back, the way the muscular body arched against his, drove Makoto wild. He stifled his moans of pleasure by pressing his face against Haru's neck.
He felt Haru's orgasm approaching, and felt his own body match the pace... like a race, building and building between them. Haru's breathing got harsher, and Makoto began to lose his rhythm. He fought to maintain it. His heart pounded in his ears. It was all he could hear, and he wished he could raise his head and see Haru, but he didn't dare.
"Makoto!" Haru hissed, a tight whisper, and his fingers clutched at Makoto tighter, hips straining upward with a soft moan as heat splattered between them. His body tightened around Makoto, and Makoto let that rhythmic clenching draw it out of him as well. "Haru!" he sobbed, muffled by the pillow and Haru's neck and shoulder, hips jerking frantically as the pounding of his heart reached a crescendo.
*****
Afterward, Makoto always feels romantic, stroking his fingers over Haru's sweaty skin and kissing him everywhere his lips can reach. Haru is hot and sticky and uncomfortable, but he lets Makoto do what he wants.
As Makoto winds down, drowsiness beginning to claim him, Haru pillows his head on Makoto's arm. Makoto holds him close, his other arm wrapped around Haru's waist, and though it's far too hot, Haru lets him do this too.
He can feel Makoto begin to drop off. "Makoto," he says. "When this term is over, we should look for an apartment big enough for two."
Makoto's eyes snap open. "Haru?" he whispers, and in the inflection of that one word Haru can read all his emotions. Uncertainty: what exactly does he mean? Faint surprise: is he really acknowledging them as a couple? Worry: what will people say?
"It's easier that way," Haru clarifies.
"Oh," Makoto says, and nods a little. He can see the logic of it.
"And also... I love you."
Makoto pulls back enough to look down at him. "Haru!" he exclaims, and hugs Haru fiercely. Haru makes a little noise and squirms; Makoto is crushing him and the heat of his skin is suffocating. Makoto loosens his hold, but only slightly, and leans down to kiss him. His skin is a bit clammy from cooling sweat but his lips are still warm, and the kiss still feels good... mostly. Enough so that Haru has no desire to pull away.
"I love you too," Makoto murmurs against his mouth. "I always have."
In the darkness, Haruka smiles.