Archive of Our Own

It’s a wonder Sanemi hasn’t broken his damn chopsticks with how aggressively he’s stabbing at his rice. He’s not even eating, just taking his frustration out on the poor bento in front of him.

Valentine’s Day is the worst.

Everywhere he looks, there’s some lovesick idiot shoving flowers and chocolates at their equally lovesick idiot of a partner. The hallways have been a nightmare all morning—couples holding hands, sneaking kisses when they think no one’s looking, giving each other stupid plushies they probably bought last night in a last-minute panic.

And then there’s the godforsaken tradition the students came up with.

Sanemi’s grip tightens on his chopsticks just thinking about it.

Who the hell decided it was okay for students to give chocolates to teachers they think are hot? How is that even allowed? 

He shuts that shit down immediately, has since his first year here, so most students don’t even bother trying anymore. But Kanae —Kanae is sitting there at her desk, smiling that sweet, practiced smile of hers, as the pile of chocolates on her desk just keeps growing.

Sanemi stabs at his food harder.

It’s a stupid tradition for an even stupider holiday, and that’s what he’s mad about. Definitely not the fact that Kanae, who always makes homemade chocolates every year, somehow found the time to give them to every single staff member—even Nakime, who absolutely no one likes—but not him.

Not that it matters.

It shouldn’t matter.

It’s not like they’re dating anymore. Hell, they’re not even friends. Sure, they said they’d be civil, but no one actually means that when they break up. 

He’s not mad about it. Not even a little.

A knock at the door startles him, dragging him from his thoughts. He already knows who it is before he even says, “Come in.”

The door creaks open, and Giyuu steps inside, giving him a nod as he shuts it behind him.

Their new tradition.

An unlikely friendship—if it can even be called that—that formed two months ago when Kanae and Shinobu both decided they “needed to focus on work” and dumped them at the exact same time. Under any other circumstances, Sanemi’s pretty sure they wouldn’t be sitting here, eating lunch together like this, but he doesn’t exactly hate the arrangement.

Not that he’d ever say that out loud.

Giyuu sits in the chair across from his desk, pulling out his own lunch and eating in silence. Most of their lunches are like this—quiet, uneventful—but for some reason, today, Sanemi feels the need to say something.

He huffs, scowling at his rice. “Genya told me I’m ‘not allowed at the house’ tonight.” He jabs his chopsticks into his bento again, “Says he’s having Kamado over.”

Giyuu glances up, chewing thoughtfully. Then, after a moment, he mutters, “Huh. That must be why he seemed so nervous in gym.”

Sanemi grimaces, waving him off. “Don’t tell me that. I don’t wanna think about what they’re doing.”

Giyuu makes a quiet sound—almost a laugh. There’s a beat of silence before he’s the one to fill it, which is rare. “What are you doing, then?”

Sanemi shrugs. “Dunno.” He hesitates, debating whether to say anything, then sighs, “I, uh…made this reservation. Four months ago.” He scowls, picking at his food, “Stupid, fancy place. But now…well, you know.”

Giyuu hums, nodding in understanding.

There’s another stretch of silence, and Sanemi finds himself stabbing at his food once again. Then, just when he’s about to give up on eating entirely, Giyuu speaks up.

“We could go.”

Sanemi’s head whips up. He stares at Giyuu, sure he misheard, but Giyuu’s expression is as blank as ever.

His eyes narrow. “Are you fucking with me?”

Giyuu shakes his head. “You already made the reservation,” he says simply, shrugging, “And I need something to do.”

Sanemi watches him for a long moment, searching for any sign that he’s joking, but there’s nothing.

He exhales sharply through his nose. Damn it. Giyuu’s right—he has nothing else to do, and canceling would mean losing way too much money.

“…Fine,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face, “We can go.”

Giyuu doesn’t say anything, just hums in quiet acknowledgement and keeps eating. Sanemi shakes his head, staring down at his ruined bento.

What the hell did he just agree to?

The day does seem to pass easier now that Sanemi has something to do after work. Not that it stops him from rolling his eyes every damn time he sees some ridiculous kid gushing about whatever overpriced crap their partner got them. Even worse are the ones who can’t seem to wait until they get home to start making out right in the middle of the hallway.

And if Sanemi just so happens to ignore those particular students so that Kanae has to be the one to write them up? Well, she can’t prove anything.

By the time the final bell rings, Sanemi makes his way back to his office, grabbing a stack of ungraded tests off his desk. He’s not about to grade them tonight—he’ll deal with that headache tomorrow—but if he leaves them here, he knows damn well he’ll forget them.

Before he can leave, though, there’s a knock at the door.

Sanemi frowns. He wasn’t expecting anyone. “Come in,” he calls.

The door opens, and, of course, it’s Giyuu.

He steps inside, face unreadable as always, and glances at the papers in Sanemi’s hands. “Do you need help with that?”

Sanemi scoffs, shifting the stack under one arm. “I’m fine.” Then he eyes Giyuu warily, “What do you want?”

Giyuu blinks, like he wasn’t expecting the question. “…We’re going to dinner.”

For a second, Sanemi just stares at him. Then, slowly, his gaze drifts down to the sweaty, blue tracksuit Giyuu is still wearing.

Sanemi exhales sharply. “You can’t wear that shit.”

Giyuu frowns slightly, looking down at himself. “Oh…I don’t really have anything nicer to wear.”

Sanemi groans, tilting his head back and dragging a hand down his face before adjusting his grip on the papers. “Come on,” he mutters, pushing past Giyuu and heading for the door, “Just follow me.”

Giyuu, as usual, follows silently, his footsteps light behind Sanemi’s heavier ones.

The chilly air hits as they step outside, and Sanemi makes a beeline for the parking lot. He marches straight to his car, yanking open the door and tossing the stack of tests onto the backseat without a second thought.

Then he slams the door shut and turns—only to find Giyuu standing a few feet away, just… staring at the car.

Sanemi stares back.

The silence stretches.

Finally, Sanemi lets out an exasperated sigh and swings the driver’s side door back open. “Get in the fucking car.”

Giyuu jumps slightly—barely noticeable—before quickly making his way around to the passenger side. He climbs in without a word, pulling the seatbelt over his chest with that same blank expression.

Sanemi shuts the door again, dragging a hand through his hair as he settles into his seat. He starts the car with a grumble under his breath, the engine roaring to life.

Sanemi takes the stairs two at a time, moving fast. He’s hoping—praying, really—that Genya isn’t home yet. If he opens that door and sees his little brother making out with Kamado on his couch, he might actually commit a felony tonight.

He digs his keys out of his pocket while balancing the stack of papers in the other hand and shoves the door open. The apartment is dark, still and silent. No shoes by the door.

Good.

Sanemi exhales, kicking off his shoes and jerking his head for Giyuu to follow. He leads the way down the hall, straight to his bedroom, flicking on the light as he steps inside.

“Close the door,” he mutters, throwing the papers on his desk and already making a beeline for his closet.

Giyuu does, the soft click barely registering as Sanemi slings open the closet door and starts rooting through his shirts. Giyuu is slightly more lean, but Sanemi’s sure he has something that’ll fit the guy. 

After a moment, he glances over his shoulder—and finds Giyuu just…standing there. Looking around the room with that blank, unreadable stare.

Sanemi sighs. Of course he’s just standing there like a lost dog.

“You got a favorite color or somethin’?” he grumbles, turning back to the closet.

There’s a beat of silence before Giyuu responds. “…Yes.”

Sanemi has to physically stop himself from throwing a hanger at him.

“What the fuck is it, then?”

Another pause. Then, finally, Giyuu mutters, “Blue.”

Sanemi takes a deep breath, trying not to go insane, and yanks an old, dark blue button-up off its hanger with a little more force than necessary. He turns, tossing it at Giyuu.

To his credit, Giyuu actually manages to catch it.

Sanemi grabs a black vest next, throwing that at him too. Then he digs through his pants, looking for the pair of black slacks that are just a bit too small for him, and chucks those over next.

“Bathroom’s the first room on the right,” he mutters.

Giyuu hesitates for a second before nodding and stepping out.

Sanemi lets out another sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face before locking the door to his room.

Then he turns back to his closet, rifling through his own options. It doesn’t take long to pick something—he goes for a green button-up, gray vest, and black slacks. Basic, but it’ll do. He changes quickly, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, and then heads for the door.

The moment he opens it, Giyuu is already there. Dressed.

Sanemi blinks.

The clothes fit him well. Weirdly well. The blue shirt hugs his frame just right, the vest pulling it all together, emphasizing the muscle that’s usually hidden under that damn tracksuit.

Sanemi realizes he’s staring and immediately looks away, checking his watch instead.

He frowns. “We’ve still got almost two hours ‘til the reservation.”

Giyuu stares at him, then mutters a quiet, “Oh.” There’s a pause, then Giyuu glances at the papers Sanemi left on his desk, “…Do you want to grade those?”

Sanemi scowls. “Fuck no.”

Giyuu doesn’t even react, just shrugs. Sanemi groans, dragging a hand down his face before rubbing at his temples. Two fucking hours to kill. He needs caffeine.

“C’mon,” he grumbles, already pushing past Giyuu and heading for the door, “I need a coffee.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, just shoves his feet into his nicest pair of shoes and yanks the door open. He hears Giyuu’s steps follow behind him as they make their way down the hall and out of the apartment.

At least this time Sanemi doesn’t have to yell at him to get in the car.

He starts the engine, cranks the radio up—probably louder than necessary—and pulls out of the lot without another word.

The ride is silent. Not that Sanemi minds. Giyuu’s never been the type to force conversation, which is one of the only things Sanemi actually likes about him.

The drive is short, the familiar neon sign of his favorite coffee shop coming into view. He parks, unbuckles, and is out of the car in an instant, barely checking to see if Giyuu is keeping up as he trudges toward the entrance.

The moment they step inside, the scent of roasted coffee and warm pastries fills the air. The place isn’t too busy—just a few groups tucked into booths, chatting quietly or working on their laptops. 

The barista behind the counter is one Sanemi recognizes, though he still doesn’t know her name. Doesn’t really care to, either. But she gives him a polite smile, and he nods back before eyeing the menu.

He already knows what he wants, he always gets the same thing, but he stares at the board anyway, just for the sake of it.

Then he glances at Giyuu. “You ready to order?”

Giyuu nods, and Sanemi jerks his chin toward the counter. “Go ahead, then.”

There’s a slight hesitation before Giyuu steps forward. “Matcha tea…please.”

Sanemi barely holds back a snort. Of course.

He steps up next, about to give his order when the barista beats him to it.

“Your usual?” she asks, bright-eyed and smiling.

Sanemi freezes.

His usual? The fuck? Since when does she know his usual?

Heat creeps up his neck, and he clears his throat, avoiding eye contact as he mutters, “Yeah. Thanks.”

He pulls out his wallet, thumbing through his cash—only for Giyuu to speak up.

“I can pay for myself.”

Sanemi scoffs. “Yeah, yeah.” 

He fishes out a few yen and hands them over before Giyuu can argue. Giyuu frowns, opening his mouth like he wants to protest, but Sanemi doesn’t give him the chance.

“Go find a seat,” he grumbles, nodding toward the seating area.

Giyuu hesitates again. For a second, it almost looks like he’s going to say something. But then he sighs and turns away, scanning the shop for an open table.

Sanemi exhales, shaking his head, and leans against the counter, pulling out his phone. He scrolls mindlessly, his eyes narrowing when he sees Kanroji has already posted a dozen pictures of her and Obanai on some cheesy ass picnic.

Disgusting.

He rolls his eyes, clicking his phone off just as the barista calls his name.

…She knows his name?

Sanemi frowns but doesn’t question it, just mutters a quick thanks and grabs the two drinks. His gaze sweeps the room, easily landing on Giyuu.

Even in a place like this, Giyuu somehow still manages to stick out. Maybe it’s the mess of dark hair, strands catching the light just right, making it look shiny and…soft.

Sanemi quickly shakes the thought away.

He marches over and drops Giyuu’s tea in front of him before sitting down. Sanemi takes a sip of his coffee, the bitterness settling on his tongue in a way that feels sort of grounding. 

Across from him, Giyuu takes a sip of his own drink, and for a moment, they just sit in silence.

Then, surprisingly, Giyuu speaks. “You come here often?”

Sanemi pauses mid-sip.

For some reason, the question makes him feel almost embarrassed. He shrugs, glancing away. “Guess so.”

Giyuu hums, looking around the café. “Seems like a nice place.”

“It is.”

Another beat of silence stretches between them, but it doesn’t feel stifling. Still, Sanemi finds himself wanting to fill it.

“You don’t drink coffee or somethin’?” he asks, nodding toward Giyuu’s cup.

Giyuu shakes his head. “Never liked the taste.”

“Feel the exact same way about tea.” Sanemi responds with a snort.

Giyuu huffs, quiet but amused. For a split second, Sanemi swears he sees the corner of his lips twitch—like he’s almost smiling.

For some reason, that makes Sanemi smile, too.

He leans back in his chair, tipping his cup slightly. “How’ve your classes been?”

Giyuu looks at him, clearly a little surprised by the question. But he answers anyway. “Fine,” he says after a moment, “A bit chaotic at times.”

Sanemi smirks. “Yeah? Hashibira always makes my class…exciting.”

Giyuu lets out a small exhale—almost a laugh. “He’s a good kid… just a lot.”

Sanemi raises a brow. “He’s managed to break four calculators already this semester.”

Giyuu blinks. Then, with a straight face, he says, “He’s broken two baseball bats in gym.”

Sanemi can’t help but laugh at that. Shaking his head, he mutters, “Little shit’s gonna be the death of us.”

From there, the conversation flows easier than he ever expected.

Sanemi does most of the talking—but he finds that he doesn’t mind. Giyuu listens well, responding when needed, never pushing for more information than Sanemi is willing to give. It’s…nice.

Sanemi complains about his students, Giyuu mutters about a few of his own. Sanemi talks about his plans for the midterm, Giyuu offers a few pointers. Sanemi bounces between griping and bragging about Genya, and Giyuu listens to every word.

It’s easy. Comfortable, even.

Before he knows it, a little over an hour has passed.

Sanemi checks his watch and sighs. “We should head out.”

Giyuu nods. They both clean up their table and make their way toward the car. 

The drive to the restaurant is quiet, but not in an uncomfortable way. The music fills the space instead, humming low beneath the purr of the engine. Sanemi doesn’t bother trying to make conversation, and Giyuu doesn’t seem to expect him to. 

When they pull into the parking lot, Sanemi shifts into park and flips down the visor, checking himself in the mirror. He smooths down his hair, brushes off the nonexistent lint on his clothes, and exhales sharply. Good enough. He pushes the visor back up and gets out of the car.

Giyuu follows a second later, trailing just behind as Sanemi leads the way into the restaurant.

It’s a fancy place—at least by Sanemi’s standards. He had to book this reservation months in advance, and the price of the dishes alone made his wallet hurt. But at the time, he thought it would be worth it. Thought it would be appreciated, mean something.

But things didn’t work out that way.

Sanemi clenches his jaw, shaking off the thought. No use dwelling on it now.

He strides up to the hostess, clearing his throat. “Reservation for Shinazugawa. Party of two.”

The hostess nods, scrolling through her tablet for a moment before smiling. “Right this way.”

Sanemi jerks his head toward Giyuu to make sure he’s following before they’re led through the softly lit dining room. When they reach their table, Sanemi cringes.

The roses. He fucking forgot about the roses.

They sit in the center of the table, arranged in a way that’s both delicate and painfully romantic. He vaguely remembers paying extra for them. At the time, it seemed like a good idea. Now, it just feels embarrassing.

But Giyuu, as always, is unreadable. If he notices the flowers at all, he doesn’t react. He simply takes his seat, looking around the restaurant in quiet curiosity.

Just a moment later, their server arrives, a young woman with a warm smile. “Happy Valentine’s Day! My name’s Aiko, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”

Sanemi stiffens slightly. He really doesn’t want to deal with the whole Valentine’s Day thing right now. But before he can deflect, Aiko tilts her head, still smiling.

“Are you two a couple?”

Sanemi doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Two years.”

Across the table, Giyuu turns to look at him, but his face remains completely neutral. His stare is heavy, though—Sanemi can feel it.

But Aiko just beams. “That’s wonderful! I’ll be right back.”

She walks off, and the second she’s gone, Giyuu gives Sanemi a questioning look.

“Free alcohol,” Sanemi answers with a shrug.

As if on cue, Aiko returns with a bottle of sake and two cups. She pours them each a serving, then explains, “Tonight’s meal is a Kaiseki course with eight courses. If you have any questions, just let me know.”

They both shake their heads, and Sanemi mutters a quick thanks before she nods and leaves again.

Giyuu picks up his cup, taking a small sip. Then, without looking at Sanemi, he murmurs, “I don’t think I’ve ever been to a place this nice before.”

Sanemi snorts. “Never really have, either.”

Giyuu seems thoughtful for a moment, his fingers tracing over the rim of his cup. Then, his voice quieter than usual, he says, “I know I’m not who you wanted to be here with tonight, but…I’ve been having a nice time.”

Sanemi freezes.

His heart gives a weird little jolt, picking up speed in his chest. For some reason, his face feels warm.

Quickly, he grabs his cup, taking a sip of sake to distract himself. He clears his throat, mumbling, “Yeah. It’s been fun.”

When he finally looks up, Giyuu is watching him.

And then—he smiles.

Fucking smiles.

Sanemi swears his heart stutters. His grip on his cup tightens slightly as his face grows even hotter.

He doesn’t get long to dwell on the weird feeling in his chest because Aiko returns, setting down the first course—small plates of tofu with a dollop of wasabi and dashi jelly.

Perfect. Something to shove into his mouth so he doesn’t have to think about the fact that Giyuu fucking smiled at him.

Sanemi picks up his chopsticks and grabs a piece of tofu, popping it into his mouth without hesitation. The soft texture practically melts on his tongue, the umami of the dashi jelly mixing with the sharp burn of wasabi. It’s pretty damn good.

Across from him, Giyuu eats with much more care, picking up his piece slowly and chewing with that same unreadable expression. After a moment, he lets out a quiet noise of approval. “It’s really tasty.”

Sanemi grunts in response, taking another sip of his sake. His face still feels too warm, so he tells himself it’s the alcohol. Obviously the alcohol.

They pick at their food in silence, eating at a leisurely pace, the only sounds between them the occasional clink of chopsticks against plates. Aiko reappears just a few minutes later, this time placing down two steaming bowls of dashi consommé with grilled eel.

Sanemi stirs his spoon through the clear broth before taking a sip. The deep, smoky flavor of the dashi hits his tongue, followed by the richness of the eel. He hums, thinking out loud, “This is really tasty.”

Giyuu nods, taking another sip. Then, glancing up, he asks, “Did you customize the meals?”

Sanemi shakes his head. “Nah. Fixed menu for tonight.”

Giyuu hums in understanding and goes back to his food. Sanemi doesn’t mind the silence. It’s comfortable, and the food’s good enough that he doesn’t feel the need to fill the air with pointless chatter.

Before long, Aiko returns with the next course—an elegantly arranged sashimi platter featuring otoro, kinmedai, and fresh scallops, all surrounded by tiny flowers. Romantic plating, no doubt.

Sanemi ignores the decoration and reaches for the otoro first, chewing slowly, savoring the buttery texture.

Meanwhile, Giyuu pokes at the fish with his chopsticks, mumbling under his breath, “Wish there was salmon.”

Sanemi raises a brow. “You don’t like the food?”

Giyuu’s head snaps up, looking surprised—like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. His lips part slightly before he quickly shakes his head. “No, it’s really good. It’s just…salmon is my favorite.”

A faint pink dusts his cheeks, and Sanemi has to fight the urge to grin. It’s rare to see Giyuu’s usually blank face crack, even just a little. Maybe it’s the sake, which Aiko keeps refilling every time she swings by.

Then, before Sanemi can respond, Giyuu reaches out with his chopsticks—grabbing one of the tiny flowers decorating the dish.

And then he pops it into his mouth.

Sanemi stares, utterly dumbfounded. “What the hell, Tomioka?”

Giyuu blinks, swallowing. “What?”

Sanemi gestures vaguely at him. “You just ate a damn flower.”

Giyuu tilts his head slightly, then responds flatly, “The flowers are edible…Did you not know that?”

Sanemi freezes. And then, the embarrassment hits him.

He scoffs, looking away before Giyuu can see the heat creeping up his neck. “’Course I knew that.” 

He did not.

There’s a small clatter of chopsticks against porcelain. Then, Giyuu’s voice calls out.

“Try it.”

Sanemi turns his head, and his breath catches slightly when he sees a flower being held out to him—pinched between Giyuu’s chopsticks. Giyuu is watching him expectantly, his expression unreadable as ever.

Sanemi’s face burns hotter and he scowls. “I can feed myself, dumbass.”

Giyuu shrugs. “The waitress already thinks we’re dating, anyway.”

Sanemi’s stomach flips and his heart slams against his ribs, but he shoves it down, forcing a scoff as he leans forward, snatching the flower from Giyuu’s chopsticks with his teeth. He pulls back quickly, chewing more aggressively than necessary.

It’s…fine. Sweet, floral—exactly what he should have expected.

He huffs, reaching for his sake again, taking a long swig before mumbling, “It was alright.”

Giyuu nods, looking satisfied with himself, and pops another flower in his mouth.

Sanemi forces himself to look away, grabbing one of the scallops and shoving it into his mouth just so he has something else to focus on. The soft, delicate texture of it melts on his tongue. At least the food is good. It should be, considering how much money he blew on this place.

Across from him, Giyuu seems oddly fixated on eating the flowers. A little weird, but Sanemi’s not about to comment. He wasn’t gonna eat them anyway.

Almost as soon as they finish the last bite of seafood, Aiko reappears with the next course: grilled wagyu beef, sliced into perfect bite-sized pieces, still glistening with juices.

Giyuu’s eyes widen slightly at the sight, his gaze flicking up to Sanemi. “This must have been expensive.”

Sanemi shrugs, reaching for a piece of the beef. “Yeah. But—” He hesitates for half a second before muttering, “Her birthday is this month too, so I figured...you know.”

He doesn’t elaborate further, just pops the beef into his mouth and immediately forgets about anything else.

Wow.

It’s perfect—tender, rich, practically melting in his mouth. A quiet, involuntary moan slips out before he can stop it, and his eyes immediately lock onto Giyuu’s in mortification.

But Giyuu doesn’t make a comment. No teasing remark, no weird look.

No, instead he fucking smiles. Again. 

Sanemi nearly chokes on the beef, but Giyuu just picks up a piece for himself, placing a hand over his mouth as he chews. 

A quiet hum escapes him, followed by a slow swallow before he says, “It’s really delicious.”

Sanemi can’t help it. His lips twitch, the edges of a grin threatening to take over his face. He immediately shoves another piece into his mouth to hide it, chewing maybe a little too roughly.

They eat this dish slowly, savoring every bite. Neither of them seems in a hurry, and honestly, Sanemi doesn’t blame them. A meal like this isn’t exactly an everyday thing. He might as well enjoy it while he can.

Eventually, there’s only one piece left. Both of them hesitate. Neither reaches for it.

Sanemi narrows his eyes slightly. Giyuu looks just as stubborn.

Finally, Giyuu speaks. “Go ahead.”

Sanemi waves a hand. “I’m fine.”

“You paid for it.”

“Don’t want it.”

Giyuu doesn’t look convinced, and he just stares at him without moving.

Sanemi rolls his eyes. He grabs the last piece of beef, holding it up with his chopsticks and thrusting it toward Giyuu with a scowl. “Eat the damn thing.”

Giyuu hesitates for just a moment. Sanemi pushes the beef closer, arching a brow.

With a soft sigh, Giyuu leans in, carefully biting down and pulling the piece from the chopsticks.

Sanemi swallows hard.

Because Giyuu doesn’t break eye contact. Not once.

Even as he chews, even as he swallows, his deep blue eyes stay locked onto Sanemi’s, steady and unreadable.

For some reason, it makes Sanemi’s pulse jump.

A beat of silence stretches between them before Giyuu murmurs, “Thank you.”

Sanemi tears his gaze away, suddenly finding the deep red tablecloth very interesting. He clears his throat, grumbling, “Yeah, yeah.”

Sanemi grabs his cup, tipping it back for another swig of sake. The warmth spreads through his chest, a telltale sign that the alcohol is starting to creep up on him. At this rate, they’re probably taking the train back, which means his car is staying parked overnight and he’ll have to pick it up in the morning.

And that means he’ll need someone to drive him.

His grip on the cup tightens slightly. Not a big deal. He did buy Giyuu coffee and dinner, so it’s not like he should feel bad about asking for a ride. And yet, there’s a small, nagging part of his brain whispering that this is just an excuse to see Giyuu again tomorrow.

Which is bullshit, obviously.

Before he can dwell on it, Aiko arrives with the next course—braised daikon radish with what looks like pieces of duck nestled between the thick slices.

Sanemi eyes it, then glances down at his stomach, which is rapidly running out of room. He’s determined, though. No way in hell is he wasting any of this food. His mother would probably claw her way out of her grave just to strangle him if he did.

Giyuu sighs, setting down his cup. “I don’t know how much more I can eat.”

Sanemi snorts. “Better eat everything. We’re not wasting anything.”

There’s a pause, then something dangerously close to a laugh escapes Giyuu as he huffs softly. He shakes his head, but listens, reaching for a piece of daikon and duck before popping it into his mouth.

Sanemi follows suit, chewing slowly. It’s not bad, but it’s also not his favorite—duck’s never really been his thing. Still, the flavors are good, and the daikon is soft enough that it practically falls apart on his tongue.

He doesn’t mind picking at it here and there, especially since Giyuu seems to like it well enough. Sanemi lets him take the bulk of the dish, more than happy to just sip on his sake in between bites.

As he does, he watches Giyuu out of the corner of his eye.

The flush on his cheeks isn’t from the warmth of the restaurant, but rather the sake they’ve both been drinking too much of.

It’s the first time Sanemi really notices it, how it softens Giyuu’s normally blank expression, makes his usual stoic demeanor slip just enough to show something more…natural. Normal.

Sanemi’s known the guy for a while now—long enough to see just how deeply buried his emotions tend to be. Even when they first started hanging out more, bonding over their breakups at the end of last semester, Sanemi never saw Giyuu so much as choke up when ranting about how things ended. 

The guy was always so damn composed. It used to drive Sanemi crazy, like he just wanted to crack that mask for the satisfaction of it. But now…now, he’s not so sure. Because he likes what’s underneath more than he wants to admit.

His thoughts come to a screeching halt when Giyuu looks up, blue eyes locking onto his. Sanemi realizes, too late, that he’s been caught staring.

He scrambles for an excuse, anything to brush it off, but before he can even open his mouth, Giyuu reaches for his napkin. “Do I have something on my face?”

Sanemi seizes the out immediately. “Yeah,” he says, nodding, keeping his expression as neutral as possible, “It’s on your cheek.”

Giyuu lifts the napkin, wiping at nothing.

“...You got it.”

He immediately takes another sip of sake to shut himself up. 

Aiko returns not long after with their next dish—korokke.

Sanemi eyes the four golden-brown croquettes sitting neatly on the plate. It’s a lighter course, which is exactly what he needs right now. Without hesitation, he grabs one, biting into the crisp outer layer. The crunch is perfect, the inside soft and flavorful—pork, he thinks, though he’s too busy savoring the taste to dwell on it.

Across the table, Giyuu doesn’t touch his food right away. Instead, he stares at it, an unreadable expression on his face.

Sanemi chews slowly, watching him. “What? Something wrong?”

Giyuu doesn’t answer right away. Then, in a quiet voice, he says, “My sister used to make these a lot when we were younger.”

Sanemi freezes mid-chew. His grip tightens slightly around the piece of korokke still in his hand, hesitation creeping in before he exhales through his nose.

“Yeah,” he mutters after a moment, “My little brother always loved ‘em.”

Giyuu lifts his gaze, and for a brief second, they just share an understanding look. It lingers between them before Giyuu finally looks away, picking up his korokke and taking a small bite.

Neither of them says anything else.

This dish disappears the fastest, both of them shoving the food—and the memories—down in a matter of minutes.

By the time Aiko returns with the seventh course, the table has settled into silence.

Rice and miso soup. Simple. Classic.

A stark contrast to the rich, elaborate dishes they’ve been eating all night, but a welcome one. A palate cleanser in every sense of the word.

Sanemi grabs his chopsticks, poking at the rice before forcing himself to eat. He’s stuffed, and judging by how slowly Giyuu picks at his own food, so is he. But they both finish the meal anyway—Sanemi wouldn’t allow anything less.

By the time they push the bowls away, Sanemi feels like he’s going to burst.

Then, finally, dessert.

Aiko delivers the final course with a smile—two sakura mochis resting neatly on a plate.

Sanemi smirks before he can stop himself.

Giyuu lets out a quiet breath, shaking his head. “Thank goodness Kanroji isn’t here.”

Sanemi snorts, looking up with a grin. “Was that a joke, Tomioka?”

A faint flush creeps up Giyuu’s face, deepening the already existing redness from the sake. Sanemi’s amusement falters slightly at the sight, something twisting in his chest.

He looks away, reaching for his mochi without another word. The bite he takes is soft, subtly sweet, a perfect contrast to everything else they’ve had tonight. The treat doesn’t last long, both of them finishing it off in a few short bites.

Sanemi leans back in his chair, exhaling. “We’re gonna have to take the train home.”

Giyuu nods, seemingly unsurprised. “I figured.”

There’s a pause before he continues.

“…Thank you again.” His voice is quieter this time, more thoughtful, “I had a really nice night.”

Sanemi falters. He feels the heat creeping up his own neck, so he busies himself with pulling out his phone, grumbling, “No problem.”

He texts Genya, asking if Kamado is still over.

He waits.

One minute.

Then two.

Then five.

No response.

Sanemi groans, dragging a hand through his hair. “If I go home to my brother going at it, I might actually jump out a window.”

Giyuu huffs quietly and Sanemi expects that to be the end of it—just another offhand complaint thrown into the air. But then Giyuu shifts slightly.

“You could…” He hesitates, fingers curling around the napkin in his hand, “You could come over to my place.”

Sanemi’s hand freezes in his hair. Slowly, he lowers it, looking up. Giyuu doesn’t meet his gaze at first, a blush creeping up his neck says everything. And still, even as the seconds stretch between them, he doesn’t take it back.

Sanemi swallows. 

“…Yeah.” He nods once, “Thanks.”

With the bill already paid in advance, Sanemi just gives Aiko a quick thanks before stepping out of the restaurant with Giyuu. The crisp night air hits him as soon as they’re outside, and now that he’s standing and walking around, he realizes he might be a little more tipsy than he thought. He’s not drunk by any means, but he definitely isn’t about to get behind the wheel.

He unlocks his car long enough for Giyuu to grab his bag from the backseat, then locks it up again before they set off toward the train station.

The walk is quiet, save for the occasional shuffle of their feet and the soft hum of the city around them. Every now and then, they bump into each other, the slight unsteadiness making the space between them feel smaller than it should. Neither of them acknowledges it.

The train ride is just as silent.

But it isn’t uncomfortable.

They stand near one another, hands in their pockets, shoulders close but not quite touching. Every so often, Sanemi meets Giyuu’s gaze—just for a second before they both glance away.

For the first time today, Sanemi isn’t all that bothered by the couples around him.

When Giyuu eventually murmurs that they’ve reached his stop, Sanemi just nods and follows, stepping off the train and into the cool night air once more. The streets are emptier now, quieter, their footsteps echoing faintly as they make their way through the city.

Eventually, they reach a fairly nice apartment complex, and Giyuu leads them inside.

Sanemi toes off his shoes at the entrance, stretching his arms up over his head as Giyuu makes his way toward the kitchen. His bag lands on the dining table with a quiet thump, and Sanemi takes a moment to glance around.

It’s not bare, exactly, but there’s not much in the way of decor. A few basic furnishings, everything neat and well-kept—boring as hell, if Sanemi’s being honest, but he supposes it fits.

He makes his way into the kitchen, stopping near the table just as Giyuu brings a glass of water to his lips. That’s when something catches his eye.

Poking out of the slightly unzipped bag is a small baggie of chocolates.

Sanemi grabs it without thinking, a smirk tugging at his lips. He lifts it slightly. “You got a secret admirer or somethin, Tomioka?”

Giyuu huffs softly, setting his cup down as he steps closer. “One of my students gave them to me.”

“Tch,” Sanemi murmurs, already opening the bag, “Damn. Guess that’s less exciting.” 

Without waiting for permission, he pops one into his mouth, chewing slowly.

Still mid-chew, he mumbles, “You tried these yet?”

Giyuu shakes his head.

Sanemi hums, swallowing. “You should. They’re pretty good.”

He looks up, and suddenly, Giyuu is watching him. “Yeah?” 

Sanemi nods, reaching into the bag for another chocolate. He holds it out to Giyuu, their eyes meeting. "Yeah. Try it." 

There's a pause, a moment where neither of them moves. Then, slowly, Giyuu leans in. But instead of taking the chocolate with his hand, he parts his lips, eyes still locked on Sanemi's. 

Sanemi's breath catches. His pulse quickens as he gently places the chocolate on Giyuu's tongue, fingertips just barely brushing against his bottom lip. 

Giyuu's mouth closes around the chocolate, and Sanemi's hand lingers for a second too long before he pulls it back. He watches as Giyuu chews slowly, savoring the taste. 

"You're right," Giyuu murmurs after swallowing, "It is good." 

Sanemi's heart pounds in his chest. The air between them feels charged, electric. Giyuu's eyes are still locked on his, dark and intense.  

Before he can overthink it, Sanemi reaches out, grasping Giyuu by the collar and pulling him closer. Their lips crash together, and Giyuu responds immediately, kissing back with surprising fervor. 

He feels Giyuu’s fingers tangle in his hair, tugging gently. Sanemi’s hands find his hips, gripping tightly as he presses Giyuu back against the kitchen counter. 

Giyuu gasps softly, and Sanemi takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. His tongue slides against Giyuu's, tasting the lingering sweetness of chocolate mixed with sake. One of his hands moves up to cup Giyuu's jaw, tilting his head to get a better angle. 

Giyuu's fingers tighten in Sanemi's hair, tugging just hard enough to make Sanemi groan into his mouth. The sound seems to spur Giyuu on, because suddenly he's kissing back with even more intensity, nipping at Sanemi's bottom lip. 

Sanemi groans again, pressing his body flush against Giyuu's. His hands roam down Giyuu's sides, gripping his hips tightly as he grinds forward. Giyuu gasps into his mouth, arching into the touch.

Breaking the kiss, Sanemi trails his lips along Giyuu's jaw, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin of his neck. Giyuu tilts his head back with a quiet moan, giving Sanemi better access. His fingers tighten in Sanemi's hair, tugging roughly.

“Fuck, Tomioka,” Sanemi groans against his skin.

“Giyuu,” he whimpers in response, “Call me Giyuu.”

“Call you whatever you want if you let me fuck you tonight,” Sanemi growls, grinding his hips forward again.

Giyuu gasps, his hips bucking against Sanemi's. "Yes," he breathes, "Please." 

That's all the encouragement Sanemi needs. He captures Giyuu's lips in another searing kiss as his hands move to Giyuu's shirt, fumbling with the buttons. Giyuu's fingers are just as frantic, tugging at Sanemi's vest and shirt. 

They break apart only long enough to shed their upper layers, shirts and vests falling forgotten to the kitchen floor. As soon as the fabric is out of the way, Sanemi's mouth is on Giyuu's neck again, sucking and biting marks into the pale skin. His hands roam over Giyuu's newly exposed torso, fingers tracing the defined muscles.

"Bedroom," Giyuu manages to get out between heavy breaths.  

Sanemi nods against Giyuu's skin, reluctantly pulling back. He grabs Giyuu's hand, letting him lead the way down the hall. As soon as they're through the bedroom door, Sanemi pushes Giyuu up against it, recapturing his lips in a fierce kiss.  

He grinds his hips forward, pressing Giyuu harder against the door. Giyuu gasps, arching into the touch as his hands scramble to undo Sanemi's belt. Sanemi's own fingers work at Giyuu's pants, fumbling with the button and zipper.

Once the pants are undone, Sanemi doesn’t hesitate to shove his hand down, wrapping around Giyuu’s length and stroking firmly. Giyuu moans into his mouth at the touch, his hips bucking into Sanemi’s hand. His fingers dig into Sanemi's shoulders as he breaks the kiss, panting heavily.

“Fuck, Giyuu,” Sanemi groans, still pumping his hand up and down, “Woulda’ done this sooner if I knew you’d make all those pretty noises.”

Giyuu's breath hitches at Sanemi's words, his cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red. He captures Sanemi's lips in another heated kiss, muffling his moans as Sanemi continues to stroke him. 

Sanemi groans into the kiss, pressing Giyuu harder against the door. His free hand roams over Giyuu's chest, tweaking a nipple and drawing out a sharp gasp.  

"Bed," Giyuu pants against Sanemi's lips, "Please." 

Sanemi doesn't need to be told twice. He pulls his hand away, earning a whine from Giyuu at the loss of contact. But then he's grabbing Giyuu by the hips and practically tossing him onto the bed. 

Sanemi and Giyuu both fully kick off their pants and boxers before Sanemi crawls onto the bed. He hovers over Giyuu, taking in the sight of him flushed and panting beneath him. Giyuu reaches up, pulling Sanemi down into another kiss.

Their bodies press together, skin on skin, as Sanemi grinds his hips down. Giyuu moans into his mouth, arching up to meet his movements. Sanemi trails kisses along Giyuu's jaw and down his neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. 

"Lube?" he murmurs against Giyuu's collarbone. 

Giyuu gestures vaguely towards the nightstand. Sanemi leans over, yanking open the drawer and fishing around. As soon as he finds the bottle, he quickly coats his fingers. He finds Giyuu's lips for another heated kiss as he reaches down, circling Giyuu's entrance teasingly. Giyuu gasps into his mouth, hips bucking up impatiently. 

"Sanemi, please," Giyuu whimpers against his lips. 

Sanemi groans at the sound of his given name on Giyuu's tongue. He slowly pushes one finger inside, swallowing Giyuu's moan with a deep kiss. He works his finger in and out, gradually adding a second.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Sanemi growls, curling his fingers to brush against Giyuu's prostate. Giyuu gasps sharply, his hands gripping Sanemi's shoulders tightly, making his nails dig into skin. 

"More," he pants, rocking his hips down onto Sanemi's fingers, "Please, Sanemi." 

Sanemi groans, pressing his lips to Giyuu’s as he adds a third finger, stretching and scissoring to prepare him. Giyuu moans into his mouth, his body trembling slightly with each thrust of Sanemi's fingers. 

After a few more moments, Sanemi pulls his fingers out, swallowing Giyuu's whine of protest. He reaches for the lube again, quickly slicking himself up and stroking a few times. 

Sanemi lines himself up with Giyuu's entrance, the head of his cock pressing teasingly against the tight ring of muscle. He captures Giyuu's lips in a deep kiss as he slowly pushes inside, swallowing Giyuu's moans.

"Fuck," Sanemi groans against Giyuu's lips, "You feel so good."

Giyuu gasps against Sanemi's mouth, his body tensing slightly at the stretch. Sanemi pauses, giving him time to adjust, and peppering kisses along his jaw and neck.

After a few moments, Giyuu rolls his hips impatiently. "Move," he whines.

“So needy,” Sanemi murmurs with a slight grin as he slowly pulls out before thrusting back in. Giyuu gasps, his head falling back against the pillow as Sanemi sets a steady pace.

Sanemi can’t help but admire the view underneath him—Tomioka Giyuu with his stupid, stoic face, reduced to a whining, whimpering mess in a matter of minutes. 

Sanemi wants to ruin him.

He growls, gripping Giyuu's hips tightly as he slams into him with more force. The bed creaks beneath them, the headboard thumping against the wall with each thrust. Giyuu cries out in pleasure, his legs wrapping around Sanemi's waist to pull him even deeper.

"That's it," Sanemi grunts, angling his hips to hit Giyuu's prostate, "Let me hear you."

Giyuu moans loudly as Sanemi hits his prostate, his back arching off the bed. Sanemi grins, maintaining the angle as he pounds into Giyuu relentlessly.  

"Fuck, Sanemi," Giyuu gasps, his nails raking down Sanemi's back. The slight pain only spurs Sanemi on, his hips snapping forward with even more force. 

Sanemi leans down, capturing Giyuu's lips in a messy kiss. He swallows every moan and whimper, reveling in the way Giyuu falls apart beneath him. One of his hands snakes between their bodies, wrapping around Giyuu's neglected cock and stroking in time with his thrusts. 

“Look at you,” Sanemi groans, hips snapping forward relentlessly, “So fucking desperate for it. Bet you were thinkin’ about it all night, weren’t you? Just hoping I’d take you home and fuck you.”

Giyuu moans loudly in response, unable to form words as pleasure overwhelms him. His body trembles beneath Sanemi, hips rocking desperately to meet each thrust.

“I asked you a question,” Sanemi growls, punctuating his words with a particularly harsh thrust. 

"Y-Yes," Giyuu gasps out, his face flushed with both arousal and embarrassment, "Wanted this...wanted you."

Sanemi groans at the admission, capturing Giyuu's lips in a fierce kiss as he continues to thrust into him. His hand moves faster on Giyuu's cock, twisting on the upstroke.

"Fuck, Giyuu," Sanemi pants against his lips, "You're so goddamn perfect like this. So fucking tight for me."

Giyuu whimpers, his body trembling as he gets closer to the edge. "Sanemi," he moans, "I'm close. Please..."

"That's it," Sanemi growls, "Come for me. Wanna see you fall apart."

Giyuu gasps sharply, his body tensing as he reaches his peak. With a loud cry of Sanemi's name, he comes hard, spilling over Sanemi's hand and onto his own stomach. His body shudders with the intensity of his orgasm, clenching tightly around Sanemi.

“Oh, fuck,” Sanemi moans, his pace becoming erratic, “You’re gonna make me come, Giyuu.”

"Come inside me," Giyuu pants, voice hoarse, "Wanna feel it, want you to fill me up.”

Sanemi groans at Giyuu's words, his hips snapping forward a few more times before he reaches his own climax. With a loud moan, he comes hard, spilling deep inside him. His body shudders with the intensity of his orgasm as he collapses on top of Giyuu, both of them panting heavily.

Sanemi presses his face into the crook of Giyuu's neck, inhaling deeply as they both catch their breaths. Giyuu's fingers card through Sanemi's hair, the gentle touch a stark contrast to their previous activities.

Eventually, Sanemi carefully pulls out, earning a quiet whimper from Giyuu at the loss. He collapses onto the bed next to Giyuu, both of them breathing heavily as they come down from their highs. For a few moments, they just lie there in silence, the only sound their gradually slowing breaths.

Sanemi turns his head to look at Giyuu, taking in his flushed face and mussed hair. There's a light sheen of sweat on his skin, his chest still rising and falling rapidly. Giyuu meets his gaze, his usually stoic expression softened in the afterglow. Without thinking, Sanemi reaches out, brushing a strand of dark hair from Giyuu's forehead.

His hand lingers on Giyuu's cheek, his thumb gently stroking the flushed skin. Giyuu leans into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When he opens them again, there's a vulnerability in his gaze that Sanemi's never seen before.

"Stay," Giyuu murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Sanemi's heart skips a beat. Slowly, he nods. 

"Yeah," he says softly, "I'll stay." 

Giyuu's lips curve into a small smile—one of those rare, genuine ones. It makes something warm bloom in his chest. Sanemi leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Giyuu's lips. It's gentler than before, less urgent but no less passionate. Giyuu sighs contentedly into the kiss, his hand coming up to cup Sanemi's cheek.

When they part, Sanemi rests his forehead against Giyuu's, their noses brushing. For a moment, they just breathe each other in, basking in the afterglow. 

Eventually, Sanemi pulls back slightly. "We should clean up," he murmurs, though he makes no move to get up. 

Giyuu hums in agreement but doesn't move either. Instead, he shifts closer, nuzzling into Sanemi's neck. His breath tickles Sanemi's skin as he speaks. "In a minute." 

Sanemi can't help the small chuckle that escapes his lips. “I’m gonna fall asleep if we wait a minute,” he mumbles quietly, though his arms wrap around Giyuu instead of pulling back.

"Then sleep," Giyuu murmurs against Sanemi's skin, his voice soft and drowsy.

Sanemi knows they should really clean up, but the warmth of Giyuu's body against his and the post-orgasmic haze makes it hard to care. He finds himself relaxing into the embrace, his eyes growing heavy.

"Fine," he grumbles, but there's no real bite to it, "But don’t blame me when you wake up gross and sticky."

Giyuu huffs out a quiet laugh, the puff of air tickling Sanemi's neck. "Noted."

Sanemi tries to fight the pull of sleep, but it's a losing battle. The warmth of Giyuu's body against his is like a siren song, lulling him into a state of deep relaxation. His eyelids grow heavier with each passing second, and he finds himself sinking deeper into the plush mattress.