Work Text:
The elevators in Sanemi's apartment complex are absolute shit, in his opinion.
He's been living here for a good part of the last three years and he can say with absolute certainty that one day someone is going to have an absolutely horrid experience in these things. They're old and raggedy, years of rust buildup making them unpleasant to the eye. The smell is another thing, though. It smells like an animal died in the thing, left to rot and decompose before someone finally mustered up the courage to clean the thing out. And they couldn't even do that right.
All in all, he hates the damn things and he wished management would move their asses and get them repaired. And considering he lives on the eighth floor, it makes things even harder for him. Most times the elevators are out of service (it's not like they're repairing any god damn thing) and he has to haul ass up the stairs. Sometimes, if he's really dedicated to it, he'll spend the night in his car, too tired to even put in the effort. He hasn't done it much, but he will if he has to.
Today, though, it seems he's spared. The elevators open right up, making that creepy ass creaking noise they usually do. He steps in, pressing his thumb into the eighth floor button and steps back. As much as he wants to lean back and rest his head, he knows it's against his better judgement so he stays standing upright. He doesn't know how dirty these walls are. The elevators press themselves closed, give a shaky lurch, and then Sanemi is on his way.
The speaker in the elevator has been broken long before he lived here, so the elevator music the front desk plays comes out staticky and garbled. It only serves to make Sanemi pissed and more tired.
He grumbles to himself as he shifts, hiking his bag up his shoulder and tapping his foot in agitation. Just as he manages to get his emotions under control, the elevator gives a shuddering stop, almost sending sanemi stumbling forward. His eyes shoot up to the floor number in the small window.
Six? he scowls. Who would be getting on from floor six?
Before he even has a chance to consider the possibilities the doors creak open and Sanemi is face to face with the person he hates the goddamn most: Tomioka Giyuu.
His scowl deepens, hand curling into a fist. And to think I could go the entire day without seeing this jackass's face.
"Oh," Tomioka says in that infuriatingly monotone voice of him, eyes widening just a bit before they return to his normal empty gaze and he shifts his weight. "Shinazugawa-san, hello," he mutters as he steps into the elevator, head down.
"Tomioka," Sanemi snarls, stepping as far away from the man as he can get. He can already start to feel his disdain for the man festering, building into rage. He glares at the man from his peripheral, gaze partially obstructed by Tomioka's messy hair. "You need a damn hair cut," he barks, looking away when Tomioka turns to him.
"Do you think so?" he mumbles, and when Sanemi looks at him, he's got a strand of hair curled around his finger, mouth downturned as he stares intensely at it.
"I fucking know so," Sanemi grunts just as the doors open on their—his floor. He stomps out, speed walking to his apartment and leaving Tomioka behind looking like a kicked puppy without so much as a glance back.
Unlocking his door is always a hassle after work, but surprisingly he get's it to unlock before he has the urge to just kick it down. He toes his shoes off and leaves his workbag on the side table by the door, collapsing onto his couch with a groan, throwing a hand over his eyes and resting his head on the cushion. He sighs in
He hasn't even been sat for five minutes when three soft knocks on his door make him jolt up. He curses, pushing off the couch and storming over to the door. Without even checking the peephole he throws it open, "What the hell—Tomioka?" His expression twists at the man before his door, and he has the sudden urge to slam the door in his face. "What do you want."
Tomioka shifts, pulling a small sack from behind his back and all but shoving it into his hands. Sanemi takes it clumsily, momentarily stunned that Tomioka of all people is gifting him something. "Good night, Shinazugawa-san." He doesn't have time to respond before Tomioka's shuffling off to his own apartment across the hall and closing the cracked door with a soft click.
He stands there dumbfounded for a moment before he slowly backs up and closes the door. He stares down at the bag, sitting it on the entrance table and pulling it open. Inside is ohagi, a small folded piece of paper sitting delicately on top. He pulls it out, unfolding it and letting his eyes drag over the small, neat handwriting.
I heard from Tanjiro that he often smells ohagi coming from you when
you two pass each other by so I thought I would make these for you. Enjoy.
-Tomioka
He huffs, cursing Tanjiro and his stupid ass sense of smell in his head and sitting the note down, reaching in to pull one of the treats out, hoping that this isn't the worst decision he's made in his life. He takes a small bite, expecting it to taste like garbage (he's a horrible person, he knows). Instead, it is the sweetest thing Sanemi has tasted, and the rice melts on his tongue. He sighs, stuffing the rest in his mouth and closing the pouch.
He leans against the door, placing a hand on his heart and willing it to calm. He will not catch feelings for that emotionless bastard over a damn bag of ohagi. He won't allow that.
He just won't. He can't.
────────────────────────────────────────
"How long?"
Giyuu jumps slightly, keys slipping from his hand and clattering to the floor. He turns, surprised to see Sanemi standing in front of his closed door with the pouch he had given him. "Shinazugawa. You scared me," he mutters, ignoring his neighbors derisive snort and bending to scoop his keys up. When he straightens, Sanemi is holding the pouch out towards him. He takes it, mildly shocked that it's been returned empty. "You asked something?"
"How long did it take you to make them," Sanemi grumbles, eyes flicking down to the watch around his wrist. He must be in a hurry.
Giyuu hums, slipping his keys into his pocket. "About three months," he nods. "I messed up the red bean paste too many times, and I had to get help. Why are you asking?"
Sanemi grunts, crossing his arm. "They tasted like shit."
Giyuu frowns, looking down at the pouch still in his hand. "But they're all gone? Did you eat them? Were they really that bad?"
Sanemi flushes, teeth grinding. "They're all gone because, news flash, they were terrible and I threw them away."
Tomioka gapes, mouth opening and closing before it closes again. "I understand," is what he settles with, mouth pressed in a firm line. "I have to leave now."
He turns sharply on his heel, pushing past Sanemi and starting off down the hallway. He hears Sanemi curse from behind him, fists clenching around the pouch. "Tomioka, wait up."
He almost pauses, almost turns around and confronts Sanemi and demands to know why he hates him so much that he has to lie. Instead, he stands up taller and quickens his stride, fingers pressing into the down button when he reaches the elevator. He wills the elevators to move a little faster today. Please.
Like they heard Tomioka's plea, they open with a low ding, and he hurries inside.
"Tomioka, wait!" comes Sanemi's irritated voice from around the corner, and he's just a little too late, face coming around just as the doors fight closed. Tomioka takes a deep breath of relief.
He'll deal with Sanemi later.
────────────────────────────────────────
Sanemi storms into the office, snatching at his tie and dragging a hand through his hair. He plops into his chair with a groan, pushing his laptop aside and burying his head in his hands.
"What's wrong with you?" a familiar voice says from his left. He looks up, making eye contact with his colleague Iguro, who is looking at him in confusion. "You're more... irritated than usual."
Sanemi grunts, sitting up straighter and turning towards the man. "I think I made Tomioka upset."
Iguro's eyebrow shoots up to his hair line, tone turning snarky. "Tomioka? Since when did you care about how he felt?"
"I don't," Sanemi snaps, rolling his eyes. "I was trying to talk to the damn guy like a civil human being and he was ignoring me." he says with a wave of his hand. Liar, his subconscious screams at him.
Iguro hums, shrugging. "From what you've told me about him, the guy is a major dick. So is it really surprising he's ignoring you?"
Sanemi sighs, lounging back in his chair. Iguro's head disappears, and Sanemi hears his computer start up. "No, I guess it isn't surprising," he mutters to himself.
────────────────────────────────────────
Sanemi leaves the office with his head down, lugging his bag behind him. He drives home in silence, fingers thrumming on the steering wheel to keep his thoughts from wandering to Tomioka.
Of course it doesn't work.
He curses, shaking his head to try and get rid of the image of Tomioka's upset face from his head. He pulls into his parking space and cuts the engine, sitting in darkness for a moment and contemplating his moves.
He could sleep down here for the night and wait until Tomioka left so he could take a shower. Or he could just go up and deal with his problems like a man.
He huffed, snatching his bag out of the passenger seat and exiting his car. He dragged himself to the elevators, pressing the up button and waiting for them to meet him on the first floor. When the doors creaked open he stepped inside, hitting the button for the eighth floor and closing his eyes.
When he opens them again it's to the elevator opening on his floor. He steps out, sluggishly walking to his apartment. He stops, looking between his own door and Tomioka's. Against his better judgement he steps over to his neighbors door and knocks sharply, letting his bag hang loosely against his side.
"I lied," is what he says. Tomioka's blank expression turns to one of confusion, blue eyes narrowing. Sanemi sighs, running his free hand through his hair. "About the ohagi. I lied about the ohagi. It wasn’t horrible at all.”
Tomioka's expression clears, lips settling into a line. “I figured, but thank you for telling the truth.”
Sanemi nods, chewing on his bottom lip. “Well, uh, thank you. Good night, Tomioka.”
He turned, ready to go to his own apartment when he heard Tomioka sigh softly. “Shinazugawa,” he called. Sanemi turned, looking at him expectantly. Tomioka stepped aside, opening his door wider “Would you like to come in? I’m making more ohagi.”
Sanemi’s eyes widened, and he turned back, clearing his throat. “Uh, sure.”
Tomioka nodded, gesturing for him to come in and shutting the door softly behind him. “You can leave your things on the couch here,” he muttered softly.
Sanemi nodded, sitting his work bag on the cushion before following Tomioka into the kitchen. His counters were a mess, rice and anko balls placed hazardously. Sanemi snorted, covering his mouth when Tomioka raised an eyebrow at him.
”You’re not too good of a cook, are you?” he asked, stepping forward and sweeping rice into his hands before dumping it into a nearby bowl. “How do you even survive?”
Tomioka shrugs, following after Sanemi. “I usually order in or make simple meals. Do I need to eat lavishly?”
Sanemi hums, nodding once. “Makes sense.”
They fall into silence, and Sanemi noticed how absorbed Tomioka got. He did everything with an uncanny precision, making sure everything went as smoothly as it could.
Sanemi couldn’t deny that he was impressed. Had Tomioka really went through all this trouble of taking time out of his day for months to make him ohagi when all Sanemi had done was be a raging asshole towards him?
After finally getting the rice on the stove Sanemi let out a relieved sigh, leaning back against the counter and resting his head against one of the cabinets. He glanced over at Tomioka, raising an eyebrow when he saw the man was already looking at him. "What're you staring at?"
Tomioka raised a hand, pointing a finger at his cheek. "You have rice stuck on your cheek."
Sanemi swats at his cheek, looking back over at Tomioka. "Did I get it? Is it gone?" he asked, turning his head.
Tomioka sighed, stepping forward and gently running his hand over Sanemi's cheek. He pulled his hand back, showing Sanemi the grain of rice. "Now it's gone."
He stepped back, foot catching on the leg of his pants. Sanemi's eyes widened, arm shooting out as he tried to catch Tomioka. He brought his other hand to Tomioka's head as they fell, groaning as they hit the ground.
Sanemi cursed, pulling back to check on Tomioka. "Are you ok—" His breath caught in his throat as he saw the sight below him. Tomioka's raven hair was splayed around him, pink lips parted around a painful groan and eyes scrunched shut.
Huh.
Why had he never noticed just how pretty Tomioka was?
He licked his lips, shaking himself from his thoughts and trying to ignore his urge to stare at him forever. "Tomioka? You good?”
Tomioka sighed, taking a deep breath before his eyes fluttered open. Sanemi could feel the moment his heart began to race, and he found himself foolishly thinking,
Does he find me pretty too?
His lips parted, ready to make sure Tomioka was good to stand up before the man clutched the front of his work shirt and dragged him in.
It took a moment for him to register what was happening, his brain short circuiting when he realized Tomioka was kissing him. Tomioka's lips were slightly chapped but warm, and he pressed closer just slightly.
He must have taken too long to respond because Tomioka was pulling back, hands dropping from his shirt, dark eyes searching his. He felt his face flush, and his hands felt clammy.
He had to get out of here.
He hurriedly pulled away, wincing as Tomioka fell back against the floor. “I—I have to go,” he stammered, practically running from the kitchen.
”Shinazugwa, wait,” Tomioka called, pushing himself up, but Sanemi was already halfway out the door, letting it slam shut behind him as he dug through his work bag for his keys.
He unlocked his door with shaky hands, slamming it shut behind him and resting his head against it. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest and his lips were tingling. He groaned, burying his face in his hands and sliding down the door until he was sitting on the floor.
What the hell had just happened?
────────────────────────────────────────
Tomioka pushed himself onto his feet, frowning. Why had Sanemi left so suddenly? Sure, he knew it was probably surprising being kissed by him so abruptly, but wasn't he being a bit dramatic by running out? He huffed, wiping his hands and turning back to his stove. He would forget about Shinazugawa, forget how breathtaking it felt to kiss him even though he hadn't reciprocated at all, and forgot how, for just a moment, the man had looked so vulnerable on top of him.
He shook his head to clear the thoughts away, turned off the stove and set the rice-filled pot off to the side and grabbed a bowl from one of his cabinets. He hummed to himself as he mashed the rice and assembled his anko balls. He placed each ohagi in the pouch he had given to Shinazugawa and then sighed.
He didn't have the strength to clean up, so he tied the pouch and sluggishly made his way to his room.
────────────────────────────────────────
Sanemi had tried his best to avoid Tomioka this past week. Really, he had. He left for work thirty minutes after, stayed in his car for an hour before making his way to his apartment. He kept an eye on his peephole. Often times Tomioka would pause outside of his door, pouch clenched in his hand like he was going to knock before his shoulders dropped and he shuffled off down the hallway until Sanemi could no longer make him out.
He knew he was being an even bigger asshole than usual, but he couldn't understand what was happening. One moment he hated Tomioka's guts, and the next he wanted to drag the man into his embrace and kiss him breathless. He wanted to make Tomioka squirm and look only at him.
And he just couldn't handle it. So he ignored him. Or he tried to, at least.
It was late, around nine o'clock when there was a knock on his door. He paused the movie he was watching with a groan of annoyance, making his way to the door. He looked through the peephole, cursing under his breath.
Tomioka was at the door, head tilted down and chewing on his lip. Sanemi steps back, running a hand through his hair. He doesn't want to ignore Tomioka, but he also doesn't want to face him at this moment.
He takes a deep breath, grips the doorknob in his hand and pulls it open. His mouth drops when he sees Tomioka face to face.
His hair is down, falling around his shoulders. There's a chunk missing, and when Sanemi looks down he sees that Tomioka is holding it in one hand, scissors in the other.
"I need help," Tomioka mutters, shifting his weight.
Sanemi groans, grabbing Tomioka's wrist and pulling him inside. "You idiot," he grumbles, leading Tomioka over to the couch and pushing him down onto it. "Give me the damn scissors and don't move, got it?"
Tomioka gives them over with no words, hands folding in his lap as Sanemi begins to work at his hair. He cuts slowly, turning Tomioka's head this way and that. He sighs when he finishes, sitting the scissors on the coffee table and walking off to the bathroom. He grabs the handheld mirror he keeps, bringing it back to the living room and presenting it to Tomioka.
He takes it with shaky hands, turning his head this way and that as he examines himself in it. After a moment he sets the mirror down, turning to Sanemi. "It's beautiful, Shinazugawa. Thank you."
Sanemi grunted, waving his hand. "You don't have to thank me idiot." He took a seat on the couch next to Tomioka, picking at his fingernail. "And uh, I guess I should apologize for running away from you the other day. I just... wasn't expecting it."
Tomioka hums, tilting his head. He's quiet for a moment before his eyes meet Sanemi's. "If I kissed you now... would you run away again?"
Sanemi's face flushed, spit thick in his mouth as he tried to find his words. "I— uh, no?" he stammered pathetically. Tomioka turned so he was facing Sanemi, tentatively raising one hand to cup his cheek.
Sanemi gulpled, eyes wide. What was happening? Why was Tomioka holding his face? Why is he so nervous? Wait. Tomioka is leaning in. What should he do?
He squeezed his eyes shut, breath hitching in his throat when he felt Tomioka's lips met his.
He squeezed his eyes shut, breath hitching in his throat when he felt Tomioka's lips met his. They were softer than the first time, warm and gentle. Sanemi sighed against his mouth, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him closer. Tomioka's hand shifted to his shoulder, adjusting himself until he was straddling Sanemi's thighs.
Soft kisses became deeper. Sanemi's fingers tangled in his dark hair, pressing against his scalp. Tomioka's tongue swept against his lower lip, hesitant at first, then more insistent. Sanemi shuddered, letting his mouth fall open slightly.
Sanemi groaned when Tomioka pulled back, wanting nothing more than to pull the man back in and kiss him stupid and senseless.
"I... really like you, Shinazugawa," Tomioka murmured against Sanemi's lips, looking nervous.
Sanemi snorted, breath hot against Tomioka's lips. "Yeah, like that's not obvious. I like you too, idiot."
Tomioka tilted his head, lips curving into a small smile. "Then let's get dinner sometime?"
Sanemi hummed, petting Tomioka's hip. "It's a date."
Tomioka nodded, leaning in to peck the corner of Sanemi's mouth. "Yes it is."