Work Text:
Ding-dong.
Ding-dong.
Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding--
“Alright, Christ,” Takumi mutters, trudging to the front door. It’s nine in the morning on a Saturday, and it’s way too early for this kind of bullshit. “Be fucking patient.This better be fucking good.”
He opens the door, and then blinks.
“... Chiga?”
He rubs his eyes a bit to make sure that spending the previous night looking through Gawain fanart didn’t actually permanently fuck with his eyes. “Babe, I didn’t know you could wake up before noon on weekends.”
Itaru rolls his eyes and shoves his way in. “Man, fuck you,” he huffs, though he sounds fond. He’s carrying a paper bag in his hands that smells like food. “This is the thanks I get for bringing breakfast for my boyfriend on the weekend after his big event? I want a divorce.”
Takumi just laughs, stepping back and following as Itaru heads straight for his kitchen like this is his house.
“Sorry,” Takumi says with a grin. He’s definitely not sorry. He sits at the table and leans on his elbows as Itaru starts to take tupperware containers of food out. “Whatcha bring, then? Since you’re such a loving, kind malewife.”
Itaru snorts and reaches over the table to flick Takumi’s forehead. “Shut up,” he says with a roll of his eyes, before opening all the containers, removing some things from aluminum foil. It smells like a goddamn diner. “Just some breakfast stuff. Bacon, pancakes, coffee, toast, y’know.”
Takumi can certainly appreciate the spread of food, and the glasses that he knows Itaru needs but never really wears while they’re out, and the corners of his grin soften. “Yeah, I know. Where’d you get this?”
“I cooked,” Itaru says, “which you’ll definitely notice because some pancakes are burnt, but you have to pretend you like ‘em anyway.”
Takumi laughs. “I won’t have to pretend,” he says. “It’s the thought that counts, right? Or some sappy shit like that. Anyway, the fact that you got up early as shit to make me breakfast has me swooning, definitely. You could almost beat Gawain.”
Itaru snorts, and finally sits down on the seat across from Takumi’s. “It’s, like, midday,” he says, taking his phone out and sliding it onto the table. “But I’ll take the compliment. Can’t believe you’re comparing me to Sir Gawain.”
“Well, you’re both my boyfriend,” Takumi says, and that gets Itaru to laugh.
“I’ll take it,” Itaru says, grinning. “Here, c’mon, eat up.”
Itaru nudges the containers over, so Takumi takes that as his cue to split the food between them so they can share. Meanwhile, Itaru unlocks his phone with one hand and loads up an idle mobile game to tap on. Takumi doesn’t really mind when he does that. It’s just as much a part of him as all the other parts that Takumi loves.
… sappy. Nevermind. Takumi shakes his head a bit and takes a bite of the pancakes. As warned, the bottoms are a little burnt and crispy, but Takumi doesn’t mind. “These are pretty good,” he says.
Itaru grins at him. “They better be,” he says, taking his own bite of food. “I burned my arms off making those.” When he says that, Takumi looks a little harder, and spots what appear to be oil burns on Itaru’s arms, just hidden under his jacket. “By the way, you busy today?”
Takumi raises his eyebrow and hums. “Nah, not today,” he says. He takes a bite of the bacon. A little burnt, and definitely crispy, so basically perfectly cooked. “Got told to rest because last night’s thing was pretty big. Honestly, I’m still kinda sleepy, so I was planning on being dead to the world.”
Itaru nods. “That’s cool,” he says. “Then we can probably just laze around today and not do jack shit.”
“Who’s we?” Takumi asks, grinning. He playfully kicks Itaru's legs under the table, an action that his boyfriend returns to him with a little pout. “You’re gonna take over my house like that? Parasite.” He sticks his tongue out.
“Maybe,” Itaru shoots back, a playful grin on his lips. “I’m gonna steal your bed. Our bed now. Communism.”
Takumi laughs. “Try that again when you don’t have a coffee foam mustache, hm?”
Itaru startles, immediately raising his hand to wipe foam off his upper lip. “Fuck you,” he whines. “The foam mustache is classy and essentially for every working man, y’know? This is homophobia. You’re being homophobic. I can’t believe this.”
“I can’t believe you’re really playing the gay card over here.” God, he really missed bickering like this, especially with how busy he’s been. Takumi shakes his head fondly, trying to look serious, but he’s not the actor between them both, so he’s sure he looks like he’s trying not to lose his mind laughing. “I’m not homophobic, I have gay friends. Like you.”
Itaru gasps, looking terribly affronted. “Oh, so now we’re just friends? I thought what we had was special!” He sniffs, holding a hand to his chest. “You wound me so much. You’re terrible. I’m going to break up with you and go make out with Lanchan.”
Takumi snorts, unable to keep looking upset when Itaru’s just so ridiculous. And cute. “Just shut up and eat your breakfast, babe. You worked soooo hard on it, didn’t you?”
“I did,” Itaru says, huffing as he slathers more jam on his bread and bites into it. “I’m glad you like it, though. My cooking skills are, like, totally nonexistent. I had to get help from Omi to make these, and I’ve been up since, like, six.”
“Sweet of you,” Takumi says, and it really is, because he knows that Itaru hates getting up early. “Hey, at least this means you can drain your LP without overflowing too much because of sleep.”
“Yeah. I’m a little sleepy too, though.” As if to prove his point, Itaru holds his hand up to cover his mouth as he yawns. “The traffic wasn’t too bad this morning, though. Which is great. Because if traffic went any slower, then I swear I would’ve just fallen asleep right in the middle of the road.”
Takumi hums, then reaches over to tap at Itaru’s screen. Itaru swats his hand away lightly. “Well, when we’re done, we can both just take a fat nap in my bed and be dead to the world until way too late.”
“Our bed,” Itaru corrects immediately. “Communism, remember?”
“Get me a ring first, and maybe I’ll consider calling it that,” Takumi counters. “And I want a nice one.”
“I’ll get you a Gawain ring,” Itaru says. “And I’ll get the matchy Lanchan one, and we can kinmarry.”
Takumi reaches over to grab a paper napkin, crumples it up into a ball, and throws it directly at Itaru’s forehead. “I was with you until you said kinmarry. What the fuck does that even mean? Never say words again.”
Itaru pouts and rubs at his forehead like it hurts. “I’m going to quote Kniroun at our wedding, and you can’t stop me.”
Takumi laughs and tosses another balled-up napkin at him that, this time, he manages to avoid by leaning to the side. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” he says, “but you should propose first before actually thinking about marriage, you nerd.”
Itaru sticks his tongue out. “You love this nerd. I’m your nerd.”
“Unfortunately,” Takumi says, though he likes to think that he’s pretty fortunate to have Itaru. “Wouldn’t trade you away for anything, though. Not even a corn chip from Satan. Not even two corn chips from Satan.”
Itaru gasps, then makes illegal puppy eyes at him. “Tono! That’s the nicest thing that anyone has ever said to me.”
“Get better friends, then,” Takumi teases. “And drink your mustache coffee before it gets cold, because I’m not going to deal with you if you drink it cold and then you start complaining about stomach aches.”
“You will,” Itaru says. “Because you love me.”
Goddamn. Takumi wishes Itaru weren’t right about that. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Hurry up or I’ll go to bed without you.”
That gets Itaru to move quicker, shoving half a pancake into his mouth in one go and washing it down with some coffee. Takumi raises an eyebrow, then snorts. “Not that fast,” he says. “You’re going to choke.”
Itaru mutters something that sounds suspiciously like choke on deez nuts. Takumi throws another napkin at him.