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Tohru was at his side when he blinked his eyes open.
Souji, mind fuzzy with sleep, thought he was still dreaming. Tohru wasn’t supposed to be home for another day or two. His work had sent him away, to some little town out in the sticks. Tohru even called him earlier that day to complain about it for the hundredth time.
So he rolled over, frustrated with his mind playing tricks on him, and pulled the blankets over his head.
“What the— hey!” Not-Tohru grabbed at the blanket, “I come home early and this is the treatment I get?”
“You’re not supposed to be here for another few days,” Souji mumbled, voice muffled under the blanket, “I’m just dreaming. Again.”
“Dream? Does this—” he yanked the blankets down and pinched Souji’s side, drawing out a yelp, “feel like a dream?”
Souji rubbed at his skin with a sleepy little laugh. “The real Tohru pinches harder— ow, ow, ow, okay, you’re real—”
Tohru had his cheek between his fingers, pulling at the baby fat on his face until Souji wriggled out of his grip. When he leaned up to peck his lips, Tohru didn’t pull away.
Rubbing his cheek, Souji asked, “What are you doing back early?”
“We managed to finish up the investigation pretty quickly. Culprit was dumb enough to slip up during interrogation.”
“Maybe you made him nervous.”
Tohru scoffed, shooing Souji back towards his side of the bed before climbing under the covers with him. “Dojima-san plays the better bad cop.”
Souji snuggled against him like a cat, curling his body against his. His breath tickled Tohru’s throat as he said, “You should change. These will get wrinkled.”
He was right, but Tohru’s eyelids started drooping the moment he slid into bed. Souji’s weight and body heat were making it very hard to get up.
“In the morning,” He yawned, burying his nose in Souji’s hair, “I don’t go back for a few days.”
Souji could beam, if he still wasn’t so sleepy. Between them under the covers, he slipped his hand into Tohru’s and squeezed.
“Keep holding my hand?” He murmured, “Just until I fall asleep. So I know I’m not dreaming.”
Tohru remembered nodding, remembered feeling Souji’s breath even out. When he woke up, their hands were still wound together.