The familiar smell of freshly brewed coffee fills Tetsurou's nose as he walks down the hall of his apartment. Beneath his barefooted steps, the varnished hardwood floor creaks the way it always does, loudest just before he crosses the threshold to the tiled kitchen.
He blinks against the blinding morning sun, feels its warm rays dance across the planes of his exposed torso, while his eyes adjust to the sudden brightness. The sleepy fog that clouds his vision slowly makes way for wispy locks, glowing copper, curling at the nape of an elegant neck.
Tetsurou brushes them away in a practiced motion, the moment he gets close enough, and covers bronze skin with a gentle kiss in their stead.
"Good morning", a soft voice greets him as careful fingers reach up to touch his cheek.
"Morning", Tetsurou mumbles against the warm skin, dragging in a breath of faint coconut and vanilla, shampoo and bodywash. They are the only scents he likes more than that of roasted coffee beans, the only scents he's certain he will never tire of.
He allows his lips to linger in the same place for a moment longer, before he begins to trail more, sweet kisses down the length of his boyfriend's neck, following a pattern of fading purples and magentas - charming remnants of a near-sleepless night.
Memories flood his mind of fragile gasps and muffled moans, of hungry eyes and skillful tongues and skin slick with sweat. And of hot water, too, prickling against his back, of wet lips and lazy grins. Of coconut and vanilla.
Tetsurou moves his hands to bracket a slim waist, creating a silhouette where, earlier, shape was veiled by falling, white cloth. Fabric that cascades from shoulders to elbows, plummets from the crook of the neck to just below the pretty curve of dark gray boxer briefs.
He loosens his grip to let his boyfriend turn around beneath it, humming with contempt when they finally come face-to-face. Beautiful chocolate eyes look up at Tetsurou with precious reverence, a loving smile wrinkling the skin around them. There is a healthy pink dusting the other's cheeks and the tip of his nose like powdered sugar. Tetsurou lifts a hand to brush his thumb against the tinted skin, tracing up and down the line of a high cheekbone and relishing the way his lover melts into the touch.
"Tooru", he whispers, leaning down to bring their foreheads together. He lets his eyes flutter shut when the other's arms loosely wrap around his neck. A breath later, Tooru's lips are on his in a slow kiss, its tenderness warming Tetsurou up from the inside.
When he takes a step forward, closing the little remaining distance between them and caging his boyfriend between his body and the kitchen counter, he can feel the rumble of Tooru's low moan reverberate in his chest.
While Tetsurou's right hand is fully cupping the other's cheek, now, his left leaves Tooru's waist to slide underneath his wide t-shirt and come to a rest at the small of his back, instead, making his breath hitch.
Unlike Tetsurou himself, Tooru dislikes coffee, rather opting for a cup of milk tea or frothed matcha. But on special occasions, like today, he will have hot cocoa. And with Tetsurou's next inhale, so close to his lover's face, he can not miss the rich scent of it, still lingering on Tooru's skin. With his next peck, he can not miss the faint taste of chocolate on kiss-swollen lips.
Eventually, when air grows scarce, they part, reluctantly. But the physical distance makes room for a new feeling, giddily growing between them, of celebration and anticipation.
"Tetsurou", the other says, syllables rolling off his tongue easily. In his voice there is no tremble, now, no broken whimper, no aching pleasure. It is innocently merry, sweet as cotton candy, calm as a late November morning.
Tetsurou sighs deeply when nails scrape gingerly at his scalp and fingers tug softly at strands of his sleep-tousled hair. Every light touch is a need satisfied, a testament to resilience, and Tetsurou swears he will cherish them all. And he will cherish every glance, too, and every lingering look, like this, full of wonder and slow, slow realization.
The heart that beats against Tetsurou's chest is foreign, but not. Its rhythmic thuds are quickened, just barely noticeably, with the search for a little more oxygen. Yet Tooru's breath is steady against the corner of Tetsurou's mouth when he stretches to place another lovely kiss to Tetsurou's lips. And then one more.
He leans back, after, spine cushioned against the rounded edge of the counter by Tetsurou's hold, and lets his own hands trail down the line of his boyfriend's shoulders until they lay flat against his bare chest.
When Tooru looks up at him with a cheerful sparkle in his toffee eyes, Tetsurou knows what he'll say.
"Happy birthday, my love."
And despite knowing, it makes him overflow with delight he can't put into words, with the special pride of another happy year passed, and the longing for one more, immediately, and then many after.
His "Thank you" carries everything. A chance and a second, ears that would listen and lips that would comfort, plane tickets and phone calls, hope and dreams, defeat and tears of boundless joy.
Tooru's smile is beautiful, always has been, and it is protective wadding around Tetsurou's heart, soothing. It is an apology, a confession, and a promise. "I've missed you", it mutters against the crook of his neck, "I'll stay, this time."
Tetsurou knows there will be dinner and cake, knows there will be friends who cheer and sing for him, knows there will be gifts. And he knows that among them, one will be wrapped in red, folds endearingly crooked and tape haphazard. That he will put it to good use, whatever it is, until he is old and gray. And that he will love it, symbolically, too, because there will be months-long thought behind it - proof of dedication and devotion.
But now, with Tooru pressed up against him, lingering tiredness weighing down their limbs, and arms slung lazily around one another, Tetsurou couldn't think of a better birthday present.
Tooru is home, and he'll stay, this time.
