Trifecta

Revelations

"Man am I tired," Yokozawa Takafumi let out a long-suffering sigh as he toed off his shoes in the genkan.

Grabbing a beer from the steadily depleting six-pack in his fridge, he made his way to the couch. Said couch groaned under his weight as he abruptly sank down onto it, already glumly contemplating the pack of instant miso soup that would end up constituting his dinner.

It wasn't that he couldn't cook; it was a necessary skill he had familiarized himself with while taking care of certain parties intent upon self-destruction; it was just that in his current tired state, even the simple task of making instant soup seemed like an insurmountable barrier. He stretched out his legs, which of late had taken to feeling perpetually cramped.

"I should really start taking better care of myself," he mumbled to himself as he massaged his aching shoulder. The week had certainly taken its toll on him. The ache in his muscles brought about by previously effortless trips to bookstores around the city was an uncomfortable reminder of his twenty-eight years.

He should probably make himself a proper dinner. The bone-deep tiredness that had settled over him, however, seemed to have other ideas as he felt himself sinking deeper, deeper into the softness of the couch cushions...

He awoke to a hand brushing the hair from his forehead.

"W-what the hell-?!"

He jumped up in shock, only to find Kirishima gazing down at him, brow furrowed worriedly.

"What're you doing here," he groaned out, sleepiness seeping back in now that the initial shock of Kirishima's sudden appearance had faded. 

Even if it was only Kirishima, though, it seemed impolite to yield to the strong urge to flop back down onto the couch, so Yokozawa settled for sitting down instead.

"I called you to tell you I was coming over. If a certain someone would answer phone calls from their significant other..." Kirishima said, and Yokozawa's mind instantly flew to Kirishima's adorable, ten-year-old daughter who never got the time she deserved with her father.

"Hiyo-"

"-Is at my mother's. Apparently they wanted to make some paper crafts I was debarred from attempting after my first few gallant attempts," Kirishima chipped in smoothly, before Yokozawa could give him a proper earful.

Yokozawa snorted. "I could just imagine you fiddling around with those scissors and posing a threat to everyone in the vicinity." 

A faint smile rose, unbidden, to his lips at the picture.

"Oh, come on~ We can't all be as good with our hands as you~" Kirishima simpered, making his way over to Yokozawa where he was sitting on the couch and aiming for a hug, which Yokozawa deftly dodged.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he groused. It wasn't that he didn't want Kirishima to touch him, but fuck if he was ever letting him know. The guy didn't need another boost to his already oversized ego.

"Awww~ I come all the way here because I want to see you, and this is the thanks I get?" That damn amused lilt was back in his voice, which invariably meant that he was sharpening his claws to dig into Yokozawa good with his teasing.

"Whatever, just shut up. I'm making dinner," Yokozawa said, getting up and making his way to the kitchen in hopes to put a speedy end to the teasing that always managed to rile him up, and wincing involuntarily at the answering ache in his muscles.

He froze as a pair of strong arms wrapped snugly around his waist.

"Hey, don't wear yourself out ~too~ much. Can't have you breaking down on me when we finally get to the good part." Kirishima said into the fabric of Yokozawa's shirt, the material barely concealing the smile in his voice.