Tamaki Amajiki oneshots

Wine Drunk

WC: 3,536

"I don't want your damn sweatshirt, pretty".

Summary: You and Tamaki, after a long day of moving boxes into your brand new house together, get wine drunk and frisky.

Includes: smut/fluff

established relationship, F/M, Fem!readerXTamaki, aged-up,

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The light waned outside the bay window, boxes piled to the sill. You pushed a cardboard box labeled "Kitchen???" across the threshold of your house. Your house. It was such a strange thought. You and Tamaki own a house now? Together? The notion was so foreign and yet...it was real. It was so real you could touch it: feel the fresh paint under your fingertips and the hardwood floors under your socked feet.

Tamaki looks up from where he's using dull scissors to slice open a box labeled "music stuff".

"Why are you opening that"? You use your foot to half-heartedly push your box closer to the kitchen. "There's still a ton of stuff in the truck". You give up on the box and take a breather. Your arms and back ache from the physical labor, and your fingers are cold from the crisp autumn air drifting in through the door.

"Yeah- I just thought we could use some music", he says, breaking through the last of the tape and opening the box. "While we work". He glances up at you, his hair flopping into his eyes. You nod.

"Okay- yeah- good idea". You sigh, looking around the room. It's cluttered, save for an area in the center of the living room, with boxes, all labeled with yours and Tamaki's horrible handwriting. It's a mess; you're not even sure how you have so much stuff. And the furniture isn't even here yet.

"Do you know where the speaker is"? Tamaki asks, procuring an old radio from the box and looking at you quizzically. You shake your head.

"Should be in there", you shrug. Tamaki looks in the box, rummages a bit, and then shakes his head.

"Nope".

"It might still be in the truck then", you reply, subtly hinting that maybe your dear husband should stop dilly-dallying and start unloading all your stuff before it gets dark out. He doesn't take the hint.

"Hmm. I guess we can just use this". He points to the radio. Tamaki and his damn music, you think to yourself, murmuring an agreement before turning back to the truck.

As you extract the next box from the truck, you hear Tamaki flipping through radio stations before settling on one, playing some 80s hits. 'Time After Time' comes on, and you smile. Okay, maybe it was nice of him.

Tamaki joins you outside, hood pulled up to block out the wind. He looks in the back of the truck, counting the boxes left.

"You gonna help or you just gonna stare"? You tease, standing in front of him. He leans forward.

"Help, probably". A smirk tugs at his lips, dimples flashing, right before he presses them to yours and takes the box from your hands. You watch him, shocked, as he turns and walks into the house. Your house.

—

The sun has set, the air is fully chilled, and the truck is empty. You watch Tamaki as he figures out where to put the cutlery in your new kitchen, while you uncork the wine you've been saving for this day.

"Wine glasses, milady", Tamaki says, procuring two wine glasses, wrapped in bubble wrap, from the box at his feet. Honestly, impressive that he was able to find them.