Work Text:
The ring on Nakayama’s finger shocked many at his office. One day, he came into work slightly less miserable than usual, and the next, a ring on his fourth finger. He was known to be reserved and gloomy, waving off every woman, and the occasional man, that came his way in hopes of fixing him. He was attractive, yes. He most definitely was, with how the comment of ‘wasted looks’ floated around him constantly. At every question asked about his personal life, he’d stare at you in silence and go back to whatever magazine he was editing. At every comment that floated about how his “mysterious aura” pulled in more people, he’d only shrink into the bubble of reservation more.
“Hey, Naka-Kun!” His neighbor in the next cubicle called him one evening.
“Don’t ever call me that. No one can call me that.” He responded curtly, not even looking at his coworker, not sparing a glance to look away from his monitor.
The man pouted, rolling his chair near Nakayama’s. The man again didn’t bother noticing him, waving his hand to shoo him away. Something glinted against the light, and when the coworker caught his hand to admire the famed and ever so gossiped about ring, Nakayama finally turned to pull his hand away. He stared at his coworker, ice daggers in his eyes.
“Don’t touch me.” Well, in his tone too. If words could kill he had enough in these three to kill the whole office.
He got up promptly, and walked to the men’s bathroom. A female coworker he didn’t know by name followed him, asking him if he was interested in going out with her, and getting her number. He had enough etiquette to look at her, charming outside, with a figure all would like.
“I’m married, no thank you.” He turned and walked away.
He continued to the men's room, into a stall and pulled out his phone. Tensely, he dialed the one person whose voice would help him get through the day more than any smoke break or coffee.
“Naka-kun?” A breath he didn’t realise he was holding was released. The caller chuckled. “Ah, Naka-kun~”
“Shira…” He slumped, sliding down to the floor.
“Are you alright?” He asked, voice light and pleasant.
“People are more annoying than usual.”
“I know darling. Privacy doesn’t exist in an office building doesn’t it? They can’t stand not knowing how the mysterious Nakayama got married, fufu.” The giggle carried through to his almost racing heart, ironically calming him down. He could easily tell Shirafuji admired his ring as he said that as well.
“If only both of us working in the bookstore was enough for us.” He imagined it, being able to stock shelves calmly, kissing his Shirafuji during breaks, and being in close quarters together all day.
“Imagining it, Naka-kun?” The velvet voice chuckled again, making a kiss sound through the line that made Nakayama want to melt further against the cool stall door.
“Forgive me for being so selfish.” His own voice softened significantly, donning a light tease, no longer the cutting edge sharp his office knew. He smiled brightly, hoping it reached his fiancee.
The other line laughed properly, before a bell chime rang in the distance. “Ah, someone's here. Thank you for calling Naka-kun, I’ll have dinner ready for us tonight, alright?” He said, continuing with “Welcome in, I’m here if you need help!” to the customer that had come in.
Nakayama wished he could feel the warm wood counter under his fingers instead of cold steel, the scent of fresh books instead of ink and printer machines, the warm light of the setting sun instead of the harsh fluorescent light of the office. He sighed.
“Can you make that steak you’ve been prepping?” He said ever so softly, breaking the comforting silence that had built. His eyes closed in content while his head leaned back against the door in relaxation at his lover's voice responding:
“Of course I can.”
“Thank you, I love you. Now I won’t need to go for a smoke break later.” He knew Shirafuji hated his smoking habit, and over the time they've known each other, he’d gone from almost a pack a day to now a pack a week. Truly a feat Shirafuji was proud of him for. Nakayama too had found something better than cigarettes, his beloved Shirafuji.
“Good job, my dear. Do you need me to visit near the end of your shift?”
He hesitated. Of course, he always wanted to see his husband. Shirafuji asked again, saying he had nothing else to do but oversee some book pickups. Nakayama didn’t want to bother his work, so he told him no with a heavy heart. He hung up seconds later, deep breaths to savor the calm his fiancee gave him. Exiting the stall with a slight smile, he fixed his tie and hair to keep himself prim and proper, and left the bathroom. As soon as he sat down, and his name was called, his smile dropped, and his calm was partially extinguished for annoyance.
Another 4 or so hours later, he contemplated checking out 30 minutes early, and going out to buy a wine for him and Shirafuji to share. He smiled at the thought, relaxing with him under blankets with candles and a show Shirafuji’s been wanting to watch.
“What’s got you smiling?”
“My fiancee.” He replied deadpan, face poker, pulling himself out of bliss to look around the sterile gray environment for the source of the noise.
“Who was traumatized enough to love him?” Someone else commented behind him, and the row that heard snickered.
He ignored them all when they shushed to whispers. “I am, and I’m not traumatized. He simply doesn’t like dealing with assholes.” Nakayama lit up, whipping around to find his husband in casual clothing. Shirt with a vest and regular jeans, a book in hand and his other in a pocket. A visitor lanyard hung around his neck, alongside his jewlery. His hair was tied back, leaving a few strands to fall on his face and rectangular glasses.
“Shira?” He asked, in slight awe and hope. His coworkers also looked in awe, but at Nakayama, not the visitor.
“I’m saving you from this gray box. Clock out, come on.” He smiled, ignoring the stares he got as he approached a Nakayama who was gladly handing him his jacket, packing up his papers and stationary.
“You came. But your work…”
“Can wait.” He interrupted calmly, keeping his focus on his melting Nakayama, “I didn’t need to be there for book pick-ups.” Shirafuji shifted the two items in his hands to hold Nakayama’s, who stopped what he was doing to relax and give him a hug, lightly kissing his shoulder before finishing up packing. No, he did not care that PDA was frowned upon in Japan. He wanted his love.
Shoulders relaxed and face looking like a lovesick high school girl, Nakayama watched his fiancee lead him confidently out of the office. The office looked at Nakayama differently after that night, though he never let up his stoic persona. At least they all left him alone.