Work Text:
Yukio would be lying if he said he didn’t know what was going on with Kise. Most of Japan—hell, probably all of Japan and a good chunk of the rest of the world knew what was going on with Kise. He walked multiple shows on the Italian fashion circuit, headlined a wristwatch campaign in the Swiss Alps, and filmed a promo for his upcoming guest appearance on a web drama.
The problem was that Yukio heard about none of it from Kise. He saw it on Kise’s official social media, scrolled through dozens of behind-the-scenes photos of Kise and his co-stars and co-models. Yukio was now hearing it all from a morning show host before she introduced Kise as their special guest. Soft-faced and cheerful, Kise strolled onto the stage to a stretch of applause, long enough that Kise didn’t sit immediately and instead waved at the audience. When he settled into the creamy leather chair, he looked almost bashful, brushing his bangs out of his eyes.
Yukio snorted loud enough that the salaryman next to him jerked awake.
Kise’s personal social media—under his sister’s married name—was silent, and had been so for the past few weeks. Yukio rarely had to resort to Kise’s personal social media in the first place; usually, Kise would fill him in over text or in person whenever he crashed last night at Yukio’s apartment or caught him during weekend basketball. Usually, Yukio had to shut Kise up to keep him from getting dragged into the stressful minutiae of the celebrity world that Kise didn’t even like to talk about.
Yukio stuck his hands in his pockets, fingering the new set of keys he had picked up and watching Kise laugh along with the host. He set his chin on his fist, smile hidden, while the host detailed the misadventure she and her daughter had at Kise’s last meet-and-greet. Kise seemed to remember the interaction. He touched her hand, lightly, and very seriously said, “Mie-san, next time just call me directly. You don’t need to go through such trouble when we’re friends.”
Next to Yukio, a college student sighed, starstruck, watching the whole display.
Yukio couldn’t judge. He also couldn’t look away from Kise. Aside from advertisements, Yukio hadn’t even seen the blond in weeks.
“You must be ready for a break,” the host said.
Kise laughed, “You have no idea. I’m just going to sleep all day.”
Yukio heard the call for his train. Kise having a break would make his plans easier.
- - -
“Senpai?”
Yukio raised a hand in greeting, and, slowly, the confusion lifted from Kise’s face until he was smiling at Yukio. The corners of his eyes creased, and Yukio didn’t push him away when Kise moved for a hug. It was slow, too. First, Kise grabbed his sleeve, then he fanned his hand over Yukio’s forearm to tug him closer. Yukio closed the distance by wrapping his arm around Kise’s waist. He stroked the length of his back with his free hand, fingertips catching each of Kise’s vertebrae.
He had lost weight. Yukio held back the familiar urge to scold him and, instead, just held Kise’s weight as he clung. Kise’s arms wrapped around his shoulders. The familiar smell of Kise’s shampoo and cologne settled some of the unease Yukio had been feeling since he got to Kise’s apartment door almost an hour ago.
Kise sniffled, and Yukio sighed. He patted Kise’s back. “By the way, it’s ridiculously easy to get to your apartment. Don’t you need more security?”
Kise huffed out a laugh and pulled away. Up close, Yukio could tell the makeup from earlier was gone. There were dark circles under Kise’s eyes and a smattering of dry skin along his jaw.
But Kise’s eyes were sparkling. He curled his fingers into Yukio’s jacket pocket. “Kasamatsu-senpai, if you weren’t on my visitors list, you wouldn’t have even gotten into the lobby.”
- - -
“I’m glad it’s you and not Kurokocchi,” Kise said over his shoulder. He slid his jacket off and hung it on the back of an armchair. “He would have shown up at my manager’s office.”
“Well, your place is closer,” Yukio said. He watched the flex of Kise’s arms as he untucked his shirt, then the pale flash of skin above his waistband. “It’s not like you to disappear from the group chats.”
“I’m so cherished.”
“You are,” Yukio agreed, following Kise through the apartment. He was half-tempted to hook his fingers into Kise’s belt loops to stop him, but Kise was unwinding, relaxed in a way he wasn’t when he was sitting in that leather armchair on the most-watched morning show in Tokyo.
Yukio was also tempted to slide his hands over Kise’s hips and pin him to the wall. But. “I was worried.”
“We all get busy at work.” The dismissive tone set Yukio on edge. It seemed to Yukio that navigating the arts and entertainment industry required and expected a degree of detachment from anyone and everyone involved. The detachment was necessary for survival.
Kise sometimes stayed a little too detached, too distant. It was hard for anyone who cared about him to see, and frustrating to try to coax him back when Kise didn’t seem to notice the problem.
“Then it’s good you have a break.”
At that, Kise stopped. He turned, his expression surprised. After a moment, a slightly patronizing smile replaced it. It was one of Kise’s more irritating expressions. “Senpai, I don’t get breaks.”
“But on the show—”
“Right. I don’t have any photo shoots or shows, and I’m not filming. But I still have meetings with my manager to review next season’s contracts. I have scripts to read. I need to research some up-and-coming designers who are trying to hire me. I’m not 15 anymore, I have to be a little more selective.” Kise’s voice softened, almost apologetic that he had to explain the traps and expectations of his profession.
Yukio wasn’t going to be deterred. “You don’t have to be here for any of that, do you?”
Kise blinked. “I guess not. But why wouldn’t I be here?”
“Come with me, then,” Yukio said. When Kise just stared at him, he flushed. “I mean, I have a place in the country. It’s quiet. You can get some fresh air and work.”
- - -
It said something about their level of co-dependence that Kise agreed to a getaway to the country without much fuss and then lifted his blanket for Yukio to get into bed with him.
It said something else that the casualness of the moment made Yukio breathless.
Kise wasn’t even looking. He had thrown an arm over his eyes and asked Yukio to turn off the light. But Yukio still took a steadying breath while undoing his jeans and taking off his shirt. It felt intimate.
When he climbed into bed, Kise let his arm fall to the side and turned his head so he could watch Yukio settle in. Despite the scant moonlight coming in through the balcony blinds, Yukio could make out Kise’s smile. He blinked slowly, lashes catching against the pillow as he turned fully to face Yukio. He curled one hand under his cheek.
“Good night, Kasamatsu-senpai.”
“Good night, Kise,” Yukio murmured.
- - -
Kise’s face was soft in sleep, looking almost like he did in high school. Awake, Kise fit his features. He aged into them, enjoying the grown-up, angular look while still keeping the pretty edge that cushioned his popularity. But, in slumber, his cheek squished against the pillow, and the line of his jaw was lost as he nestled into his sheets.
Yukio tucked the comforter more securely around Kise. He brushed his knuckles against the soft cotton, watching the rise and fall of Kise’s shoulders.
Moriyama, every so often, accused Yukio of being a sadist and a coward. A sadist, because he didn’t care about the team having to suffer watching Kise and Yukio dance around each other for years. A coward, because Yukio knew that Kise would never make the first move.
In his defense, Yukio realized late that he loved Kise. But there was no flash of realization, no sudden stumbling over his steps when he identified his feelings for what they were. Instead, it was a slow wave, a rolling sense of rightness whenever he was with Kise.
Yukio was a coward.
- - -
Moriyama wasn’t wrong when he said Kise and he were dancing around each other. Once Yukio loved Kise, he let Kise get closer and let him sweep away the boundaries Yukio put up in high school so he wouldn’t fall prey to Kise’s charm. Because, as irritating as Kise’s easy insincerity was, Kise was charming and bright and easy to like. He had a quality that couldn’t be contained, that either won you over or drove you crazy.
But Yukio was a simple guy. Under the flash and facades, Kise was competitive, diligent, generous, and serious about the people and things he loved. How could Yukio not fall in love with him?
He was less sure if Kise loved him back. Sure, Yukio had figured out early on that Kise felt some way about him. He categorized it as a crush and tried to ward Kise off when he got too close. Scolding Kise when he showed up at Yukio’s university without texting ahead or stepping away when he got too clingy.
But Kise was persistent, and, honestly, Yukio probably loved him from the beginning.
And Yukio knew him well enough that he knew Kise was probably toying with him to some degree, burrowing himself into Yukio’s life, becoming such a foundational part of it that Yukio couldn’t actually kick him out, and then waltzing around half-dressed like a reminder of what Yukio could have if he manned up.
“Welcome back, senpai,” Kise said with cheer. He was perched on top of his counter, kicking his feet and watching reruns of his morning show appearance from the day before. He was shirtless, wearing only his sleep shorts that bunched up on his thighs so Yukio could see the definition of his quads. Yukio tried not to get caught on the curve of his calves, the delicate lines of his collarbone, his abs. It really wasn’t fair how attractive Kise was; Yukio was just a man.
“We eat on that counter,” Yukio scolded. He took the empty smoothie bottle Kise handed to him and then bopped him with it. He ignored Kise’s whine and, instead, pushed the box of pastries into his arms. “Fucking get off and go get dressed.”
“Are you actually taking me to your country house? I thought I dreamed that,” Kise trailed off, carefully tearing away the tape on the box. His eyes gleamed as he took in the selection of pastries. “Be careful, Kasamatsu-senpai, I might get used to being spoiled like this.”
“You’re already spoiled,” Yukio retorted. “And yes, so pack enough clothes for a few days. But only one bag.”
Mouth full of almond croissant, Kise said, “You have to choose. I can either pack enough clothes or pack one bag.” He brushed croissant flakes off his thighs and licked powdered sugar off his fingers, and watched Yukio keenly.
Yukio smirked at him. “How about this? If it doesn’t fit in the trunk, it gets left behind.”
- - -
“I’m running away with Kasamatsu-senpai,” Kise sang into the phone. Yukio shook his head. “You’ll never find me.”
His manager responded, but the cheer didn’t leave Kise’s expression. He glanced at Yukio, his sunglasses sliding low on his nose. He winked, saying, “Yes, Kashima-san, I won’t forget our meetings. Senpai promises he has internet at his country estate–”
“Stop raising your expectations. It only has one bedroom.”
“–Thank you, Kashima-san! I’ll bring you a souvenir.”
When he put away his cell phone, Yukio asked, “She wasn’t mad?”
Kise waved his hand. “No, she said, ‘have fun and don’t come back with eye bags.’”
- - -
Kise followed Yukio into the small house, ooh-ing and ahh-ing as Yukio pointed toward the small kitchen and then toward the lone bedroom. “There’s an attached bathroom to the bedroom with a deep tub if you want to soak. The bathroom looks out to the yard, but there’s no one around for kilometers, and it’s all trees in the backyard. You can see the mountains above the treeline.”
“Amazing,” Kise repeated, hands sliding over the wall. He looked up at the ceiling. “It’s in such good shape, too. What a find, senpai.”
Yukio scrubbed a hand through his hair. He avoided Kise’s bright eyes. “It wasn’t always in good shape. I’ve been working on it.”
Kise tilted his head. Yukio shifted on his feet.
“I bought this place a few months after I graduated from university. My parents helped.” He scratched his cheek. Before Kise started doubting his place and importance in Yukio’s life, he added, “I didn’t tell anyone. It was kind of a dump when I bought it, and I didn’t want the guys to rib me.”
“I wouldn’t have,” Kise murmured.
“I know,” Yukio said. His tone matched Kise’s. “I wanted to fix it up first, before I told you.” He hesitates, wanting to spill the full truth of it. The moment was taken from him when Kise caught sight of the sliding door to the backyard. “Kise–”
“Senpai can have his secrets,” the blond said loftily. He slid open the doors, gasped, and darted outside.
Slowly, Yukio followed him. Kise spun on his heel, arms outstretched, and gestured at the basketball court. Before he could say anything, Yukio grinned, “That’s why I bought it.”
He went to the car and grabbed his basketball.
- - -
Eventually, Yukio said he had to get groceries. Kise waved him off, still side-stepping invisible opponents and going for a clean drunk. Yukio watched him longer, taking in the healthy flush on Kise’s cheeks. It was hard not to get back on the court, hold out his hands for one of Kise’s passes, and make his own three-pointer.
He finally dragged himself away, peeling away from the wooden post.
- - -
Over dinner, Yukio relayed the story of the house to Kise. He had a summer rotation in town at the local water plant (“You were in New York.”) and came across the empty house on the way home from dinner at a coworker's. His supervisor said the house had been sitting empty since its owner joined her grandson in Kyoto. “The basketball court was for him,” Yukio explained. They were eating on the veranda. The lights above them were bright, but did little to illuminate the nature around them. It was just dark in the country. But the stars were bright and clear, and both Yukio and Kise kept getting distracted by them. “With some work, I knew this place would be as good as new.”
So Yukio laid new floors, fixed walls, and painted. He renovated the bathroom, slowly, until it looked like a bathroom out of one of Kise’s magazines. He redid the kitchen until it was modern and bright. Yukio was glad his parents had been strict about self-sufficiency; the whole project would have taken several more years, otherwise.
“Kasamatsu-senpai is too cool,” Kise murmured. He rested his chin in his hands and looked at Yukio. Wistfully, he added, “I could never do something like this.”
“You wouldn’t want to,” Yukio said. The thought of Kise holding a hammer was equal parts ridiculous and terrifying. “Besides, you don’t need to. I already did the work.”
Kise smiled at him. The sweetness of it made Yukio’s face hot. “Then it would be terrible for me to let your hard work go to waste. I’m going to enjoy myself this week.”
- - -
They fall into a routine over the next few days. Morning jogs before breakfast, then breakfast together. After breakfast, Kise would hole up in the bedroom and meet with his management team. Yukio would do any chores or tasks around the house. Usually, he would end up outside, dealing with any overgrowth and weeds.
The property butted up against a forest, which would slowly slope upwards as the mountain began. While Yukio owned some portion of the forest, as it was part of the property, he didn’t see much use in exploring it. He’d rather spend time fixing up the yard. Eventually, he would properly landscape. But until he lived out here with some regularity, most plants would get overgrown.
Around mid-morning, Kise would meander outside with something cold for Yukio. Neither of them mentioned the domesticity of it all. They always ended up playing basketball, and then any conversation turned into trash talk.
“There’s a family restaurant in town,” Yukio said, wiping sweat off his face. “Want to go?”
Kise breathed out slowly, pulling himself out of a calf stretch. Yukio gestured for him to sit back and then squatted in front of him. Carefully, he pressed into Kise’s left calf. “Are you still doing those exercises your physical therapist gave you?”
“You’re starting to sound like my mom, and it’s a little weird—ouch!” Kise’s eyes watered. Yukio gently brushed the skin he pinched. “I knew you wanted to get me out here to bully me without anyone stopping you.”
“I can bully you in Tokyo,” Yukio said dryly. He started to massage Kise’s calf. “No one stops me.”
“Liar,” Kise retorted. He leaned in, close enough that Yukio could look into his eyes. He could probably count each of Kise’s dark lashes. They fluttered when he spoke. “Senpai wanted to get me alone and defenseless.”
Yukio’s breath hitched. Kise’s lashes fluttered, and he watched Yukio from under them. Yukio swallowed hard. The hardest thing Yukio ever had to do was not kiss Kise when he leaned in. He stopped him with a hand to his shoulder, and felt like shit when Kise’s face flashed with hurt.
“Wait, Kise—”
“I don’t understand.” Kise pushed him away. He stood up, voice shaking. “Do you want to father me or fuck me, senpai?”
Yukio jerked up to his feet. He reached for Kise again. “Kise, let me just—”
“I have been waiting and waiting for you to notice me, to make a move, to do anything, but you do everything, and I still can’t figure out what—”
“I bought the house for you,” Yukio blurted out.
“Wha—” Kise looked like Yukio had just smacked him in the mouth. He looked dumbfounded. He didn’t pull away when Yukio took his hands. A little dazed, Kise looked between their hands and Yukio’s face. “I don’t need a house,” he eventually said.
Yukio was fucking terrible at this. “I just wanted,” he started, “for there to be a place where you could go. Somewhere I could take you, so you didn’t have to worry about cameras or fans or contracts. Where you could just be yourself, with me."
Kise stared at him. Yukio sighed. “I love you.” He said quietly. He brushed his thumbs over Kise’s knuckles. “You’re right. I’ve kept you waiting, and I’m sorry. It’s just . . . I saw this house and thought, I bet Kise would be really excited to see the basketball hoop. I bet Kise would like to eat breakfast on the veranda in the spring. The sun won’t wake Kise up in the morning because the window doesn’t face the sunrise. And I realized that I thought about all these things, and I realized I was in love with you. I want to take care of you.”
Kise kept watching him, his lower lip trembling. Yukio opened his mouth to speak again, to apologize, to self-deprecate, to say something so Kise would say anything. It was a risk, this plan, but Yukio knew Kise still expected certain things to fade, for certain things not to last, and to be left behind because that was just the world.
Yukio would be steadfast. He never did things halfway before, and he wouldn’t start now with Kise.
But his only warning was Kise’s fingers tightening around his, before Kise yanked him forward, catching Yukio in a kiss. Their mouths bumped clumsily, but Kise pressed forward, pulling Yukio’s arms around him so they could get closer. Yukio complied, sliding his hands up Kise’s back, up to his hair. He angled his head, and the kiss got easier, gentler. When Yukio touched Kise’s waist, splaying his hands, Kise finally pulled away.
His eyes glittered. “I’m not waiting anymore, senpai. Take me inside.”
- - -
It was hard to keep his hands off Kise as they made their way inside. Kise kept pressing against him, drawing Yukio into kiss after kiss, sliding his hands up Yukio’s chest, into his hair, cupping the back of his neck.
“Here is fine,” Kise mumbled, fussing with Yukio’s belt until Yukio pressed him firmly against the wall. It was tempting to agree. He could sink to his knees, pull down Kise’s pants, and suck his dick. He’d imagined it so many times, gripping Kise’s hip and sucking him off while Kise cried above him. “Senpai, do me here.”
Yukio bit him. When he pulled away, there was a red splotch on Kise’s jaw, glistening from his mouth. Kise touched the spot and blushed, pink and pretty. Yukio kissed him softly in apology.
“I’m going to set up the bedrolls,” He said. He stroked down Kise’s arms. “Can you grab some lotion?”
Kise’s blush darkened, but he nodded. Yukio hurried, but even the brief distance between them felt too large. He managed to move even faster when he heard Kise start to undress. He had just finished tossing out the bedrolls when he felt Kise come up behind him. He slid his arms around Yukio and tucked his chin against his neck.
“Can I?” Kise asked, voice low. He fingered Yukio’s shirt, and Yukio shivered. Kise’s chest was warm against his back, through the fabric of his shirt, and Yukio could feel his lips brush against his ear when he said, “I want to take care of senpai, too.”
Kise undressed him slowly, tugging off his shirt first and then moving to his trousers. He pressed a kiss to Yukio’s ear, then his temple, as he undid his belt. After Yukio stepped out of his jeans, Kise followed, his hands sliding down Yukio’s sides and slipping into his boxers. Yukio hissed when his hand cupped his cock, Kise’s graceful fingers stroking him.
As though he wasn’t jerking Yukio off, Kise, lightly, asked, “Back or front?”
Through the haze filling his head, Yukio managed to get out, “Huh?”
He felt Kise’s smile, heard it in his voice when he said, “Do you want me on my back or front?”
- - -
(“Senpai’s so embarrassing. I’m going to tell everyone you’re a romantic.”
“If you’re going to make a threat, maybe stop hiding your face in the pillow first.”)
- - -
“I haven’t done this before,” Kise said suddenly. He sat up on his elbows, his stomach clenching when Yukio slid his hand up his hip to rest above his belly button. His other hand curled under Kise’s rear, his fingers pressed against his hole.
Yukio wasn’t surprised, but something warm pooled in his stomach at the admission. It didn’t help that Kise looked uncharacteristically shy about it, his eyes downcast and a soft blush on his face. He even bit his lip, and Yukio half-wondered if Kise was putting on a show for him. It was unnecessary, so Yukio kissed him.
Kise’s face was completely pink when they pulled apart, his mouth a little wet. It would be tempting to tease, to see just what Kise hadn’t done, but Yukio knew he was the last person to say anything. The anxious twitch to Kise’s mouth clued Yukio into the other’s real concerns.
“I did it to myself,” Yukio admitted. Kise blinked at him, eyes going very wide. Before he could say anything too embarrassing, like if Yukio thought about him (obviously) or if Yukio liked it (it was a little weird), Yukio licked a wet stripe up Kise’s cock and pushed one finger into him at the same time.
From that point on, there wasn’t much conversation aside from Kise’s breathy pleas. Yukio stretched him out slowly, letting Kise ride his fingers and fuck his mouth. He felt Kise’s fingers curl over the nape of his neck. He let Kise drape his leg over his shoulder to pull him closer, all while Kise clenched around him, taking Yukio’s fingers easily.
Yukio closed his eyes, focusing on the wet schlick of his fingers sliding in and out of Kise, on how his name sounded when Kise was overwhelmed with pleasure. Kise was salty in his mouth, heavy, and Yukio swallowed him deeper while pressing against his prostate.
When he opened his eyes, he was treated to Kise, flushed from his face to his chest, arching against the bed. His ribs trembled, and Yukio could see the shape of his name on his lips.
“Ryouta,” he said back, and Kise’s eyes shot to him. His cheeks were wet, and he held out his arms for Yukio.
When Yukio finally sank into him, with Kise’s leg hooked around his hip, and Kise’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, all he heard was I love you, Yukio.
- - -
Yukio could feel the curve of Kise’s smile against his neck, and he sighed.
Gleefully, Kise said, “You bought me a house.” His arms tightened around Yukio. Yukio tugged at the ends of his hair, but Kise just snuggled closer.
“I bought us a vacation house.” He argued without heat.
Kise peeked out from his neck. His lashes were still wet, and his face was still pink, and Yukio loved him. He stroked the length of Kise’s back, down the curve of his ass. In response, Kise wrapped his leg around Yukio. He could feel Kise getting hard against him.
“You bought me a house,” Kise repeated, smiling bright and unrepentant. He went easily when Yukio rolled him back onto his back and slotted between his thighs.
Yukio grinned back. “Yeah, I bought you a house.”