[ maybe it was predictable of him to do exactly what he said, but ichiro yamada is nothing if not stubborn. that's how he's practically made this apartment his second home, put touches of himself all over it when neither of them were really looking. sure, he's broken in a couple times, but only because he's been welcomed more. they've done cyphers on the back balcony, argued over tv on the couch. ichiro's made him breakfast and raided his fridge. he's made a place for himself in this life, so there's nothing that feels more natural than falling asleep here, even if it's with a bed that's a little colder than usual.
he managed to get up long enough to put on pants, but otherwise dicked around on his phone until eventually, he dozed off, face tucked halfway into a pillow that smells like cigarette smoke, jacket warm around his shoulders like an actual blanket. ichiro barely rouses hours later when samatoki comes home, slowly blinking out of dreamland and letting himself drift slowly into consciousness as the bed dips next to him.
his heart squeezes in his chest, like it always does, but it's easier to notice when he's not pretending to be too cool. ichiro opens his eyes, finally, and tilts his head up to actually look at the now second occupant of the bed, the owner of the warm arm over his body. his voice is thick with sleep, but the smile that spreads on his face is genuine, slow and warm and way more ooey gooey than he'd ever give when he was fully awake. ]
Hi. [ he's a little cold, actually, but ichiro doesn't mind, snaking an arm up from between them to put it across samatoki's middle, too, fingertips falling against his bare back. ] ...welcome home.
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he managed to get up long enough to put on pants, but otherwise dicked around on his phone until eventually, he dozed off, face tucked halfway into a pillow that smells like cigarette smoke, jacket warm around his shoulders like an actual blanket. ichiro barely rouses hours later when samatoki comes home, slowly blinking out of dreamland and letting himself drift slowly into consciousness as the bed dips next to him.
his heart squeezes in his chest, like it always does, but it's easier to notice when he's not pretending to be too cool. ichiro opens his eyes, finally, and tilts his head up to actually look at the now second occupant of the bed, the owner of the warm arm over his body. his voice is thick with sleep, but the smile that spreads on his face is genuine, slow and warm and way more ooey gooey than he'd ever give when he was fully awake. ]
Hi. [ he's a little cold, actually, but ichiro doesn't mind, snaking an arm up from between them to put it across samatoki's middle, too, fingertips falling against his bare back. ] ...welcome home.