Hello! So this was a headcannon/prompt I found on a lovely tumblr account (marukaprompts), and I immediately fell in love with the idea and asked the admin if I could write it. This is my first non-Naruto, non-SasuSaku based fic, and I hope you enjoy!
"Not again … "
Makoto smiled, his face hidden beneath his book, silently reminding himself to keep his breathing steady as he heard Haru place something on the coffee table, grumbling incoherent nothings under his breath. There was a brief pause. He heard a sigh.
"I thought you were over this habit, Makoto."
There was exasperation in his tone, and yet, he noted blithely, it also radiated concern, though mildly so. His smile grew a little wider. That was just like him, he thought; Haru was always so subtle. And had he not enjoyed this little game of his so much, Makoto might have spared him the trouble and told Haru the truth—that he'd always been pretending; that he'd always been awake; that he'd done it for the grumbles, for the sighs, and, as brief as they were, for the light touches. But he didn't. And he didn't plan to.
However, the first time it happened was just pure accident. It was the beginning of summer, the swim club had been closed for some time, and Haru was on the verge of losing his mind. But after months of waiting and finding some solace in his bathtub, the weather was warm enough for Haru to swim in the ocean. Of course, Makoto never joined him in his endeavors, but simply being with him, watching him swim, was enough.
He didn't even remember when or for how long he fell asleep that first time. All Makoto could recall was feeling warm, yet damp, hands gently lifting his head and propping it on something soft as his mind slowly lifted from unconsciousness. It almost felt like a dream. It must have been a dream, he told himself, because when he finally opened his eyes Haru wasn't next to him as he'd hoped.
"You fell asleep," Haru said, drying himself off with a towel as he gazed at the ocean, a satisfied, almost dreamy, expression on his face.
Makoto laughed awkwardly, slightly embarrassed. "Yeah, I guess I did."
Haru sighed. "You don't have come with me next time," he said, turning his head slightly. His dreamy expression had disappeared, replaced with what Makoto could only describe as disappointment. "I can just go by my—"
"No!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet, his arm reaching out to him. Haru shot him an odd look, making Makoto blush. "I mean, you shouldn't go alone, and really, I don't mind. It was just an accident." He smiled. "It won't happen again."
Which, to his defense, was both true and false.
The second time it happened, Makoto only meant for it to be a joke—something to rile Haru up, something to laugh about later. And as soon as he saw Haru step out of the ocean Makoto dropped his head and closed his eyes, arms and legs sprawled out into awkward positions as he fought to keep a straight face. He was going to scare him, he thought mischievously, or, at least give Haru a good surprise.
When Haru finally arrived Makoto heard a smack against a forehead and a few mumbled words—something along the lines of Really, Makoto and Of course you did. Fighting the urge to laugh as he imagined the look on Haru's face, Makoto braced himself, waiting for just the right moment to strike. However, the moment never came.
Because he expected Haru to wake him, to shake him, to chide him for being so childish. Because he didn't expect Haru to fuss over him so much, moving his arms and legs into a more comfortable position, brushing his bangs away from his eyes, tilting his head so his face wasn't in the sand. Because he didn't take into consideration how easily Haru's touch, as light and gentle as it was, could set fire to his skin and send electricity through his veins.
And it was nice.
But it didn't stop there. Haru never did find out that Makoto was faking it that second time, and soon Makoto found himself actively searching for places where he knew Haru would find him, thinking of awkward positions he knew Haru couldn't ignore—under a table, in the classroom, on the stairs near his home; on his face, on his side, and even upside down—just so he could hear Haru's concerned grumbles and, more importantly, feel his touch. And over the years, Makoto had gotten quite creative, to the point that he almost surprised himself.
But this time he chose something simple. This time Makoto was on Haru's couch, one arm and leg hanging off the side, his reading assignment covering his face and his smile.
However, his smile faded as he felt Haru lift the book off his face. Makoto took another deep breath, the scent of whatever Haru was cooking suddenly overwhelming him. Mackerel. And pineapple. He almost laughed; he wasn't surprised.
"For someone who's always worrying about others," he heard Haru say as he carefully lifted his leg onto the couch, "you never seem to worry about yourself." Haru lifted his arm. "Like at the training camp." Pause. "I'm still annoyed about that, you know."
Makoto sensed Haru move closer, his face just a few inches from his, his breath lightly tickling his face. He must have been staring at him, making Makoto nervous. He shifted his position slightly, making his arm fall off the couch. He didn't want Haru's gaze; he wanted his touch. There was a huff. "Honestly, Makoto," Haru said, lifting his arm once more, "one day I should just leave you the way you are."
Makoto wanted to laugh. But you won't.
He felt Haru brush his bangs away from his face, his fingertips lingering on his on temple just a few seconds longer than usual. His breath hitched.
"But I won't."
Ack! I hope you enjoyed it!
And as always,
Read and Review!