aboutkoshi

[aboutkoshi]

Three.

ft. Sugawara Koshi wc: 2500+  a/n: the idea’s been floating around my head and i just had to write it out... fluffy and domestic suga ahead!  

─

Everything is warm. The colors of the sky, as the sun begins to set. The kitchen, from the smoke the cooking pan births as you brew his favorite dish. The smile on your face, as you let the wooden spoon rest and turn your head to check the time. Your eyes land on a framed picture you had taken with him years ago; your arm clinging around his waist tightly, and his encompassing your shoulder even more tightly, both of you not letting the other have an easy win at who could smile the biggest. And finally, the feeling in your chest, accompanied with a hand that itches to reach for the phone to tell him right then and there, but you figure your patience will be rewarded when you get to tell him in person. 

Any minute now. You think to yourself, the corners of your lips having turned upwards to form the smallest of smiles at the mere thought. When you sent him off to work this morning, you had no idea you would be able to welcome him back home with such life-changing news. The smile, and the nervousness, only grows as your ears register the familiar sound of the door clicking open and close, with his voice chirping in between, and you swear you’ve never loved hearing your name as much as now. 

“In the kitchen, Koshi,” you hum as you begin to complete the final steps of your dish, but the overwhelming scent of chili and oil proves to be more useful in leading him to where you stand. One second you are stirring the pan and making sure everything is lathered evenly, and the next you find yourself jolting out of surprise as two dependable arms wrap themselves around your waist from the back. 

“Mapo tofu today? My birthday isn’t until a few more months, sweetheart,” he teases, chin comfortably lazing on your shoulder. You shake your head, eliciting a reserved chuckle. He allows himself an exaggerated whiff of the dish and exhales softly with a sigh. His hold around your figure is as gentle as it is firm, and he turns his head to press a kiss onto the side of yours, mumbling a muffled “I’ve missed you.” 

The house is warm, but the home is warmer.

“It hasn’t even been twelve hours since we last met, Koshi,” you reason playfully, unable to hold back another chuckle. You turn the heat of the stove down to low to grant yourself the ability to completely look the love of your life in the eye, and the little pout that greets you as you turn around is just as lovable as you had imagined. Your features soften, and as much as you’d like the pout to stick around just a little longer, you admit that the desire to see him smile is even bigger. “I’ve missed you more,” you mumble, arms looping around his neck, and you watch as he relaxes in your hold. He leans forth, just enough to let your foreheads meet. His eyelids are fluttered shut and the tip of his nose lightly nudges yours, and the giggle you let out is his favorite melody.

“Go shower. The tofu will be done just in time,” you urge, and he stays silent, wanting to be this close to you for just another prolonged second, eventually responding with a tilt of his head as he plants a tender kiss on your forehead. 

“That, I will do,” he grins as he pulls away, and you mirror it with one of your smiles. 

“Mm, take your time.” 

“That, I will not,” he cheekily responds. 

-

You set the bowls of tofu on the table, garnishing it with a last sprinkle of chili powder, nodding in content to yourself over how good they look, smell, and based on a few sneaky tests straight from the pan, taste. 

With the ring hugging your finger comes a few exclusive privileges. For instance, at least two kisses daily (one before every meal I get to eat with you, he says), the biggest embraces of pride and comfort, a hand to hold wherever and whenever, dates ranging from movies and pillow forts in the living room all the way to planned fancy dinners, a sweater or two to steal, and helping him pick a tie or cardigan that matches his clothing every morning. 

But your personal favorite has to be the sight that greets you as you look up; him walking out of your shared bedroom with his hair still half wet (just like every other promise he’s ever made, he’s lived up to his words of not taking his time), an almost reflexive grin growing on his face when your eyes meet, and a worn-out shirt that’s too big for him, one that he has an odd affinity towards and claims has brought him luck (I wore it for our first stay-at-home date, look where we are today, he had defended). 

He sits himself across from you on the dining table, rubbing his hands together in excitement and humming in delight. His reaction alone is enough to make you want to run out to the market to grab some ingredients to make another batch tomorrow. 

“Take your time and blow first, it’s fresh from the stove,” you remind with a firm nod, and are met with a response as sheepish as the simper on his face. 

“No promises.” and he takes a spoonful of a little of everything in his bowl, muttering a brief prayer of gratitude for both the food and you, followed by a quick “I’ll eat really well!” under his breath, and you hold yours as he takes his first bite. He makes sure to look at you as he chews, slowly at first, and the visible hint of his smirk tells you he’s only doing it because he knows you’re nervous. Ultimately, he reaches out to ruffle your hair, fully smiling as he finally swallows and nods in approval. “Any day now you decide to open a store of your own, babe, I call dibs on being your taste tester and forever favorite customer, alright?” With this, you beam, and take a first bite of your own. 

“How was work today, hm?” you ask, one hand using the spoon to mix everything in the bowl while the other hand is tucked snugly in his. His fingers are curled over yours, thumb caressing the back of your hand every so often. His eyes light up, and you are convinced that his enthusiasm has made him forget the fact he has actual steaming food in his mouth. 

“So you remember Akio─” he chokes on his half-chewed tofu, the violent coughing causing you to widen your eyes and hurriedly offer a glass of water. The panic is fleeting, as he finds himself laughing in his own embarrassment, and you chuckle, despite shaking your head in disapproval. 

“As I was saying,” he continues after a few gulps of water, clearing his throat to get rid of any remnants of discomfort, “you know Akio, baby? He finally gathered enough courage to confess to his little crush today!” It feels foolish to be this excited over a school grader’s love life, but in your defense, it’s been a story that both you and he have followed since a few months ago. “Really?!” you reply, “How’d he do it?” you question, at the same time using a napkin to wipe the corner of his lips where a light splatter of sauce has landed. “Bouquet of flowers, a shy and nervous confession, very traditional, very genuine,” he describes, and you nod, mouthing an ‘oooh’. “She said yes.” and you coo loudly at this, putting down the spoon momentarily to clutch onto your chest. “I’m beginning to believe it has a 100% success rate,” he smiles smugly, and you only shake your head in mock disbelief, having another spoonful of food. 

“I’m serious!” he laughs, “I mean. . . that’s how I scored you, too, wasn’t it?” The last bit is barely audible, and the tint on his cheeks is easy to miss when you’re too busy trying to cool the heat on your own cheeks down. He’s the first to recover from the shyness, and he titters as he brings your hand close to his lips so he can lovingly peck each of your knuckles. 

“On other news, Ume managed to score higher than her last test! I always knew she was capable, she just needed someone to believe in her until she could believe in herself,” he explains, and amongst everything there is to love about your husband, his passion towards his job and his love for children is definitely up there. 

“You did a great job today, as always, Sugawara-sensei,” you compliment, and though he brushes it off with a bashful chuckle, you catch the way his cheeks are splashed with your favorite shade of pink. “They’re adorable, baby. They make time away from you a lot more bearable,” he acknowledges. You smile, and you continue having your meal, but he does not. 

“It would be lovely to have one of our own.” 

You pause, and he only realizes afterwards that the words have been said out loud, as opposed to merely thinking them, and he rushes to add, “I-I mean─ of course I’d love to build a family with you, and just the thought of coming home to you and a mini you, or a mini me, is a dream come true, and─ but─” 

You squeeze his hand, silently telling him to calm and slow down, flashing him a reassuring smile that he hasn’t said or done anything wrong. 

He sighs in relief. 

“And I also know that that would require at least ten folds of effort for me, and even with that it would be so much more difficult on you than it would be for me, but all I wanted to say is. . is that as ready as I am to care for you and another human being, I am also just as patient to wait for you until you’re ready, no matter how soon or how late, so we can take our time, okay?” 

You let out a breath you weren’t even aware you were holding, and he is momentarily alerted by how you don’t respond with anything else, not even a nod. And so his lips part to say something, anything at all, to put any and all of your worries to sleep, and an extra apology because maybe he should have been more careful.

“How. . how soon would it be too soon?” 

It isn’t among any of the answers his mind had expected, and it’s evidently displayed across his face, but it isn’t one he isn’t willing to entertain. “Well─”

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence. Only the sound of your own heart pounding in your chest and his eyes boring into your soul, cautious enough to look and gauge any of your reactions, maybe a telltale sign that you were also trying to test his waters, but with thousands of thoughts running through and seemingly clouding his mind, he finds none. 

“You’re pregnant. .” he echoes in a barely audible whisper, eyes darting elsewhere for a moment, and then back at you. 

“You’re. . pregnant?” he whispers, and you nod slowly, the emotions coming in waves. The relief is calm and serene, the realization is causing an unfamiliar but welcomed tightness in your chest, and the exhilaration is begging to crawl out of your throat as you finally break into a hearty laugh, this time able to nod more confidently. It is only after you have gotten over your own emotions that you notice he’s in it even deeper. His brows are furrowed, a habit that makes its entrance every time he gets confused ─ in this case, probably about which emotion he should tackle first ─ his eyes are sparkling from how hard he is trying to prevent his tears from escaping, and his mouth is twitching as he barely manages a smile, one that is proud and elated. 

“Oh my goodness, you’re pregnant! Can I─ can I hug you?” and he is already on his feet before you even get to answer. The final peak of your emotions comes in the form of a strong ripple of happiness quite literally sweeping you off of your feet.  You squeal as he lifts you up and gives you a little twirl, putting you back down urgently only to cup your cheeks, thumbs smoothing out the corners of your eyes. 

“Am I hurting the baby while doing that, oh no─ oh, you are so beautiful, my darling!” he exclaims, and the stream of tears that decorates his face as he does so is a lot more than enough to make you cry along, as well as laugh at the silliness of it all, accompanied by spurts of giggles as he proceeds to pepper your entire face with kisses, all at the same time. He halts himself, your face still snug on his palms. 

“I’m going to be a father. .” he trails off, and another laugh escapes your lips at how there are visible stages to how he reacts to the news. You’d be the last person to make fun of him, however, as you’d pretty much gone through the same stages just this afternoon. 

“You’re going to be an amazing one,” you reassure in a murmur, kissing each of his palms and cupping the back of his hands. 

“Only because I get to raise our baby with the most wonderful person,” he replies, “it’s going to be so lovely, my love! We’ll get you signed up for one of those breathing exercises classes─ don’t worry, I’ll go with you to each and every one! I’ve heard enough from the mothers at school. What are you craving for right now? Was the tofu too spicy?! What color do you think we should be decorating our baby’s room with? And─” 

“And how about you. . accompany me for my first doctor’s appointment tomorrow, before anything else?” you kindly interrupt, because as endearing as it is to watch him be equally excited, if not more, the last thing you want is for him to overwhelm himself. And just for good measure, “We’ll attend. . all of the classes you want us to attend, and decorate our baby’s room together, and do so much more together, all when the time comes, yes?” and he nods in both excitement and understanding. 

“There’s no one else I’d rather be doing all of this. . and all of that with, my love,” he breathes out, “thank you, so very much, for making me the happiest man, every day,” and he brings you closer to kiss your forehead. As he pulls away, his gaze falls south to your tummy, and he looks at you as if for permission, and you wordlessly take his hand and place it onto your stomach. 

“We can’t wait to meet you, little one.”

─