#idk if I'll actually do anything with this tho i only wrote it to distract myself from other things

[saelik]

It was well past midnight when Goro finally reached the front door. If he had stayed at the hotel, he would’ve been comfortably tucked in bed by now, warm and dry under the duvet instead of fighting against the inclement weather to find the keys in his backpack, but the case was taking longer than he had expected; he needed clean clothes and, especially, a good night of sleep in his bed, next to his husband. That was one of the many things Akira had ruined; Goro had never been picky about where he slept—not like he could afford it when he had jumped from foster home to foster home most of his childhood—but he’s never been able to sleep comfortably away from home ever since Akira’s warmth next to him became a constant in his life.

His hands were starting to feel numb when Goro finally found the keys (it was mid-January; how had he forgotten to pack a pair of gloves?) and opened the door. To his surprise, the living room light was on and a mumble he couldn’t quite understand filled the house. It took him a moment longer than it should have to realize the voice came from the TV.

It looked like he was more sleep deprived than he originally thought. 

In the living room, Akira and Morgana had fallen asleep under the kotatsu, the man with his head resting on the table next to a half-eaten orange, and the cat curled besides him, most of his body hidden by the cover. It wasn’t a rare sight, but Goro’s heart fluttered all the same.

“Your neck’s going to get all stiff,” he whispered, shaking his husband gently.

It took a few more tries before Akira opened his eyes. The sleepy man looked at the blurry silhouette in front of him confused, trying to remember where and when he was.

“You’re back,” he mumbled, lifting his head to kiss Goro. “You’re cold.” 

“And you’re as stubborn as a mule. I told you not to wait for me. Go to bed, I’ll be there soon.”

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” Akira ignored him. It sounded more like a reproach than a question.

Goro tried to convince his husband that he had, indeed, eaten (he didn’t specify when so technically it wasn’t a lie), but, after half of their lives together, he knew Akira wouldn’t believe him  even before he got up and headed to the kitchen instead of their bedroom. 

“Go have a shower while I finish making dinner, it won’t take long.”

Goro only hoped he hadn’t cooked a full banquet like last time.