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"Oh." Yuuta faltered in the doorway to the hotel room, hand still on the switch as the dim light flickered on. His eyes ticked over the sparse space within, noting that the door to the bathroom was directly beside them, and that there was a tv on the wall. Beyond the expanse of a bed and a single nightstand, a lonesome armchair had been wedged into the corner next to a wide window, giving them a view of the parking lot outside. There wasn't entirely a lot going on, but precisely one thing stuck out to him. "Um," he started. "I think...there was a mistake?"
"Hm?" He felt the buzzing hum of Inumaki's cursed energy around the sound just seconds before the boy pressed insistent fingertips sharply between his shoulder blades, nudging him into motion with the tiniest little shove.
Yuuta shuffled in from the hallway, standing aside to make space for Inumaki to pass him by. Yuuta gestured vaguely into the room as he went, the grocery bag wrapped around his wrist swinging with the wave of his hand. "It's just, um. There's only one bed," he said, as though Inumaki couldn't see it himself. "Was...is this the wrong room?"
Inumaki leveled him with a look, lilac eyes dancing with amusement. "Okaka," he scoffed. He slung his bag onto the foot of the bed without preamble and went to the window. He peered out at the streetlight-lit parking lot, where red tail lights illuminated a car backing into a space just beside their window. Inumaki twitched the curtain shut, offering them privacy from the outside. Yuuta could still hear the sound of the car engine as it cut out, though, and then the slam of the doors as they were shut. Someone was arguing on their cell phone somewhere outside, on the sidewalk.
"Oh. Um." Yuuta closed and locked the door, fumbling through his uncertainty and probably failing to hide it. This was his first overnight mission, and he really didn’t know the protocol for it. He was getting used to the rhythms of missions in general—even the short notice urgency of them was becoming commonplace. But this? The rush, rush, wait of a timetable he didn’t quite understand was getting the better of him, setting his nerves on edge. “Is this…normal?” he asked, casting a look back at Inumaki in time to catch a shrug.
Yuuta was still unsure exactly what to expect of the other boy, and that was adding to his nervousness. With their first mission together not that long in the past, Yuuta could definitely say he was no longer terrified of Inumaki; he was far too kind to be deserving of that—Yuuta could tell now, even without Panda's cautioning.
If he was honest, a lot of it came from how he was still having a difficult time grasping what Inumaki meant when he spoke, even when Yuuta was at his most attentive. He got the yes and no answers; they were easy enough. But while Maki and Panda could read an entire dialogue from a muttered word and sparse hand signs, Yuuta could not. It left a delicate tension between them, a tiny missed beat in every conversation where Yuuta lagged behind and someone had to translate for him.
It was a testament to just how gentle and patient Inumaki was that he hadn't grown tired of Yuuta failing to keep up. He always paused the conversation, eyes on Panda for help, or took out his phone when they were one-on-one to type everything and make sure Yuuta followed.
Inumaki already did so much to keep everyone safe from his technique, so it was really the very least Yuuta could do to meet him halfway and just figure it out, even if he was struggling. This mission was probably a blessing in disguise, as concentrated time alone with Inumaki could only help.
With a sudden burst of determination, he crossed the room to set his backpack down beside Inumaki’s on the bed. As he did so, the strap tangled with the bag wrapped around his wrist, cinching it tight. He floundered to get it sorted out, feeling Inumaki’s gaze rest heavily on him. He made his way back across the room to return to Yuuta’s side, and even if he said nothing, Yuuta could feel his focus loud and clear. His entire face burned a flustered red as he finally managed to untangle everything. When he finally willed himself to look up, there was shockingly no judgment in Inumaki's expression. His cheeks were rounded over a soft, hidden smile and nothing else.
“H-hungry?” Yuuta asked, trying to swallow down his embarrassment behind some hopeful helpfulness. He opened the grocery bag he'd warred with to locate their dinner, without waiting for an answer. Earlier, they’d walked down the street to hunt for something to eat while Nitta checked them into their hotel rooms. She’d been apologetic to them when they returned with nothing but a few lonely leftover corner store sandwiches and bottles of water, promising something better in the morning when they weren’t under threat of missing their check-in time.
“Mm.” Inumaki took the proffered food and drink and returned to the corner by the window, dropping onto the stiff-looking armchair rather dramatically. His sharp huff of breath upon impact confirmed that it was indeed as hard as it looked, and he glanced up when Yuuta nearly let out a tiny peel of laughter, the crinkle of a hidden smile still around his eyes. Yuuta gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, as it was the only other place available, nestled beside their bags. He breathed a soft sigh of relief and started to unwrap his food.
He eyed the mournful, wilted lettuce for just a moment before taking a bite. “Oh, hey, it’s not actually bad,” he said around his mouthful, shooting a glance toward Inumaki, who paused in lowering his scarf. “Oh, um. Do you mind if I—” he cast about for a distraction. “If I turn on the tv?” he asked; anything to keep himself from just staring as the other boy cautiously revealed his face. A small shake of his head gave Yuuta permission, and he scrambled to find the remote.
Yuuta still hadn’t spent any significant amount of time around Inumaki without the lower half of his face being hidden. Even when it was just around Maki and Panda, he seemed to stay covered. Meals were perfunctory; revealing just enough for as long as it took him to eat and no longer. The same went for missions, now that Yuuta thought about it. His scarf or mask came down for the breadth of a word and no more.
Yuuta didn’t want to gawk, though, and he knew it was more likely that he would than not. He focused on the television intently, flipping channels amidst the sounds of crinkling plastic sandwich wrappings.
He tried to become engrossed in a cooking show, idly contemplating the dishes being prepared while he ate. He didn’t know half the ingredients being used and was reminded again about how his friends had been exaggeratedly thrown by his general apathy toward food. There had been a lot of promises to take him out to try new things in the coming months, when they had less training to do and missions slowed down.
He stuffed the last soggy bite of his sandwich into his mouth, and against his better judgment, glanced back across the room. Inumaki wasn't quite finished, nibbling slowly and scrolling distractedly on his phone. On campus, he’d probably be done already and clearing his space to leave; Yuuta couldn't fathom why it was any different here.
He let his eyes trace the shape of the markings around Inumaki's mouth. He'd never quite gotten to look at them so openly—even if, at the moment, he was trying his hardest not to stare. Questions he could never ask bubbled to mind; were they tattoos or were they something he'd been born with? Panda had definitely inferred the latter, but Yuuta almost wanted to ask. And also, did his powers come from the marks themselves, or were they manifested because of the technique he had?
More than anything, Yuuta realized the longer he looked, the harder it was to pull his eyes away.
“Kombu?” The word was spoken so softly that Yuuta almost didn’t hear it. Inumaki’s gaze flicked away from his phone, and Yuuta met his eyes. The vaguest tilt to his head furthered the question and shattered Yuuta's reverie.
“I didn’t mean—” Yuuta stuttered to a flustered halt at being caught so blatantly staring. “Sorry.” He looked back to the television, trying his best not to keep glancing over when he could still very clearly feel Inumaki’s gaze on him, prickling against his skin like a physical thing. He couldn’t concentrate on what he was watching for the life of him, and it was a relief when he eventually heard a rustle as Inumaki stood from the armchair.
“Tsunamayo,” he said, calling Yuuta’s attention back now that it was acceptable. The scarf was still loose, tucked under his chin, and Yuuta fixedly tried to keep his eyes trained up, not wandering again. “Sujiko?”
“I’m—sorry? I don’t know what you…?” His cheeks flamed as Inumaki walked closer to him. “Um…?”
Inumaki stopped by their bags, unzipping his and ruffling through it for a moment. Yuuta’s gaze slid to the unguarded tightness of a frown on Inumaki’s lips, something so very small. Inumaki never seemed irritated with him, but Yuuta had to wonder how much the issue of communication really actually hurt him. It had to be so lonely, so isolating to have to veil his meanings behind his coded words, and Yuuta wasn’t helping in the slightest by being so clueless.
Inumaki finally fished out a bundle of clothes and toiletries. He pointed toward the bathroom, head tipped faintly toward it.
“Oh! You want to shower?” Inumaki nodded, but still didn’t move. He seemed to be waiting for something in the uncomfortable silence, and Yuuta thought he could feel every ounce of the strain. It bunched up the muscles in his shoulders and made him wither under the weight. “Um. Did you…” He hesitated, playing back the sound of Inumaki’s last word in his head. It was a question, which probably meant…“You asked, uh. If I wanted to go first?”
“Shake.”
The relief was sudden, and Yuuta could feel the tension leach out of his muscles. “Oh. Oh! No, that’s okay. Go ahead. I’ll just…” He looked to the tv and found the credits rolling, the cooking show having come to a close while he wasn’t paying attention, and then turned back toward Inumaki. “Read over the mission…details?” Nitta had given them a thick file folder before taking the room next door, with an order to familiarize themselves with it before they slept so they could get to work in the morning as soon as possible.
A tiny smile quirked across Inumaki’s lips—Yuuta belatedly realized his eyes had gravitated toward them again when he hadn’t been paying attention and he wished he could just sink into the floor. “Mhm.” At least Inumaki was nice enough not to acknowledge it. He stepped around Yuuta’s legs on the way to the bathroom.
When the door finally clicked shut behind him, Yuuta flopped back on the bed, trying to pull together his frazzled nerves. He had to; he could feel Rika stirring along the edge of his consciousness, her irate curiosity pressing in cage-like around his mind. She thought something was wrong—and well, there was, but it wasn’t something she could help with. He just needed to learn to keep his eyes to himself and start actually listening.
A few deep breaths later, and he could hear the shower start in the bathroom, followed by the clinking of the curtain being dragged closed. It was strangely intimate in this small space, and he rolled fretfully onto his side. He curled toward his bag, ready for the distraction the mission notes could provide. He sifted through his bag for the paperwork and sat up when his fingers found the thick edge of the folder. He scooted to the top of the bed, shuffling the pillows to the side to surround himself.
It was easy enough for him to get absorbed in the notes within the folder, letting it fall open over his knees, and to not focus on the odd familiarity of hearing the water run just on the other side of a paper thin wall.
Yuuta did a double take much later when he registered the bathroom door opening. Inumaki stepped out in a swirling cloud of steam, wearing a simple t-shirt and shorts. It was silly that Yuuta was almost convinced that Inumaki would still be covered to the tip of his nose, like usual, and that he’d have those eye-catching sigils on his cheeks hidden. It was miserable how much he'd actually been hoping that would be the case, so he could save them both the embarrassment of him staring again.
“Takana?” Inumaki’s voice was so tiny and soft, and yet it still made Yuuta jump. He…maybe he was just very tired, because he just kept letting his eyes drift, and there was no other reason for that to be happening. He cleared his throat and his gaze skittered back down to the mission report he’d managed to mostly read through.
“I’m sorry, I’m almost done and then you can have it.”
“Tsunamayo?” Cautiously, Inumaki folded his legs under himself, sitting on the edge of the bed. He tossed his phone onto the bed between them, and leaned into the bulk of their bags, tipping his head curiously to accentuate the question he'd asked. He pointed at the folder propped on Yuuta’s knees, and then back and forth between the two of them, lips pursed pensively.
God, Yuuta was looking at his lips again.
Yuuta tore his eyes away, trying to focus instead on the fact that Inumaki had a towel draped around his neck, probably from scrubbing dry his ashen blond hair. The gel that usually kept it styled had been washed away, and it hung messily around his ears and across his forehead, still obviously damp.
Inumaki cleared his throat and a sharp pulse of his cursed energy bubbled against Yuuta's skin. "Tsunamayo?" he asked again, voice pitched moderately softer than before, with an edge of almost palpable uncertainty to his tone.
Yuuta felt an immediate prickle of shame—he couldn't stand the idea that Inumaki might be feeling awkward over Yuuta's inability to understand him, especially not when Yuuta’s thoughts were mostly occupied with how he needed to stop staring at his face like a total creep, rather than anything useful. Upsetting Inumaki in any way was the absolute last thing he wanted in the world.
He simply had to do better.
"I think…” He swallowed and thought back to what he’d been too distracted to focus on when Inumaki had been speaking. “Did you want to share?" he asked, fingers brushing over the mission notes. "So we can go over it together and think of a strategy for tomorrow?"
“Shake,” he sighed, a visible moment of relief fluttering across his face, so fast Yuuta could have thought it was his own imagination.
Inumaki scooted up to the top of the bed to sit beside Yuuta, with the pillows pushed between them. He pulled his knees up to his chest and tipped a little closer toward Yuuta, very obviously trying to read without getting too terribly close.
Yuuta flipped back to the first page and shifted the document from his knees to the empty space between them. "Um," he started. "I know you can read it for yourself, but it's at a construction site," he said. He indicated a few lines of text and started to turn the page.
"Tsuna," Inumaki murmured. He reached out, fingers lightly touching Yuuta's hand before retracting. Yuuta let the paper go like he'd been shocked, but Inumaki was already moving on from the brief contact. "Takana?" he asked, pointing at one small sentence in particular.
"It's rumored to be the location of an ancient family burial ground, but no one can find any documentation to support that," he said. "Is that…do you think that's important?"
"Shake?" It sounded almost questioning, and Inumaki raised a hand and made a so-so sort of gesture. Before Yuuta could start asking the questions that bubbled to mind, Inumaki flipped the page. He read over the detailed information about the company that had bought the land in silence, and then flipped to the next page, about the building that would eventually be constructed on the lot.
The next page after discussed the different attractions the building would contain, and for the life of him, Yuuta didn’t understand why any of this was included in the first place. Inumaki seemed so intently focused on all the minor details, when Yuuta knew he had only skimmed large sections of the report. It was a lot of incredibly tedious information.
Inumaki flipped to the last page after a few minutes had passed, and only got halfway through before he leaned back just slightly. "Sujiko, tsuna. Takana?" He pointed at a line in the paperwork and Yuuta leaned closer to read which one it was in particular.
"I don't…" he trailed off, chancing a peek back at Inumaki's face. Maybe if Yuuta hadn't been so attentive, he might have missed the dissatisfied twist to Inumaki's lips. His fingers squeezed against his ankle fretfully, and he might as well have grabbed onto Yuuta’s heart and given it a tug with how much that ate at him.
"Mentaiko," Inumaki murmured under his breath. He stretched for his discarded phone after a beat, resting his cheek on his knee while he typed out a message. Yuuta waited for the reveal anxiously, trying to keep the bubble of worry under control in his belly until Inumaki tipped his phone toward him.
it says low grade swarm and I can handle that np
gojo probably knows something we weren’t told and that’s why he wanted you here with me, he had a hunch
I'd think it has to do with the burial ground thing
urban legends like that attract thrill seekers, and that makes more rumors, and then those rumors attract more people who believe, etc, until the thing actually manifests
curse 101
you should just think like it’ll be like our first mission together
should be easy, but stay alert cause there could be something bigger
we’ll be fine though
"Oh. Oh! " Yuuta leaned back, dragging his fingers through his hair. "That's…you could get all that just from…?"
Inumaki nodded and deleted his note, only to replace it with another.
read between the lines, always
He flipped his phone face down on the bed and looked back toward the pages, like he’d be able to get anything else from them by rereading them. He only managed a few sentences before he had to stifle a yawn.
“Do you need…do you want to go to sleep?” Yuuta knew Inumaki seemed to be a bit of a night owl—the light was usually on in his room deep into the night. It was a comfort of sorts, when Yuuta couldn’t sleep; he’d yet to do it, but he thought maybe at some point, it might be nice to have someone to talk to on one of those sleepless nights, once he’d worked up the courage for it.
That said, they were on a mission. He didn’t know how Inumaki handled missions like this, if he’d go to sleep earlier than normal to be as prepared as possible.
“Ikura,” was his mumbled response, followed by a brief shrug. “Shake.”
“O-okay. I’ll just.” Yuuta started to close up the mission notes, casting a brief look in Inumaki’s direction, in case he was still looking at them. With no protest, he stood up to tuck them back into his bag. “I’ll shower,” he said. “If that’s okay, and you can get ready to sleep.”
“Shake,” he repeated. Yuuta could feel the weight of his gaze again, and tried not to falter as he dug deeper into his bag for a change of clothes and his own toiletries. Once he’d found them, he scuttled off to the bathroom, leaving Inumaki to actually get ready to sleep.
Yuuta dithered on whether or not he should hurry through showering, more than a little paranoid that no matter what he did, he’d bother Inumaki in some way—if he went too fast, wouldn’t it be awkward and disruptive of him to be puttering around the room as Inumaki was actively trying to fall asleep? If he took too long, on the other hand, he ran the risk of actually waking him up after he had already fallen asleep. There wasn’t really a middle ground on the matter, and he resigned himself to the fact that he'd make things awkward between the two of them no matter what.
He didn’t rush nor did he linger beneath the spray of warm water, trying to be as normal as he could. Yuuta didn’t normally take long showers, so he didn’t now.
When he stepped out of the bathroom, he wasn't entirely shocked to find the lights had all been shut off. Inumaki was guilty of staying up late, but unlike Yuuta, he didn’t seem to have the habit of sometimes falling asleep with the lights still on. Inumaki had left the tv on, though, perhaps a kind nod toward the fact that he was aware Yuuta likely wasn’t going to be sleeping any time soon. The flickering light cast shadows over the bed, and Yuuta crept toward it uncertainly.
"Inumaki, are you…?" his voice was pitched to an almost whisper; he didn't want to wake Inumaki if he was already asleep, which seemed likely when he didn't answer and didn’t turn to look in Yuuta’s direction.
It finally dawned on him that he wasn’t exactly sure what he was supposed to do at this point. Did he just…join Inumaki in the bed? Or would he wake up and be upset by Yuuta’s boldness? This was one of those things he hadn’t had the forethought to ask about.
Sleeping in the armchair would probably be his best option, even if it would be uncomfortable. He could manage it, considering his irregular sleeping habits in general. When he looked toward it over Inumaki's sleeping shape, he could see that their bags had been piled onto the seat.
With another hesitant glance down at the bed, Yuuta finally realized that Inumaki had turned down the sheets on the unoccupied side. Paired with the chair being used for storage, it almost seemed as if the other boy had known Yuuta was going to fret over what to do, and had extended an invitation, in his unassuming way.
If Inumaki was fine with it, then this would be fine for Yuuta as well. He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, and then drew his legs up, tucking himself below the covers. He went slowly, paranoid that his movements would disturb Inumaki as he settled in. There was no indication that the motion had woken Inumaki—now that he was closer and starting to listen rather than fret, he could hear that the other boy's breathing was steady and quiet. He was definitely fast asleep, with no change likely to happen.
Inumaki was pretty slow to wake in the morning, now that Yuuta thought about it. His concern had probably been misplaced and overblown for the situation.
Feeling a little more comfortable with the thought, Yuuta settled back against the pillows that were still shoved to his side of the bed. He didn't anticipate falling asleep anytime soon, even though he should really try to. He had the vain hope that watching the muted tv might actually lull him to sleep.
He focused on the program that had been left on—something travel related, he was relatively sure, but the subtitles weren’t on, so he didn’t know exactly what he was looking at.
Sometime around the second commercial break, Inumaki rolled over with a small huff, curling onto his side. It put him a lot closer to Yuuta than he had been, and Yuuta shifted toward the edge of the bed to put more space between them. He tried to keep his eyes glued to the tv, only catching the motion out of his periphery out of fear that he’d once again end up staring.
He focused on the screen, trying to pay attention and not get distracted by the soft hum of someone talking somewhere outside their room. He felt a headache growing somewhere behind his eyes the longer he watched. It was persistent, swelling from a mild throb to an actual ache. He considered shutting off the tv, in case the light was the cause, until he registered that the talking was actually from much closer than he'd thought. None of the words were distinguishable, but he zeroed in on the source, as unlikely as it seemed—Inumaki was talking in his sleep.
Yuuta couldn’t decipher any of the words, and maybe that was why they didn’t seem to be having any sort of compulsion over him, and why it took him so long to make the connection. He’d probably been unconsciously shrugging off the sensation of Inumaki’s cursed energy for a while. It felt like it always did when he made one of his soft, questioning hums—a simple buzz of cursed energy, a tickle akin to static electricity or a shiver that made his hair stand on end.
The cursed energy was worming its way into his head, even if it didn’t have a distinct purpose, settling a haze over his brain behind his eyes. If he was sleeping like he should have been, he’d probably never have even noticed it. At least he knew now what was causing his headache.
The more he thought about it, though, the more concerned he grew that Inumaki could potentially hurt himself. Even if Yuuta relaxed his cursed energy perfectly, Inumaki’s technique was sensitive to power differences, and there was no telling whether or not there could be consequences to even an unconscious command.
Yuuta turned onto his side slowly, letting his gaze finally rest once more on Inumaki’s face in the flickering light that filled the room. It seemed drastically less nerve wracking this time, perhaps because the chances of the other boy noticing were so low while he was asleep so deeply. It wasn’t as awkward, knowing he wouldn’t be caught.
Much as he loathed the idea, maybe waking Inumaki up would be the kinder thing to do, in case he were to speak more audibly and actually put himself at risk. Yuuta dithered over the idea, absently reaching out in the meantime to brush away the hair that had fallen over Inumaki's forehead—it was a bit longer than Yuuta really had anticipated, now that it wasn't styled.
The lack of consequences and the distant throb of his sleepy headache emboldened him. His fingertips ghosted across Inumaki's forehead and then down to his cheek. Inumaki would casually touch Yuuta’s shoulder or take his hand for a fleeting moment, but he wasn’t sure if he’d ever done the same to Inumaki in the past. He was so distracted by this thought as he stared that he didn't even register movement out of the corner of his eye.
Inumaki grabbed his wrist sharply, a tiny snuffle disturbing his sleep. His brows pinched together, and Yuuta saw his eyes crack open, the tiniest sliver of lilac squinting against the dancing light from the tv. "Wha—" Inumaki caught himself before the word fully formed, lips turning down into a tiny grimace.
"I'm sorry," Yuuta breathed, though he couldn't decide what for; was it because he'd woken Inumaki, even though that had been what he’d known he’d have to do? Or because he'd been caught so close and familiarly? Inumaki's lips parted again, like he might consider another word. Yuuta didn't think he knew about the sleep talking, or else he might have been more concerned, more startled to full consciousness.
He was staring at Inumaki's lips again, he realized, though he thought he'd managed not to be looking there up until that moment. This time seemed less catastrophically awkward. They were closer in this bubble of time, in the liminal space conjured by sharing a bed in a hotel room; it was different than before they'd gone to sleep, when the idea of getting that close to each other had felt awkward—to Yuuta, at least. Inumaki never really seemed to mind in the slightest.
Inumaki blinked slowly at him and softened his grip around Yuuta's wrist, though he didn't let go. Wordlessly, his hand slipped into Yuuta's, touch skating over his pulse. Inumaki tangled their fingers together gently, giving them a reassuring squeeze as he carried them down to the plush surface of his pillow. He tucked their hands together next to his cheek, and Yuuta's breath stuttered to a halt in his lungs.
"Um, Inumaki," he started in a thready whisper. He watched Inumaki's eyes slide closed, clearly not even awake enough to register what Yuuta was saying. "I-I don't know if—" he stammered, words freezing on his tongue as Inumaki nuzzled against the back of his hand, drawing Yuuta closer with a soft sigh. Warmth and a gentle buzz of cursed energy tingled across his skin.
Yuuta felt his breath catch in his throat, a tight, clipped panic rising in his chest. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this close to anyone, outside of fighting with them. Yuuta didn’t think he should be this close, all things considered. He closed his eyes and forced himself to drag in a breath, to push away the paranoid burst of fear threatening to overwhelm him.
It wasn’t by choice that he didn’t get close to anyone—quite the contrary, actually.
He exhaled slowly and felt only the vaguest of rumblings from Rika, the thin ragged line of an unspoken question in the back of his mind. She was usually just right there, ready to burst forth from the perimeter of his consciousness, chaotic vengeance ready to keep him alone—safe—from any threats.
But, in this one moment, she was oddly silent. Her overwhelming emotions were banked, like she thought he was fine and didn’t need saving. This was fine.
Yuuta opened his eyes again.
He didn't need saving from Inumaki, who was the kindest person Yuuta had ever met. Even though Yuuta knew now how thick and noxious the aura of his cursed energy could be, Inumaki was still here and so comfortably defenseless beside him, with the gentle warmth of his lips pressed to the back of Yuuta’s hand like a kiss. He didn’t seem to have an ounce of care for their situation.
Right, so this was fine, and he was allowed to relax, but that didn’t mean that he could.
He looked down the length of the bed, back toward the tv to see what program had come on. It was fine, but a distraction would be nice so an altogether different worry couldn’t build in his mind, about the boy tenderly cradling his hand under the weight of his rounded cheek.
The longer they laid there, with his arm crooked awkwardly just so, the more his shoulder started to ache. Uncomfortably, he cleared his throat. “Hey, um…” he started to say. He tentatively tried to free his hand. Inumaki barely stirred, his eyes not opening any more than a crack, but his fingers tightened fretfully. His brow pinched, and Yuuta thought he would whine if he were anyone else. "I’m sorry. How about I just…"
Ever so carefully, he squeezed his free arm under Inumaki, drawing him closer. Yuuta held his breath again, waiting to be pushed away because this was a huge way to overstep the bounds between them. He waited for Inumaki to snap awake and grumble something Yuuta would never be able to decipher before he rolled over and shut him out, but he never did.
Inumaki just sighed softly and tucked himself tightly against Yuuta’s chest. He discarded Yuuta’s trapped hand in favor of pressing his nose sharply against Yuuta’s pulse with a soft sigh, a wave of warmth and cursed energy shivering over his skin. Yuuta held as still as he could, still waiting for there to be some sort of consequence that never came.
Inumaki was a pleasant weight against him, tender and soft and growing heavier as he fully relaxed into Yuuta’s embrace.
Even though Yuuta hadn’t felt tired in the slightest, there was something so soothing about the way Inumaki felt in his arms—a delicate tenderness in their proximity that quieted his normally frayed nerves. The stir of his breath was a peaceful lullaby, gentle enough that when he focused on it, Yuuta didn’t even notice his own consciousness slipping away, letting him finally fall asleep.