#haraseto

Seto’s actually a little bit more active in the early evening than usual; he takes off his sleep mask and moves around, in transition from nap to nap the way the sky transforms from light to dark, blue to red to blue again or grey to darker grey.

He likes to sit and play his ukulele (unless Hara’s had time to mess with it and retune it all wrong, in which case he just tunes it himself because he’s got fucking perfect pitch) and it’s actually kind of cute to watch a big guy like him and a tiny instrument like that. And sometimes Hara tells him so.

“We’re a couple, Seto. We have to spend Christmas together.”

Hara’s trying to push him out of bed and while Seto thinks this is a perfect time for a morning nap, he knows Hara’s too persistent to leave him to his own devices so perhaps it’s a better idea to just get this over with. Maybe they’ll go to a movie and he’ll be able to sleep in the dark, with Hara’s shoulder to lean on.

“We could spend Christmas together in bed.”

“Oh? What are you suggesting? Would Jesus approve?”

“You’re not even Christian,” says Seto.

“Anyway, we’re supposed to do something nice for each other today, so you should get out of bed for me.”

“Fine,” says Seto. “And I’ll buy you a movie ticket.”

Whenever Seto tries to explain programming and starts with logic gates, Hara cuts him off by asking if he can just get to the part where they hack the mainframe already and Seto looks for a second as if he would like to fracture Hara’s elbow. He never does, though; Hara always snickers and leans in for a kiss.

“You’re so cute, Seto.”

“Shut up,” Seto mutters into the kiss.

“Hey.”

The mask snaps back against his forehead and before he slides it upward Seto already knows who it is, and when he opens his eyes sure enough there’s Hara looming upside-down over him.

“You look like a fucking pom-pom with your hair messed up like that,” says Seto, trying to push back more stubborn strands of hair behind the mask elastic.

“Aww, you’re the sweetest,” says Hara. “But I’m bored.”

“Take a nap,” says Seto.

Hara sticks out his gum-covered tongue. Seto rolls his eyes and yawns.

“We could cuddle,” says Hara.

“Kentarou. Kentarou.”

Kazuya pokes him; he doesn’t wake or move or even change his breathing. How he can sleep this deeply this quickly is one of life’s great mysteries. Kazuya snaps his gum.

“Come on, dumbass. Wake up and fix my computer.”

Kentarou grunts but still doesn’t stir, even when Kazuya pulls off his sleep mask.

Kazuya sighs. “Fine. Be like that.”

He straddles Kentarou’s waist and grinds against him, leaning down and pressing against his chest. Kentarou sits up, almost throwing Kazuya off but Kazuya’s reflexes save him.

“What?”

“My computer’s broken. Fix it.”

Kentarou gives him a look. “Call tech support.”

“Those fuckers are going to put me on hold.”

Kentarou runs his hand through his hair, holding it back from his face. “Try starting it in safe mode.”

“You suck.”

“I’m not the one who decided to bother my boyfriend when he’s asleep.”

“But that’s my job, Honey.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

Kentarou drops his hand and falls back to the bed. Kazuya snaps his gum again.

“Nap with me now. I’ll fix your computer later.”

“How sweet,” says Kazuya, settling himself next to Kentarou.

Kentarou wants to say that Kazuya’s crossed some boundary here—he moved Kentarou’s hair gel, stuck it somewhere unusual, and holding his hair back with his hand gets, well, tiring before he can figure out what the fuck Kazuya did with it. It’s not fair; he can’t think straight like this, can’t even remember why he was thinking about boundaries in the first place what with his hair all in his eyes like this. (How does Kazuya think?) He reaches out for Kazuya’s arm and pulls him roughly over, burying his face in what he supposes is Kazuya’s chest.

“I fucking hate you.”

“You fucking me, that’s what I like to hear,” says Kazuya.