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Tooru sighs loudly and slides the button to answer.

A long, complex discussion follows, involving choosing alternatives for vegetarian, vegan and gluten free dishes, guesstimating how many of their guests will prefer fish over meat, and debating the merits of serving malbec or cabernet sauvignon with the asado.

At some point, Toshi emerges into the kitchen and wraps his arms around Tooru from behind, making him swear, confusing the poor chef on the other end of the line. When Toshi steps back silently, hands held up in apology, Tooru gives him a playful kick at the ankle and a wink to reassure him.

Finally, options debated and decisions made, Tooru hangs up the phone and runs his hands through his hair in frustration. “Fuck me, I hate all this wedding bullshit!” he groans. “Whose idea was this, anyway? I mean, why didn’t we just elope and be done with it? Why are we inviting two hundred people and feeding them dinner?”

Toshi steps close and folds him in his arms again, brushing a kiss against his cheek. “Because you wanted to, and it makes you happy, Tooru. Despite how much you complain.”

“Well, I still think that this is all your fault somehow. You must have melted my brain so much in Paris that I thought proposing to you was a good idea.” Tooru laughs a little and sighs again, letting himself relax in those big, enfolding arms for a moment. “You want something to drink? Tea, coffee, wine?” Shakes his head, remembering who he is asking. “Or I have green tea, peppermint tea and soda water, or just filtered.”

“Just water is fine, Tooru.”

Something in Toshi’s voice makes Tooru look at him closely. On the surface, he looks as impassive and calm as ever, but... there’s something. “What’s wrong?”

Toshi looks slightly surprised. “Nothing.”

Tooru scowls. “Don’t give me that. Something has upset you and I want to know what it is.”

“Mmh. I wonder sometimes how you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Notice... things. Like this. What I am feeling.”

Tooru’s scowl turns into a surprised frown. “Because I pay attention to you, Ushiwaka. I mean, you’re not quite the open book to me as I am to you, but I know you and I can feel it when you’re upset.” He gives him a little squeeze with his arms. “Especially when you’re standing right here, living and breathing in front of me.”

“Mhm.” Toshi hums again and squeezes back, but doesn’t say anything more.

Tooru steps out of the hug and crosses his arms, not willing to let this go. “So, come on, out with it. What is it?”

Toshi looks across at him, his eyes strangely sad. He hesitates a fraction. “You... were speaking Spanish.”

“Um... yes?” Tooru’s frown deepens. “That’s what we speak here in Argentina, Toshi.”

“I have never heard you speak Spanish before. Not once.”

Tooru opens his mouth to correct him and remind him of all the different times he has spoken Spanish when they’ve been together, and then closes it again because he can’t remember any. Has he really never spoken Spanish in front of Toshi? Surely there must have been a time, in all these years? But... Try as he might, he cannot remember a single one. Everywhere they’ve been before, they’ve either spoken Japanese or, if forced to, English.