Tsukumo of Circus

Pairing: Yogi/Gareki Theme: bed switching

“Yogi.”

“Hnnn….”

“Yogi.”

“Haaa…”

“Yogi.”

“No… Nyanperona…!”

Twitching, Gareki took a step forward and tore the covers away from Yogi. The blond gave a whine from the sudden cold and curled up tighter, in his arms holding a plush of Nyanperona (Gareki immediately assumed Tsukumo had made it when he saw the unraveling stitches), body curling up.

“Yogi,” Gareki snapped, “get out of my bed.”

“But the roof is leaking over mine!”

At least he was conscious, Gareki thought as he raised a hand to his face. His muscles ached from having to babysit Nai all day and had been looking forward to retiring to his room, collapsing on his bed, and refusing any attempts to wake him up. But the moment he entered the room, there was already a figure under his sheets.

“I don’t care. Go.”

“But I can’t sleep!”

“…Tch. Fine.”

Yogi’s eyes flew open when he felt a foot against his back, a firm shove sending him closer to the wall. He hit his forehead and gave another quiet whine, raising a hand to ease the throbbing pain. But when his elbow hit something else, he blinked in surprise and looked over his shoulder to watch Gareki take off his clothing, rendering him only in a tank top and boxers, as he slid in next to him.

“G-Gareki-kun, what are you…?”

“Sleeping,” he answered curtly, pulling the covers over him and closing his eyes. “Do the same or I’ll kick you out.”

“Gareki-kun, you’re so nice tod—!”

Pairing: Yogi/Gareki Theme: massage

“So, Gareki-kun? Does it feel good?”

Gareki closed his eyes and ignored Yogi’s question, giving a sigh. His exposed shoulder blades shifted with his exhale of breath and his head tilted, resting a cheek to crossed forearms as he laid on his bed.

Yogi’s hands were cool and smooth on his back; he supposed he was surprised that someone like him could be so precise with his hands but, then again, he was a fighter of Circus, and Gareki supposed sometimes he didn’t give him enough credit sometimes.

He kneaded the tense muscles of the younger boy and Gareki’s ears turned pink when he heard quiet chuckles from Yogi, hands occasionally faltering from relaxing the muscles of his back. He worked slowly and steadily, fingers pressing firmly to his back, and Gareki found himself relaxing more than he would even when falling asleep.

“You’re welcome, Gareki-kun.”

“Shut up.”

When Gareki tried to return the favor a few days later, finally growing tired of Yogi walking around whining incessantly, the blond moaned so much that Hirato simply smiled knowingly at Gareki the next time he saw him.

“It’s not what you think!”