One week was the most that Fushimi could take off from work at one time, so he'd gone ahead and booked all of it, even though their trip was only three days. Misaki had wanted to go to Okinawa - something about sun and the beach making the 'best' vacation - but he'd managed to avoid that without too much trouble by pointing out that July was just on the end of the rainy system bleeding into typhoon season. They'd settled on Kyoto instead, which was going to be humid and it would probably rain, but it was better than spending three days at the beach.
It had been easy to book, too, and the train they took on July 9th wasn't overly crowded.
Fushimi was just glad they hadn't tried to leave on the 8th. Aside from the fact that it had been nice to not have to deal with anyone on that first day after the wedding, they likely would have missed their train after making up for the lost opportunity the night before and fucking lazily first thing in the morning.
Not that he'd have regretted it. He'd take a sleepy, aroused Misaki over Kyoto any day.
But that hadn't happened, and now there they were in Kyoto, carrying their sparse luggage into the room at the hotel that Fushimi had picked out online.
It was a modern hotel with air conditioning, wireless access, and its own attached bathroom and toilet. There had been no discussion between them on that - Misaki was as much a fan of convenience as he was. Traditional lodgings - particularly in the middle of July - hadn't even been considered.
"All right, we're here!" Misaki dropped his bag carelessly beside the bed, and moved to pull the curtains back from the large window, grinning out at their view of the city. "Let's go do something fun, come on! We can check out some of the shrines." He turned that grin back over his shoulder, and it settled into more of a smirk. "You gotta pay your respects at the Fushimi Inari shrine, right?"
Fushimi clicked his tongue. "Don't be an idiot."
"Heh." Misaki abandoned the window and came back over to him, still smiling away like an idiot. "It's not too late to take my name, you know."
"I know." They'd talked about it very briefly before the wedding - him taking Misaki's surname. The notion of Misaki taking his had no real appeal to it, and given that it hadn't even been brought up as an option, he was fairly certain that much was understood between them. In a way, the idea of starting over - discarding everything that tied him to Niki and his wife - was tempting, but on the other hand...
Somehow, it was hard to let it go now.
It's not just something that belonged to him anymore.
Either way, it'd be too much bother to have to adjust to being 'Yata Saruhiko', especially with Misaki insisting on everyone calling him by his surname. There would be confusion and irritation, and it just wasn't worth the effort when things were fine the way they were.
"Well, we should go there anyway - it's supposed to be pretty nice." Misaki had already moved past it, shrugging in a casually dismissive way. His grin was as bright as ever. "It's still really early, so let's go do something - come on."
Honestly, he would've been just as happy staying in the hotel room - it was being together that was important, not whatever there happened to be in Kyoto for them to see. Misaki didn't think of it that way, though - in his mind, since they were here, they might as well do as much as they could. Which means I'll be dragged around everywhere by him, but whatever. It can't be helped.
Still, he could get a little amusement out of it. Fushimi lowered his eyelids, offering a lazy smirk. "What? You're that eager to go desecrating shrines already?"
"Hah?" Misaki frowned at him, raising an eyebrow. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
"We're on our honeymoon, right?" He drew out the words slowly. "Public affection is required. Mi" - he set his index finger on his husband's lower lip, pressing lightly - "sa" - then allowed it to slide down under the cover of the lip to his chin - "ki" - and leaned in purposefully.
It had the desired effect; Misaki's face flushed deeply and his eyebrows twitched. "Wh-wh-what... th-the fuck...?"
Fushimi backed up, still smirking back at him. There it is - that reaction. "You really are a hopeless virgin."
The scowl he got back was irritable. "Shut up about the virgin thing already! It's not like you can talk - we lost our virginity at the same goddamn time! In the same room! Together! To each other!"
"I'm aware of that." Fushimi raised an eyebrow at him. "I was there."
"Then quit calling me a virgin, for fuck's sake!"
He hummed low, taking in Misaki's flushed face and narrowed eyes with amusement. "Quit acting like one, and I'll consider it."
Misaki's eyebrow twitched again. "You are seriously so fucking annoying..." He let out a sharp huff of breath, and then seemed to let it go. "Whatever, we're going to Fushimi Inari. Come on."
Fushimi watched him stalk over to the door, feeling a certain amount of satisfaction, and then smiled to himself and moved to follow.
It was starting to get dark when they made their way back to the hotel, and despite the fact that Yata felt pretty satisfied with the day - there was a lot of really cool stuff at some of those places - the weather had been kind of... shitty. It had been hot, but then it had also rained, and because it was still so muggy and hot, the dampness from the rain felt like some kind of gross sweat rather than being refreshing and cool. Yata was feeling tired and hot and sticky, and he didn't even have to look at Saruhiko to know that he probably felt the same.
Possibly worse, actually - although he hadn't really complained. Much. For him.
Yata pushed through the door into the hotel lobby and let out a long, relieved sigh. "Man, that feels good!"
"Finally," Saruhiko muttered - a glance in that direction showed his heat-flushed face and irritable expression clearly.
"Heh. But it was fun, right?" Yata grinned at him, taking the disgruntled response in stride. He'd been paying attention when they were out there, and he was pretty positive it wasn't just him who'd been enjoying it. The walk back from the station had honestly been the only bad part. "Let's go get some drinks at the bar before going back up."
If possible, Saruhiko's expression soured even further. He clicked his tongue. "Why do we have to do that?"
"Why not?" Yata challenged him, raising an eyebrow. He lowered his voice a little. "We're on a romantic trip for two - isn't it normal to go drinking together?"
There was also the fact that they'd never actually gone drinking together before... Yata had gotten drunk a few times, but it was always with his friends from Homra. And the (very few) times he'd seen Saruhiko drink, it had been in situations where someone had put something alcoholic in front of him - and most of the time, he took a few little sips and that was it.
I want to see what it's like when the two of us do it together, at least.
"That's why room service exists," Saruhiko pointed out flatly. "If you want to drink, let's do it in the room."
Yata frowned at him. "Why'd we bother coming to Kyoto if we're just gonna sit in the room?"
"It wasn't to sit in a hotel bar."
You're a serious pain in the ass sometimes... Yata shifted impatiently. "Ah, whatever, let's just try it!" Eating off of a tray in a hotel room didn't sound like fun; at least this was something different. "We'll just get some food and a couple of drinks and then we can go back to the room - how about that?"
Saruhiko stared at him for a second, frowning, and then clicked his tongue again. "Define 'a couple of drinks'."
The lack of an immediate refusal was pretty much the same as agreement. Yata grinned back at him. "Whatever, like two. Maybe three if we're having a good time." He took hold of his husband's wrist and turned to lead the way to the bar entrance. "I bet we won't even get buzzed."
It felt like the door to their room was swimming in front of Fushimi's eyes as he carefully and deliberately unlocked it, pushing it open so that they could stumble inside.
Misaki was pressing him against that same door before it was closed, causing it to slam into the frame as he surged up and clumsily captured Fushimi's lips, his fingers hot where they clenched on Fushimi's biceps. The kiss was sloppy and intense, tasting strongly of alcohol, and it made his head spin even more, but in a much more pleasant way. He bent his arms and hooked his fingers in Misaki's shirt, tugging him in closer.
They broke apart, breathing heavily, and Misaki stared up at him with hazy desire, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide. Fushimi could feel the heat on his own face - over his whole body, really - and smiled back without really thinking about it, lowering his eyelids as he reached up to pull his glasses off.
"Misaki," he murmured, and was vaguely aware of the way the 's' slurred out but couldn't bring himself to care. "Let's go" - he waved the hand with his glasses for emphasis - "inside."
For a moment, Misaki just blinked at him, looking like he couldn't quite make up his mind if that was a good idea or not, and then he nodded, with a kind of slow, exaggerated care. "Yeah," he mumbled back, and moved back, catching Fushimi's free hand as he turned.
It was just fine being dragged around. Fushimi squinted at the blurred view of Misaki's back as they made a beeline for the bed, and smiled lazily to himself. It was usually like this - Misaki leading him along, clumsily and purposefully.
He thought that Misaki might push him down again - not that he'd have minded - but instead, he was yanked forward when Misaki sprawled back onto the bed, and had just enough presence of mind to reach out and drop his glasses onto the bedside table as he shifted to straddle his husband's hips.
Well, he didn't mind this either...
Misaki's hands were already sliding possessively up along his thighs as Fushimi adjusted himself comfortably, gaze narrow and hot. "Saruu... hiko," he murmured, drawing out the 'u' a little more than usual and dropping volume on the last two syllables. His eyes were shining, lips parted again - a thoroughly besotted look. "So... fucking beautiful."
Fushimi gazed down at him for a moment - at the vivid outline of roughly-cut chestnut hair pressed against the pillow; the light-boned face with its high cheekbones, pointed chin, and down-turned lips; those bright amber eyes that always looked fierce. Misaki's cheeks were flushed, his mouth slightly bruised from the earlier kiss, staring up with earnest desire as his fingers tightened almost painfully on Fushimi's hips.
"Don't," Fushimi mumbled, and purposefully leaned down to mouth the rest of the words almost into Misaki's lips, "steal my line."
The world felt like it was spinning around them as they clutched at each other, kissing frantically - but it didn't particularly matter.
The first thing that registered as Yata started to wake up was the pounding headache at his temples.
The second was the god-awful taste in his mouth.
The third was the distinct sour-queasy feeling at the pit of his stomach.
It had actually been a while since the last time he was hung over - he'd almost forgotten how fucking awful it was. Yata grimaced, shifting a bit without opening his eyes, and became aware of a few more things.
He was naked under the covers, lying on his side.
There was more warm naked skin under his right hand.
The area between his ribcage and thighs felt uncomfortably sticky and gross.
Oh. Right. That.
The memories were starting to come back now - somewhat foggy impressions of their bodies pressing together, pleasant friction below, gasps and moans and whispers of each other's names, and fumbling hands everywhere. It had definitely been good - kind of clumsy and messy, but whatever, sometimes it was better that way anyway.
And then apparently after flopping back against the bed in the aftermath of all that, they'd just passed out without bothering to clean up or drink water or do anything practical at all.
Not that that was all that unusual for him...
Yata cracked one eye open, winced at the way the light seemed to stab directly into his brain, and took in Saruhiko's sleeping face on the pillow directly next to him. His husband's mouth was slack, eyelids fluttering just a bit as he dreamed, and - in total - he looked peaceful and beautiful, like a work of art.
... His breath also reeked, and that really didn't help with the queasy feeling.
Shutting his eye again, Yata shifted to roll onto his back. The hand he'd had resting on Saruhiko's abdomen peeled off of it almost like a band-aid, and he couldn't help but grimace. Fucking gross. It also made him uncomfortably aware of the stickiness of his own skin around that... lower region. Plus, now that he was awake and aware, his headache was demanding attention and he definitely had to piss.
Guess I'd better deal with that first. He pushed himself up reluctantly, wincing again when his head throbbed and his stomach gave a little warning churn. Sleeping off a hangover was usually the best plan, but he probably wasn't going to be able to sleep until he'd cleaned up a bit and emptied his bladder.
Hopefully without puking.
The hotel room was uncomfortably bright, with sunlight streaming in through the window - not direct sunlight, thankfully, but still not pleasant right at the moment. It wasn't a very big room, so stumbling to the toilet didn't take long. After relieving himself, Yata snatched up one of the cloths folded neatly on the counter by the sink, wet it down, and wiped off the caked-on remnants of their probably-not-quite-sex from the night before. He left the damp, dirty cloth in the sink when he was done, not really feeling like dealing with it properly.
His throat was dry, and his mouth still felt gross. There was a cup beside the sink, so he filled it up with water and took a long drink, then poured himself a second, swishing the water around in his mouth this time to wash out the awful taste and then spitting the mouthful into the sink.
We're gonna need pain-killers or something... Yata looked up at his reflection in the mirror, which scowled back at him with blurry-eyed irritation. He really didn't feel like going to the effort right then. Actually, he really didn't feel like doing anything aside from going back to bed and sleeping until at least noon.
From the direction of the bed, he heard the sound of stirring, and then a distinct 'tch'.
Right, and then there was Saruhiko to deal with...
Let's see how this goes. He refilled the glass and headed back out of the washroom.
There was no sight of his husband any more - just a blanket-covered lump on the bed that sort of had the shape of a person. Despite his own discomfort, Yata couldn't hold back an amused huff at the sight. Really can't help it with this guy, huh? He made his way back to the bed, sitting on the spot he'd originally gotten up from and turning to face the miserable figure on the other side. "Morning."
Yata would've rolled his eyes if he didn't think it'd make his head hurt even worse. "I brought some water," he said. "Come on."
Seriously? "You're gonna feel worse if you don't drink it."
At that, he got back a muffled tongue click but no movement.
"Oi, I'm trying to help you here." He frowned at the blanket-wrapped form. "Saruhiko..."
"Shut up," a mumble almost too low to be heard came back from under the covers. "You're annoying, Misaki. Go away."
"I'm annoying?" Yata pressed the heel of his free hand against the bridge of his nose, letting out an agitated breath. "Look, I'm not asking you to get up - just drink the fucking water, okay? You'll thank me later."
"You said something like that last night," Saruhiko grumbled, still not emerging from the cocoon he'd built himself into. There was a sullen undertone to his voice. "I'm not sure why I should have to trust your bad decisions."
"Hah?" Yata stared incredulously at the covered form of his husband. "How's this just my bad decision? It's not like you were rushing to get water or clean up or anything last night, either!"
There was a brief pause. Then, "Your voice is too loud."
"You're not the only one feeling shitty this morning, y'know!" He scowled ferociously, hoping it would somehow penetrate the shield of blankets and burn his annoyance right onto that thick fucking skull. "Just come out and drink the goddamn water so we can both go back to sleep! My fucking head hurts, you asshole!"
There was a moment of stiff silence.
Yata was just getting ready to say something even ruder, when the covers suddenly shifted, and Saruhiko's head emerged from the top, red-faced and with his hair askew. His face seemed to pull inward as the light hit it, lips curling down and nose scrunching with obvious discomfort.
For a moment, Yata just blinked at him. That was... somehow really cute.
The moment passed quickly. Saruhiko's eyebrows lowered into a thoroughly surly expression as the rest of the muscles on his face seemed to relax. He squinted at Yata, sluggishly moving to sit up with the blankets settling around him like some kind of makeshift robe. "Give me the glass, then."
"Eh?" Startled out of his momentary reverie, Yata blinked rapidly, and then hastily held the cup out, almost spilling some of the contents. "R-right. Here."
The narrow-eyed look he got as Saruhiko took it from him was wary. "What's your problem?"
"Huh? N-nothing." Yata scratched at the back of his head, momentarily distracted from the various pains on his own body. There's no way I'm telling him. "Just - just drink it. I'll get us some painkillers later."
Saruhiko frowned at him for another brief second and then seemed to decide it wasn't worth it and raised the cup to his lips instead, closing his eyes as he drank.
Yata scooted up onto the bed, pulling some of the covers over his legs as he settled in. When his husband lowered the cup, he reached over to take it back and set it on the bedside table. "Was that so fucking hard?"
That narrow gaze slid back to him again; Saruhiko's frown deepened. Then, abruptly, he turned, wrapping an arm around Yata's waist and tugging him back down to the bed.
The wind rushed out of his lungs with a kind of 'whoosh' as his back hit the mattress. Yata struggled for breath, feeling his stomach lurch threateningly and his head give another sharp throb. He turned to glare at his husband once he'd caught his bearings again. "Did you really have to do that?"
"Mm." Saruhiko pressed his lips against Yata's shoulder, shutting his eyes. His hand slid around to the far side of Yata's body, fingers curling around the hipbone. "Shut up," he mumbled.
It was too much of a hassle to continue arguing about it. "Yeah, yeah." Yata grabbed the edge of the blanket and pulled it over them, relaxing in his husband's loose hold as he closed his eyes and trying to shut out the world again for a few more precious hours.
Despite everything, Fushimi hadn't really been that upset to be returning to work. The wedding and honeymoon and the days spent at home together with Misaki had been filled with so many different emotions that he wasn't quite sure what to do with all of them. It was definitely not unpleasant, but it felt something like living in a bubble and there was still a tiny, instinctual fear within him of what might happen when the bubble popped.
Something like that was still so fragile.
The return to work was also a return to everyday life. The familiar routine seemed to shift everything back into a less dreamlike perspective.
He was married to Misaki, and things would carry on as usual. Nothing would end.
That comfortable feeling had lasted him right up until he'd walked in and caught sight of the banner sporting a gigantic blown-up picture of their awkward kiss from their ceremony with the words 'Congratulations and welcome back, Fushimi' printed boldly across the bottom of it.
For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the monstrosity in front of him. There was red visible on both his and Misaki's faces (more noticeable due to the size of the picture) and their posture was stiff and uncomfortable, lips pressed together in a noticeably forced way. It was not exactly a proud photogenic moment - more of an embarrassment, really.
The room was conspicuously silent, too. Fushimi glanced around and found the members of the Special Ops division who were present all studiously avoiding his gaze. He clicked his tongue.
There's really only one person who would think this was a good idea.
With that thought, he turned sharply on his heel and headed to Munakata's office.
The Blue King was putting together a puzzle at his desk, a cup of tea sitting off to the side a ways, but he looked up when Fushimi entered - without knocking - and smiled pleasantly. "Ah, Fushimi-kun, welcome back. I hope that your trip was - "
"Captain." There was no point in bothering with the pleasantries at this point. "Was that banner really necessary?"
Munakata's smile didn't dim even a tiny bit. "Showing support for an important team member who's just undergone a significant change in his life is part of the duty of a leader - wouldn't you agree?"
Fushimi could feel his own eyebrow twitch at that. "It's unnecessary. And unprofessional."
"Sometimes it's the unnecessary things in life that mean the most." Munakata leaned back in his chair, resting his hands in his lap with open satisfaction. "Professionalism must, at times, take a back seat to our human connections." His eyes met Fushimi's, and there was something warm and sincere behind that knowing, amused gaze. "Please accept my congratulations - and my happiness - Fushimi-kun."
There wasn't much he could say to that. Fushimi clicked his tongue, turning his gaze aside. You didn't need to say that much. "I'm taking it down right away," he muttered.
"Oh? What a pity." The Blue King shifted his weight forward again. "I suppose it can't stay up forever, after all, but it was fun for the moment, wasn't it?"
Fushimi didn't feel like dignifying that with an answer. "Then I'm - " He stopped, gaze catching on a familiar-looking color at the outside edge of Munakata's puzzle, and his eyes narrowed as a terrible suspicion started to seep in. "What is that?" he asked sharply, stepping forward.
The suspicion was answered as he came close enough to get a full view of the partly-assembled puzzle. The reddish tint on Misaki's hair from the poor lighting during their dance was easily recognizable, and now he could see his own expression of agitated concentration on the puzzle's surface.
"Hm?" Munakata glanced from him to the puzzle and back again, mildly. "Ah, yes. I took the liberty of having several of these made with some of the more memorable key moments." His smile was serene and untroubled, as if this wasn't one of the stranger and more disturbing things he'd gone ahead and done. "It's important to remember the good moments."
Fushimi stared back at him with flat disbelief. "Please feel free to forget everything in the future."
The Blue King chuckled, reaching for his teacup. "If you wish, I could have them displayed once I've completed the assembly. I think the halls could use a personal - "
Munakata's eyes had a glint to them that Fushimi didn't entirely like. "Well, we'll see how things play out."
This has to be a nightmare...
He was already pulling out his PDA even before the door swung shut behind him as he left the office, wandering down the hall a ways while he brought up Misaki's contact information and pressed the button to make the call.
It was barely two rings before he heard a click on the other end, and then his husband's boisterous greeting. "Yo, Saruhiko! Good timing - I need to ask you someth - "
"Misaki." He cut that off sharply, not bothering to mask the irritation that laced his voice. "Explain something to me. How did the Captain get our wedding photos?"
"Hah? What the hell are you talking about?" There was genuine bafflement in Misaki's voice. "I just got the pictures from Anna like half an hour ago. There's no way that guy could have copies of any of them!"
How aggravating. Fushimi clicked his tongue, his frustration mounting. "Well, he does." At the very least, he could share this annoyance. "He made puzzles out of them, in fact."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" The outraged disbelief in Yata's voice was somehow satisfying. "That's creepy as hell! There's definitely something wrong with that guy!" There was a brief pause, and then he added, with a note of baffled frustration, "And I got a fucking invitation from him for the three of us to meet for lunch once a week 'going forward'. What the hell does that even mean? Is he being serious?"
There was a headache building at Fushimi's temples. He clicked his tongue again. What are you up to now, Captain? "Did you say something to him at the wedding?"
He was answered by the sound of a sharply in-drawn breath and then silence.
Not a good sign. "Misaki?"
"Look, I only talked to him for a fucking minute, okay?" There was a defensive edge to Misaki's voice. "I just wanted to say thanks for... lots of things. You know. Whatever. Anyway, I didn't say I wanted to hang out with him! What the fuck is wrong with that guy? And what does 'going forward' mean? More than once?"
Indefinitely, knowing the Captain... Fushimi scowled, thoroughly annoyed with this new development. "You shouldn't encourage him."
"How the hell was I supposed to know he'd take that as encouragement? Anyway, now what? What do I say?"
Well. If he was going to have to suffer... "You approached him. Deal with it yourself."
"What the fuck? You're supposed to have my back now, you asshole!"
"Oh? Was that written in the contract somewhere?"
"For better or for fucking worse, bastard!"
"That part is fine," Fushimi drawled, letting the condescending note that he knew irritated his husband slip into his voice. "It's not like I'm divorcing you over this - I'll be by your side through the whole thing." Somehow, he felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at that. "Watching it happen."
"Saru..." Misaki's voice lowered to a growl. "You bastard..."
"You married me," Fushimi reminded him, and shut his eyes for a moment, feeling some of that comfortable feeling from earlier return. Listening to his husband sputter at him over the phone, he couldn't help but feel reassured.
In a moment like this, he could even believe 'forever' was real.
Extra scene (sexual content)