Mis Snow Man, Te wo Tsunaide

Title: Te wo Tsunaide [Miyadate/Watanabe]
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 except the one section I suppose borders on R.
Summary: Miyadate and Watanabe have known each other since kindergarten, but sometimes Watanabe still manages to surprise Miyadate.
AN: It’s 100% the truth that these two knew each other in kindergarten and danced in Starlight together before joining Johnny’s. Thanks to timeripple for the quick beta and shimizumiki for some of the Snowmen details. Also the profile page of the MSM comm was really helpful. Name from the Ya-Ya-yah song “Te wo Tsunaido Yukou.”

Te wo Tsunaide

“First kiss?” Miyadate repeats nervously, and behind him those assholes are already snickering. “Well…”

“Don’t be shy,” the staff woman from Duet says, giving him a coaxing smile. “But make it interesting or we’ll put you in bunny ears this issue.”

“They’ll do it, too,” grumbles Fujigaya as he wanders by, redoing the buttons on his shirt. He tweaks Watanabe’s nipple in passing, and Watanabe beams.

“About that kiss,” the staff woman prompts, and she isn’t impressed when Miyadate turns his scowl on her.

“Um,” Miyadate shifts in his chair, “it was in elementary school.”

“So young!” Fukazawa puts in helpfully. “That’s just like Date-sama.”

“On Valentine’s Day!” Watanabe chirps, and Miyadate’s jaw drops.

“That’s right, you two are childhood friends, right?” The staff woman looks suddenly more interested, like she’s thinking about how much the readers love that angle. “So was it a confession, then?”

“Uh…yeah,” Miyadate answers, trying futilely to fight down his blush.

“And did you accept their feelings?” she asks, taking down his answers, and Miyadate blinks before remembering, oh yeah, normal guys get confessed to on Valentine’s Day. “You must have, right? If it was your first kiss.”

“It…” Miyadate struggles for a moment, then just gives in. “Yeah. It was a happy ending.”

“Romantic,” the woman says in satisfaction. “Good work. Watanabe-kun is up next!”

“You know,” Watanabe says, and beside him Fukazawa and Sanada are laughing so hard they’re leaning on each other, “my first kiss was a lot like Date’s.”

“Why’d you tell her that?” Miyadate grumbles later on, after he’s tugged Watanabe around a convenient corner to have a moment to themselves. “About our first kiss? That stuff’s supposed to be between you and me. They don’t need to know any of that!”

“Aw, but I like that story.” Watanabe doesn’t look at all sorry. “Your confession was really cute, so of course I accepted.”

“Shota…” Miyadate starts, but trails off when Watanabe’s hand slides into his and tugs.

“C’mere,” Watanabe’s smile is sly and sweet, “I want a re-enactment. The whole thing, you have to get all mad about the chocolates and everything.”

“Stupid girls,” Miyadate growls, pushing Watanabe against the wall and stepping into his space. “They should’ve kept their stupid chocolates. You belong to me.”

“Uh-huh,” Watanabe agrees, eyes dark with happiness, and then he lets Miyadate steal his first kiss all over again.


“Let’s get married,” Watanabe says while they’re on the merry-go-round. They’re lying on their backs, watching the sky spin lazily above them, Miyadate’s legs dangling far enough over the edge to kick at the ground when they start to slow. His legs just barely reach, if he stretches, and he wonders if he’ll have a growth spurt before they start junior high.

“What?” Miyadate turns his head. Watanabe has his eyes closed, cheeks pink from the fall wind and a leaf stuck in his hair. “But…that’s for girls. We’re both boys, stupid.”

“I don’t want a girl, stupid.” Watanabe doesn’t turn his head, but suddenly his hand is on Miyadate’s, lacing their chilled fingers together. “I want Date.”

“Shota…” Miyadate doesn’t know what do when Watanabe says weird stuff like this. It makes his stomach feel funny and his face warm, makes him worry that maybe his dad is right about the dancing making him turn out not normal. But it makes warmth spread over his skin too, like his hand is warming in Watanabe’s, and he squeezes their fingers tight together.

“It’s Date or nobody,” Watanabe says, voice firm, like he really means it, and the warmth in Miyadate’s chest turns hotter, which he really doesn’t understand.

It feels good, though, even better when Watanabe slides closer so their sides are pressed together, tilts his head so it’s leaning against Miyadate’s shoulder.

“Okay,” Miyadate answers, then makes his voice firm like Watanabe’s so he knows that Miyadate really means it too. “I’ll definitely marry you.”

Watanabe rolls suddenly, descends on Miyadate with tickling fingers that are icy when they work under Miyadate’s coat and T-shirt, making Miyadate shriek and slap at him. They wrestle until Miyadate gets Watanabe’s traitorous hands pinned down against the metal of the merry-go-round. Both of them are panting and giggling, Watanabe’s cheeks pink and eyes dark when he looks up at Miyadate, and Miyadate’s stomach feels weirder than ever, but he wants Watanabe to only look at him like that, always.

“So you can’t marry anybody else, got it?” Miyadate demands, not sure why he feels so unreasonable and jealous all of a sudden.

But Watanabe just smiles brighter, like Miyadate’s awesome, better than Ultraman. “Got it.”


“Those are real,” Iwamoto says with false authority, tapping the page of the magazine. “Definitely real.”

“There’s no way they are,” Fukazawa scoffs, snatching the magazine up, and even the cover is dirty enough that Miyadate tears his eyes away, embarrassed. “No Japanese girl has tits like that.”

“The fake ones look weird, though,” Sanada puts in. He reaches over to flip a page. “Like those, those are way too round. Fake!”

“You’re an idiot,” Iwamoto informs him, grabbing his magazine back. “Those are 100% homegrown! Date, come over here and settle something.”

“No freaking way,” Miyadate says, scrunching down lower and wishing Sakuma and Nozawa would hurry up and get back here so they’d scold the pervert members properly. He blinks when Watanabe picks himself up and trots over, settling himself back down right in the midst of the perverts. None of them comment on or even seem to notice his usual half-nakedness.

“Fake,” he pronounces, then turns a page. “Fake, real, real, disturbingly fake, fake, real. And she,” he arrives back at the original model in question, “is sadly fake. I like her boots, though.”

“Not fair!” Sanada accuses while the other two groan. “You’ve never touched a boob in your whole life, how come you can do that?!”

“Maybe that’s why my judgment isn’t clouded.” Watanabe winks.

“And just whose boobs have you been touching?!” Nozawa bellows from the door, finally, and then the trio of pervert snowmen scatter, trying to save their dirty magazine from Nozawa’s wrath.

Watanabe stays right where he is, but he does turn to Miyadate with a chuckle. “Weirdos,” he says with affection.

“You’re the weirdo,” Miyadate retorts, tossing Watanabe’s T-shirt at his face. “Get dressed already, before those perverts come after your boobs.”

“Don’t worry,” Watanabe scoots over to kiss Miyadate’s cheek, “my boobs are just for you.”

“As opposed to your ass, which is just for Fujigaya-kun and Kawai-kun,” Miyadate scolds with a roll of his eyes, a pink streak over his nose. Watanabe just laughs as Miyadate starts trying to force the shirt over his head, their hands getting caught on each other. Both of them ignore the crashes and yells from the other side of the room.

He’s barely got his arms through the sleeves when their manager slams the door open, hollering before he’s even got a foot inside the room.


“You think we can do it?” Watanabe asks, uncharacteristically serious. The whole conversation is more serious than most 12-year-olds are likely to have, but they’ve already agreed that they both want keep dancing, maybe forever, and there are better places to do it than at Starlight.

Miyadate doesn’t answer at first. He stretches out on his back across Watanabe’s bed and thinks about the clips his mother watches on the news, how the kids in them seem cooler and more talented and like they’re having a lot more fun than he generally does at practice.

Johnny’s is tough. Lots of kids try out, so they have plenty of cute guys to pick from, talented ones. Experience will probably help some, but…Watanabe leans over, waiting for his answer, brown eyes concerned and mouth drawn up in a cute little frown.

He’s pretty sure at least one of them will make it. Miyadate smiles, makes it reassuring and determined for Watanabe’s sake, and tells him yes, they can definitely get in.

And he’s right, in the end. It just takes him more tries than Watanabe. Second time lucky, and all that. Miyadate keeps the news to himself, which is maybe a little mean, but it’s worth it when he shows up to the first practice and has barely said hello to the choreographer before the sound of his voice makes Watanabe whirl around.

He’s across the room before Miyadate can blink, beaming like the sun and throwing arms around Miyadate to squeeze him tightly. Miyadate blushes and whines Watanabe’s name, but he guesses that his dad’s right about all these guys in Johnny’s, because barely anybody even looks at them.

“We can dance together again!” Watanabe exclaims as he pulls back. “I learned three whole dances yesterday!”

“And how many do you remember today?” Miyadate asks.

Watanabe just laughs and drags Miyadate across the room by the hand, excited to introduce him to all his new friends.


They grow up gradually, and they see each other virtually every single day, so even though Miyadate knows the changes are happening, he doesn’t notice them so much. And then one day, he looks up and Watanabe makes his breath catch, all dark hair falling in his eyes and high cheekbones and long, graceful limbs.

And the crazy thing is that Watanabe looks at him exactly the same way.

“I don’t get it,” Miyadate sighs, unable to explain what he’s really asking about. He doesn’t understand it himself, even.

“You don’t have to,” Watanabe assures, his fingers slender and strong around Miyadate’s acrobatic-rough hand when he pulls it up to kiss Miyadate’s palm. “It’s okay if some things are mysterious, isn’t it?”


“I want you to hold me,” Watanabe says, out of the blue.

“I already…am?” Miyadate says. They’re curled up in his bed, under the blankets because the heat’s off for the night, Watanabe shirtless and bed-headed and warm all along Miyadate’s body. They’ve been making out long enough that Miyadate’s lips are buzzing from it, and Watanabe’s are puffing up pleasingly.

Watanabe laughs quietly. “No, stupid. I want you to hold me.”

“Oh,” Miyadate says, “oh,” and scowls when Watanabe laughs some more. “Oi, shut up.”

“Shh, you’re cute,” Watanabe assures, rubbing his hands slowly up and down Miyadate’s sides, and Miyadate is suddenly aware of how warm they are. “You want to, right? Do you want to?”

“Yeah,” because he does, he really does, but, “but, I don’t know what to do.” He wants to make Watanabe feel good, wants to make him happy, is scared to fuck it up. “What should…what do you want?”

“You,” Watanabe says, eyes so dark Miyadate’s drowning in them. “If it’s you, anything’s fine.”

“Even if you say that,” Miyadate tsks, but it makes heat flare over his skin and his stomach flip over. Watanabe leans up and licks at Miyadate’s throat; Miyadate shivers and clutches at him. “Just um, can I…touch you?”

“Obviously,” Watanabe’s chuckle hums against Miyadate’s skin, “that’s what I’m trying to get you to do.” He squirms a bit, and after Miyadate’s brain misfires a couple times, he realizes Watanabe’s kicking off his sweatpants. “Aren’t you gonna take off yours, too?”

Watanabe helps out when Miyadate doesn’t get to it fast enough, then tugs Miyadate’s T-shirt over his head as well. When he leans back in, Miyadate’s breath catches at the slide of Watanabe’s skin against his, smooth and so warm. He can’t help but lean into it as Watanabe pulls his head down to capture his mouth in a soft kiss, and it’s a good thing he does because when Watanabe shifts so that he’s pressing hard against Miyadate’s thigh, at least he muffles the noise Miyadate makes.

They get off next to each other sometimes, so it’s not that Miyadate doesn’t understand the mechanics of it, but it’s something else entirely to have Watanabe in his hand. Watanabe makes a soft noise when Miyadate wraps his fingers tight around him, his breath hot and quick against Miyadate’s collar bone.

“Sho?” Miyadate asks when Watanabe’s breath catches and he clings more tightly, but Watanabe just tells him not to stop, please? And then one of Watanabe’s hands closes around Miyadate and he can barely breath himself, but he does his best to keep his own hand moving, to do the sort of thing he likes to do to himself.

And if Watanabe feels strange and good in his hand, it’s nothing to the way Watanabe’s hand feels around him. He tries to warn Watanabe when he’s too close to hold back, but he doubts he makes any sense. He buries his face in Watanabe’s hair and bites his bottom lip to keep from being too loud as Watanabe strokes him through his orgasm and aftershocks.

“Nice?” Watanabe asks, and he nudges at Miyadate’s shoulder when he just groans an “Uh-huh.” He pushes his hips up into Miyadate’s slack grip. “Then don’t forget about me, okay?”

He can’t quite get himself in order, but he does bend his head to kiss Watanabe, feels Watanabe twitch in his hand. He feels Watanabe’s hand close around his and show him the speed he likes, and Miyadate does his best to keep up and hardly cares at all that it’s not Watanabe’s clean hand urging him on.

“Oh,” Watanabe says suddenly, like he’s surprised, then shudders himself out against Miyadate and goes limp. He hums, indistinct, when Miyadate tugs him closer and wraps arms around his back.

“Like that?” Miyadate asks. Watanabe stirs just enough to throw an arm over Miyadate’s waist and snuggle even closer.

“For a start,” he says, then laughs when Miyadate shivers against him. He presses his lips against Miyadate’s chest, right where his heartbeat is still racing, and it’s long enough before either of them moves that clean-up is no easy task.


Nozawa looks the six of them up and down with sharp eyes, sharper still when they drop down to where Miyadate and Watanabe’s joined hands are swinging a little between them. Watanabe had grabbed his hand to tug him along and hadn’t let go, and it feels a lot like when they’d walked into their junior high class for the first time and Miyadate belatedly realized that boys holding hands was kind of weirder in junior high than it was in elementary school.

Of course Watanabe had made friends with everybody by lunchtime and told them to be friends with Miyadate too, so it had all worked out. Miyadate hopes this is going to have a similar happy ending as Nozawa gives a little snort and goes off to sulk with his iPod.

“Ah, don’t mind him,” Sanada rubs the back of his head with a sheepish grin, like he makes this sort of apology a lot. “He liked singing with Hasshi, so…he’ll be okay.”

Watanabe swings their hands a little, and when Miyadate looks over, Watanabe’s smile says it’ll be okay too.

A couple name changes later, they’re Snowmen after all, and Nozawa thaws out a little when it seems they might be stuck that way a while. The attention from Tackey-senpai doesn’t hurt either.

“Thaws out,” Abe snickers, “ironic,” and then he rolls his eyes when Iwamoto and Nozawa just blink at him.

“Stretch faster,” Watanabe orders, drawing Miyadate’s attention back to him and his retardedly pink headband, a hand-me-down from his beloved Fujigaya-senpai, no doubt. He pulls Miyadate by the wrists towards him harder, making Miyadate grunt as his spine stretches. “Hurry up!”

“Ow, okay, okay,” Miyadate grumbles, but it’s not that much of a hardship when Watanabe’s lit up with excitement for dance practice, for new choreo and new costumes and blocking with senpai later in the afternoon.

This whole idol thing, it’s tough sometimes, but it’s fun doing it with Watanabe, with these other guys.

“Ooh, getting nice and flexible, Miya-kun!” Iwamoto hoots, making Miyadate jerk upright and yank Watanabe down flat instead.

“That’s how Nabesho likes you, riiiight?” Nozawa asks. Miyadate’s cheeks turn pink but he retorts that if Nozawa has anymore growth spurts he’ll have to sit on the floor to blow Sanada.

“Hey!” Sanada protests from Miyadate’s other side while Iwamoto and Abe double over laughing. But then he nudges Watanabe with his elbow. “Why do you think I have to keep growing too, huh?”

Watanabe cracks up, still lying prone on the floor, his laugh happy and sweet, and Miyadate can’t help but laugh too. The manager comes in at that moment to hurry them along since they sound like they’re having a little too much fun. Watanabe hops to his feet, tugging Miyadate up along with him.

“I do like you flexible,” he says, not a bit shy, and pulls Miyadate along by the hand as he trots off to practice, Iwamoto and Abe still laughing themselves silly behind them, Sanada chuckling as he soothes Nozawa’s ruffled feathers with practiced ease.


Tackey-senpai takes them out for dinner to make up for the dokkiri, swearing his good intentions and no cameras, hugging anyone who looks teary still, promising no more afro wigs. This concert.

“It’s only because you’re so reliable that I had to go that far,” he says like he’s reassuring them, but he does look a little sheepish when Sakuma turns doleful eyes up at him.

Miyadate’s been feeling shaky ever since the concert adrenaline started wearing off and wants nothing more than to crawl into his hotel bed and sleep it off before they do the whole thing again tomorrow. Hopefully without the public humiliation this time.

“The sequined pants were perfect,” Tackey is meanwhile informing Sanada.

He spoils them with yakiniku until they all swear they forgive him, and then goes on doing it anyway on the grounds that they’re all too skinny, until they’re all stuffed and yawning.

“Get a good night’s sleep!” Tackey reminds as they all stumble out of the van and back into the hotel. “Because you have to dance all day tomorrow~!” They all groan goodnights, half of them threatening to be sick at even the thought of dancing.

Finally back in his room, Miyadate barely has the energy to strip off his clothes before he crawls into his bed. Watanabe does the same, and doesn’t even look at his own bed before crawling into Miyadate’s and curling up against his side.

“You okay?” Miyadate asks, because Watanabe’s been quiet all night. Watanabe makes a vague noise. “Are you upset about the thing still? Because you’re the one who won, after all.”


“And I’m sure Sanada and Nozawa are planning something great for us to get Tackey-senpai back right now…” Miyadate pauses, thinking of his last glimpse of their frontmen, Nozawa’s hands sneaking under Sanada’s shirt, Sanada squirming and laughing while he struggled to get their door open. “Er. Eventually.”

“I was just thinking.” Watanabe digs his chin in against Miyadate’s shoulder a little harder, but Miyadate doesn’t protest. “Tackey-senpai really likes us.”

“I…” Miyadate narrows his eyes at the ceiling, “…can’t say I was thinking that.”

“Because he trusts us,” Watanabe elaborates. “Before I thought he was just stuck with us since Kisumai-senpai and ABC-senpai are busy, but he didn’t prank us earlier, during rehearsals. He thought that we could take it, and still do his concert, and Tackey-senpai’s really serious about concerts, you know? Like you pick on your little sisters, right? Because you want them to be strong, because you love them.”

“Huh,” Miyadate manages, chewing on that.

“We’re all oldest siblings, except Leader, and even he’s not youngest,” Watanabe goes on. “It’s nice to be someone’s cherished little brother for once. That’s what I was thinking.”

Miyadate pushes himself up on one elbow to peer down at Watanabe, amused and amazed. “How can you be thinking all of that? I’m too full and sore to think about anything.”

Shrugging one shoulder, Watanabe’s smile is cute and sneaky underneath his ringed eyes. “I’m amazing.”

He laughs and lets Watanabe pull him back down, but Miyadate thinks it’s true, that it really is amazing how Watanabe can still surprise him after all this time, but then he stops thinking about it and doesn’t think about anything except how good it feels to curl up with his chest against Watanabe’s back, arm curled tight around Watanabe’s waist and fingers tangled together.


Miyadate is staring sulkily at the floor as his mother finishes packing up his brand new backpack. He does not want to go to kindergarten with a bunch of kids he doesn’t know, he wants to stay home with his new baby sister and his own toys and his stuffed dog that he always takes a nap with.

“All right, Ryota,” his mother says, and he hears the click of his backpack’s latch. “Are you ready for your first day of school? You aren’t scared, right?”

Miyadate turns around and looks up at his mother. Her eyes look scared and sad behind her big, fake smile, and his father always says his face looks just like his mother’s.

“I’m not scared,” he says, so they go to put on his sneakers.

“It’ll be fun,” she promises. “You’ll make lots of friends, like we practiced.”

Miyadate is one of the last children to arrive, and the scene of mild chaos that greets them inside the kindergarten sends his usual shyness into overdrive. He reaches up to grab his mother’s hand and refuses to let go even to take his jacket off.

“Don’t be silly, Ryota,” his mother scolds, trying to shake him off, but only managing to switch the hand he’s clinging with in order to strip off the coat.

The teacher bustles up just then, a pretty lady who looks nice but a little frazzled, and is dragging another boy along by the hand.

“You must be Miyadate-san,” the teacher says, and then smiles down at Miyadate. “And you must be Miyadate-kun. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Like we practiced,” his mother hisses.

“Nice to meet you,” Miyadate mumbles. The other boy is blinking at him curiously from underneath a shaggy bowlcut.

“Can you do me a favor?” the teacher asks. She tugs the other boy forward a step. “Can you hold on to Watanabe-kun for me while I talk with your mother? Watanabe-kun likes to wander off, so you have to hold on tightly.”

Miyadate looks from the teacher to Watanabe to his mother and back to the teacher. “…Okay,” he finally says. The women nudge both boys forward, and after only a moment’s hesitation, Watanabe-kun lets go of the teacher’s hand and grabs Miyadate’s free hand. Miyadate’s mother tugs her hand free, and the adults straighten up to talk.

“Hi!” Watanabe says, adjusting his grip so their hands fit together better. “There’s blocks and books and stuff here.”

“I like blocks,” Miyadate says cautiously, and that’s all the encouragement Watanabe needs to start chattering about the blocks and the other kids and his new baby sister. Miyadate interrupts to say that he has one of those too.

“She doesn’t do anything cool yet, though. Does yours?” Watanabe asks. Miyadate shakes his head, and they agree that baby sisters are not as good as dinosaurs.

Fifteen minutes later, Miyadate looks up suddenly from their block tower and realizes his mother is gone. He gets out one loud sniffle before Watanabe distracts him with demands for a triangle block to sit on the top.


Not that it’s a terrible shock since they’re surrounded by teenage boys, but sometimes Miyadate feels like everybody he knows is obsessed with sex.

At school his classmates are always on about whose skirt is hiked up highest and who got caught getting to B in the stairwell. At work there’s Iwamoto and his magazines, and sometimes Fukazawa’s laptop (they keep it muted but that actually makes it worse, Miyadate feels). Nozawa and Sanada are hardly subtle with each other, and Hashimoto’s loud stories have made it so that Miyadate blushes furiously if Tsukada-kun so much as wishes him good morning.

It’s like everybody else thinks about sex all the time, and it’s not that Miyadate doesn’t think about it, sometimes. But it hardly seems at all the same.

“What do you think about?” Watanabe asks when Miyadate mentions his worries.

“You, mostly,” Miyadate says, and he wasn’t trying to confess anything deep, but he likes the stripe of pleased pink that appears over Watanabe’s nose at his answer. It’s true; he thinks about Watanabe’s laugh when Miyadate tells a retarded joke, the lean line of Watanabe’s body when he stretches. When he stares out the window at school, he daydreams about curling up under warm blankets with Watanabe and waking up to Watanabe’s wildly ridiculous bed hair.

They do that other kind of stuff together, often even, and Miyadate thinks about it sometimes. But mostly what he thinks about is the closeness of it, the way Watanabe feels pressed against him and smells so familiar, the way his fingers are always warm when they’re wrapped tight through Miyadate’s.

“Maybe we’ve just known each other for too long before all that stuff,” Miyadate sighs. “It’s all backwards than for everybody else.”

“You worry too much,” Watanabe says, but before Miyadate can reply, suddenly Watanabe is a lot closer, leaning in until Miyadate is backed against the wall, and then in still further until they’re pressed together from knee to shoulder.

He crushes his mouth against Miyadate’s, the heat and possession in the kiss making Miyadate’s eyes flutter shut, one hand coming up to curl tightly in Miyadate’s hair and the other working around Miyadate’s waist to yank their hips even more snugly together. He works Miyadate’s bottom lip with the sharp edges of his teeth until Miyadate whimpers, mouth falling open, and Watanabe takes advantage by sliding his tongue along Miyadate’s.

Watanabe rolls his hips into Miyadate’s, their sweats doing nothing to hide exactly how interested both of them are. Miyadate clutches at Watanabe desperately, head empty of everything but the rub of Watanabe against him, the heat of Watanabe in his arms and the want shooting down his spine, making his hips snap up against Watanabe’s.

His head is spinning by the time Watanabe leans back just enough to break the kiss, looking up at Miyadate with dark, glittering eyes. He licks his lips, and Miyadate follows the movement helplessly.

“Now what are you thinking about?” Watanabe asks, voice low and a grin lurking at the corner of his mouth.

Miyadate doesn’t bother with an answer, just tugs Watanabe back up by the hair to kiss the smirk right off his face.

After that he thinks about things a little differently.


“What was that for?” Miyadate demands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s still cranky about the stupid girls and their stupid chocolates, and most of all because Watanabe doesn’t look anything but happy.

“I like you too,” Watanabe says.

“Oh.” Miyadate can’t think of anything to say to that. “Well. Good.”

“And you like me too, right?”

“I said I did.” Miyadate tugs on his scarf, awkward. “So…what now?”

“Hm,” Watanabe tilts his head, “Valentine’s Date?”

“What’s that mean?” Miyadate asks, suspicious.

It means come over, Watanabe explains, you can spend the night, and tugs him home with their hands locked firmly together. When they’re settled in front of an Ultraman video in their pajamas, sharing the stupid chocolate from the stupid girls, Miyadate thinks that maybe Valentine’s Day isn’t so bad.

“But hey,” he realizes suddenly, “do I have to kiss you on White Day? Since you’re a boy?”

“Yup,” Watanabe agrees. On the television, Ultraman chops the bad guy into submission, and Watanabe hums in satisfaction.

“Do I have to wait until then?” Miyadate asks, not sure why he’s asking that, or why the way Watanabe turns to beam at him makes him feel so shy.

“Date can kiss me any time,” Watanabe tells him, then smiles all the harder when Miyadate leans over to kiss his cheek.


“Leader’s cute, huh?” Watanabe says at random while they’re putting on their sneakers. When Miyadate looks up, he follows Watanabe’s gaze across the room to see Sakuma looming over Iwamoto and Nozawa, sending them slinking away from Abe and his homework.

Well, sort of looming. He wasn’t doing it with his height, but it was effective nonetheless.

“Sure,” Miyadate agrees. Sakuma’s frame is graceful and deceptively strong for his size, his face kind of interesting, and girls seem to like his beauty marks well enough. Without thinking he adds, “Not like you are, though.”

His brain catches up with his mouth and Miyadate blushes, especially when he looks back to find Watanabe grinning at him. Miyadate’s already a sucker for Watanabe’s sweet face; with the smile lighting it up, Miyadate has no chance.

“Er,” he says, but doesn’t take it back. Watanabe leans in, obviously for a kiss, but instead of going for Miyadate’s cheek like Miyadate expects, he gets Miyadate square on the mouth. The kiss is lingering and soft, Watanabe pressing close, his hands finding Miyadate’s to squeeze them.

When Watanabe finally pulls back, the rest of the Snowmen applaud.

“Way to go, Date-sama!” Fukasawa hoots. Miyadate’s face can’t possibly get any redder, and Watanabe gives a delighted laugh, poking him in the cheek.

“All right, all right,” Sakuma starts shooing them all out to practice. “That’s enough of that, let’s go before Takizawa-senpai comes in here and gets any more ideas. And you two,” Sakuma gives the pair of them a Look, Miyadate’s hands still caught in Watanabe’s, “none of that on stage. Unless you’re planning to share with the group?”

“You’re cute, Leader,” Watanabe leans into Miyadate just a little more, “but you’re not that cute.”

Miyadate smiles like a fool all through stretches.

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