Snow Man, Double Exposure

Title: Double Exposure [Watanabe/Miyadate]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17
Summary: There are some interesting consequences of all these sexy Snow Man shoots, especially for Miyadate and Watanabe.
AN: This is all the fault of the super cute and sexy DateNabe shots in the TV mags last month, like this one and especially this one. As evidenced by my icon, as Nabesho’s mom says here, those two never take sexy pictures together, so clearly something must have gone down. Also, Miyadate on the bottom is hotttttt. Just imagine him all mussed up and flushed, yesss.

Double Exposure

“That’s a nice shot,” Miyadate comments idly as they wait for their own turn, watching Iwamoto and Abe. Abe’s dark hair has been earning him praise from makeup girls and staff all morning, and it’s even more attractive against the white of Iwamoto’s shirt, Iwamoto’s arm curled possessively around Abe’s neck.

Watanabe hums agreement but isn’t especially paying attention. He’s distracted by the fuzziness of Miyadate’s sweater, twiddling the edge of Miyadate’s sleeve between his fingers. All the white makes his eyes look so dark and inviting, and Watanabe wants to rub up against him with his own fuzzy sweater until the static makes his hair stand on end.

“Oi, quit thinking weird stuff at work,” Miyadate says, and Watanabe laughs, caught red-handed. He slides his hand down Miyadate’s wrist to squeeze their fingers together for a second before he drops his hand.

It’s Miyadate’s turn to laugh when the photographer explains what position he wants them in, Miyadate sprawled out on his back and Watanabe leaning over him on hands and knees. Their asshole groupmates are already snickering and hooting at them like middle-school students.

“Quit smirking,” Watanabe says in an undertone, sitting on his knees and waiting for Miyadate to get comfortable before he crawls over top. “Don’t be so happy about showing off stuff that’s just for us.”

“This is nothing like when it’s just us,” Miyadate scoffs, settling his head against the pillow. When he looks up, his eyes are sparkling with amusement. “For starters, you’re still wearing all your clothes.”

“Ugh, right.” Watanabe’s palms itch with the urge to slide up under Miyadate’s shirt and tank, to feel the warmth of his skin and to make Miyadate sigh. He plants his palms against the floor to try and ignore the feeling, but it doesn’t help at all. The ten centimeters separating them feels like torture, and all Watanabe wants to do is to drop onto Miyadate’s chest and kiss him senseless.

“Hmmm,” Miyadate says, like he knows exactly what Watanabe wants. He bends his arm back so that he can stroke his thumb lightly against the back of Watanabe’s fingers. “You look really cute in that sweater, you know.”

“Asshole,” Watanabe says, mildly exasperated and trying not to shiver obviously with everybody looking at them. The photographer calls for their attention and snaps some picture just as they turn their heads.

He asks them to change some positioning and expressions and takes a few more shots, but the awkwardness takes over almost immediately, Watanabe not able to control his blush and finding it impossible to look Miyadate in the eye. It’s all pointless anyway; Watanabe knows it’ll be that first one they use, the one where Miyadate still looks a little smug and their hands are still touching. Even if he hadn’t been sure right when it happened, he can see the others over watching the monitors, grinning like jackasses and giving them showy thumbs-up signs, Fukazawa making kissy faces at them.

“Let’s have a duo debut, we don’t need those jerks,” Watanabe says when they’re doing their own shots sitting up, and Miyadate tightens the arm around his neck into more of a chokehold and says not to say shit like that out loud.

It’s apparently Sexy NabeDate Photoshoot Day, because when they get to the other magazine’s shoot, that guy hands them a blanket and tells them to take off their shirts, please.

“Creeeeepy,” Watanabe whines when he’s out of earshot, making Miyadate chuckle.

“Shush, I thought you wanted to be shirtless with me.” He glances over and laughs louder at the pout Watanabe is giving him. “Hm, well. I guess we put off wedding pictures long enough?”

“Are you trying to be extra cute today, or trying to get punished later?” Watanabe wants to know. He yanks his T-shirt over his head, making his still half-styled hair poof up in static. Miyadate reaches up to twist one of the wayward strands around his finger.

“I did like you looming over top of me,” he confesses, and this time Watanabe has no chance of stopping the obvious shiver. They don’t do it that way often and it’s been awhile, so Watanabe is definitely fine with giving Miyadate what he wants.

It’s just getting through the rest of the day that’s the challenge. No matter how fake the prop bed is, Watanabe still has to curl his fingers against the sheets to keep from doing what he wants when Miyadate’s skin is warm against his side, Miyadate’s cheek pressed against his bare arm.

“Finally!” Watanabe sighs in relief when the last thing is done and they can go change, even glad to put on clothes if it means he can get to private time even one second earlier.

He should have known better than to be too enthusiastic, because when he looks up, Fukazawa is grinning devilishly at him.

“Hey, we should go out to eat!” Fukazawa says, looking Watanabe right in the eye. “All of us! To celebrate group photoshoots.”

“Ohhh, shots for shots, right?” Iwamoto puts in.

“Ah, hm, I’m a little tired—” Watanabe tries, but Sakuma whines at him cutely before he can even finish the sentences.

“Aw, but you have to come! You can have Date later,” Sakuma says dismissively.

“For dessert?” Abe asks, making Iwamoto and Fukazawa double over laughing.

“Come on!” Watanabe says, knowing full well they’re being jerks just to be jerks. “I don’t even like food!”

That’s exactly the wrong thing to say, because Miyadate looks over and comments tartly that Watanabe needs more food than anybody and if they didn’t make him go out, he’d look like a Tanaka brother by now. Then he puts his shirt back on, which makes Watanabe whine hardest of all.

“Don’t pout like that or we really won’t make it home,” Miyadate warns in an undertone, and Watanabe says fine, fine.

“Not that the tabloid pictures would be any different than any of your other pictures today,” Iwamoto says, trying to shoo them towards the door.

They end up at a Korean Barbecue place that Tsukada’s been recommending, at a semi-private corner table even. Abe wonders if the hostess who sat them might have recognized them, but Fukazawa snorts and says she probably just thought Iwamoto was one of her people. Iwamoto thwaps him over the head with the plastic menu.

“I’m just saying, maybe if you quit looking like JYJ did your hair,” Fukazawa continues, getting thwapped again and making Sakuma laugh so hard he nearly knocks his glass over onto the grill. “Oi, you don’t get to laugh at hair jokes either, shorty.”

“Ku~ma-chan!” Watanabe singsongs, disrupting their squabble. “What should we eat?” Miyadate’s hand pats his thigh in approval under the table and Watanabe grins as Sakuma reads off the stuff he wants to try. Watanabe doesn’t have to ask what Miyadate’s favorites are, after all. He lets himself be coaxed into a shot of ginger soju with everybody else for the sake of group ai before switching to his usual soda, and that plus the way Miyadate feeds him when he’s too busy talking to eat keeps Watanabe’s chest warm.

No amount of soju can combat the winter weather, though, and by the time they do get home, both of them are shivering so hard Miyadate grumbles that just their teeth chattering will wake up his family.

“Bath?” Watanabe asks, and Miyadate can’t agree quick enough. Aside from the cold, they both smell like meat and smoke and it’s hardly pleasant now, much less in the morning. Miyadate’s mother has left them hot water, and both of them sigh in relief as they sink into it. Watanabe teases that this is the real reason that Miyadate doesn’t want to move out and get his own place.

“That plus you suck at laundry as much as I do,” Miyadate murmurs, eyes closed. He hums approval when Watanabe leans back against his chest. For a bit they sit quietly, the silence between them comfortable.

“Hey,” Watanabe eventually says. “Earlier. Did you mean that?”

There’s a pause, long enough for Watanabe to wonder if he needs to clarify, but then Miyadate’s arms tighten around his waist a little, and when Miyadate answers, his voice is much closer to Watanabe’s ear.

“Definitely,” Miyadate tells him. He noses at Watanabe’s hairline, lips brushing the back of his piercings. “You’re gonna take care of me, right?”

“Ohhh,” Watanabe moans quietly, trusting Miyadate to understand that he’s really saying yes, definitely. Miyadate doesn’t seem in any rush to skip past this part, though, pressing kisses against the back of Watanabe’s neck and shoulder until Watanabe is nearly a puddle himself, ready to melt right into the water.

When they do finally get out of the water, Watanabe is so relaxed he nearly trips over the side and falls on his face. Miyadate catches his arm to steady him almost on reflex, reminding him that if he gives himself a concussion on the sink, nobody will be taking care of anybody tonight.

“Ehehe, sorry,” Watanabe says, offering Miyadate a sheepish smile. Miyadate drops a towel on his head and rubs the water out of his hair. Miyadate’s touch is gentle and sure, like always, and Watanabe hums at being spoiled. After a minute, though, he pushes Miyadate’s hands away so that Miyadate will dry himself off too and not get chilled.

Both of them wince when they open the door and the hallway feels much cooler than the bathroom did. They race to Miyadate’s room and crawl in bed as quickly as they can, even the short trip leaving their feet icy and their skin goosebumped. Miyadate fumbles for his remote to turn his room’s heat on, grumbling that he’d meant to do that before the bath except for how somebody was being super distracting.

“Quit complaining and kiss me,” Watanabe demands, Miyadate’s blankets already wrapped over top of his head so that he ironically looks like a nun. “I’ve been waiting all day for the making out!”

“You come down here and kiss me,” Miyadate retorts, on his back with his arms spread wide. “All your big talk about doing the work for once, geez.”

Watanabe does exactly that before Miyadate is even done speaking, flopping down on Miyadate’s chest like he’d wanted to desperately during the photoshoot, letting the blanket cover both of them. Miyadate’s skin is chilled against Watanabe’s, but it warms soon enough as they kiss lazily, neither one of them in a rush. Miyadate curls his arms around Watanabe’s neck, twirling little curls of Watanabe’s hair around his fingers and making him sigh happily into Miyadate’s mouth.

Eventually Watanabe moves down, kissing Miyadate’s jaw, his throat, and lingering on the sharp line of Miyadate’s collarbone. He licks at the taut skin, smoothing his thumb over the matching spot on Miyadate’s other side, tracing the spot several times before turning his head to lick instead at Miyadate’s sternum. He can feel the strong thump of Miyadate’s heart when he presses his lips against the right spot and he can’t help but grin against Miyadate’s skin because he knows it belongs to him.

Miyadate’s hands slide more securely into Watanabe’s hair, but he doesn’t try to move Watanabe along or push him down. His fingers are warm against Watanabe’s scalp where his hair is still damp, stroking through the strands with just enough pull for Watanabe to feel it. Watanabe is almost sorry when he moves down far enough that Miyadate can’t reach him as easily, but he consoles himself with the jut of Miyadate’s hip, just begging to be kissed.

“Mm, Shota,” Miyadate encourages. His noises are all quiet, soft sighs and hums. It’s because they’re basically never alone in the house, but Watanabe finds Miyadate’s small noises cute anyway. He turns his head to kiss the soft skin of Miyadate’s belly, then noses at the base of Miyadate’s cock. Eventually Miyadate spreads his legs enough for Watanabe to trail fingers over his inner thighs, Watanabe marveling as always at how he’s the only one who gets to touch these soft, secret places.

Eventually he sits up to dig the lube out of his Miyadate’s bedside table, and to snatch one of the towels from the floor. Miyadate lifts his hips until Watanabe has the towel spread out under him, long used to Watanabe’s dislike of the mess getting all over the sheets.

“We have to sleep here, you know,” Watanabe says primly when Miyadate chuckles at him a little as he settles back down. “It’s not like in a hotel where we can just switch beds.”

“I know, I know.” Miyadate’s grin turns to a hiss at the first touch of Watanabe’s fingers. “Cold!”

“Baby,” Watanabe retorts with affection, rubbing gentle circles around Miyadate’s hole until the lube has warmed to his skin. It always takes a bit for Miyadate to open up for him no matter how relaxed he is, but Watanabe doesn’t mind. Truthfully he likes being the one to take care of Miyadate once in a while, and if it takes a little while to do it right that only proves that Miyadate wouldn’t trust just anybody this way.

“Ahh,” Miyadate says when Watanabe tries the first finger, still a quiet noise but not as pleased as the other ones. Watanabe slows down more, but if he goes any slower they won’t get anywhere. Miyadate’s next noise has an edge of frustration. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Watanabe soothes, his clean hand resting on Miyadate’s leg, thumb rubbing gentle circles on his inner thigh. “Open up for me, hm? I’ll make you feel really good.”

“Keep talking?” Miyadate asks, so Watanabe does, telling Miyadate how much he wants him, how he’s been thinking about this all day, how good Miyadate looks all spread out just for him. Miyadate tips his head back, eyes closed, and if Miyadate weren’t so hot and slick around Watanabe’s finger, he might even forget what he’s doing here.

Well, half of Watanabe’s finger. They should maybe do it this way just a bit more often, Watanabe thinks as he shifts position to lie down beside Miyadate’s hips, so that his mouth is close enough to lick at the tip of Miyadate’s cock. If talking can’t get him in the whole way, he’ll just have to use his mouth for something else.

“Shota,” Miyadate groans, surprised by the wetness of Watanabe’s tongue against his cock since he’d had his eyes closed. Watanabe sneaks a glance up and almost laughs at the way Miyadate is staring down at him wide-eyed. It quickly turns into a more low-lidded gaze as Watanabe sucks Miyadate’s cock into his mouth properly and licks at the tip.

It’s enough distraction, apparently; Watanabe finally gets the first finger the whole way in, stroking gently in and out until it’s possible to start working in a second. Miyadate’s hips shift restlessly, as if he doesn’t know whether to push up into Watanabe’s mouth or down against his fingers. With two fingers in, Watanabe can start curling them, encouraging Miyadate’s body to work with him instead of against him. He tries to focus on the squeeze of Miyadate around his fingers instead of how hard he’s getting himself. Being patient is one thing, but Watanabe does have a limit and he’s getting pretty close to it.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Watanabe pulls his mouth off Miyadate’s dick to say when the third finger isn’t any easier than the first one was.

“Yeah,” Miyadate agrees. He reaches down to stroke his hand through Watanabe’s hair, and Watanabe shifts up a little so that it’s not so much of an awkward reach. Watanabe hums little when Miyadate’s fingers work down in to scratch pleasantly at his scalp. “Just do it. It’s fine already.”

“Except how it’s not.” Watanabe rolls his eyes. He pushes in a little harder just to prove his point, and Miyadate can’t swallow all of the grunt. “Don’t say stupid things, that’s my job. As if I’d ever do something so dumb.”

“I won’t break,” Miyadate argues. He tries pushing down against Watanabe’s fingers, but Watanabe splays his hand low across Miyadate’s belly to press him into the mattress.

“You won’t thank me, either,” Watanabe says. He pats Miyadate’s stomach. “Stay. Good boy.”

“Okay, okay.” Miyadate relaxes back against the mattress, and Watanabe’s only regret is that Miyadate’s hand slips out of his hair again. “It’s just that you’re not the only one getting impatient, you know.”

Watanabe lifts his head to find Miyadate grinning at him and can’t help but grin back. Miyadate does want him, Watanabe knows, and he can be patient just a little longer to make sure that Miyadate keeps feeling like that always. Miyadate bends his knee to open himself up more, and with a little more coaxing, finally he’s relaxed enough to satisfy Watanabe.

“All set,” Watanabe announces, pushing himself to his knees and slicking his cock with the lube still on his hand. Miyadate sits up, surprising him, but Watanabe doesn’t have any objection when Miyadate slides fingers into his hair and pulls him into a heated kiss. “Mmmmm.”

“Mmhmm,” Miyadate agrees, nibbling at Watanabe’s lower lip before pulling away. “That’s the only thing I miss about you on top.” Miyadate’s right; even though he isn’t that much taller, the couple centimeters Watanabe lacks do make kissing while they fuck more of a stretch than when it’s Miyadate over him.

“I’ll make it up to you after,” Watanabe promises, leaning in close enough to all but kiss Miyadate, shamelessly encouraging him to steal a few more kisses first.

“You’re just full of promises today.” Miyadate obligingly gives Watanabe another kiss then just hovers there, brushing their noses together. “I’ll get spoiled.”

“Well, that’s no good!” Watanabe plants a hand in the middle of Miyadate’s chest to shove him down on his back. “We can’t both be spoiled or we’ll never get anywhere.” Miyadate just laughs at him, getting comfortable against the pillows while Watanabe pushes Miyadate’s legs back to expose his hole, shifting his hips up. “But I guess spoiling you just a little can’t do that much damage.”

“Please take care of me, then,” Miyadate asks, watching Watanabe from under low lashes.

Once he gets himself lined up and starts pushing inside, Watanabe watches Miyadate’s face instead. It’s appealing to watch his cock slide into Miyadate, but Miyadate looks so good with his face flushed and his fingers twisting in the sheets. Miyadate’s eyes flutter shut and he tips his head back as Watanabe rocks his hips the first time, and it’s so beautiful that it’s tempting to ask to be on top always, just to watch Miyadate shiver underneath him.

“Okay?” Watanabe asks, trying not to move except for the flex of his hips that he can’t actually stop. Miyadate nods, eyes still squeezed tightly shut. In another minute Watanabe will have to switch to his elbows because his wrists are already complaining, but he wants to enjoy this position for just a little longer, just like their photoshoot only without any audience to interrupt them. “This is why you like making me blush so much, huh? It’s so cute.”

Miyadate finally does open his eyes just to roll them at Watanabe. “Don’t just stare, jerk. Move already, it’s fine.”

“Your terrible lying is also super cute,” Watanabe says with affection. One slow thrust in shows that it is not fine when Miyadate scrunches his nose up, but Watanabe doesn’t mind taking this part slow either. He pulls out and pushes back in, keeping his rhythm slow but regular, until he feels Miyadate start to shift his hips up into it. Being symmetry partners has a lot of up-sides, Watanabe has always thought.

He has to go down to his elbows at that point, grunting as he flexes the ache out of his wrist. Miyadate makes a soft annoyed noise of his own at the interruption of Watanabe’s steady rhythm, and Watanabe kisses his sternum in apology. What he really wants is Miyadate’s mouth, but unless Miyadate wants to do some sex crunches, at a stretch Watanabe can only manage the hollow of his throat.

“Like this?” Watanabe asks. He plants his knees more firmly and gives a little test thrust; in this position he can’t rock back as far, but he can snap his hips a bit more firmly.

“Hmm, yeah,” Miyadate agrees. His hands come up to rub at the outsides of Watanabe’s arms, fingers digging in a little each time Watanabe thrusts in. “That’s nice.”

“It is,” Watanabe says. Now that Miyadate’s body is welcoming instead of pushing against him, it’s more than nice, in fact. Watanabe loves the squeeze of Miyadate around his cock, the tight grip of Miyadate’s hands on his skin, and the soft, cute noises Miyadate is making underneath him. Although he wouldn’t mind if he could make Miyadate just a little louder.

Instead of stretching up, Watanabe tucks his chin, licking at Miyadate’s nipple.

“Ah!” Miyadate gasps in surprise, hips jerking up against Watanabe.

“Finally found the volume button,” Watanabe teases. He sucks Miyadate’s nipple harder, grazing it with his teeth and making Miyadate squirm under him.

“Hey!” Miyadate hisses, obviously struggling to stay quiet. When Watanabe decidedly does not quit it, Miyadate slides one hand into Watanabe’s hair to give it a yank. “Maybe I’ll get nice and loud next time it’s your sister on the other side of the wall, huh?”

Watanabe only grins against Miyadate’s skin, knowing that if that happened Miyadate would still be more embarrassed than him. Also Miyadate pulling on his hair is hardly a punishment. Miyadate gives another yank, and Watanabe hums happily, switching to Miyadate’s other nipple. Fair’s fair, after all.

“Shota,” Miyadate whines, voice getting more desperate. “Please?”

“Mm, okay.” Watanabe releases Miyadate’s pebbled nipple with a last lick, hitching himself back up onto his elbows. By now Miyadate should be fine with being fucked more roughly, so Watanabe does just that, listening to make sure. Miyadate’s breathing turns quick, each exhale a barely audible moan, so it doesn’t seem like he has any objections.

This is the part where Watanabe wishes they could linger, where their bodies move together basically on their own and everything feels good. Watanabe closes his eyes for a few moments and enjoys the places where Miyadate is holding on to him, his arms and shoulders and neck, the shifting touch hot against his sweat-slick skin. When he opens his eyes, Miyadate is watching him intently, eyes the darkest, darkest brown. They’re full of heat, but more than that, Miyadate’s eyes are full of trust, and that’s what makes Watanabe’s skin run even hotter and brings him almost to his limit.

“Could roll over?” Watanabe offers, struggling to form words, much less questions. “Can’t touch you.”

“Stay,” Miyadate orders, not in much better shape. He curls his arms more tightly around Watanabe’s neck and draws his legs back until his knees are almost to Watanabe’s armpits, like he’s trying to make enough space for Watanabe to fall right into the center of him. “Stay, stay.”

“Yeah.” Watanabe tries to hold out, wanting to stay just like this, but it’s too good. He falls into his orgasm in a perfect rush of heat, except he isn’t falling at all because he’s being held tight against Miyadate’s body the whole way down.

His elbows give out and Watanabe stays like that for a few minutes, panting with his cheek pressed just above Miyadate’s heartbeat. Miyadate’s arms are still around Watanabe’s neck and his legs are loosely curled over the backs of Watanabe’s thighs. It can’t be nearly as comfortable for Miyadate as it is for Watanabe, plus Miyadate’s cock is still rock hard where it’s pressed against Watanabe’s stomach, so he tries to push himself up much earlier than he really wants to.

“Idiot,” Miyadate accuses when Watanabe wobbles dangerously on his hands and knees. “Don’t fall off the bed.”

“It’s like you’re made of gravity,” Watanabe slurs, because all he wants to do is to fall back down, fall back into Miyadate. Miyadate laughs softly at Watanabe’s sex-stupid words, hair mussed and bunched from the pillow, blush spreading down his neck and shoulders. Watanabe pushes himself up to sit on his knees so that he can see Miyadate’s cock, just as flushed, heavy against his stomach and wet at the tip. He wants to say something, to tell Miyadate how amazing and hot he is, but all that comes out is, “Fuck, ah, fuck.”

“Touch me,” Miyadate begs, drawing his knees up to show Watanabe exactly where he means. His hole is slick with lube and clenching at nothing, and Watanabe’s hand gravitates towards it without thought, palming the curve of Miyadate’s ass as he pushes his thumb inside. He doesn’t mean to tease exactly, but it’s so fascinating to watch Miyadate’s body try to draw him back in when he rocks his thumb in and out. When he switches it for his first two fingers, they go in just as easily, and when he curls them, Miyadate’s hips come clean off the mattress.

“Wow,” Watanabe murmurs, doing it again.

Shota!” Miyadate snaps.

“Oops, sorry.” Watanabe shakes his head to clear it, giving Miyadate a sheepish grin. Miyadate glares at him, rocking down on his fingers pointedly.

Watanabe leaves his fingers where they are but drops onto his stomach so that his mouth is within easy reach of Miyadate’s cock. He licks a stripe up the underside until he tastes salt at the tip, then sucks it into his mouth without fooling around anymore. Miyadate is moving around so much that Watanabe barely has to do anything except concentrate on not choking as Miyadate thrusts up into his mouth and down onto his fingers.

Miyadate moans Watanabe’s name quietly and slides a hand back into Watanabe’s hair. He doesn’t push Watanabe down so much as hold on tightly, as if he needs something to ground himself. Watanabe can feel Miyadate shaking underneath him, obviously very close, and hums encouragement, sucking harder until his cheeks are hollowed around Miyadate’s cock. He times the curl of his fingers to when Miyadate is rocking up into his mouth, and that’s what finally does it, Miyadate muffling his groan with the back of the hand that’s not in Watanabe’s hair.

Before Miyadate’s done shaking, Watanabe pulls his fingers free and crawls up to kiss Miyadate fiercely, as if making up for all the kissing they couldn’t do during sex. Miyadate is still catching his breath, making the kiss messy, but he clutches at Watanabe tightly. They stay like that until both of them start to shiver, and then Watanabe has to reluctantly break the kiss to sort out the blankets they’ve kicked to the end of the bed in a tangle.

“You must have really wanted that kiss, since you didn’t even wipe off your hand first,” Miyadate chuckles. He doesn’t seen that concerned about the patch of drying lube smeared across his shoulder and arm, but Watanabe scowls down at his hand, belatedly trying to rub it clean on the towel still under Miyadate’s hips.

He tugs the towel free to wipe off Miyadate as best he can, Miyadate’s inner thighs and ass kind of a mess at this point. They should really go take another bath, but Miyadate is dead weight, like a cat that doesn’t want to be moved, and Watanabe knows a lost cause when he sees one. This part of taking care of Miyadate is appealing too, Watanabe has to admit, cleaning him up and then rubbing soothing circles on the backs of Miyadate’s thighs as he stretches out cramped muscles.

“You feel okay?” he asks, pulling the blankets up and over both of them, settling in against Miyadate’s side. Miyadate turns into him with a sigh, not needing to answer in words as he throws an arm over Watanabe’s waist and cuddles against him more closely. As their skin warms, Watanabe sighs happily. “Taking care of you sometimes is really nice.”

“Same here,” Miyadate agrees, already sounding half-asleep. Watanabe rubs lazy circles on Miyadate’s back until his breathing evens out.

“Don’t get used to it though,” Watanabe whispers, letting his hand fall still. “I like having you take care of me way too much.

The only answer he gets is a tiny snore, Miyadate’s breath warm against Watanabe’s skin.

Several weeks later, Watanabe is strolling through his living room like normal when he suddenly notices a new picture frame among his mother’s usual scatter of family photos arranged on the wall and side table. The new frame is filled with Miyadate on his back and Watanabe looming over him in his black, fuzzy sweater, their fingers barely touching.

“MOM!” Watanabe yells in horror, and when his mother comes out of the kitchen to see which kid is murdering which other kid this time, he points at the frame in accusation. “What the heck is that?!”

“It blew up nicely, didn’t it?” his mother asks, entirely calm. “The pages were so thin I thought it might not turn out.”

“You can’t have that in a frame here!” Watanabe sputters. “Everyone can see it! Grandma is gonna see it!”

“Ah, well,” his mother says, eyeing him pointedly. “You know, if I ever had some nice pictures of my son and his cute boyfriend, then I might not have to cut out scandalous magazine pictures, would I? Do you happen to know where I could find some of those? Ah, I sent a copy of that over to Miyadate-san too, since she didn’t have any nice pictures either.”

[Our moms suck] Watanabe mails Miyadate after his mother shoos him from the room to return to her cooking. [And we need to take some real pictures.]

[I don’t want to hear it] Miyadate sends back, along with a sticker of a hamster with a thundercloud over its head. [My mom framed the one of us naked in bed.]

Maybe with any luck, Watanabe thinks, they can talk Hashimoto or one of the others into a photo-taking date over the weekend. Although honestly it’s six of one and half a dozen of the other whether it will turn out less or more scandalous than the first batch.

[Wear the fuzzy sweater] Miyadate suggests.

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