Snow Man, Concert Hangover

Title: Concert Hangover [Watanabe, Sakuma]
Rating/Warnings: G
Summary: The train ride home is the worst, but the morning after isn’t so bad.
AN: Have some Snowmen where next to nothing happens.

Concert Hangover

Concert weekends were fun, but the late train ride home the last night was not nearly as much fun, even when Miyadate let Watanabe nap on his shoulder for most of the ride.

“Are you gonna make it?” Miyadate teased when he tried to shake Watanabe awake and Watanabe just whined at him.

“Aw, just stay over,” Sakuma said, barely looking up from the game he was playing on his phone. “Mom won’t care, and Hikaru’s already staying. You’re probably going to miss last train anyway.”

“We can so make it,” Miyadate protested, then sighed when Watanabe slid down into a heap in his lap instead. “And we shouldn’t impose.”

“Shut up and do it,” Sakuma said dismissively. “Shota’s already dying over there.”

Watanabe did feel kind of like he was dying, so the much shorter transfer to Sakuma’s place was vastly preferable. They waved goodbye to Abe and Fukazawa at the station, who didn’t have nearly as long a commute, and then Watanabe let the others lead him around, blinking blearily in between yawns.

“Next time use the charger for him instead of your phone,” Iwamoto teased, making the others laugh while Watanabe stuck his tongue out at him.

Watanabe had a vague memory of sitting down on the Sakumas’ couch, and then the next thing he knew, it was morning and he was waking up in bed. For a few seconds he was confused, before he recognized the Love Live poster on the wall. Sakuma’s bed, then. He poked the lump in the blankets beside him, too small to be Miyadate.

Sakuma rolled over, hair mussed and manga volume in his hand. It was way too early for how big his smile was. “Morning!”

“Mmmngh,” Watanabe answered. “What’m I doing here?”

“You passed out on the couch, like, immediately,” Sakuma explained, chuckling. “Ryota carried you up here.”

“Shouldn’t have given me your bed, the floor’s fine,” Watanabe accused.

“Nah, Hikaru and I took the futon.” Sakuma waved him off. “Those two went running, if you’re wondering, so I took that guy’s warm spot. Mmm, warm.”

“Idiots,” Watanabe sighed. Not that the results of Iwamoto helping Miyadate work out weren’t pleasing, but nothing short of an earthquake was dragging Watanabe out of bed this early in the morning. He reached over to poke Sakuma’s arm where one of the Miyata-birds was still going strong. “These things are not as temporary as I’d thought.”

“I know, right?” Sakuma laughed, poking Watanabe back in the neck where undoubtedly his Senga screamer still was. “I was worried about sweating it off at first, and now I dunno how to get it off at all! I’ve taken three showers since I put it on! I hope the magic concealer has a magic remover that comes with it.”

“He’s actually a wizard,” Watanabe said, voice flat. Sakuma cracked up. “It’s not time to get up yet, right?”

“Nope.” Sakuma rolled back over and edged backwards until they were tucked comfortably together, Sakuma cuddled into the curve of Watanabe’s body like a well-used body pillow. It felt nice against Watanabe’s sore muscles.

The only sound was the occasional rustle of a page turning as Watanabe dozed back off, feeling warm and peaceful under the blankets.

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