This morning Tama's daily jweb thing was about Miyata bugging him and being too fidgety, which we all assumed he probably wrote while pinning Miyata's body to the floor, and also his solo, "Camellia" is BEAUTIFUL. Like the fic says, it sounds like it's entirely about Tamamiya in the best way, where it's not gooey romantic but more about supporting each other and being proud of how they've turned out (lyrics here, but they aren't translated). It's very Tama, it's perfect. Bummer there's no duets or Miyata solo this year, but Tama can sing me this kind of love song any day.
Tamamori hadn't meant to fall asleep, but when he peeled his eyes open, that was clearly what had happened. Only for an hour, Tamamori worked out after squinting at the clock. It was just after midnight, his bedroom dark except for the hallway light coming in through the open door, and Tamamori would have just rolled over and gone back to sleep except for the fact that his human heater was missing. Grumbling, Tamamori sat up and scrubbed at his face, the pull of the bed warring with his growling stomach and how sticky and overwarm he felt.
"Geez, give me a break," he muttered at his body, too many things wrong at once to decide which to take care of first. It would have been a lot smarter to have eaten something before tumbling Miyata into bed, but it wasn't like Tamamori was famous for his excellent choices in that department.
The shower was running, he realized at last, sleep-stupidity slow to fade. Huffing a put-upon sigh, Tamamori tossed the blankets aside and slid out of bed, grunting at the cold of the floor against his bare feet. Halfway to the bathroom, he realized it wasn't just the sound of the water that he was hearing muffled through the door, but Miyata's voice. He paused with his hand on the door handle, listening before he opened it in case pushing the door open made Miyata stop.
Miyata was singing "Camellia," Tamamori's album solo. Tamamori rolled his eyes as he pushed the door open as gently as he could. Without the barrier of the door, Miyata's voice was rich and mellow, and if he wasn't putting any particular attention into it, singing just for himself, the acoustics of the tile more than made up for it. Serve this idiot right if he recorded it with this phone, Tamamori thought, and then stuck it on as an album extra.
"That's my solo," Tamamori accused, stepping the whole way into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. "Get your own."
Miyata looked over his shoulder, grinning widely, and Tamamori had to fight hard to keep his mouth from curling up in an answering smile. "Hey there. Come wash my back?"
Tamamori took the half a dozen steps to press himself against Miyata's back, arms curling around his waist. "Eh, looks clean enough to me. Mmm, warm."
"Spoiled," Miyata accused fondly, trailing fingertips up Tamamori's forearm. "I like it. Your solo, I mean."
"Sure," Tamamori agreed carelessly, forehead down against Miyata's shoulder. If he wasn't careful, he was going to fall back asleep like this and probably crack both their skulls open.
Miyata took care of it, twisting in Tamamori's grip to face him and tugging him into the spray of the shower directly. Long used to Tamamori's brand of non-help, Miyata got both of them soaped up and rinsed clean, Tamamori humming just as much from Miyata's hands as the warm water. It wasn't until Miyata was toweling them off that he spoke again.
"I know you didn't write the lyrics," he said, rubbing the towel over Tamamori's hair while his own hair dripped water over his collarbones. "But they really sound like you. It sounds like a song about us."
"Of course it's a song about us," Tamamori said, snatching the towel out of Miyata's hands and throwing it over Miyata's face instead. He rubbed much more roughly than Miyata had been drying him off. "Like the part about how you aren't cool and smile even when things are impossible."
Miyata reached up to push the towel back from his face so he could see Tamamori, smiling softly. "Yeah, but the part where it's fine even if we go on a detour, and sometimes we're faking it the whole way. It's just really you, not to say 'I love you' but 'be proud of yourself' instead."
"Don't." Tamamori squirmed. "Shut up about it."
"So I really like this one," Miyata said, not shutting up at all as he wrapped the towel around Tamamori's waist and kissed Tamamori's cheek soundly. "And I'm proud of us too. Of you."
"Ugh, get bent, Toshiya, seriously," Tamamori snapped, pulling away. "Come on, I'm starving, quit poking around."
They scrounged up enough leftovers from the fridge to reheat and curled up back in bed with them, Miyata using his laptop to catch up with the same anime episode that they'd fallen asleep during twice that week already. Tamamori knew a lost cause when he saw one, already yawning before he'd even finished his food, but it wasn't exactly a hardship to curl up against Miyata's side, his cheek comfortable against Miyata's shoulder. His eyes slipped shut as soon as Miyata's fingers found their way into his hair, still damp from the shower.
He woke halfway up when Miyata closed the laptop and set it aside; he waited until Miyata had flipped the light out before manhandling him into a satisfactory cuddle, Tamamori the big spoon for once, arm flung over Miyata's waist. Tamamori was warm and comfortable, Miyata's hair smelling pleasantly like his shampoo and his T-shirt worn to softness under Tammaori's palm.
"Next year we can do a gross 'I love you' song again," he said for no reason. It was easier to talk about this stuff in the dark. "Like if it's up to me, I'll pick one like that."
"If you want," Miyata answered, easy-going. "But either way. After all this time, you think I can't hear that you love me no matter what the lyrics say? Two minutes ago you were snoring it in my ear."
"Fuck you so much," Tamamori groaned, pinching at Miyata's waist. Miyata only hummed in contentment. "You're the worst."
Next up is prillalar!