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Satoru wakes up feeling off. He lies in bed for a long moment, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for the feeling to pass, even as it refuses to. He sighs, swinging his legs over the side of the bed; the sight of his bare legs makes him scowl, and he quickly stands up, grabbing the sweatpants he threw on the floor last night and practically jumping into them.
His bathroom trip doesn't improve things any, and he huffs, frustrated, as he has to shove his bangs out of his face for the third time as he tries to wash his face.
Fucking annoying, he thinks, looking at where his bangs stay plastered to his forehead, uncomfortable with the wet hair clinging to his skin.
He rubs a hand across his collarbone, eyeing where the tape on his chest is starting to peel against his side. He decides immediately that he does not have the bandwidth to deal with that right now, and flattens it back down instead.
He heads back to his room, done with dealing with his reflection, and grabs the biggest hoodie he can. It's Suguru's, and it's baggy enough to make up for the shorter sleeves with being loose around his chest.
When he trudges into the common room, he's not surprised to find Suguru already there, splayed out on the couch and holding a book above his head. He is suddenly split between heading into the kitchen or dropping himself on top of Suguru.
It's not really much of a question considering the mood he woke up in.
He drops down on top of Suguru, burying his face into his chest and breathing in the warm, clean scent of him.
Suguru lets out a huff that falls on the right side of amused, easing one hand so he can bury it in Satoru's hair. A barely perceptible noise of discontent makes his way out of his throat, and Suguru freezes, hand ceasing all movement as he waits for Satoru's next move.
"Touch somewhere else," Satoru mutters, barely lifting his head.
Suguru hesitates - he can feel his hands hovering over him now, unsure where to touch in the same way he did when they first started dating - before they settle gently on his back. The pressure is barely there, and Satoru digs his chin into his sternum until they settle more firmly against him.
"Alright?" Suguru murmurs.
"Yeah," Satoru sighs out, relaxing a little as Suguru's hand splays out on his back, trailing up and down steadily. He tries to press himself closer, not sure if he quite wants to disappear but kind of wishing he could rest inside Suguru's ribcage like one of his curses, at least for the day. Just so he can rest.
He dozes off almost immediately, not quite properly awake to begin with, but not quite comfortable enough fall back asleep either. But Suguru is warm, the beat of his heart steady under his ear, and it lets him float in the liminal boundary of sleep and waking, lets him settle into his bones a little better.
He wakes slowly, not quite willing to leave the languid bubble they've created around the two of them. He shuffles slightly, tilts his head so his lips press against the soft skin of Suguru's throat, his jugular, the thrum of life of his beloved. Suguru cranes his neck, lets Satoru nose up to his jaw with a pleased hum, the movement of his hand not faltering.
When Suguru tilts his head down in a wordless plea, Satoru gladly obliges, a soft press of their lips that tastes like home. Suguru's hand drops to wrap around him, and Satoru can feel the coiled muscle in his arm tensing as he tries not to grab too harshly. He can't help smiling, the physical proof of how hard fought Suguru's restraint is around him sending pleasant tingles all the way to his toes.
They part, smiling too much to keep it up, and Suguru brushes their nose together, not pulling any further away than Satoru's willing to.
"I wanna buzz my hair," Satoru murmurs, nosing against Suguru's cheek.
"Yeah?" Suguru captures his lips again.
"Yeah," Satoru confirms, slight apprehension colouring his words even if he knows Suguru would never question him on these matters.
"Alright, we'll buzz your hair then," Suguru agrees easily, just like Satoru predicted him to. "It'll look good; you have the head for it."
Satoru snorts. "You complimenting my head?" The words are teasing but light, meant to poke but not snag.
"Brat." Suguru pinches his side, that same endlessly fond, endlessly teasing tone in his voice.
Job done, Satoru buries his face against Suguru's throat again, letting his lips drag, teeth catch, not instigating nor initiating, purely enjoying the warm, solid feel of him beneath his hands, his lips, his teeth; his to kiss, his to mark, his to love.
"You wanna do it now?" Suguru asks, ever so slightly breathless.
Satoru snorts again, muffles his laugh into Suguru's shoulder. "You gotta stop saying shit."
"Stop taking shit the wrong way." He can imagine the scowl on Suguru face, the dip in his brow. It makes him laugh harder.
"Come on, let's make you bald." Suguru tugs at his collar.
Satoru sighs, but goes willingly since it was his idea, sliding off him like oil off water.
"Wanna call Shoko?"
"Yeah." Satoru stretches. "She'll want make fun of me."
///
Suguru gets him situated on the edge of the tub, so he's the perfect height for Suguru to cut his hair comfortably. Their tiny bathroom is too small to fit all three of them comfortably, but they're long accustomed to it, catalyst of their youth teaching them to grow into and around each other.
"How come you wanna buzz it, anyway?" Shoko asks, the sound of her crunching on her lollipop making Satoru scrunch his nose up.
"I don't know," Satoru mutters, eyes on Suguru where he's rummaging for the clipper guards. "Just felt like it."
Shoko nods, never expecting detailed explanations out of him, something he's quietly grateful for. Suguru's done with his rummaging now, and he turns around holding the clippers in one hand and a handful of guards in the other. There's a slightly lost expression on his face, corner of his mouth caught by his teeth.
"What grade?" Suguru asks, squinting slightly at the numbers etched at the back of them.
"Special," Satoru drawls, smirking in the way he knows annoys Suguru.
Suguru scowls at him predictably, hand curling as if he's contemplating throwing the guards in Satoru's face. Satoru would probably let him, if for no other reason than the fact that he's never raised infinity against Suguru before, and he's not going to break the streak over a harmless throw.
"Three, probably," he adds after a pause, a buzz of excitement now under his skin at the imminent haircut.
"Three, three, three," Suguru chants under his breath, parsing through the one he's holding until he finds the correct one.
"Go shorter, coward!" Shoko shouts unnecessarily loudly in the cramped bathroom.
Satoru sticks his tongue out at her, Shoko doing the same. Suguru ignores them both.
He comes to stand between Satoru's legs, and Satoru tugs him closer, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on his stomach as he looks up at him.
"Hello," Suguru smiles down at him softly, brushing his bangs off his forehead.
"Hi," Satoru grins.
"I'm here for Satoru's bald head, not to witness your sappy shit," Shoko snaps, kicking the back of Suguru's knee.
Satoru snorts, taking some of Suguru's weight so he doesn't actually unbalance. "I'm not gonna be bald."
"I don't know, with your hair colour..." Suguru trails off, grinning as he tugs at Satoru's hair.
"Betrayal!" Satoru exclaims, squeezing Suguru as hard as he could from where he sits. "You never expect it from the ones closest."
Suguru's hand in his hair became a bit more unyielding, more a reprimand than a caress. Satoru doesn't mind, it was all going to be gone soon enough.
"Okay, get on with it," he says, impatient now.
"Yeah, yeah," Suguru grouses.
He tilts Satoru's head here and there, a hand at his jaw gentle but insistent. He lets Suguru do as he likes, but after the fourth time his head gets tilted down, he figures that he's going to have to force the issue a little if they are to get anywhere.
"I think you generally need to use the clippers to cut hair. I don't think you can just stare it off."
"Shut up," Suguru mutters, wariness under the feigned confidence. "I've never cut anyone's hair before, what if I fuck it up?"
"Then you'll have to live through the shame of taking me out in public all the same." Satoru turns his head to ghost a kiss against Suguru's fingers. "It's a buzz cut, I don't think there's much to fuck up."
"And if you don't get on with it, I'm taking it into my own hands," Shoko adds.
"Suguru," Satoru pleads, looking up at him. If Suguru runs a slight chance of fucking his hair up, then Shoko is going to shear all of it off unapologetically and he'll end up actually bald.
"Okay." Suguru takes a deep breath. "Okay, okay."
Satoru doesn't interrupt his own pep-talk, but straightens when the clippers get turned on. The first pass is directly over the centre of his head, the clippers a pleasant pressure against his scalp, and he watches in fascination as a chunk of his hair falls to the ground.
Oh, that's kind of a lot, he thinks.
No going back now, though.
Suguru seems to gain more confidence with each pass, more and more hair falling to the ground as he works. Satoru stays dutifully still, letting Suguru move his head without complaint now that he's actually doing it for a reason, within reason. He's humming underneath his breath, something Satoru knows is a sign he's focusing, and something he knows for certain Suguru doesn't realise he does. Telling him would make him stop though, so he tucks the knowledge away, an earnest keeper of all the things that he quietly loves about him.
"Okay, all done," Suguru steps away, sounding more nervous about it than Satoru is.
He's confident that Suguru did a good job, and he's also confident that he'll look good regardless.
Satoru runs a hand over his head, grinning at the soft prickling against his palm, uniform all around. Suguru is still looking at him nervously, which means he's too in his head to appreciate how good Satoru looks, which is the opposite of his preference. He tugs Suguru back in, slipping his hands into his back pockets and angling his head up, Suguru meeting him halfway in a short kiss.
"I love it," he grins.
"You haven't even seen yourself in a mirror yet," Suguru argues, hands gentle on the side of his throat, thumbs brushing against his jaw.
Suguru gets tugged out of his hold to reveal Shoko, dragging him back by the collar. "Quit it, loverboys, I wanna see."
She stands in front of Satoru, eyes narrowed. She reaches out, hand hovering over his head until Satoru nods, lowering it to rest on the top of his head.
"It's so short," she notes, lips tilting up. "I feel like if I rub it three times you'll grant me a wish."
Satoru clicks his tongue, batting her hands away as they went from running over his buzz cut to furiously rubbing it. "Yeah, but does it look good?"
"Don't go fishing now," Shoko snorts. "You wouldn't have done it if you didn't think it'll look good."
He's not so sure about that at this point, but it's as good of reassurance as he's going to get from her.
"Okay," Suguru interrupts, shouldering his way back in front of Satoru. "Out of the way, let me get my hands back on my boyfriend."
"Why do you guys always have to be gross?" Shoko complains, already pushing out the bathroom. "Boys," she adds, voice dripping in faux-derision.
The door clicks shut behind her, and Satoru lets Suguru tug him up, overbalancing on purpose even if he knows he doesn't have to, to get Suguru's arms around him. They shuffle towards the tiny mirror, Suguru settling behind him with his chin on Satoru's shoulder. It's a bit awkward, they both have to duck down to actually make use of the mirror, but Satoru is okay with making concessions to keep Suguru's hands on him.
His eyes finally settle on his reflection, and something drawn tight in his chest deflates. For a moment he was expecting to see a reflection that didn't mirror him, but all he sees is familiarity, the squared sharpened line of his jaw, cheeks that have lost its roundness and softness a long time ago, strong brows he wasn't allowed in the past.
He sees none of the long lost delicateness his clan once revered.
He exhales roughly, slumping heavily against Suguru.
That reflection is all him. And he looks damn good.
"You wanna shave as well?" Suguru murmurs, nuzzling their cheeks together.
Satoru considers it, the line of affirmation versus the pain of dealing with his bare face razor thin.
"What's the point?" he aims for light-heartedness and falls short. "Not like anyone can see it, light as it is." He doesn't mean to sound bitter.
Suguru hums, not letting Satoru's tone to throw him off. "Maybe," he says, because he's never lied to him before, and Satoru will have his head if he starts now. "But I still feel it, when we cuddle, when we kiss." He's taken to placing soft kisses against his jaw and cheek.
"Okay, okay," Satoru huffs, trying to hide how flustered Suguru's making him feel. "You don't have to seduce me into shaving, stop trying to be smooth."
Suguru grins, faint impression of teeth against his skin, and Satoru reaches back to palm at his cheek, pinches it because he can. The teeth at his jaw become more insistent, and Satoru knows for a fact that the bathroom is too small for them to brawl in, but that doesn't stop him from wanting to pick a fight anyway. Or make-out. It's a bit of a toss up these days.
"Fine," Satoru huffs, tries to make it sound like he's being generous in his concession. "I guess I can shave, for the sake of your delicate, sensitive skin."
Suguru pinches his side, smoothing his hand over the sting just as fast. "I know you're not calling me sensitive."
"What are you gonna do about it?" Satoru mutters, watching Suguru closely.
He's stepped away, grabbing the shaving supplies in order. Satoru checks them off mentally, the straight razor, the bowl, brush and shaving cream. He flicks the water on, letting it warm. Suguru squeezes his waist in a wordless thanks, grabs him properly moments later and Satoru lets him sit him back down on the edge of the tub. He decides that he can be difficult about things some other day.
"I can do it myself, you know," Satoru says as Suguru stand in front of him, a finger underneath his chin to raise his head.
"I like doing it for you," Suguru states plainly, the brush softened with lather as he drags it against Satoru's cheeks, underneath his jaw, down his neck.
Satoru fights the urge to rub his face against Suguru's shirt, no matter how funny Suguru's outrage would be. He slides his hand underneath it instead, warm skin under his palms warming him inside out.
Suguru tenses, pauses where he's reaching for the razor. He gives Satoru a disapproving glare that does nothing to deter him.
"No groping while I'm holding a blade to your neck." Suguru says firmly.
"I don't know, sounds kinda hot," Satoru grins.
Suguru gives him another look that's probably nowhere near as berating as he wants it to be. His hand flexes on Satoru's head in a way that tell him he would've gotten his hair tugged if they didn't just shear all of it off. Unexpected positives.
"Hold still," Suguru warns.
Satoru rolls his eyes because holding still doesn't account for that. He doesn't flinch or tense when he feels the scrape of the razor on his cheek, has no reason to when it's Suguru's hands on him, Suguru's hands holding the blade.
Satoru's mind wanders, enjoying the focused look on Suguru's face. He doesn't realise he's done until Suguru is placing a warm tower against his face, gently cleaning off any leftover shaving cream left. Satoru closes his eyes as Suguru dabs on the aftershave, gentle fingers against his face. A kiss gets dropped on his lips, and he smiles, not bothering to open his eyes. Suguru's thumbs smooth over his closed eyes, another kiss placed on his forehead.
"All done," Suguru murmurs.
Satoru stands up, lets himself be tugged into Suguru's arms, running a hand down his back as Suguru buries his face against his throat.
"Comfortable?" he asks, amused.
Suguru hums, the vibration stark against his skin. "You smell good."
Satoru glances over Suguru's shoulder to see what aftershave he used. He huffs in amusement at the obvious answer. "I smell like you." It's nowhere near as real of an accusation as he tries for.
Suguru leans back, cupping his face in his hands so he can brush their lips together. "Yeah," he murmurs. "That's what I said."
They're interrupted by loud banging on the bathroom door.
"Stop making out," Shoko shouts from the other side. "I'm hungry."
"How is that our problem!" Satoru shouts back.
He pouts when Suguru extract himself from his hold, reaching out to try and tempt him back. Suguru shakes his head with a slight grin.
"She'll get more annoyed if we make out in front of her," Suguru grins, keeping his voice low so Shoko won't hear him.
Satoru matches his grin, skipping out behind him.
///
Lunch ends up being a lost cause. Satoru is hungry, but unwilling to cook, and Suguru is willing to cook, but Satoru's unwilling to let him go for long enough for him to do so.
None of them want to roll the dice on Shoko's cooking.
She does however fish out several packs of instant ramen from the back of one of their shelves, and is even feeling generous enough to toss them into boiling water. She deposits the bowls on the short table in front of the couch.
"I think I have a future in cooking, you know, my talents are wasted in medicine," Shoko states, sitting down first.
Satoru groans, burrowing himself closer to Suguru. Food sounds good, but not moving sounds even better. Suguru drops a kiss to the top of his head, which is how he knows he doesn't agree.
"You're a terrible host." He can't see her, because he's decided that normal vision is overrated today and refuses to open his eyes, but the object she's pointing at him has a distinct lack of cursed energy and is also suspiciously chopstick shaped. "I travel halfway across Tokyo just to visit you, cook for you, and you still dare complain."
"You live two stops away," Suguru says dryly.
"Tell her, babe," Satoru mumbles.
"And instant ramen doesn't count as cooking," Suguru adds.
Satoru snorts at the remark he's sure was made only thanks to his encouragement. He raises his hand for a high-five Suguru gives him immediately. He interlocks their fingers together instead of letting Suguru take his hand back.
"Satoru," Suguru nudges his chin with their held hands. "Food, come on."
Satoru huffs, deeply inconvenienced, but slides down to settle opposite Shoko. Suguru sits down between them, legs extended beneath the table. Satoru doesn't hesitate to put his own legs on top of Suguru's, and Shoko hates being left out, so she promptly rests hers on top of theirs.
Suguru sighs deeply.
"Couldn't we just go out to eat if no one felt like cooking?" Shoko says over a mouthful.
"No," Satoru mutters. Suguru's admonishment aimed to both of them for talking while eating goes ignored. "If anyone looks at me today, I'll hollow purple them."
Shoko shrugs, an alarming lack of concern on her part that Satoru hopes he doesn't have to take advantage of one day. Suguru is sure to be his accomplice for whatever it is, so Shoko's their only safe contact, probably.
Suguru jostles his feet until he looks at him, scrunching his nose up in annoyance.
"Stop thinking about murder," he says, sounding far too amused for Satoru to take him seriously, mouth tilted in a barely hidden grin.
"I can't believe the higher-ups think you'll keep Satoru in check," Shoko says, snorting. "The man is talking about murder and you're he-he, ha-ha, giggling over it."
Suguru's face falls into a scowl so abruptly that Satoru has to clamp a hand over his mouth to muffle his laugh.
"Don't you start giggling, Mr. Heart-Eyes, I've seen Suguru say the most unhinged shit just for you to sigh and look at him like he just said the most romantic thing you've ever heard."
It's Satoru's turn to be unamused, which magically makes Suguru go back to laughing, and he kicks him with far more force than Suguru did previously.
"You're supposed to be on my side," he hisses at him.
Suguru's still snickering, but he pats the back of Satoru's hand like that's supposed to make him feel better. It does, but only marginally, and nowhere near enough for Satoru to admit it.
"You're both idiots," Shoko informs them, which Satoru decided is her way of saying I love you a long time ago.
"We love you too, Shoko!"
Shoko looks at him blankly. "That is not at all what I said."
Satoru shrugs because he knows better. Suguru stays out of it, because he also knows better.
The food's cooled down enough now that Satoru can just shovel it in, which he does to the faint disturbance of Suguru, and clinical curiosity of Shoko. The Six Eyes are a gift, but especially so when he can just do shit and doesn't even need to look at other people for their reaction.
He flops down on his back as he waits for the other two to finish eating. They're unbelievably slow, and Satoru considers himself a saint for not pointing it out.
"Suguru, carry me," he demands as soon as they're done.
Suguru sighs, but Satoru's been appropriately pathetic enough so far today that he gives in with minimal grumbling. He settles them back down on the couch, and Satoru refuses to let himself be shrugged off, clinging onto Suguru until he lets him settle on his lap. Satoru shoves his face against Suguru's throat, his preferred hiding spot for the day, lets Suguru run his hand over the length of his spine, and doesn't flinch when he reaches up to run his nails over the short buzz of his hair.
"You were right, Shoko, it really is soft," Suguru muses, not phased by Satoru's attempts to fuse them into one. He's been the same, he doesn't have a leg to stand on.
Not that Satoru would ever raise it against him. Knows that Suguru won't, either.
Shoko and Suguru are talking about something over his head, and it doesn't sound like it requires his input, which is great because Satoru doesn't feel like giving it. It's not quite the same feeling as it was in the morning, but he's still faintly apprehensive about saying something and the voice not sounding like his.
He hears the front door open and close, and that at least piques his interest enough to raise his head, blinking blearily at Suguru.
"Shoko will be back soon," Suguru answers the unasked question. "She's just grabbing something real quick."
Satisfied, he goes back burying his face in the crook of Suguru's neck, content to be held as close as he is, have Suguru hold him together when he doesn't feel like he quite has all the correct parts of him to do it himself.
"Read for me." His lips barely move against Suguru's throat, but he must've heard Satoru anyway, because he shuffles until he can grab the book he abandoned in the morning without dislodging Satoru.
Suguru doesn't hesitate, his voice soft and mellow as he starts, "The trees were small, gnarled, impossibly old, the result of..."
Satoru lets Suguru's voice wash over him, story trivial as it passes through his ears, nonsensical, started in the middle with no familiar landmarks to anchor himself with. That doesn't matter though, because Suguru's voice has always been the only anchor Satoru ever needed, a lighthouse he would be able to follow from point Nemo.
He's not quite sure how much times passes, his only measure being how much further Suguru's bookmark made it, and Shoko being back. Their hushed conversation isn't enough to wake him properly, the cadence of their voices familiar to his ears in the same way infinity is familiar with Suguru's touch.
Safe. Home.
He yawns, muffles it against Suguru's shoulder. There's a prick of annoyance in the back of his mind over how tired he feels, like all the energy's been drained out of him. He would like to bounce off of the walls, but the walls are very far away.
"Good morning," Shoko interrupts whatever conversation they were having. "What's wrong with you?"
Satoru makes an offended noise that Suguru immediately mirrors, arms tightening around him.
"Down, boy," Shoko says dryly.
"I'm allowed to have a bad day," Satoru mutters petulantly.
Shoko narrows here eyes at him, but ultimately shrugs, accepting his answer. "I got you sweets."
"You did?" Satoru perks up, straightening up so he can look around.
Suguru grunts at the sudden shift of his weight, hands tightening around his waist. Satoru brushes him off, patting his cheek at the put out expression Suguru makes, and pads to the kitchen to peek into the bag on the table.
"Shoko, I knew you loved me," he calls over his shoulder.
"Suguru told me what to grab," she calls back.
Satoru scoffs because he knows damn well that Shoko doesn't need Suguru's help for that, but he lets her have her white lies, because he's benevolent like that.
The sugar does actually make him feel better, energy reserves increasing ever so slightly to make up for the constant stream of scrutiny Satoru's aiming at himself today. Maybe sugar should've been his first port of call, but that would require unseating Suguru, and that's not happening.
He feels like he's forgetting something.
///
The evening finds them sitting on the floor against their couch. Their couch was expensive, and maybe Satoru should be a little concerned how more often than not they use it as a backrest, but. He paid for it, he gets to decide how to use it.
It's also only Suguru using it really, because Satoru's sat between his extended legs, leaning back against him, and Shoko's doing the same in front of him. Suguru made a solid attempt at protesting, but he's the youngest and therefore susceptible to 'because I said so' arguments.
"Why do I have to be the one playing?" Suguru mutters bitterly when the screen flashes with a You died.
The frequency of that is mildly alarming, but Satoru doesn't point that out because he's a loving and supportive boyfriend, and when he asked Suguru to go play something so he can watch, he did it with minimal fuss.
"You're really bad at this," Shoko notes, because she has no reason to hold back and never has.
Satoru snickers, and Suguru kicks them both. Deserved maybe, but Satoru kicks him back anyway, partly because he wants to and partly to defend Shoko's very accurate assessment.
"Oh, Satoru." Shoko taps his knee. "I need you to fake-call into uni for me."
"Huh? Why me?"
"Your voice is deeper than Suguru's, I need you to do your serious clan-head impression."
Satoru opens his mouth to protest, and then closes it as he realises Shoko's right. His voice is deeper, has been for a while. He did his time, months of voice cracks for it, fair and square.
Suguru drops a kiss to the top of his head, like he's reading his mind, and gets rewarded with another You Died screen for it.
"I am a clan-head," Satoru protests instead, slight pout that he can't help.
"Not a serious one, though." Suguru places a soft kiss to his cheek, which does nothing to endear his words to Satoru.
"I'm so serious," Satoru mutters petulantly, going to cross his arms but ending up floundering when he realises Shoko's in the way.
Suguru laughs at him, because he had front row seats to the display, and Shoko laughs because she thinks Suguru has a good reason to do so, and doesn't need anything beyond that. It's awfully rude from the both of them, but also somewhat comforting, which he doesn't linger on for more than he has to.
Satoru doesn't know when being laughed at became affirming, but here he is. He doesn't intend for anyone to find that particular fact out.
"Can we watch something instead?" Suguru mutters, sounding incredibly put-out.
It's probably because the game is once again flashing with a defeat screen, and unless Satoru somehow missed Suguru making an incredible amount of progress in an incredibly short amount of time, then he's been stuck on a single boss for the better part of the last hour.
"Sure," Shoko agrees, way too fast and with way too much inflection to not be suspicious.
Satoru leans back to look at Suguru just to find him already looking at him. The look of resignation on Suguru's face matches his own.
Shoko definitely has a movie in mind, and if history is to be believed, it's some awful horror flick with an unreasonable amount of gore.
They untangle themselves, Satoru moving exactly three steps before collapsing on top of the couch. It's not as comfortable as Suguru, but it'll do until he's back in grabbing range. Shoko disappeared somewhere in the direction of their front door, because she apparently came prepared with the movie she wanted to watch.
He would be more impressed with how prepared she is if she didn't make him watch things more horrifying than some Special Grade missions he completed.
"Suguru," he calls out, drawing out his name in hopes that it'll make him hurry up.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm here," Suguru says, far closer than Satoru thought he was, and deposits a bowl of popcorn in his lap.
Satoru repays him by drawing his legs back enough for Suguru to sit down, before shuffling right back and slumping against his side. The bowl of popcorn gets deposited back into Suguru's lap.
Suguru sighs, but doesn't argue.
Shoko's done setting up the movie and she settles on Suguru's other side. She immediately shoves her hand into the popcorn bowl, and Satoru bats it away, grabbing his own handful. Their squabbling is enough to jostle Suguru, and some of the popcorn goes flying.
"Oi," Suguru snaps. "Behave."
They settle down, but not before Satoru sticks his tongue out at Shoko, being met with the same response from her. Suguru pushes both of them back with a hand against their foreheads, and Satoru doesn't protest solely for the sake of the popcorn.
It takes Satoru ten minutes to prove his suspicions of the movie correct, and he promptly decides to speed-run eating the popcorn and falling asleep. Suguru's warm and comfortable next to him, so it doesn't take much.
Suguru's head dips to rest on top of his, and Satoru suspects that it won't take him long to follow along Satoru's plan as well.
He just hopes Shoko at least will have the decency to wake them before they all have to suffer the consequences of spending the night on a couch.
///
Satoru doesn't wake up until he feels himself getting moved, strong arms hooked under his knees and back. He lets out a hum, hooking his arms around Suguru's neck as he snuggles closer. He wasn't counting on getting carried, but now that he's here he's glad he woke up to enjoy the experience.
Experience that's far too short for his liking, and he grumbles as he's set down, refusing to let Suguru go. Suguru huffs, fond and amused and always Satoru's favourite, placing a soft kiss to his neck.
"I'm just gonna change, I'll be right back," Suguru murmurs.
Satoru lets him go with great reluctance, turning around to bury his face into Suguru's pillow instead. Suguru's back, quick as he promised, but still too slow for Satoru's liking, climbing over Satoru to his side of the bed and digging his knee against Satoru's ribs because he's a dick.
"Where's Shoko?" Satoru mumbles, latching onto Suguru and shoving himself as close as he can. Most of his discomfort is gone now, but he still wants to stay plastered to him.
"Right here," Shoko announces, trudging into the room in one of Satoru's hoodies.
She climbs onto the bed, planting her foot against Satoru's back to shove him further to the side. For someone so small she packs a decent kick, and Suguru grunts as he's shoved further up as well.
"Just ask us to move like a normal person," Suguru mutters sourly.
"No, I wanted to kick you," Shoko says blandly.
"I literally did nothing to deserve this." Satoru lets himself get manhandled anyway.
They settle down, Satoru lying on top of Suguru's chest, and Shoko in turn using the back of his shoulder as a pillow, her arm thrown over both of their sides. He's warm and comfortable, the space between Suguru and Shoko the safest he ever feels, and he's already drifting off.
"Satoru," Shoko murmurs, nudging him.
Satoru hums, fighting to stay awake.
"When is your next shot?" She sounds faintly worried, for reasons that escape him.
"I dunno," he mumbles. "It's in my calendar if you wanna check my phone."
Suguru sighs, shuffling so he can reach over both of them for Satoru's phone on the bedside table. Satoru gets pressed into the mattress, but considering it's by Suguru's chest he'll happily stay right here forever.
There's a pause, and Satoru can register the slight flare of light from his screen.
"Satoru." That's Suguru's exasperated voice. And not the I think you're being funny but don't want to admit it one, but the You haven't slept or had a proper meal in a week and I'm going to make you one.
Satoru's not big on that one. He tries to pretend he's already asleep.
Shoko shuffles as well to peer at his phone, and promptly smacks his shoulder.
"Satoru!" she hisses.
"Don't hit me," he whines.
"You should've done your shot two weeks ago!"
"Oh," he pauses. "Whoops."
"Whoops," Suguru repeats, sounding faintly strangled. "Fucking whoops."
"That's why you feel like shit, dipshit!"
"First thing tomorrow," Suguru says firmly, shoving Satoru's head back down against his shoulder.
"Fine, fine."
"I miss when you were excited about getting on T for the first time," Shoko says wistfully. "You used to show up at the exact same time, every month." She smacks his shoulder. "Now I have to chase you down and get you to sit still long enough to stab you."
"So mean," Satoru mumbles, feeling decently chastised.
"I'll make sure he's on time for the next one," Suguru promises, making it sound like a threat.
"Whatever," Satoru mutters.
Suguru places a kiss on his forehead, and Satoru sighs happily, feeling Shoko settle back down against his back as well.
He falls asleep, discomfort the furthest thing from his mind.