[ Settling into this strange, domestic peace, Kazuya doesn't question what he's doing. Instead, he navigates everything with ease, including the kiss that Mei presses against his cheek. His eye squints shut, but there's nothing negative about his reaction, and he only hums a sound that's probably the responding you're welcome and lets him hunker in and snuggle up to him while he works.
There's some shuffling on the stovetop, pans getting moved off of burners or being put onto them. Eggs, bacon, a couple fluffy pancakes - the latter of which he's doing, now, covering the pan with the eggs to keep the heat in and leave them as fluffy as Mei's bedhead. How he wound up in this position, he doesn't know, but... he doesn't have any complaints.
They still bicker. They still fight, sometimes. But there's not as much vitriol to it, no intent to douse them both in the figurative kerosine and set them aflame. They make up, like grown adults. There are soft, warm feelings that bud every moment they're like this, and even when they're apart.
Miyuki pretends not to have them, usually, but it's not so bad like this. ]
[ mei barely listens to the sounds of the kitchen--it becomes background noise, the soft clinking and clattering of dishes and pots and pans therapeutic and familiar as mei closes his eyes and takes a long sip of his coffee.
this kind of morning is paradise. it's not like mei would ever say that out loud, because he'd rather die than admit it, but he's so happy. he and kazuya have had their bumps (so, so many bumps) over the years, but mei has always had one endgame goal in mind, even when he wanted to slam the door in his smug face. for all of their old problems, this was what he knew was waiting at the end of the line.
and he loves it, the sappy part of him that he keeps tucked away in full force this early, where he can hide his face in his coffee and focus on the sleepy morning sun from outside.
about halfway through the cup, mei pulls himself away from his warm feelings and general sleepyness and yawns, feeling himself pinken a little as he looks down into his cup. ] ...you're still here. [ he says, not asking, just stating.
[ Disgusting. This is disgusting. Miyuki huffs a soft noise, watching the batter he pours into the pan and waiting for the rough-edged circle to start to bubble. Here he is, standing in Mei's luxurious penthouse, making him a goddamn American breakfast. Their years of high school fights and butting heads aren't completely behind them, but this - he likes this, with their light banter and gentle touches, instead of the no holds barred beatdowns they gave each other, verbal as they were.
He loves the proximity. The touches. The comfort in knowing that he can just reach out and touch Mei, and the tactile affection is welcome and wanted. He loves getting it in return, as skittish as he'd been for so long, like a foreigner in a goddamn strange land.
He'll never say it, the same way Mei says a lot in three words, and he looks at him out of the corner of his eye. ]
No, you're just dreaming. [ Kazuya drawls that, but it's not meanly, as he gives the pan a little jiggle to see if the pancake slides. When it does, he dips his wrist in, flicks it up so that the pancake flips and lands easily on the teflon.
If I was dreaming, you'd be naked. [ mei adds matter of factly, though the sleepy tinge to his voice just makes him sound wry: he's smiling into his coffee as he says it, a little upwards quirk to his mouth.
kazuya doesn't know how long mei loved him; the answer's embarrassing, because even when he wanted to strangle him (which he did) (frequently) mei still had feelings for him, still cared about him, and most of all, still saw him as his endgame. baseball came and went for them both, successful pro careers leading into mei branding his image, to kazuya opening a restaurant that keeps him busy, but even before they were a battery together, mei had always known it was going to end like this.
he likes to say he always gets what he wants. in reality? he has to work for it.
so never say it works just fine for him. he prefers it that way, keeping the parts of him that are sappy and soft hidden underneath layers and layers of his heart, saved for early mornings like this and the nighttimes when kazuya falls fast asleep before him, when he has his mouth open and his head covered and mei still thinks he's obscenely cute.
he watches the pancake flip, blue eyes up, and then down. ] And you'd probably be blowing me on the counter by now, too.
[ Kazuya laughs, a short, amused, almost delighted little sound at the back of his throat. It immediately puts something into his head, but he holds onto it for now, for after breakfast when Mei's mouth is as sweet as the syrup he's thrown together for the pancakes. (he will not be eating it) (mei eating it is the only time he'll taste something so sweet willingly)
Settling into this life, as what most of his younger staff would call old men, was not something he anticipated. They both help with coaching youths sometimes, their experience invaluable, but for the most part... working with baseball professionally is behind them, now, after a glorious road that they traveled together. That, at least, he anticipated, because Mei was always going to wind up the end game there. They've been breathing the same ambitions since they first met, young and knocking their heads together over stats, sharing apple rabbits and him picking at fresh bandaids.
His eyes slide away from Mei to his task, and he adds to the stack of pancakes calmly, flipping it out of the pan and atop the others so he can get the rest together. ]
Not before you've finished your coffee and had breakfast, babe, the counter's too cluttered right now.
[ the pet names, sarcastic or not, still get to mei just a little--his lips quirk as he downs the last of his coffee, though he'd deny that's why until they day he dies.
over the many years that he's known (and loved) kazuya, it feels like this section of their relationship has been a long time coming. mei still wears his championship ring from his two years in the US, still keeps his NPB trophies in the house. his player of the year award sits right next to kazuya's rookie of the year award (a fact that mei was very petulant about; he was pretty sure he deserved rookie of the year, actually, and will still bring it up to this day) in the same cabinet. baseball is not forgotten--it's in everything he does, and there are days that he catches kazuya outside after a hard day at work for them both and they just play, catch ball and pitcher and catcher, the relationship they'd always had combined with the one they'd made of it.
he used to joke that he'd catch kazuya eventually, after all the time he spent avoiding him, and he was exactly right. but, kazuya's a lot more than that. he's mei's best friend, his person, someone who flips a mirror on all his bad traits and forces him to suck them up and get over himself, who nurtures the good and helps quash the bad. he loves him--always has--but perhaps never more than he does now, when baseball ended they both stayed side by side.
sentimentality aside, mei slips behind kazuya to stand on his toes and put his chin on his shoulder. (it's annoying, how kazuya grew just enough to make their height difference more than negligible.) he then hums, playful, and pinches his butt. ] Hope that's a promise. [ ♥ ] Are they ready yet? I'm starving!
[ Much of the reason why Miyuki's of the year award sits next to Mei's, despite him still having most of his baseball memorabilia at his apartment, is because of Mei's petulance about it, just so that it'll always taunt him with its presence. Admittedly, it's not the only thing of his that's wound up here - most of his clothes are scattered throughout the rest of Mei's, and a lot of his cooking equipment has wound up in Mei's kitchen.
He's on his way to moving in fully, and he's not sure yet whether Mei has realized it or not. While a lot of his books are still on display, the rest are in boxes, ready to be moved, as well as the last dredges of his wardrobe. The shit he knows Mei would throw away.
But he's got a mitt here. Most of his time is spent in this penthouse. His championship ring sits in the same spot that Mei puts his when he's not wearing it. Hell, Kazuya even has a spare pair of glasses and a sleep mask in the top drawer of a nightstand.
Maybe he was always ready for the domestic lifestyle, where he knows he loves Mei and knows Mei loves him back.
There's no reaction when he sets his chin on his shoulder, but the pinch makes Kazuya jolt slightly, as he reaches for a plate to start serving Mei, a soft but half-hearted click of his tongue the answer at first. ] I promise nothing to impatient people. Here - [ He turns to give him the plate, but, also, to take his toll for it - a kiss good morning. ]
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There's some shuffling on the stovetop, pans getting moved off of burners or being put onto them. Eggs, bacon, a couple fluffy pancakes - the latter of which he's doing, now, covering the pan with the eggs to keep the heat in and leave them as fluffy as Mei's bedhead. How he wound up in this position, he doesn't know, but... he doesn't have any complaints.
They still bicker. They still fight, sometimes. But there's not as much vitriol to it, no intent to douse them both in the figurative kerosine and set them aflame. They make up, like grown adults. There are soft, warm feelings that bud every moment they're like this, and even when they're apart.
Miyuki pretends not to have them, usually, but it's not so bad like this. ]
no subject
this kind of morning is paradise. it's not like mei would ever say that out loud, because he'd rather die than admit it, but he's so happy. he and kazuya have had their bumps (so, so many bumps) over the years, but mei has always had one endgame goal in mind, even when he wanted to slam the door in his smug face. for all of their old problems, this was what he knew was waiting at the end of the line.
and he loves it, the sappy part of him that he keeps tucked away in full force this early, where he can hide his face in his coffee and focus on the sleepy morning sun from outside.
about halfway through the cup, mei pulls himself away from his warm feelings and general sleepyness and yawns, feeling himself pinken a little as he looks down into his cup. ] ...you're still here. [ he says, not asking, just stating.
kazuya stayed. ]
no subject
He loves the proximity. The touches. The comfort in knowing that he can just reach out and touch Mei, and the tactile affection is welcome and wanted. He loves getting it in return, as skittish as he'd been for so long, like a foreigner in a goddamn strange land.
He'll never say it, the same way Mei says a lot in three words, and he looks at him out of the corner of his eye. ]
No, you're just dreaming. [ Kazuya drawls that, but it's not meanly, as he gives the pan a little jiggle to see if the pancake slides. When it does, he dips his wrist in, flicks it up so that the pancake flips and lands easily on the teflon.
Of course I did, is what he's saying. ]
no subject
kazuya doesn't know how long mei loved him; the answer's embarrassing, because even when he wanted to strangle him (which he did) (frequently) mei still had feelings for him, still cared about him, and most of all, still saw him as his endgame. baseball came and went for them both, successful pro careers leading into mei branding his image, to kazuya opening a restaurant that keeps him busy, but even before they were a battery together, mei had always known it was going to end like this.
he likes to say he always gets what he wants. in reality? he has to work for it.
so never say it works just fine for him. he prefers it that way, keeping the parts of him that are sappy and soft hidden underneath layers and layers of his heart, saved for early mornings like this and the nighttimes when kazuya falls fast asleep before him, when he has his mouth open and his head covered and mei still thinks he's obscenely cute.
he watches the pancake flip, blue eyes up, and then down. ] And you'd probably be blowing me on the counter by now, too.
no subject
Settling into this life, as what most of his younger staff would call old men, was not something he anticipated. They both help with coaching youths sometimes, their experience invaluable, but for the most part... working with baseball professionally is behind them, now, after a glorious road that they traveled together. That, at least, he anticipated, because Mei was always going to wind up the end game there. They've been breathing the same ambitions since they first met, young and knocking their heads together over stats, sharing apple rabbits and him picking at fresh bandaids.
His eyes slide away from Mei to his task, and he adds to the stack of pancakes calmly, flipping it out of the pan and atop the others so he can get the rest together. ]
Not before you've finished your coffee and had breakfast, babe, the counter's too cluttered right now.
no subject
over the many years that he's known (and loved) kazuya, it feels like this section of their relationship has been a long time coming. mei still wears his championship ring from his two years in the US, still keeps his NPB trophies in the house. his player of the year award sits right next to kazuya's rookie of the year award (a fact that mei was very petulant about; he was pretty sure he deserved rookie of the year, actually, and will still bring it up to this day) in the same cabinet. baseball is not forgotten--it's in everything he does, and there are days that he catches kazuya outside after a hard day at work for them both and they just play, catch ball and pitcher and catcher, the relationship they'd always had combined with the one they'd made of it.
he used to joke that he'd catch kazuya eventually, after all the time he spent avoiding him, and he was exactly right. but, kazuya's a lot more than that. he's mei's best friend, his person, someone who flips a mirror on all his bad traits and forces him to suck them up and get over himself, who nurtures the good and helps quash the bad. he loves him--always has--but perhaps never more than he does now, when baseball ended they both stayed side by side.
sentimentality aside, mei slips behind kazuya to stand on his toes and put his chin on his shoulder. (it's annoying, how kazuya grew just enough to make their height difference more than negligible.) he then hums, playful, and pinches his butt. ] Hope that's a promise. [ ♥ ] Are they ready yet? I'm starving!
no subject
He's on his way to moving in fully, and he's not sure yet whether Mei has realized it or not. While a lot of his books are still on display, the rest are in boxes, ready to be moved, as well as the last dredges of his wardrobe. The shit he knows Mei would throw away.
But he's got a mitt here. Most of his time is spent in this penthouse. His championship ring sits in the same spot that Mei puts his when he's not wearing it. Hell, Kazuya even has a spare pair of glasses and a sleep mask in the top drawer of a nightstand.
Maybe he was always ready for the domestic lifestyle, where he knows he loves Mei and knows Mei loves him back.
There's no reaction when he sets his chin on his shoulder, but the pinch makes Kazuya jolt slightly, as he reaches for a plate to start serving Mei, a soft but half-hearted click of his tongue the answer at first. ] I promise nothing to impatient people. Here - [ He turns to give him the plate, but, also, to take his toll for it - a kiss good morning. ]