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writetomyheart2019-08-21 06:56 am
clearlykero.livejournal.com) wrote in writetomyheart2019-08-21 06:56 am
[team two] the merits of self-deception
yells sorry I am late, I lost track of the days! this is mahouka fic in which tatsuya and masaki are engaged because... i want them to be SHRUGS
"Dismissed," says Masaki to his mobile, sighing, then hangs up without waiting for a reply. He tosses it onto the bed and just looks at it for a moment. The shower turns on in the bathroom, a soothing patter of sound that reminds him he's on holiday with his fiancé and he doesn't have to take calls from his subordinates if he doesn't want to, especially not when those subordinates keep calling him over things that don't even matter. If he didn't know better he'd think they were making fun of him.
He shakes himself and walks over to the balcony, pulling the door open with more force than strictly necessary. A breeze coming in raises little goosepimples on his skin; he's going to suffer for not listening to George's nagging about warmer clothes. The cool gold of early morning sunrise peeks between the skyscrapers like a watercolour. Somewhere outside there are birds singing cheerfully in the trees, the sound pleasantly different from the songbirds in Japan. He closes his eyes and breathes it all in.
Their room is just close enough to street level that Masaki eventually catches the scent of fresh croissants wafting up from a nearby bakery, making his stomach rumble and reminding him that he hasn't eaten since before the flight to New York (he hates plane food). He opens his eyes, frowning down at his stomach.
"Shall I call room service?" Tatsuya's voice from behind him, sounding mildly amused. Masaki coughs in a vain hope of hiding his embarrassment and turns to see Tatsuya wrapping a towel around his waist and the remnants of steam escaping the open bathroom door.
"If you're hungry, go ahead," says Masaki, with as much dignity as he can muster while he's dressed in threadbare boxers and Tatsuya's old university sweater. Tatsuya doesn't say anything, but his raised eyebrows as he crosses the room to the phone speak all the words necessary.
Usually, Masaki would have a retort ready, because Tatsuya wins at too many other things for Masaki to allow him a win here, but-- but the fact is, this is the first time they're sharing a room by themselves, and in a completely different country from anyone in the Clans right now, and that coupled with Tatsuya's unfair lack of clothing is driving Masaki to helpless distraction. His eyes track the path of a stray water droplet sliding teasingly down the curve of Tatsuya's back to slip under the towel, across skin that Masaki hasn't seen before. He wants.
"I asked for some French toast," says Tatsuya, replacing the hotel phone in its stand and jarring him out of his budding fantasy. Then he turns to face Masaki, who is promptly struck dumb all over again by the sight of his bare chest. Tatsuya tilts his head to the side, studying him curiously. "Is there something wrong?"
"What?" Masaki's voice comes out higher than he wanted it to.
"You're staring," Tatsuya points out.
"I'm not," Masaki lies. He strides pointedly to the bathroom, ignoring Tatsuya's bafflement, and locks himself in. And then he proceeds to finally give in to the urges that have overtaken all his waking hours of late and that Tatsuya obviously doesn't have. Why is this his life.
baton touch![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shinysylver!
"Dismissed," says Masaki to his mobile, sighing, then hangs up without waiting for a reply. He tosses it onto the bed and just looks at it for a moment. The shower turns on in the bathroom, a soothing patter of sound that reminds him he's on holiday with his fiancé and he doesn't have to take calls from his subordinates if he doesn't want to, especially not when those subordinates keep calling him over things that don't even matter. If he didn't know better he'd think they were making fun of him.
He shakes himself and walks over to the balcony, pulling the door open with more force than strictly necessary. A breeze coming in raises little goosepimples on his skin; he's going to suffer for not listening to George's nagging about warmer clothes. The cool gold of early morning sunrise peeks between the skyscrapers like a watercolour. Somewhere outside there are birds singing cheerfully in the trees, the sound pleasantly different from the songbirds in Japan. He closes his eyes and breathes it all in.
Their room is just close enough to street level that Masaki eventually catches the scent of fresh croissants wafting up from a nearby bakery, making his stomach rumble and reminding him that he hasn't eaten since before the flight to New York (he hates plane food). He opens his eyes, frowning down at his stomach.
"Shall I call room service?" Tatsuya's voice from behind him, sounding mildly amused. Masaki coughs in a vain hope of hiding his embarrassment and turns to see Tatsuya wrapping a towel around his waist and the remnants of steam escaping the open bathroom door.
"If you're hungry, go ahead," says Masaki, with as much dignity as he can muster while he's dressed in threadbare boxers and Tatsuya's old university sweater. Tatsuya doesn't say anything, but his raised eyebrows as he crosses the room to the phone speak all the words necessary.
Usually, Masaki would have a retort ready, because Tatsuya wins at too many other things for Masaki to allow him a win here, but-- but the fact is, this is the first time they're sharing a room by themselves, and in a completely different country from anyone in the Clans right now, and that coupled with Tatsuya's unfair lack of clothing is driving Masaki to helpless distraction. His eyes track the path of a stray water droplet sliding teasingly down the curve of Tatsuya's back to slip under the towel, across skin that Masaki hasn't seen before. He wants.
"I asked for some French toast," says Tatsuya, replacing the hotel phone in its stand and jarring him out of his budding fantasy. Then he turns to face Masaki, who is promptly struck dumb all over again by the sight of his bare chest. Tatsuya tilts his head to the side, studying him curiously. "Is there something wrong?"
"What?" Masaki's voice comes out higher than he wanted it to.
"You're staring," Tatsuya points out.
"I'm not," Masaki lies. He strides pointedly to the bathroom, ignoring Tatsuya's bafflement, and locks himself in. And then he proceeds to finally give in to the urges that have overtaken all his waking hours of late and that Tatsuya obviously doesn't have. Why is this his life.
baton touch
shinysylver!