Rating/Warnings: R for repayment.
Summary: Miyata is drunk and needs a favor, and Tamamori humors him a lot.
AN: For diamondsjack, because she sends me amazing mail! Also despite the fact that I've used the Japanese train system multiple times, i still managed to fuck up all the details like twice. Hopefully it's all fixed now.
Tamamori is puttering around his room, not really going to bed yet, but getting there, when his phone rings. His ears perk immediately, since the “O Ha Rock” ring tone can only mean one person. Tamamori scoops his phone off his desk and thumbs the answer button, trying to force the stupid grin off his face because it will totally show in his voice.
“It’s Tama-chan,” he says.
“Tama-chan!” Miyata exclaims, voice loud and rather slurred. “Tama-chan sounds happy, ne! It’s cause it’s me calling, right?”
“Hmph,” Tamamori replies, only now remembering that Miyata had told him he’d be out drinking with some of the older members of Ebikisu. It doesn’t bother him really, but he’s so frustratingly close to being legal that he can’t keep from commenting, “Sounds like you had fun without me.”
“Aw, Tama-chaaaaan,” Miyata whines. “That’s not true! I missed you! Because Tama-chan’s my favorite person in the whoooole world!”
“Oh god,” Tamamori slaps a hand to his forehead. “You’re drunk dialing me.”
“I am not!” Miyata says, even more loudly. “I’m just calling you! To say how much I like you!”
“You are so drunk dialing me.” Tamamori rubs at his head.
“And maybe to ask you a favor,” Miyata adds sheepishly. “Just one, eeeeeensy favor? Ne, ne, ‘cause I’m your favorite too, right, Tama-chan?”
“Favor?” Tamamori asks fatalistically, eyeing his bed with longing.
“Maa, well,” Miyata’s voice grows sheepish, “my train pass kinda ran out of money, and I must have left my wallet somewhere, so I’m stuck behind the gate at my station. Can you come and get me?”
“Miyacchi…” Tamamori sighs, but he’s already reaching for his jeans. “Why didn’t you call your parents, if you’re the whole way to your station?”
“They’re away,” Miyata replies morosely. “I’m watching the house. But hey, you can stay over! It’ll be fun!”
“Don’t try to make this sound like some awesome offer,” Tamamori scolds. “Do you have any idea how cold it is out there? How long it’ll take me to get there? And what do you mean, left it somewhere? Did your wallet get stolen or did you just lose it?”
“I dunno.” Miyata says sadly. “Sorry, Tama-chan.”
“Look, just stay right there, okay?” Tamamori’s voice softens. “It’ll take me a little while to get there.”
“I love you, yo,” Miyata says fervently, and Tamamori clicks his tongue and hangs up on him.
An hour later, Tamamori is shivering and maybe a touch cranky when he finally gets off the train at Miyata’s station and heads up the stairs.
Miyata spots him immediately.
“TAMA-CHAN!” he exclaims, waving wildly. Tamamori cringes, glancing around, but it’s late enough that there doesn’t seem to be anybody who will recognize them around. “You came!”
“I said I would,” Tamamori shoves his hands in his pockets, feeling his cheeks heat at the way Miyata is beaming at him in open adoration, obviously still drunk. “What do you look so thrilled for anyway?”
“Fumi-chan called!” Miyata grins, waving his phone to demonstrate. “He said they found my wallet! Isn’t that great?”
“You really are drunk if you think it’s good news that A.B.C. has your wallet,” Tamamori says flatly. He grabs Miyata’s hand and drops a couple five hundred yen coins in it. “Come on, let’s go already, I’m freezing.”
“Hmm,” Miyata frowns, seeming to think about that as they head for the fare adjuster, but his frown quickly slides back into a silly smile after only a few steps. “But Tama-chan came to save me! You’re really great~.”
“Stop that,” Tamamori orders as he waits around for Miyata to fix up his pass, then turns to lead the way back to the gate.
But Miyata doesn’t stop it, just sidles closer as soon as they are through the gate, close enough to keep on telling Tamamori how amazing he is the entire way back to Miyata’s house. Tamamori feels like his face is on fire, and no amount of hissing can get Miyata to shut up.
“And you know what else?” Miyata says as he kicks off his shoes in the genkan.
“Oh my god, will you please sober up?” Tamamori begs, fanning his face as he toes off his own shoes. He grunts when Miyata throws heavy arms around his neck suddenly, grinning up at him.
“I really love you,” Miyata informs him, grinning like an idiot. “A LOT. More than my skates, or, um…” Miyata makes a face of concentration for a moment, then shrugs. “More than anything, really. Tama-chan is my most precious thing!”
“Miyachiiiii,” Tamamori whines, squirming, but Miyata leans harder against him until Tamamori’s shoulders bump the wall beside him, and then Miyata leans in to kiss him clumsily. Tamamori lets him for a few moments, Miyata’s weight good and familiar against him.
And then he pushes Miyata back with a grimace because the way the inside of Miyata’s mouth tastes makes Tamamori kind of glad he hasn’t reached his majority yet.
“Upstairs,” Tamamori commands, spinning Miyata around by the shoulders and pushing him towards the stairs. “Go brush your teeth!”
While Miyata complies, Tamamori flops face-down on Miyata’s bed, groaning in pleasure. It’s been nearly two hours since he was good and ready to climb into his own bed, so it’s a pleasure to sink into the soft mattress, the blankets warm and smelling of Miyata. Tamamori takes a deep breath, and in spite of the inconvenience and the cold and the public displays of idiocy, he’s not really sorry he came out tonight.
“Man, you look reeeeally good like that.”
Tamamori rolls onto his side to eye Miyata. “You aren’t going to stop that, are you?”
“I would if you really wanted me to,” Miyata says, crawling onto his bed and tucking himself in against Tamamori’s side, the only way they’ll both fit. “But you dooon’t.”
“What do you know anyway?” Tamamori grumbles, lifting his arm to let Miyata snuggle close, then letting it fall across Miyata’s chest.
“I know that you wouldn’t spend an hour and exchange trains four times for just anybody,” Miyata says, reaching up to scratch fingers against Tamamori’s scalp. “So it must be love, ne.”
“Yeah,” Tamamori lets his eyes shut to just slits under the pleasure of the touch, “guess it must be. Or brain damage. Say some more embarrassing stuff, I know you want to.”
“I’d have waited in that station for you for hours and hours,” Miyata says without hesitation. “Until dawn. Maybe forever.”
“Yup, just like that.” Tamamori yawns and lets his eyes slip the rest of the way shut. “That’s my Miyacchi. Go on, get it all out of your system.”
“Your Miyacchi,” Miyata repeats, fingers tightening in Tamamori’s hair. “Feels really good when you say stuff like that. Know what else feels really good?”
Miyata rolls over so that they’re facing each other, their bodies rubbing against each other from knee to chest with every breath. Tamamori opens his eyes to raise an eyebrow. “What else feels really good?”
“Take your pants off and I’ll show you,” Miyata offers, making Tamamori chuckle as he pulls away to sit up.
By the time Tamamori tosses his jeans onto Miyata’s floor, Miyata has only managed to get his shirt tangled around his head, and is flailing drunkenly from inside it. Taking pity on him, Tamamori helps him yank it off, then pushes him back against his pillows to tug his jeans off.
“Maybe I should show you something instead,” Tamamori offers, settling in between Miyata’s legs and getting comfortable. He wraps a hand around Miyata’s cock and gives him a slow stroke, and Miyata leans his head back until it thunks against the wood of his headboard. “And you know, since we’re alone…” Tamamori gives Miyata a sharp smile, eyes hooded, “…you can talk all you want.”
“You look so good like that,” Miyata groans, leaning up on one elbow to get his other hand back into Tamamori’s hair. Tamamori slips mouth over the tip of Miyata’s cock, slow, tasting. “So hot. Mmm, you’re gorgeous…”
Tamamori gives a little growl of embarrassment, but the vibration of it just makes Miyata whimper harder, makes him stutter even more ridiculous statements, until Tamamori has him so close to the edge that he can barely talk at all in between gasps for air.
“Yuta,” Miyata warns in the end, shaking under Tamamori’s hands and fingers tight in his hair. Tamamori sinks his own fingers into Miyata’s hips to keep him still and sucks him harder until Miyata’s whole body tenses and he comes over Tamamori’s tongue.
“Toshiya,” Tamamori answers when his mouth is free again. His jaw’s a little stiff, but it’s worth it when Miyata hauls him up by the armpits and kisses him fiercely, heedless of his own taste on Tamamori’s lips.
“Tell me what you want,” Miyata says, pulling back just far enough for the words to come out of his mouth. “I’ll do anything you want.”
“I just want you,” Tamamori says, embarrassing himself a little, but he’s too turned on to blush properly. He doesn’t want to move, is what he means, won’t last long enough to make anything else worth it when he can just get Miyata’s hand on himself and go on kissing him.
The alcohol must be wearing off finally, because Miyata squeezes Tamamori’s cock exactly right, without any fumbling. Or maybe it’s just familiarity, but either way he works Tamamori in firm, even strokes, good enough to make Tamamori dizzy with the feel of it. Tamamori comes with a cry, mouth still pressed against Miyata’s, and tears his mouth away to moan into Miyata’s shoulder as he shivers himself out.
Afterwards when they’re under the blankets and tangled together in a warm knot, Tamamori is relaxed enough to comment that they didn’t really make good use of the fact that they can be as loud as they want tonight.
“You’ll wake me up in a couple hours for more sex anyway,” Miyata says bluntly, making Tamamori flush and slap at Miyata’s arms where they’re curled around his chest. Miyata just tightens his grip and nibbles on the back of Tamamori’s neck until Tamamori goes boneless against him.
“Hmph,” Tamamori says, defeated, eyes already falling shut. “If I wake you back up, will you say a bunch more embarrassing stuff?”
“Probably.” Miyata’s nose is buried in Tamamori’s hair, and it tickles his skin when Miyata breaths. “Tell you you’re hot, that you feel good. That I love you.”
“Hm.” Tamamori falls silent. It’s peaceful, comfortable, and soon enough Miyata’s breath evens out as he falls asleep, although his grip on Tamamori doesn’t slacken.
Tamamori gives it to the count of a hundred before he shifts to shoulder Miyata awake and ask if he wants to go again.