丸井ブン太 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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synergetic2025-02-15 11:39 pm
volleygenius) wrote in synergetic2025-02-15 11:39 pm
Entry tags:
Drunken Confessions
The day was already impossibly long at 2. By the time he puts Yukiko to bed, it's felt like a small eternity. But the kitchen is clean, everyone has bathed, the toys are put away, the homework is checked, and the foreheads have been kissed. He even got in a good conversation with Keita about becoming a big brother after bedtime story.
Frankly, he's so tired he could go straight to bed, but drinking with Yukimura on the couch has become a cherished nighttime ritual, and he isn't about to start skipping something so hard-earned and enjoyable now. Never mind the value it had in maintaining good rapport; that was never something to take for granted.
So to the couch he goes, where Yukimura is already waiting with Hima tucked comfortably in her bassinet by his side. For a moment, Bunta is struck all over again with admiration for this man who generously opened his home to them and who has given Yukiko and Keita the same patience and care that he gives Himawari. He didn't have to come home and straight from the genkan target handling the crying toddler instead of the snuggly and content infant he'd missed all day. He could have taken Hima and left Bunta to juggle Keita's meltdown and cooking dinner. Instead, he went to the fire. He's a good father and a good person.
"We made it....!" Bunta says with as much celebration as fatigue and flops down beside him.
Frankly, he's so tired he could go straight to bed, but drinking with Yukimura on the couch has become a cherished nighttime ritual, and he isn't about to start skipping something so hard-earned and enjoyable now. Never mind the value it had in maintaining good rapport; that was never something to take for granted.
So to the couch he goes, where Yukimura is already waiting with Hima tucked comfortably in her bassinet by his side. For a moment, Bunta is struck all over again with admiration for this man who generously opened his home to them and who has given Yukiko and Keita the same patience and care that he gives Himawari. He didn't have to come home and straight from the genkan target handling the crying toddler instead of the snuggly and content infant he'd missed all day. He could have taken Hima and left Bunta to juggle Keita's meltdown and cooking dinner. Instead, he went to the fire. He's a good father and a good person.
"We made it....!" Bunta says with as much celebration as fatigue and flops down beside him.
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The idea was surprisingly exciting. But it was hard to really devote his attention to it when said father was a constant distraction-- not that it was entirely burdensome, being distracted by someone he enjoyed looking at, someone who seemed to fit so seamlessly into his previously-disused kitchen.
"Maybe Yukiko-chan would enjoy it too," he said idly. She seemed to look thoughtful, but didn't commit.
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Over the next half-hour, eggs, sausages, and many varieties of toast made their way to the table. Yukiko got her traditional cinnamon toast baked separately in the oven while the other slices cooked in a skillet as three grilled sandwiches filled with sweetened cream cheese, each topped with peach slices and maple drizzle, banana with caramel, or strawberries and cream. A modest stack of French toast accompanied them for Hima and anyone else interested in seconds. Personally, Bunta thought it came out pretty well. Sure, it was a little strange having a grilled sandwich of sugar for breakfast, but it tasted like a cinnamon roll.
He did cut off one bite from the middle of his and pass it to Yukiko in a small dish. It was okay to like what you liked, but it was important to be comfortable trying new things, too. You never knew when you might be surprised with a new favorite!
Speaking of new things... He's pretty sure he isn't imagining the looks he's getting from Yukimura. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't sneaking a few himself. Things took a real turn last night, didn't they? Of course, he doesn't really remember much about it except that there was a kiss and they slept on the couch together until Keita woke them.
It feels strange in a way. His heart hasn't stopped loving Leia so much as it's made room for a new chapter-- just as it did over a decade earlier in reverse. Time really is a circle.
Yukimura has done so much for his family these last months, though. He's given Jackal his life back, and he's given Yukiko and Keita a warm, safe home. It means more than Bunta will ever be able to put in words. More than that, he's become a staple of daily life, providing structure and economic stability. Most of all, he's been a companion and teammate in tackling life's needs and struggles. Life has just been better since they joined forces. Referring to everyone in the home as family hadn't been accidental or deliberate, but simply natural.
As the day progresses and finally winds to a close, it's once again time for their celebration with drinks. He feels an unusual edge of something this time. Nervousness? Excitement? Something like that. He isn't going to bother trying to name it. It's their first real chance to see each other and talk since... everything the night before.
After getting Yukiko tucked in, he comes back downstairs and, instead of sitting down, starts wordlessly collecting the booze set-up into his arms.
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He didn't need the answer to be one way or the other, he thought. He wasn't affected by a preference. He couldn't tell which answer would be more awkward to move forward with, if he was being honest, but that in no way swayed the preference he did not have.
He was simply driven by a desire for a final answer, and to put the whole question to bed. He was not at all anticipating getting themselves to bed. He had no preference, not until he saw Marui getting ready for their little evening ritual and thought about how cozy it was, how familiar it became.
He moved across the room as if possessed and pinned Marui to the liquor cabinet.
"Either you kiss me or we never bring this up again."
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Seems Yukimura is thinking the same thing, and actioned with his unmistakable personal brand of overwhelming confidence and aloof command. The same energy that helped him dominate the courts and ensnare the hearts of an entire school. Bunta himself had been no exception. The pin startles him, but despite its aggressiveness it sparks only appreciation. Knowing what you wanted was attractive.
Eyes fearless and engaged, he wriggles a hand free to cup around Yukimura's jaw and nape.
"Well, that'd be a shame. I hope that isn't all you're expecting, though."
With a gentle pull forward, Bunta tilts his head and leans in with his answer.
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Once he actually has Marui's lips on his instinct is to take more, keep going but--
"I don't need Keita to find you undressed and on the floor tomorrow," he said wryly, reluctant to pause but feeling the necessity keenly.
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Bunta can't help but laugh at the returned affirmation, though.
"You're right. Meet you upstairs with these?" He asks with indication to the bottles. "Or do you not want them?"
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And what is this about meeting? Yukimura tugs on his sleeve. "Or you could just come with me," he suggested, in the same tone he might have once said 'Or you could just win the match.'
The 'immediately' is implied about as subtly as a truck.
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"Alcohol dulls the senses anyway," Bunta remarks as everything he'd gathered is collectively set back to rest on the table, and Yukimura leads them up the stairs together.
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"How bad is this going to be tomorrow?"
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The laugh is pretty adorable. He's nervous, isn't he? Bunta would be lying if he said he wasn't, too. It's a good nervous, though. Recognition of what these changes mean for them and for their children. What it will mean for him on a personal level. He takes a half-step into Yukimura's personal space, placing a hand on his arm as he does.
"I dunno. I'm thinking about how good it's gonna be."
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He leans in closer, almost pressing their foreheads together but stopping just short.
But he pushes past it, ignores the perfect thing to say he hasn't thought of yet, and kisses Bunta again.
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In that first moment of revisiting the warm press of Yukimura's mouth, this time with crystal clear sobriety, memories of Leia come flooding to the surface. It's impossible not to be reminded; Yukimura is the first person in nearly fifteen years he's kissed like this that hasn't been her, and his grip on Yukimura's arm tightens in response.
He's ready for it without the blunting effect of alcohol this time. This moment of closure and transition, where he remembers their intimacy, how much he cherished her, and how happy he is for the time they had. He remembers, and then releases his love for her to the era it belongs. It's neither sorrow nor longing for the past that wets his eyes as he lets go, and that memory cedes to the one he's making now.
Yukimura. Frankly, Bunta had forgotten just how it felt to ache for him like this. It's not that he'd forgotten the torch once existed-- he simply lives his life in the present. Even since moving in with him and spending months seeing him even more regularly than he did in school, he's been living as a widower, not as a single person looking to get involved again. It's a psychological weight he's carried so long he'd stopped noticing it, until suddenly it was lifted.
He kisses Yukimura hungrily, pulling himself in tight against the man's chest. Peripherally, he notices how flat and firm his body feels, a strange but not unwelcome change from fleshy softness and curves. Without breaking the kiss, he pivots and gently tugs Yukimura towards the bed, eager to discover what else beyond the obvious is different.