Definitions of Relaxation

“ARGH!” Fujisaki threw the sheets he’d been writing on across the room, scattering them everywhere in a flurry of white paper. Shindou’s lyrics were hopeless. Fujisaki knew he was better with a keyboard than a pen, so it was a complete mystery to him why he’d agreed to help fix them. He knew enough to know they were crap, and not enough to fix them. Why had he said he’d fix them, anyway? Oh, right. Hiro had been shirtless when he asked. Fujisaki silently cursed the sorry timing that had a heat wave hit just as the air conditioning broke. Not only did it make working conditions horrible, it meant that Hiro had taken to wandering around half-naked, which meant a different type of heat was decimating Fujisaki’s ability to work. Fujisaki buried his face in his hands, pathetically grateful that no one was around to see him break down. There was only so much he could take, and Shindou’s lyrics on top of relentless sexual frustration had finally done him in. Sighing, he stood and began gathering the papers together again. He couldn’t work any more today, but that was no reason to leave the room untidy. “Suguru? You okay?” Well, fuck. “I’m fine, Hiro-san. Just dropped the papers.” Fujisaki continued gathering the sheets together, determinedly not looking in the other boy’s direction, because he was bound to be shirtless again. And a shirtless Hiro automatically destroyed his ability to think straight. To be honest, Hiro in general wasn’t good for his intellectual abilities, but Hiro shirtless completely destroyed all coherent thought. “Here, let me help—” “No, no, I’m fine, really!” Fujisaki blurted, jerking backwards and oh damn, he was looking at Hiro now, and Hiro was— Hiro was wearing a shirt. Fujisaki stopped, and stared. “Didn’t you say it was too hot for any sane person to be fully clothed?” he asked. Hiro grinned. “And it was, until I found. . . .” he trailed off, looking at Fujisaki thoughtfully. Fujisaki squirmed a little inside as Hiro’s gaze passed over his sweaty hair, flushed face and damp shirt that stuck uncomfortably to his skin in more than one place. By contrast, Hiro looked cool and collected, and most definitely not dying of heat and stress. Hiro nodded once, and grabbed Fujisaki’s hand. “Come with me,” he said, already walking towards the door and dragging the other boy behind him. “No, I have to finish the lyrics—” “The lyrics can wait,” Hiro said cheerfully, walking so quickly down the stiflingly humid hallway that Fujisaki had to half-jog to keep up. “This is far more important. Ah, here we are,” he added, pushing a door open and hustling Fujisaki through. Fujisaki got as far as, “Hiro-san, this is the old part of the building, I don’t—” and stopped dead as a blast of cool air hit his body. Hiro brushed past him, closing the door behind them. “I found this room earlier today,” he said. “Like you said, this is the old part of the building so hardly anyone comes here any more, and they’ve all forgotten than the air conditioning system in here is separate from the new one in the rest of the building. Not to mention on a different power supply.” Hiro stretched, pulling his shirt taut against his body, and smiled at Fujisaki. “You looked like you could do with a break.” “Ah – Hiro-san—” Fujisaki stopped. “Thank you.” “Don’t mention it.” The room must once have been a break area for the staff, Fujisaki decided, looking around. There were several couches dotted around the room, and a small counter area in one corner. It had obviously been out of use for quite a while – a thin layer of dust coated the room, and there was a fridge-shaped hole at the near end of the counters – but it was blessedly cool, and felt like paradise. Hiro walked over to one of the couches, flopping onto it with one leg over the armrest and another on the floor. He waved one arm in the general direction of the couch facing it. “Sit down, relax,” he said. “You don’t have to work all the time.” Fujisaki snorted. “With lyrics like Shindou’s, I think I do.” He followed Hiro’s instructions, however, settling cautiously onto the soft, cool sofa. They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the blissfully cool air. Hiro was slumped on the couch opposite Fujisaki, eyes closed, one arm stretched over his head and the other resting on his stomach. His shirt had ridden up a little, exposing Hiro’s lightly-muscled stomach. Fujisaki swallowed and sat ramrod straight, determinedly looking anywhere in the room that didn’t contain one Nakano Hiroshi. “The whole point of this is for you to relax, you know.” “I am relaxed.” Hiro rolled his eyes and sat up. “You’re sitting like someone’s shoved a broom up your arse. That’s not relaxed.” Fujisaki’s gaze shot back to the redhead, and he glowered. “Pray tell me what you define as ‘relaxed’, then,” he snapped. “Lie down,” Hiro said, nothing but patience in his tone. “What?” “Lie down,” Hiro repeated. “Like I was.” Fujisaki raised an eyebrow. “And that will relax me, will it?” “It’ll be more relaxing than sitting how you are at the minute.” Fujisaki rolled his eyes, and moved with exaggerated care to lie down on the bed, arms crossed over his chest and eyes closed. “Is this better, your Majesty?” Warm hands closed over his wrists, gently uncrossing his arms and shifting them into a more comfortable position. Fujisaki opened his eyes slowly, barely breathing as he realised that Hiro was leaning over him, barely a foot between them. Hiro glanced at his face, and smiled. “Much better,” he said, voice low and near purring, and Fujisaki couldn’t help it – he shivered. “Suguru?” Hiro asked, frowning. “Are you all right?” “F-fine,” Fujisaki responded, cursing the slight hesitation in his voice. He would be fine, if only Hiro would move away— Hiro wasn’t moving. Instead, he was staring intently at Fujisaki’s face, smile gone and eyes narrowed and that hair falling around his face. He looked so serious, and yet so fucking sexy it made Fujisaki’s breath catch. And then Hiro kissed him. For a moment, Fujisaki didn’t move. Then Hiro’s tongue touched his lips and he opened his mouth with a gasp, sinking his fingers into Hiro’s hair and oh God they were kissing, wet and sloppy and fucking wonderful, and even though the room was air conditioned it was suddenly far too hot. Eventually, Hiro drew away, his mouth wet and slick and breath coming hard. He grinned suddenly, and said, “Relaxed now?” Fujisaki felt the laugh bubbling up in his throat, and didn’t even feel like trying to stop it. “Depends on your definition,” he said, through the giggles.

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