Work Text:
"You have an eyelash," Ramuda comments, glancing up from his sewing.
The eyelash is clinging to Jakurai's cheek, a single centimetre below his eye, and it's troublesome.
"I believe I have more than one," Jakurai says, not raising his eyes from his book.
"This one," Ramuda pulls his needle through another stitch, and holds up the shirt to make sure his seam is even, "is on your cheek."
"Is it doing anything particularly remarkable?"
"I'm not sure," Ramuda says with more honesty than he usually has for anything. "But I'm keeping watch." He wants to lick it off and eat it, somehow. But that would be ridiculous, and not the kind of ridiculous that Ramuda surrounds himself in, so he doesn't.
"Keep me posted."
Moments like this remind Ramuda of how much he loves Jakurai.
He hasn't told him that he loves him, not yet, but he will, when the moment's right. He's never told anyone he loves them before. He didn't think he would ever love anyone.
But then he'd kissed Jakurai. And slept with Jakurai. And woken up to Jakurai. And he'd found himself wanting to do that forever.
Jakurai gathers calm around himself and Ramuda delights in spinning it into a cloak to cover him too.
Jakurai turns a page in his book, and Ramuda considers taking it out of his hands, closing it so he loses his place, and climbing into his lap. But he has his sewing, and he might feel a little bad if he loses his place.
So instead he asks, "What are you reading?"
Jakurai turns the cover so Ramuda can read it. It's in Roman characters — English, probably — and Ramuda tries sounding it out.
He gets the first two words well enough—New England— but the others aren't familiar, and when he finishes he catches Jakurai silently laughing. His shoulders shake and his mouth twitches as he tries to keep his expression neutral.
"New England Journal of Medicine," Jakurai repeats, his pronunciation smooth and round.
Ramuda's heart swells but he puts on a pout. "You should teach me English, Sensei!"
Jakurai raises an eyebrow, eyes dancing, "And what would you use English for?"
"Picking up girls!"
Jakurai chuckles. "I see."
"Mm hm! Cute English girls who will be so impressed with my many talents that they'll whisk me away to their beds!"
"While mine remains cold without you? I don't think I like that," Jakurai says, but not unkindly. "Perhaps I'll have to whisk you away to bed myself."
Ramuda beams. "Perhaps you will."
Jakurai closes his book, and Ramuda puts his sewing aside. Jakurai offers his hand, Ramuda ignores it and pulls him down by his tie for a kiss.
They have plenty of time.