Fics like Izumo, 1992

The thing about Eiji is that he’s kind of bossy. He’s a flurry of color in the morning, gathering errant objects scattered across their living room (“Ash, I told you to just buy a bookshelf.”) cajoling Ash out of bed at ungodly hours and plating a pungent breakfast (“Don’t make faces at the pickled vegetables, they’re good for you!”) insisting on a morning jog that Ash enjoys more than he can admit, laughing and free in the cool ocean air. Today, Eiji has a different mission. They play-wrestle among piles of Ash’s ungraded papers and textbooks as Buddy snores in the corner. “Saturdays are for relaxing,” Eiji lectures him, determined and all the more adorable for it. “Take a break. You can always work later.” “And if I don’t, you’ll just kick my ass, is that it?” Ash teases, and he lets Eiji push him back on the sofa with a breathless laugh. “I win!” He’s smug, hips slotted over Ash’s, hands spread out on his chest. “I can live with that,” Ash says. His hands slip over Eiji’s ass, squeezing shamelessly. Color rises to Eiji’s cheeks, and he’s still trying very hard to look stern. He’s bossy, until he isn’t. - Ash and Eiji, seven years later.

Fics like Izumo, 1992

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