Haru rubbed his eyes under the harsh office fluorescent lights. The clock on his computer read 7:12 PM—another day bleeding into evening. The open-plan floor was mostly empty now, just a few stubborn souls like him still typing, the hum of air conditioning the only company left. His desk was chaos: spreadsheets open, coffee rings on papers, a photo of Ichigo grinning with Chris in the background pinned to the partition like a lucky charm.
Today had been brutal. The new branch project deadline loomed—two months of back-to-back meetings, endless data crunching, and a boss who thought urgent meant yesterday. Haru's sleeves were rolled to the elbows, dark circles deeper than usual, but he kept grinding. This promotion could mean better pay, more stability—money that could finally crush Chris's debt for good.
His phone buzzed. Chris.
Chris: You still at the office? Ichigo's asking for Papa's hug before bed. I told him you're saving the world with numbers 😏
Haru smiled, thumbs quick.
Haru: Tell him Papa's almost done. Home in 30. Kiss him for me.
Chris: Already did. Hurry. We miss you.
Haru cracked his neck and dove back in. One more pivot table, one more email to the team in Osaka. Numbers never lied, but they sure could exhaust a man.
Finally, 7:45PM. He shut down, grabbed his bag, and headed out. Rain had started—cold December drizzle. He jogged to the car, mind already shifting from spreadsheets to home.
The apartment smelled like warm bread when he opened the door. Chris had baked rolls—his latest stress-relief hobby. Ichigo was on the rug, building a wobbly block tower with his dino, eyes heavy but fighting sleep.
"Papa!" The kid launched himself. Haru caught him mid-air, spinning once, then hugging tight.
"Missed you, my little man. Sorry I'm late."
Ichigo yawned into his shoulder. "Chris made bread! And story time waiting."
Chris appeared from the kitchen, apron dusted with flour, light brown hair messy, hazel eyes soft. "Welcome home, Haru-san. Go wash up—dinner's ready."
Haru carried Ichigo to bed. One story (dinosaur adventure, of course), one extra hug, and the kid was out. Haru lingered in the doorway, watching him sleep, protective warmth filling his chest.
Back in the living room, Chris had plates ready: soup, fresh rolls, simple salad. They ate quiet at first, just the sound of forks and rain on the window.
"Rough day?" Chris asked, voice gentle.
Haru nodded. "The branch project is killing me. Boss wants everything perfect by next week. Feels like I'm drowning in Excel."
Chris reached over, hand on Haru's. "You're doing amazing. This promotion's gonna happen. And when it does… we pay off the rest of the debt. Clean slate."
Haru squeezed back. "That's what keeps me going. You. Ichigo. A future without that shadow."
After dinner, dishes done together, they moved to the couch. Chris curled into Haru's side, head on his chest. "You're tense. Let me help."
Haru kissed his forehead. "You already do."
The kiss deepened—slow at first, gratitude and exhaustion mixing into need. Chris shifted, straddling Haru's lap, hands framing his face. Tongues brushed gentle, then hungry. Haru's hands slid under Chris's shirt, palms warm on his back, feeling every breath.
Shirts came off slow—Chris's lifted over his head, Haru's button-up unbuttoned one by one. Skin met skin, warm and electric. Haru's mouth moved to Chris's neck, kissing soft trails, nipping gently at the spot that always made Chris shiver. Chris arched, a breathy gasp escaping, hips rocking instinctive.
Pants undone with careful fingers, pushed down and away. Bare now, sweat starting to sheen in the low lamp light. They moved together—bodies flush, Haru's hand wrapping around them both, stroking slow and firm in time with every roll of Chris's hips. Chris's fingers dug lightly into Haru's shoulders, moans soft and needy.
The rhythm built—steady, deep, every slide pulling them closer. Haru's free hand traced Chris's thigh, guiding him higher, deepening the friction. Pleasure coiled tight, intense and overwhelming. Eyes locked—Chris's hazel wide with trust and want, Haru's dark brown burning with quiet devotion.
Whispers filled the space: "You're everything," Chris breathed; "Never letting go," Haru answered low.
Climax came together—Chris tensing first, body bowing beautifully, release spilling hot with a muffled cry against Haru's neck. The feel pulled Haru over right after, hips stuttering as pleasure surged deep, shuddering through him in powerful waves.
They stayed tangled long after, breaths evening out, foreheads pressed together. Chris's cheeks flushed pink, a small smile breaking through. "Better than any promotion."
Haru chuckled, kissing his temple. "Way better."
They cleaned up gentle—shower together, hands soft and reassuring under the warm water. Dressed in sweats, they curled on the couch with tea, talk turning back to the day.
"Ryan again?" Haru asked, thumb tracing Chris's hand.
Chris nodded. "Kept pushing—said I'm 'wasting potential.' Feels like he's trying to get under my skin."
Haru's hold tightened. "He wants what he can't have. Let him try. You're happy here. That's what matters."
Chris smiled real. "Yeah. I am."
The night settled soft—rain tapping the window, Ichigo's snores faint down the hall. Haru's office grind waited tomorrow, but tonight was theirs. Quiet, safe, loved.