Snow Man, Shinme (Symmetry)

Title: Shinme (Symmetry) [Miyadate/Watanabe]
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Summary: Before anyone else, Miyadate and Watanabe had their marks, so matching with the others takes a little getting used to.
AN: Ofc you get the Miyadate/Watanabe buttmark fic next. There’s a reason these idiots all have flakes on their butts. (SEND HELP I CAN’T STOP WRITING IN THIS DUMB UNIVERSE)

Shinme (Symmetry)

Before anybody else, the two of them had their marks. It had seemed natural to them that they’d matched, so much so that they were surprised when Iwamoto had turned up with one as well, and Abe had pointed out that all three of them had snowflakes in their marks. It was especially funny because Miyadate and Watanabe had always assumed that the key matching element was the stars, not the snowflakes. They had thought the whole time that the snowflakes were just because they had been playing in the snow when it happened.

It was all an accident anyway. Miyadate had thrown a snowball that was more ice than he’d meant to have. It had left an ugly red mark on Watanabe’s cheek and startled him into crying. Feeling terrible, Miyadate had hugged Watanabe tightly and tried to kiss it better until Watanabe stopped sniffling. An hour later, back inside Watanabe’s house stripping off their wet jeans, Watanabe had made a startled noise and reached over to poke the side of Miyadate’s hip. Miyadate could barely feel the touch because he was still so cold, but when he looked down, there were faint swirls of lines and shapes, and when Watanabe dropped his own pants, he had them too, on the opposite hip.

By the time they had warmed up in the bath, the lines were dark enough to for them to make out a scatter of small stars and snowflakes, mixed in with swirled wind lines. Miyadate’s swirl curled left and Watanabe’s curled right, like symmetry.

“Talk about matchy-matchy,” Watanabe-san whistled when their surprised shouting had prompted her to stick her head in the bathroom. She jerked a thumb at Watanabe. “Guess you’re stuck with this one.”

“He thinks that’s fine!” Watanabe had protested, throwing his arms around Miyadate in a possessive hug and sticking his tongue out at his mother. Miyadate squirmed with embarrassment, but he did think it was fine, actually.

“How long have you even had those?” Sakuma asked, years later. The others had all seen them while changing by then, but it wasn’t until they were a named group that any of them had asked about it. Sakuma poked Watanabe’s mark, no pants in his way like usual, tracing the line from his hip to the top of his butt.

“Tickles!” Watanabe complained, brushing off Sakuma’s hand. “Mm, elementary school. Like…” Watanabe paused, thinking.

“Third grade,” Miyadate put in after a second’s thought. “It was the year you had that yellow hat you hated.”

“It was!” Watanabe laughed, clapping his hands. “It had bear ears and my aunt knitted it and my mom loved it. It was the worst!”

“He tried giving it to his little sister but she hated it too and it covered her whole face,” Miyadate went on, making Sakuma and Fukazawa both crack up.

As everyone finished changing into practice sweats and headed out to stretch, Watananbe lingered behind, sidling up behind Miyadate. Miyadate smiled to himself but didn’t turn around, letting Watanabe think he was a ninja all he wanted.

“Surprise~,” Watanabe said, sure enough, arms sliding around Miyadate’s waist. “Gotcha.”

“Oh no,” Miyadate said gamely, brushing his fingers over the back of Watanabe’s hand before going back to dropping his stuff in his bag. To his mild surprise, Watanabe’s hand slid down to cover Miyadate’s mark, his touch warm through Miyadate’s sweatpants.

“So…is it okay?” Watanabe asked, sounding genuinely uncertain. “If Hikaru matches us. If some of the others do?”

Miyadate opened his mouth to say yeah, of course, but then he stopped and twisted around in Watanabe’s grip to see his face. Honestly, he hadn’t thought about it. “Isn’t it? Is it?”

“I like matching you.” Watanabe chewed cutely on his lower lip. “But…a group would be nice. I just thought, you know, us. I didn’t think about sharing you.”

“Me either,” Miyadate admitted. It does make his chest feel a little tight that it won’t be just the two of them who match, but he’s excited too, that maybe there’ll be others who are supposed to be with them. “But Hikaru specifically is good.”

“Mm, I think so too.” Watanabe rested his cheek briefly against Miyadate’s shoulder, hugging him more tightly. “I guess it’ll be the right people, so it’ll be fine.”

It was fine, Sakuma getting his mark next putting them more at ease since he’d been their friend longest, followed by Fukazawa. By the time Abe came back with his and the two of them made up, Miyadate was satisfied with the sharing. Sometimes it was impossible to tell whose underwear he was putting on, sure, but on the other hand now there were four other people to make sure Watanabe ate at least some food most days. Or three and a half; sometimes Sakuma wasn’t exactly helpful.

“Hi?” Miyadate asked, flat on his back on the hotel bed. He’d been flipping through channels before Watanabe’s head had blocked his view. Watanabe was still shower-damp, hair curling from the steam, and wearing nothing but a grin.

“Hello!” was all the warning Miyadate got before Watanabe flopped down on top of him. “Mmm, warm.”

Miyadate rolled his eyes a little, but didn’t bother pointing out that the T-shirt and pajama pants probably had something to do with that. Instead he went back to flipping channels, completely satisfied with Watanabe’s slight weight pressing him down into the mattress, fitting perfectly against him.

Both of them jumped a little when Fukazawa burst into laughter suddenly.

“Oh man,” Fukazawa gasped. “You guys never said it did that!”

“Did..what?” Miyadate asked. He glanced down at Watanabe, who was equally (and adorably) confused. “What does what?”

It took a minute to get any sensible words out of Fukazawa, who was still laughing and even when he did manage to talk he told Miyadate to kick his pants down.

“Why?” Miyadate wanted to know. “What the hell?”

“Shut up and do it,” Fukazawa ordered, sitting up with his phone in hand. “No, Shota, don’t move.”

“How am I supposed to—” Miyadate started in exasperation, but Fukazawa stood up and took the two steps between the beds. Grabbing a fistful of Miyadate’s pajama pants, he yanked them firmly down without dislodging Watanabe, like a magician yanking a tablecloth.

“Well, okay,” Watanabe said, leering happily.

“Shut up, you,” Miyadate told him. “Fukka, what the fuck, are you taking a picture?”

“YES,” Fukazawa announced, starting to laugh all over again, and when he flipped his phone around, Miyadate finally saw why.

Miyadate’s swirl curled left and Watanabe’s curled right, like symmetry, and with their hips pressed flush together, they made a heart.

“Awwwwww,” Watanabe cooed, nestling even more tightly down against Miyadate, whose jaw had fallen open.

“Did you really not know?” Fukazawa demanded, losing it all over again. “Oh my god!”

“It’s not like we can see them when we’re like this!” Miyadate pointed out, proving his point by trying to crane his neck to see around Watanabe and not managing it well at all. Now that Fuka had pointed out the shape, he could see it, but from this angle if he hadn’t thought to look, it wasn’t that obvious.

“See?” Watanabe said, giggling helplessly himself. “I told you we should have played more with the mirrors.”

(original from here)