Snow Man, Keep the Hat On

Title: Keep the Hat On
Rating/Warnings: PG
Summary: Snowmen are weak to low pressure.
AN: I somehow completely missed it was my shiritori turn, oops. But I’ve had the worst weather migraine all day so have some Snowmen being weak to low pressure like me. Written for shiritori.

Keep the Hat On

[See you soon ♥] reads the email and Watanabe has no trouble at all ignoring the snort from behind him as he types a ( ^3^)~ emoji in return.

“You’re just jealous,” Watanabe tells Hashimoto as he tucks his phone back in his pocket, “because Totsuka would rather write a Da Vinci essay than send you a love mail.”

“Tottsu is an artist,” Hashimoto retorts primly, and this time it’s Watanabe who snorts. “Shut up and try this hat on, you.”

Shopping trip successfully completed, Watanabe and Hashimoto head their separate ways back to their separate groups. The train ride seems to take forever to Watanabe, once he’s out of range of Hashimoto’s cheerful chatter as a distraction. He’s had a nagging headache all morning that medicine has dulled but not gotten rid of, which probably means thunderstorms tomorrow, but right now all he really wants is to get to practice early enough to catnap in Miyadate’s lap. If only the damn Chuou line would cooperate.

Even when he does finally stumble into their dressing room, Watanabe knows he isn’t going to get his wish, because Miyadate looks about four times as miserable as Watanabe does. Miyadate is sitting on the floor with his head leaned back against the wall, eyes closed.

“Headache?” Watanabe asks sympathetically. Miyadate only whines a little, forehead scrunched. “Me too. Can we just go home and curl up in bed? Practice called on account of Snow Man weakness to low pressure.”

“Fuck, I wish,” Miyadate says. He finally opens his eyes and then frowns at Watanabe’s hat. “What the hell did you buy? You aren’t allowed to go shopping alone with Hasshi anymore.”

Watanabe just chuckles at him as he sits down besides Miyadate and tugs on the sleeve of his shirt to make him tip over. “Come on, lie down a minute. We’ve got a bit until somebody comes and yells at us.”

“Ugh,” Miyadate complains at the shift of position, but he curls up on his side, rolling over so that his nose is brushing Watanabe’s T-shirt. “You must feel bad too, if you’re still wearing your shirt in here.”

“Shhh, you.” Watanabe smoothes Miyadate’s hair back from his forehead, then finds a comfortable position for his hand while he strokes fingers through the rest of Miyadate’s hair gently, repetitively. It’s not quite as nice as being petted himself, but it’s soothing in its own way.

The silver ring on his hand glints against the dark of Miyadate’s hair, new enough yet that it still catches Watanabe’s eye unexpectedly at times. Watanabe’s hand drifts down to where Miyadate’s silver chain disappears into his shirt, the links of metal cool under his fingertips. Miyadate always claims it’s because they shouldn’t match so obviously, but Watanabe knows it’s more that Miyadate worries about losing his ring. Watanabe privately thinks the small things that Miyadate frets over are cute, and anyway he doesn’t care where exactly Miyadate wears his. Even if he does lose it, their red thread won’t break so easily.

“You guys?” Abe sticks his head in the door, talking quietly even though he was obviously sent to wake them up. His eyes have rings under them as well, so Watanabe guesses Abe doesn’t feel much better than they do. “We should…”

“Okay, okay,” Miyadate murmurs from Watanabe’s lap. Watanabe’s grip tightens momentarily, wanting to force Miyadate to stay right there, to sleep it off like they should, but Miyadate struggles to sit up and Watanabe lets go with a sigh. Miyadate brushes a quick kiss over the corner of Watanabe’s mouth. “I feel better,” he lies.

Practice is at least a distraction for the hours that they’re doing it, adrenaline chasing away some of the mental fog. Probably nobody else even notices how they are quite literally under the weather, since once they get going Snow Man’s game face is pretty fierce. It’s not until it’s over that suddenly Watanabe is washed over with exhaustion all at once, like he’s been unplugged suddenly without enough charging time.

“Take me home?” he asks, pouting up at Miyadate from the floor. All he wants is to crawl in bed, to get his turn being petted.

“Yeah,” Miyadate agrees, holding out his hand for Watanabe to grab. “Definitely home. I’ll even let you wear that stupid hat.”

“Let me,” Watanabe scoffs. He’ll show Miydate all right. Later tonight, maybe he’ll wear nothing but the hat.

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