Curate, connect, and discover
roomate!geto x reader
it's 1am, and geto suguru is freezing. he's got a hot water bottle, a comforter, and two thick blankets, yet he's still shivering like a naked mole rat in midwinter.
why am i so fucking cold? geto thinks, feeling ridiculous as he rubs his legs together like a giant cricket. he wonders if he's inexplicably lost fifty pounds in the night and his body is shutting down. or maybe the apartment has been magically transported to a remote arctic wasteland.
"suguru?" the door creaks open, and geto sits up, squinting at your face, illuminated by the hallway light.
"oh, hey," he says, pulling his blankets up to his chin. "you okay?"
"yeah," you say, slipping into the room and closing the door behind you. geto reaches over and flicks on his bedside lamp. "i think our central heating switched off. it's, like, unbearable."
you look small and vulnerable in the yellow lamplight. so different from your usual put-together state. geto raises an eyebrow at your penguin-patterned pajama pants, and you flush.
"a gift from my grandma, asshole," you say, straightening your tank top. geto tries not to dwell on how thin and semi-see through it is.
"mhm," he says, flashing you what he knows is a charmingly ironic grin. he shifts under his covers. "yeah, it's cold. i honestly don't know how i'm gonna fall asleep again."
"well," you say, glancing down at your feet. you're uncharacteristically bashful. "i was thinking, maybe—and it's totally okay if you're not comfortable with this—i was wondering if i could sleep with you? just for the body heat. my room is, like, super cold and—"
"you wanna sleep with me?" geto repeats, just to see you squirm. he knows he's being a little mean. but he can afford to be, especially when he already knows exactly what his answer is.
"not like that," you're quick to say. you blush harder. "i mean, obviously. obviously i would never—"
"aw," he says with a melodramatic pout. "never ever?"
the two of you have teased each other like this before. joking that you'd get married if you were both still single by 40, bringing each other as plus-ones to various work events and telling coworkers you'd been together since high school—but somehow the teasing felt very different when you were both in various states of undress.
"maybe if you got a haircut," you say with a small smile, rubbing the chicken skin on your arms. geto feels his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. "anyway. please? can i sleep here? just for tonight."
"sure, kid," he says, pulling back the covers for you. he knows you hate it when he calls you that, but tonight you don't protest. "c'mere."
you slip in, instantly curling up against his side. geto feels his whole body thrum when your ice-cold skin presses up against his. his body automatically wraps around yours, tugging your waist closer, slipping his arm beneath your head. he's never been this close to you. it feels wrong, but it also feels natural.
"better?" he says, lips brushing the back of your neck. he feels you stiffen a little at his warm breath.
"much," you say. you pull his arm tighter around you and nestle into the curve of his body. "and just so we're clear: no funny business."
"i wouldn't dream of it," he says, voice low. you smell so good. so you. he feels something instinctive, something evolutionary in himself say this is it, isn't it? "as i've said many times before, you utterly repulse me. we could never be more than roommates."
"never ever," you say, and as you do, you bring his knuckles up to your lips and press a warm, soft kiss on them. geto bites back a gasp. he's suddenly very aware of his t-shirt and shorts being the only barriers separating his body from yours.
"get that haircut, suguru," you whisper, so soft he almost doesn't catch it. "then we'll talk."
"okay," he whispers back, then, closing his eyes, he settles into the bed, with you in his arms. slowly, slowly, his breathing falls into step with yours: inhale, exhale. inhale... exhale. (just before he drifts off, he makes a mental note to call the nearest salon tomorrow.)