It's In The Contract

Bluest-of-Jayys

For the tenth time in two minutes, Tino checked his phone to see how much battery life was left.

Considering the fact that his phone was at ten percent and the number was steadily decreasing, it was probably a bad idea. But the only think Tino could empathize with right now was his phone's battery; he needed some recharging too. He'd burned through a caffeine buzz and a sugar high already, and his body was ready to reject whatever sleep substitute he encountered next. Some genuine bed rest would be nice.

Too bad he was stuck in heavy traffic twenty miles from home.

It was bad enough that he'd gone those twenty miles to the city only to find a severe lack of parking spaces, forcing him to go home empty handed, but the needle on his fuel meter was hovering dangerously close to the big red E and he had no intention of walking three miles to the nearest gas station on a major road.

Then the traffic started moving, thank goodness.

He suppressed the urge to scream when some jerk in an Audi cut him off without signaling; road rage was the last thing he needed now. Instead, he honked at the loser, turned on the radio, and sat in tight-lipped silence as he sped home.

The sight of his street couldn't have come soon enough, but as he turned onto the road, he found both sides lined with cars and music blaring from a house down the street. One idiot even had the audacity to park in front of his driveway. Suddenly, he felt the need to key the shiny red SUV blocking his way. Instead, he bit his lip, knocked on the door of the party house, and between gritted teeth, politely asked if the owner of the eye-searingly red Mazda CX-9 would kindly (fucking) move their (fucking) car away from his (fucking) driveway. Then he pulled in next to Berwald's Toyota, sat in his car, and cried.

XxX

Standing in the kitchen, Berwald heard and saw Tino's old Honda roll into its usual spot in the driveway. He heard Tino cut the engine and saw him turn off the lights, yet Tino stayed in his dark car, forehead pressed against the steering wheel. A minute passed, then two, then five, yet Tino stayed in his car, slumped over. Berwald dropped the dishes he was washing and raced outside, launching himself down the porch steps toward's Tino's car.

Berwald's sudden appearance made Tino scream and hit his head on the car ceiling, but he rolled down his window anyway.

"Hey," he said. Berwald did a double-take at his tear-streaked face, his expression souring.

"Why're ya upset?" asked Berwald.

Tino snorted. "You always get to the point, hon."

"'Cause I need a reason t' justify kickin' someone's ass in a court o' law," Berwald answered matter-of-factly, holding out his arms, "now get outta th' car an' come inside."

Tino smiled. Sweet, protective Berwald, who had his wedding vows tattooed both in his mind and on his left forearm. Tino's vows were inked on his left shoulder blade, because that's where Berwald liked to place his hand whenever they walked together. He got out of his car as Berwald's hand found its usual place over Tino's vows, and he was led up to the house with whispered promises of foot rubs and mac and cheese.

XxX

"...Y' had a shitty day. Need t' recharge," Berwald said, spooning another heap of cheesy pasta into his mouth.

"I want a drink."

"That's how y' become an alcoholic," answered Berwald, "shower, then foot rubs, then day off. I'll call yer work tomorrow."

Despite being denied his drink, Tino's heart softened. Berwald knew just how to take care of him. He reached over to brush his nose against Berwald's in lieu of a kiss.

"I love you," he whispered.

"Supposed to take care of ya," Berwald held up his left arm, smirking, "it's in th' contract."

Tino giggled.

XxX

Now freshly showered and smelling like lilac shampoo, Tino was feeling a whole lot better. He had fallen into a peaceful half-sleep when Berwald came into their room, drying his hair with a towel.

"Still awake?"

Tino opened one eye. "Yes," he sighed.

Berwald sat on the edge of the bed and took one of Tino's feet in his hands, digging his thumbs into the arch. Tino squirmed.

"Okay, okay, I'm awake now," he giggled, sitting up. A raised eyebrow from Berwald prompted him to recline against the pillows. "Don't tickle me," he warned playfully. Berwald let out a grunt (a laugh?) and resumed massaging Tino's feet.

"What did you do while I was out?" Tino asked.

"Got rejected fer the loan," said Berwald, "twice."

Tino sat up again. "What? Did you have a cosigner?"

Berwald frowned. "Tried cosignin' with Mathias, but his credit's horrid."

"Yeah! Apply again tomorrow, I'll cosign with you. My credit's gotta better than his, at least!"

"It's such a pain, though."

Tino reached up to stroke Berwald's hair. "I'll fill out the important parts. If we don't get it, there are tons of other banks we can go to."

Berwald sighed and kissed Tino's toes. "Y' have a blister," he said.

"Yeah. I shoulda worn long socks. My mistake." Tino pulled his feet away and motioned for Berwald to sit closer to him. "Let me rub your back."

"You've had a hard day," answered Berwald, "Don' need t' do that."

"You haven't exactly had an easy day either," said Tino, "I have wedding vows I need to uphold, too." His small hands found their way to Berwald's back and he kneaded, teasing knots out of muscles and softening tense spots in his husband's back. Berwald groaned, arching into the touch.

Tino chuckled. "I didn't know you could purr, babe."

"Meow."

This time, Tino burst into laughter, pulling his husband down to lay alongside him. They exchanged loud, smacky kisses that evolved into sleepy sighs and yawns.

"Thank you, Berwald," Tino smiled, brushing his hand down Berwald's jaw, "I feel a whole lot better now."

Berwald kissed Tino and draped his arm over him, his left hand coming to rest on Tino's left shoulder blade.

"Love ya, Tino. Sleep well."

A/N: Tino's and Berwald's experiences are pulled from my own from the past two days. I needed a cheerup fic, so I wrote one. SuFin makes me happy. :)
Here's some feel-good fluff with married life SuFin as I also try to get over a severe writer's block.