Haru flipped pancakes in the kitchen, the sizzle mixing with Ichigo's giggles from the living room. It was a chilly Sunday morning, the kind where you want to stay inside with hot drinks and zero plans. Chris had slept over—first time officially, after Ichigo begged for a family movie night. They'd crashed on the couch under blankets, the kid between them like a tiny chaperone, until Haru carried him to bed.
Now Chris was at the table, apron on, helping Ichigo decorate pancakes with way too much syrup. His light brown hair was sleep-tousled, hazel eyes bright despite the early hour. That genuine smile made Haru's chest warm every time.
"Papa! Look, dinosaur face!" Ichigo held up his plate, syrup dripping everywhere.
Haru laughed, sliding more pancakes onto plates. "Masterpiece, buddy. Chris, you created a monster."
Chris grinned, playful as ever. "Worth it. Kid's got talent."
They ate together—lazy chatter, Ichigo chattering about cartoons, Haru stealing glances at Chris. Last night, after the movie, once Ichigo was out cold, they'd had a quiet moment on the couch. Soft kisses turning deeper, hands wandering under blankets, bodies pressed close in the dark. Nothing too far with the kid down the hall, but enough to leave Haru buzzing.
After breakfast, park time. Ichigo demanded slides, so they bundled up and headed out. Chris pushed the swing higher, Ichigo squealing, while Haru watched from the bench, protective but relaxed. Chris's energetic vibe was back full force—open posture, lively laughs—but Haru caught him checking his phone more than usual, frowns flashing quick before he pocketed it.
Back home, lunch and nap routine. Ichigo conked out fast, clutching his bear. Haru and Chris collapsed on the couch, legs tangled.
"You've been glued to your phone," Haru said casually, thumb tracing Chris's hand. "Everything cool?"
Chris hesitated, blush creeping up. "Yeah… mostly. Just some old crap."
Haru raised a brow. "Old crap like?"
Chris sighed, leaning into him. "Remember I mentioned money being tight? It's… worse than I let on."
Haru shifted, arm around Chris's shoulders. "Talk to me."
Chris stared at the floor. "Mom's cancer treatments—years ago, but the bills never went away. I borrowed from these guys… not bank types. Local lenders, shady ones. They helped when we were desperate. But interest is killer. I owe more now than I started with."
Haru's stomach dropped. "How much?"
"Like… a lot. Enough that they text reminders. Nothing crazy yet, just 'don't forget' stuff. But it stresses me out."
Haru pulled him closer, protective instinct flaring. "Why carry it solo? We're a team now."
Chris's smile was small but real. "Didn't wanna scare you off. You're already dealing with work, Ichigo…"
"Hey." Haru tilted Chris's chin up. "Not scared. We're figuring this out together."
Chris's hazel eyes softened, leaning in. The kiss started grateful—soft presses, reassurance. Then it deepened, Chris shifting to straddle Haru's lap. Hands framed Haru's face, fingers in messy black hair.
Haru groaned quietly, palms sliding up Chris's thighs, settling on hips. Bodies aligned, warmth building through clothes. Chris rocked subtly, friction teasing, drawing breathy sighs. Lips parted, tongues brushing slow and hot, the kiss turning hungry.
Shirts rode up—Haru's hands slipping under Chris's tee, tracing smooth skin, the slim healthy lines. Chris shivered, arching closer, his own fingers unbuttoning Haru's shirt partway, palms flat on chest, thumbs circling sensitive spots.
They moved together, rhythm lazy but intense—hips grinding, breaths quickening. Haru's mouth trailed to Chris's neck, kissing along the jaw, nipping gently. Chris's head fell back, quiet gasp escaping, nails digging lightly into Haru's shoulders.
Clothes shifted more, skin meeting in warm presses. Hands explored—waists, backs, every touch sparking heat. The living room was quiet except for soft sounds—whispers, rustles, mingled breaths. Chris's cheeks flushed deep, eyes half-lidded with want; Haru's tired gaze burned affectionate, vulnerability mixing with desire.
Time stretched, the moment wrapping them in a haze—connection deep, worries fading temporarily. They slowed eventually, breaths evening, still tangled close.
Chris rested his forehead against Haru's. "You make it feel… manageable."
Haru kissed him soft. "We'll make a plan. Pay what you can, maybe talk to someone legit for the rest."
Chris nodded, shy smile returning. "Okay. Together."
Ichigo woke soon after, toddling out with bedhead. "Chris! Play forts!"
The afternoon flipped to kid mode—blanket forts, toy chaos, snack attacks. Chris's energy bounced back, but Haru noticed the phone buzz again. Chris silenced it quick, but the shadow lingered.
Dinner was simple—mac and cheese, Ichigo's request. Bath time splashes, bedtime stories. Ichigo demanded both of them read, falling asleep mid-page.
At the door, Chris lingered. "Thanks for today. For listening."
Haru pulled him into a hug. "Text me when you get home. And if those guys message again, tell me."
Chris nodded, stealing one last kiss. "Will do."
Door closed, Haru leaned against it. Chris's debt hint wasn't just "tight money"—it was danger, subtle but real. Gangster types didn't play nice forever. Haru's protective side roared— for Chris now, not just Ichigo.
Phone buzzed—Chris: Home safe. Sweet dreams, Haru-san.
Haru: You too. We'll handle this.
Yeah, shadows were creeping in. But Haru wasn't letting them touch what they were building.