Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

[HackeyMouse]: oh come tf on potg pls
[Yellooooo]: I s2g if they give u play of the game for memeing around I will come to ur home and smash ur pc w a pickaxe
[HackeyMouse]: bitch ya couldn’t even lift a pickaxe
[HackeyMouse] ya fuckin nerd
[Indigohome]: He’s got a point.
[Yellooooo]: stfu asshole yes I fucking could

Play of the Game - BatWingedPrincess as Mercy

[Yellooooo]: HA!
[HackeyMouse]: ffs i call bs
[Yellooooo]: I guess pointing and clicking wasnt enough this time
[Yellooooo]: sucks to be u
[HackeyMouse]: fuck u bastion requires skill and full commitment to the meme life
[TheViscousViscount]: My congratulations, Romy. That five-man res was not only impressive but integral to our eventual victory.
[BatWingedPrincess]: Thank you, gg guys.
[HackeyMouse]: none of ya appreciate me, i fuckin swear. im tellin ya ya would have lost without me. im a fuckin gift.
[Yelloooooo]: gg everyone except hackey ofc
[Indigohome]: gg. Thank you Romy for all the heals.
[HackeyMouse]: wtf kind of genji main are ya, thanking healers? ya should be ashamed
[Indigohome]: A polite one. Ever heard of basic decency?
[HackeyMouse]: sounds fake
[HackeyMouse]: also biiiiiiiiiitch since when have ya ever been polite? ur a bitch, bitch.
[HackeyMouse]: a real bitchy one
[TheViscousViscount]: Eloquent as ever. You certainly do have a way with words.
[Yellooooo]: lol imagine being this salty
[BatWingedPrincess]: btw great job garde on that midair snipe. You’re getting so good at widowmaker.
[TheMummyReturns]: Eh, I still prefer Reaper but thanks. Nice potg too.
[HackeyMouse]: wtf is this why does nobody congratulate me when i get potg which is for the record, always
[Indigohome]: Because we all hate you. Next question.

“Excuse me?” Quentin Alistair Winston Sierra Endlington Donaghue, known to his friends (such as they were, ugh ) as Hackey yelled at his computer, before starting to type a cutting response along the lines of ‘fuck u and the horse ya rode in on’.

[Indigohome]: I’m not the one with the horse.
[Indigohome]: After all, Yellow’s the cowboy around here.
[Yellooooo]: damn right I am
[Yellooooo]: yeehaw motherfuckers

Cursing under his breath, Hackey went offline and slouched into the kitchen, where his roommate was having a whispered phone conversation about something very, very shady that would wind up being the reason rent got paid. Sometimes he asked for Hackey’s help gathering data, getting into various systems without a trace. Hackey really liked to draw out the asking process and make Doubs work for it as much as possible. He was a shit like that.

On seeing him, Doubs finished his call and hung up. “Rare cryptid emerges for the first time in centuries. It’s a miracle.”

“Ha fucking ha,” Hackey muttered. “Real original, mom. Can we get a pizza? I’m fuckin’ starved.”

Doubs smiled thinly. “Well, we can get a pizza or we can pay the light bill. Those are our current options.”

“Ya kiddin’?” Doubs shook his head. “Pizza. Every time. We can live in the fuckin’ dark for all I care, tonight we dine like kings.”

“Shit like this is why your parents cut you off.”

“Okay, first of all my parents are assholes an’ can go fuck themselves, an’ I told them that last time they called. Second of all, they cut me off because I’m ‘living a lifestyle we can’t support’, whatever that means but I think they don’t like me living in a shitty apartment with a shady character who is - oh yeah, I remember now - you . Fuck ‘em. I don’t want their money anyway.”

“You mean because you’re an unemployed college grad who spends all his time playing videogames and doing sketchy jobs online?”

“I’m actually self-employed and you’re one to talk! You do exactly the same!”

“Naturally,” Doubs smirked. “But I bring money in. You, meanwhile, leek it all out everywhere, left and centre. It’s not a fair comparison.” Hackey protested and Doubs cut him off. “I have an idea and you’re not going to like it. Just hear me out.”

“Prostitution? Sounds great, when do I start?”

“Close, but not quite. You’re on the right lines though.” His expression turned grim. “You need to get a job.”

Hackey snorted. “Oh wow, who’d ya think you are? The Offspring?”

“Now that’s a dated reference.”

“Your mom’s a dated reference,” Hackey sneered. “Yanno, ‘cause she’s old as balls. Cut her in half an’ count the fuckin’ rings.”

“That’s trees, if I’m not mistaken. Cut a human in half, and they’ll bleed out, if the shock doesn’t kill them first. Not that I’ve tried.” Doubs sounded amused. “But really, you need to get a job.”

“Why don’t ya go actually work yourself, huh? Why’s it gotta be me?”

“ I have a job.” Doubs gestured at the phone.

“Screwing around with people online? Seems legit. If that’s the case, then I got a job too, checkmate.”

“Sitting on your ass and playing videogames is not considered employment, Hackey my friend. I hate to break it to you.” He smiled condescendingly.

“Neither is what you do, ya fuckin’ hypocrite!” Hackey cried, exasperated. “You’re a fuckin’ hypocrite, Doubs Hewley ya fuckin’ fuckfaced dick.”

“Is that news?” Doubs spread his hands smugly. “The key difference between you and me is that I get paid for my hypocrisy. I’m a professional hypocrite. You’re an occasionally paid amateur. And that occasionally is far too infrequent to be relied upon.”

“Yeah, yeah, I getcha,” Hackey muttered. “Since when were you the responsible one?”

Doubs chuckled. “I don’t know, but it’s a sorry state of affairs, isn’t it? Anyway, I paid the light bill yesterday so we’re good for pizza tonight. Just wanted to raise the topic and needed your attention for a minute.”

Spluttering, Hackey furiously waved his gawky arms. “Ya son-of-a-bitch, Doubs. Fuck you.”

And Doubs’ grin widened, like he’d just been complimented rather than insulted.

What a piece of shit.

That was why they were roommates, after all.

-

The next morning, Hackey woke up at his desk, computer still on, head pounding and hungover. He groaned. The last thing he remembered was eating pizza with Doubs. After that, there was this black spot of fuzzy alcohol. Evidently he’d decided to get piss-drunk on his own. Which was, for the record, incredibly sad. But what else could you expect from such a prime specimen as himself?

He looked up at the screen, blinking against the brightness and physically cringed. What the fuck had he done last night and how much did his bank account regret it?

His eyes adjusted and horror set in as he realised what had happened.

Rainbow comic sans. Size 72 font. Fuck used as punctuation. Hideously drunk typos. A whole section written purely in binary. This was the absolute worst resume ever written, under the influence or not, and he hoped to God he hadn’t sent it in anywhere. That would be too much even for him. Dread mounting, he checked his emails.

Oh shitting hell .

Sent mail - Resume. To every major tech company around, and a bunch of random offices looking for IT and to McDonald’s and Wendy’s and fucking Target for God’s sake. Rejection emails had arrived already. He groaned again, head falling into his hands. Running his hands through his obnoxiously dyed hair he regretted every single thing he’d ever done. This was all Doubs’ fault. It always was. Hauling himself to the shower he cursed for a solid five minutes and tried to will himself out of this uncoordinated, gangly and aching physical form. Ugh .

Time for coffee.

He emerged from his room, clutching his head, stumbling over junk he’d left in the hallway.

“Have a nice night?” Doubs called cheerily. He was playing goddamn Mario, damn him. What a slacker piece of shit.

“Fmfck you.”

“Didn’t catch that,” Doubs called back, indicating his own headphones and a notebook. “Transcribing my findings from tapping this doctor’s office.”

“That’s very illegal,” Hackey snickered. “I’m calling the cops.”

“And when they find your stash of weed?”

“It’s yours and I had nothing to do with it, ya scumbag.” Hackey grinned wickedly. “Wee-woo wee-woo hands up motherfucker.”

“Oh no, you got me. I want my lawyer.”

“You have the right to remain silent. Please exercise that right and shut the fuck up.”

“You’re not a very professional police officer,” Doubs commented. “I’d like to place a complaint about this to your superiors. And a lawsuit for your hurtful words.”

“Ohmygodddd you are such a con man.” Hackey rolled his eyes. “Why are you the way you are?”

“Because I’m human trash,” Doubs declared proudly. He passed the controller over to Hackey. “There’s some pizza left from last night. Do you want?”

“Hell yeah I do,” Hackey replied without hesitation, taking the controller and heading to the fridge. “Are ya effin’ kidding me?”

“Nope.” Doubs smiled.

Hackey made eye contact with him and shoved the crusts into his mouth at once before downing a can of Red Bull. “Defuckinglicious. Thanks a bunch.”

“You’re welcome.”

Hackey sat down in front of the TV, switch in hand. “Watch and learn, bitch, watch an’ fuckin’ learn.”

Needless to say, the hangover didn’t help matters and Doubs laughed like a smug fuck. But Hackey knew games, he’d been playing Mario in the fuckin womb and as he woke up, caffeine rush, started playing better. That occupied the rest of the afternoon. Last night’s conversation wasn’t brought up. Hackey didn’t even think about the stupid resume and the flaming mess he’d made of his life.

The phone call came the next morning.

-

It was early the next morning - by which he meant it was morning - when his phone buzzed loudly, startling him awake and he had to reach for it blind, slide the blurry call icon across to accept. His glasses were just out of easy reach, so he didn’t bother.

“Uh...hello?” he murmured blearily. “Who is this?”

“Hi, I’m Kelly, calling from AU Solutions. Am I speaking to Quentin Donaghue?”

“Depends on why you’re calling. Did I piss you off somehow? It’s a special skill of mine.”

Uncomfortable laughter. “Ah - no. We wanted to invite you for an interview this Friday. Does that sound okay with you?” She sounded like speaking to him was making her rethink the whole call.

Hackey blinked, baffled. What the actual fuck? “You read my resume, right?” He was fairly certain ‘pissing people off’ was genuinely listed under special skills. That didn’t get you phonecalls like this.

“It was very impressive, yes,” the clipped female voice said. “A Harvard graduate. Well I never.”

Hackey tensed. He hadn’t put that on his resume. He’d told the truth, that he was a dropout, he'd transferred to a shitty college after two months. There was some sort of mix-up going on.

He laughed anyhow. “Guess ya could say that. Sorry, just didn’t expect to get any calls. ‘Specially not so soon.”

“Well, our current specialist hand-picked you personally.” Hackey almost snorted out a lung. Someone, somewhere, was taking the piss, and he wanted to find out who because two could play at that game.

Hackey wasn’t some plaything to be jerked around. He was the puppeteer. He held the strings.

“How nice of him,” Hackey said sweetly. “I can’t wait to meet him. Assuming it is a him, ‘course. Don’t wanna sound like some asshat, if ya pardon my French.”

The woman chuckled. “Good luck with that. I’ve never actually seen the guy face-to-face, only spoken on the phone. He almost never leaves the basement and it’s a trek from HR down there. But I guess he’s good at his job, we don’t have many problems, except the weird password thing but you get used to it. You’ll be in good hands. Assuming you get the job, after all.” She didn’t sound convinced that would be the case. Neither was Hackey, to be honest.

“What weird password thing?” Hackey asked, curious.

“It doesn’t matter. A...a glitch, alright?” the woman seemed eager to brush over that. “At a guess, do you want an afternoon interview?”

“Ya read my mind. What are ya, psychic?”

“Far from it,” the woman replied. “I’ll see you then, Mr Donaghue. Best of luck.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks. Seeya.” He hung up and flopped back in bed, feeling like he wasn’t awake, feeling like this was some surreal dream. “Huh.”

Now how the fuck had he got a job interview?

-

He asked Doubs if he had anything to do with it.

“I’m serious, man, who would hire me?”

“Not me, that’s for sure.”

“Liar. Ya paid me for all kinda shit.” Hackey studied Doubs’ expression carefully. “Tell me the truth. Did ya arrange this?”

Doubs shrugged. “I’m afraid my influence does not extend so far that I can get you, trademarked hopeless cause, a job interview of all things. It seems to me the fault lies with whoever this mysterious basement tech man is.”

“Must be some kinda sad weirdo, that’s for sure. He changed my resume to say I graduated Harvard. What else did he alter? I just wanna know what game he’s playin’.”

“You’re getting obsessed, friend.”

Hackey reddened. “Am not . Ya gotta admit, it’s confusing. If he saw my actual resume, he knows what a catastrophe I am. What motive does he have to edit it? To nominate me specifically for the job. If ya were in my shoes, you would be curious too, don’t even lie.”

“I admit, it’s intriguing.”

“Fuckin’ batshit’s what it is. I’m gonna get to the bottom of it, you mark my goddamn words.”

-

He asked his groupchat friends if they knew anything. He didn’t think they would be it was always possible with some of those weirdos. Like Rude, he owned a few businesses, maybe he had some sway. Rich dudes often did. Dorrikey was a private eye and the guy he lived with/minded was a fucking mind-reading bastard genius type and a total delinquent who went off his meds every few weeks (and on or off them, was a manipulative fuck, likely to pull something like this) so any of them could have been involved. Not even starting on some of the others and how weird they could get.

He could rule out Gerhardt, who was by his own admission and those who’d met him irl mute, which made up for being such a wordy dad-joke SOB online. Besides, he was in Germany. Yellow and Aiji were jackasses but they didn’t have the sway to do that. Caldimir was obnoxious but not practical, and Laetitia was busy adopting children or something. Hawking was a telepathic black hole who could only be heard by Mirald, meds or no, so uh yeah not him. As for Melhilm, who knew what shit he’d pull? Ugh. Prick. But he’d not been active in chat for a while, so it was unlikely to have anything to do with him. The only reason Hackey checked was...well, his friends were complete dicks, so it wasn’t totally beyond belief.

Had to cover all the bases before he went in there, right?

[TheViscousViscount]: How strange. That truly is a conundrum.
[TheViscousViscount]: A veritable mystery to be sure.
[Yellooooo]: BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
[Yellooooo]: who tf would give u a job?
[HackeyMouse]: job interview, not a job
[HackeyMouse]: and thats what im asking u
[HackeyMouse]: does ANYONE have any idea wtf is going on
[mirror-mirror]: search me. I’m not a mindreader, am I now? ;)
[MoriartysBane]: Screw you, Mirald.
[mirror-mirror]: :) My, Dorrikey, someone’s in a mood.
[MoriartysBane]: I hate everything about you
[mirror-mirror]: that’s not what you said last night~

MoriartysBane has left the chat

[HackeyMouse]: wowowowowowow drama queen or what
[mirror-mirror]: amusing, isn’t he?
[mirror-mirror]: he just stormed into my room ranting and stormed out, slamming the door.
[mirror-mirror]: I think he’s going to try turn the wifi off. so I have to go.
[mirror-mirror]: good luck with your quest, anyhow. send doubs my best, since he’s still banned from the chat apparently.
[Yellooooo]: for good fucking reason, knowing him.
[HackeyMouse]: yea yea i’ll tell him the asshole-in-chief says hi.
[HackeyMouse]: so none of ya have a clue?
[HackeyMouse]: shit i forgot to ask mirald if hawking knew anything about this lmao
[Indigohome]: Oh come on, that’s in poor taste.
[HackeyMouse]: mirald finds it funny! hes actually got a sense of humor unlike u fucks
[Indigohome]: Mirald has mental health problems.
[HackeyMouse]: what else is new
[HackeyMouse]: oh yea, i got a job interview thru some weirdness an i need to kno how this fuckin happened
[TheMummyReturns]: I think you’re overreacting.
[TheMummyReturns]: It isn’t necessarily some paranoid conspiracy, for anyone except you.
[HackeyMouse]: yes it fuckin is
[HackeyMouse]: whoever this other guy is, he has my original resume an trust me, no 1 wld hire someone w that.
[HackeyMouse]: yet he went out of his way to get me this job
[HackeyMouse]: an i wanna kno why
[HackeyMouse]: somethin funnys goin on
[Yellooooo]: who’s the drama queen now?
[Yellooooo]: it’s just a prank, bro
[HackeyMouse]: nobody fucks around with me. it’s on.
[HackeyMouse]: like donkey fucking kong an his monster dong
[Indigohome]: Did any of us need that mental image?
[HackeyMouse]: yes.

-

“The asshole-in-chief says hi, btw.”

“Why did you shorten that verbally when it takes longer to say?” Doubs asked absently.

“Because it’s my life, bitch.” Hackey turned to Doubs, adjusting his own shirt collar and shrugging vaguely. “He seems alright.”

Doubs nodded. “Spoke to him recently. New meds seem to be working. He’s the asshole-in-chief we all know and love, rather than being totally unstable. He’s only a pinch unstable right now. When are you adding me back to the chat, anyway?”

“Later, later,” Hackey said dismissively. “I’ve got a job interview now. Might finally get some answers.”

“Might finally get a job, even. Or pigs could fly. We’re living in an age of miracles.”

“No need to be rude,” Hackey pulled a face. “Ya know what, I’m gonna get this job now. ‘Cause fuck you, Doubs Hewley. Fuckadoodle- you .”

He left their apartment and caught the bus across to the generic, mediocre office building of mystery, towering tall and grey above him. He wondered if he should have been wearing a tie and whether he was physically capable of mugging someone to steal theirs - he doubted it. Likely as not they’d take one look at his hair and piercings and tattoos and that’d be it. He’d be out the door before he could get a word in his defence.

This could be his workplace. But then who’d be crazy enough to hire him?

Someone who was crazy enough to call him for an interview.

Walking up to the desk, he smiled confidently at the reception. “Hi. Hac- Quentin Donaghue. Here for the interview?”

“You’re the only one,” the receptionist, ‘RAQUEL’ muttered, bored. “Nobody else showed.”

“Really?” Hackey asked, not sure if he was hopeful or disappointed. The woman nodded. “Where should I wait?”

“Go straight up to HR. Fourth floor. Kelly’s off sick, so it’s Martin you need to ask for.”

“Right. Thanks.” Hackey swallowed a sudden, creeping nervousness. What did they call it, trepidation? He walked through to the elevator, heart doing a strange dance. It wasn’t about the job, he told himself. It was the mystery of it. He wasn’t someone you could fuck with.

Ding. The right floor.

“I’m here to see Martin?” A revolving chair spun around, a harmless enough balding man with an eager smile stood up. “Uh...I’m Quentin? But people call me Hackey.”

“You must be here for the IT position.” Hackey nodded awkwardly. “Judging by your hair, you’ll know just what you’re doing.”

Hackey wasn’t sure what hair had to do with it. Presumably dyed hair was a clear indicator of being young enough to know how to turn a computer on and off again, or vice versa, whichever it was. “Apparently I’m the only one to show.”

Martin smiled ruefully. “Yes you are. Also final candidate of the day. So this isn’t really an interview so much as an orientation. When can you start?”

“When...do you want me to start?”

“Monday morning?”

Hackey’s mind screamed at the prospect of being conscious before noon. But he nodded. “Alright by me.” It wasn’t. But he said it anyway. Was this how people normally got jobs? Bullshitting out of their ass? Probably.

That and mysterious tech guys in the basement.

“Perfect!” Martin reached out and shook his hand insistently. “I guess I’d better show you down where you’ll be working.”

“Oh yes,” Hackey perked up. “With this other IT guy I’ve heard so much about. What’s he like?”

Martin shrugged. “Search me. Real enigmatic fella. Keeps to himself.”

“Kelly mentioned some password weirdness?”

Martin rolled his eyes. “Alright, so he has a tendency to cc people in emails about password security, ranking everyone he finds unimaginative. You can’t sit on a password longer than a couple of months before it gets randomly changed. You get used to it after a while. Think of a good password to start with. That’ll put you in good stead.”

“Sounds like an absolute fuc- fun time, fun time.” Hackey caught himself when he saw the swear jar. Yeah, no, he couldn’t afford that shit. “He must be wild at office parties.”

“Never attends,” Martin said as he ushered Hackey back into the elevator. “Meetings neither. Everyone in the office knows of him, and he knows everything that happens, don’t ask me how. Most people never see him.”

“What happens when the computers break?”

Martin chuckled, an old man laugh, older than he was. “He uses some weird thing to take control, I don’t understand it one bit. If they break worse, he says he could fix them up but we should figure out how to do it ourselves. They’re always running the next day so….I don’t know. He can get away with that because he’s worked here a while. You don’t get to do that sort of thing. We expect you to pull your weight.”

It sounded exhausting. Hackey certainly didn’t intend to do that. He planned to stay long enough to figure out what was up then get fired dramatically, or quit, or whatever. He’d get away with as little work as possible.

“Any idea why he recommended me for the job?” Hackey asked, testing the water.

“Who knows? He’s a strange one. You’ll meet him in just a moment.”

First floor, then basement. Ding.

Doors opened.

Down a darkened corridor, past the server room, to an office bearing the words ‘TE H SUPPO’. Martin smiled, that oh-so-false smile and knocked on the door, before easing it open. Unsure what to expect, Hackey followed him in. The office was small, meticulously neat. There was a small teapot and heater on one desk, and a disused coffee machine in the corner. There was a cupboard with a NO ENTRY sign on it. Scooped up in an orange chair, a Japanese man turned to look at him with dark, clever eyes. His hair was a dark mess, and he looked younger than Hackey had pictured. When he made eye contact with Hackey, he smiled faintly, but definitively. Hackey glared. He didn’t trust this guy. He felt distinctly fucked around with, and he hated that feeling.

“Quentin Donaghue - sorry, Hackey, was it? - this is Shinichi Tsukumoya,” Martin was saying. “You’ll be working together.”

And the fucker was definitely smirking like a total bag of dicks as he stood up to shake Hackey’s hand and said, “Charmed.”

What. A. Prick.

Hackey hated him already.

Chapter Text

How the fuck Hackey Mouse got a job interview (and what came next)

“With all respect, I’d rather not have a coworker. I can handle the caseload just fine.”

His boss sighed. “I know, Shinichi. You enjoy your privacy. However with our expansions, brilliant as you are, it’d be simply unethical to put all that on you. Unethical. Not to mention inefficient.”

“Ah, that sounds more like it. I was wondering where ethics factored into the capitalist model,” Shinichi muttered wryly. “I suppose I understand your logic. May I evaluate candidates myself? I have the required technical understanding of the field those in HR simply lack.”

“If you insist.” The boss shrugged. “After all, you know best, don’t you? It’d make a lot of sense.”

“Yes,” Shinichi said. “It would.”

-

He’d been the resident IT specialist there for almost three years now, his entire time in America. He spoke better English than pretty much the rest of the staff. He was settled, he had his arrangement, things were good. Anywhere else, and his little niche would have caved in long ago. He knew he was lucky to find such reasonable employers, who understood and made allowances for his idiosyncrasies. Still, it was somewhat disappointing to find this haven would be coming to an end, that someone else would be intruding in on it.

Don’t you want the company? He was asked, to which he shrugged noncommittally. He was perfectly fine keeping up communications with old friends and acquaintances back in Japan, that was an adequate amount of socialisation. He didn’t get lonely.

It’ll be a weight off your shoulders . He had no problem with his work, barring the various people who kept bricking their laptops by downloading every virus they could find to it. It wasn’t a burden on him anyway.

It’s policy . Yes, it was.

That didn’t mean he had to like it. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t do his bit to obstruct it as subtly as possible, from the inside. Nobody would suspect him. Well, perhaps the boss would but then he would have no proof, because Shinichi would delete any trail possibly left behind. Nobody would ever know. He waited, biding his time for the first email to come through, scanned over the resume, and promptly deleted it from existence before anyone could see it. A little while later a second came through, and he deleted that too.

He let the third one through, it was an unimpressive resume and would be dismissed easily enough. Same applied to the fourth and fifth. The sixth was copied and pasted, stolen from somewhere else, so he informed HR of this promptly. And so he continued, deleting anyone who was too good, allowing only typo-ridden mistakefests through, and unimaginative, uncompelling pieces nobody would look twice at. This continued for the next week, weeding out the majority of applicants, thinning the herd. Right now, he didn’t have much of a plan beyond that. They would hire someone unimpressive and they would do very little, and the system Shinichi had in place would continue to work. His role would remain as it was.

Nothing would change.

At least, so he planned. But as soon as he clicked on ‘Hackey Mouse’s INCREDIBLE portfololio lololololol dont hire me’ he knew he’d stumbled on a goldmine. Everything about this gave all the signs of being written by a complete fool. A complete fool with impressive technical knowledge, too much time and alcohol on their hands, and access to the life of Rick Astley on wikipedia. It was the technical knowledge that caught his eye - a section in binary (said essay on Rick Astley), bragging that they hadn’t used an online converter at all ‘except for the last part ‘cause I was sooooo wasted lmao’ (and indeed the last part had less typos). And then they talked about their previous experience as ‘Total Asshat’ at ‘Memelord Central’. Aside from that though, their qualifications were legit and all seemed to check out, from dropping out of Harvard to graduating with decent grades from a nearby college. In fact, Shinichi managed to find them online - under the name Hackey Mouse, and saw they did indeed have considerable aptitude.

In that split second, he made a decision.

He saved the document to his PC, then deleted the email as he’d done so many others. He edited it, recolouring and resizing the text, cutting out-there sections and buffing the qualifications a little. Soon he had it polished to within readability, then hireability, then Quentin Alistair Winston Sierra Endlington Donaghue was soon the most capable candidate for the job.

He resent the resume, then gave his glowing recommendation to the most ridiculous, immature, worst candidate he’d been able to find, or was likely to ever find anywhere on the planet.

The plan had evolved now. Ensure they hired the idiot, and let him get himself fired naturally. It wouldn’t be worth hiring extra IT help. So the system would continue.

And if the guy stuck around, he’d be reasonable entertainment.

Still, he had to make it through the interview stage.

So Shinichi used Kelly’s email account to contact all the other applicants and tell them unfortunately, due to cutbacks, the position was no longer going to be available. He deleted this email, and blocked the other candidates accounts.

When the day of the interview came, only one person turned up.

That person being Hackey Mouse.

-

“I’ll leave you two to get to know one another, shall I?” Martin said, backing out of the room with a cheerful wave.

“You do that. Send my best to Patricia,” Shinichi replied, smiling. Martin spluttered opening his mouth and closing it in panic.

“How-” he began.

Shinichi waved a dismissive hand. “You were sexting on work servers. Does your wife know, by the way?”

“Please, don’t tell anyone.” Shinichi mimed zipping his lips. “I- uh- I should go.” Martin turned and practically fled the room.

The new hire snorted. “Well, ya handled that nicely.” He was studying Shinichi with narrowed eyes, glaring at him, sizing him up. His hair was scruffy and dyed bright green, and he wore glasses. His face was covered with an unreasonable amount of freckles. He appeared to have made a small, miniscule effort to tidy himself up, an ill-fitting shirt, top button undone, no tie. Obnoxiously bright, neon sneakers. The attempt was, well, halfhearted at best. “Are ya this much of a dick to everyone?”

“I’m not the one having an affair,” Shinichi pointed out. “By all rights, I ought to contact his wife and send copies of the messages her husband’s been sending. Believe me, I’m not the one being a dick.”

“Oh, how thoughtful,” the idiot muttered, surveying the room, unimpressed. “What the fuck, dude? What is your fuckin’ deal? Ya edit my resume, make sure I get this job, I fuckin’ bet ya called all the other applicants an’ made sure they didn’t show. Why?”

“Why not?” Shinichi shrugged.

Quentin Donaghue looked gobsmacked. He took a step toward Shinichi, personal space right out of the window as he waved his arms madly. “Why not, ya bastard? Why not? What the fuck kind of answer is that? I can list a hundred fuckin’ reasons why not. What I wanna know is why. What kinda shit do ya think you’re pulling?”

“I’m stealing from the company and I wanted an incompetent so I could cover it up,” Shinichi deadpanned. Donaghue’s eyes widened. “That was a joke, Donaghue.”

“Don’t- don’t fuckin’ call me that. Hackey. People call me Hackey.” He folded his long, gangly arms stubbornly.

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Shinichi smiled. “Donaghue.”

Donaghue exploded. “Motherfucker! If I’ve got to work with ya all fuckin’ day, I swear I’m gonna throw myself off a goddamn roof.” Dramatic, wasn’t he? Between the gesticulating and the speech patterns and the way he got right up in your face, he was a furious bundle of petty melodrama. Unlikely to stick around long for that very reason. “Ya had your laugh? Ha fuckin’ ha, good one, Shit-itchy Tsuku-whatever. Glad I could provide some entertainment to your sad, empty, pathetic little life.”

“Indeed,” Shinichi replied drily. “Thank you so much.”

“Why?” Donaghue spat again, flecks of spit hitting Shinichi in the face. “What was the point in all this?” Shinichi shrugged. “Oh, don’t. If ya say why not, I’m gonna fuckin’ set everything on fire. Starting with that fancy-ass egg chair. Why’d ya get the fancy chair and I just get a shitty office chair that looks like it’s made of dead cats?”

“It’s my chair. I paid for it. If you want a different chair, bring your own.”

Donaghue’s expression soured, struggling to find words. “I- I just might. I got a gaming chair that has like, heated seat and twelve reclining settings.”

“I believe they call that a waste of money.”

“I believe they call your mom a waste of money.” Donaghue scratched the back of his head self-consciously and then felt the need to elaborate. “Yanno, ‘cause she’s the world’s shittest whore. People queue around the block to demand refunds.”

“What an astute observation.”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch!” he snapped.

“Why, Donaghue. I thought you wanted an explanation of my dastardly evil plans.”

That stumped him. “Well uh- I do, sure. But ya gotta be sitting in the chair like a proper villain to do that. An’ say like, Mr Bond or somethin’. I dunno. Ya should though.”

Shinichi raised his eyebrows but obliged. Really, this man was proving quite entertaining, when he wasn’t breathing air from inside your personal bubble. He sank back into his chair and swivelled around. “I imagine you’re wondering why you’re here, Mr Donaghue.”

“It’s Mr Mouse, Hackey Mouse, but whatever. And damn right I am.”

“Well, it’s a simple thing.” He steepled his fingers and peered over them, like a ‘proper villain’. “I never wanted a coworker. Hiring someone like you means I won’t have to tolerate the inconvenience of one long. Do you follow?”

“Do I follow- do I fucking follow ?” Donaghue raged. “Ya want me to get myself fired, is that right?” Shinichi nodded. “Well fuck you, you’re stuck with me. I’m gonna stay here an’ ya can’t shift me. I’m keeping this job.”

“Fine by me. If you want to act like a child, who am I to argue?”

“I’ll tell you who ya are.” Donaghue leaned in. “You’re the fucker who played along with this bs. You set this up, so yanno what that makes you? A petty fuckin’ child. A petty. Fuckin’. Child .” He turned to leave, then glanced back and gave Shinichi a wicked grin. “I’ll see ya on Monday, bitch.”

What a delightful man.

A shame he probably wouldn’t be around long. He was amusing. Though that would probably get tiresome quickly.

There was no way someone like that could hold down a job.

Was there?

-

Orihara Izaya returns to life!

Tsukumoya Shinichi

And so he reappears.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

I didn’t think you’d be keen to show your face here again after the photoshop debacle.

Orihara Izaya

...yeah, no, I’m not.

Orihara Izaya

Just thought I’d stop by and say hi

Orihara Izaya

since you don’t have any friends, someone has to make sure you didn’t die overnight, not that it’d be much of a loss

Orihara Izaya

Since you replied, I’m taking that’s a no.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

So far as you know.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

You have no verifiable evidence of who you are speaking to.

Orihara Izaya

You’re acting like an asshole so it’s you

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Not an attitude exclusive to myself, I’m afraid.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

For instance, I could name a certain individual with whom I have some association and am communicating with currently.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

I could name him...but I won’t.

Orihara Izaya

Why do I even keep in touch with you?

Orihara Izaya

You leaving Japan was the best thing that’s happened in a long while.

Orihara Izaya

...on that note, isn’t it like 3am where you are?

Tsukumoya Shinichi

I don’t appreciate the implied judgement on my lifestyle, Orihara

Orihara Izaya

It’s not even implied, it’s just flat-out judgement, tbh

Orihara Izaya

What kind of stereotypical internet-addicted loner are you?

Tsukumoya Shinichi

One who photoshopped you in drag once and is prepared to do it again.

Orihara Izaya

You wouldn’t

Tsukumoya Shinichi

You’re right. I wouldn’t.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

I’d think of something far more inventive instead.

Orihara Izaya

Look at the time, I have to go.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

What a relief.

Orihara Izaya

Funny, I was just about to say the same thing.

Orihara Izaya

Also, go the fuck to sleep.

Orihara Izaya

You’ll get sick

Tsukumoya Shinichi

What’s this? Are you showing concern? Need I mark this date on the calendar as one to remember?

Tsukumoya Shinichi

‘The first day Orihara showed human emotion in living memory’

Tsukumoya Shinichi

I feel that’d make a very catchy national holiday.

Orihara Izaya

Actually it’s because you’re even more of an obnoxious pain in the ass when you’re ill.

Orihara Izaya

...and if this conversation has proven anything, it’s that you’re bad enough to begin with.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Takes one to know one, I guess.

Orihara Izaya

Go. To. Sleep.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

But I’m online 24/7, didn’t you know that, Yamcha?

Orihara Izaya

Whatever. It’s your life.

Orihara Izaya

Fuck up your sleep schedule if you want. I have work to do.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

On the topic of work, I find myself with a coworker, whose powers of frustration rival your own.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

He is, in short, a headache. Visually, mentally, emotionally. And I ensured he of all candidates got the job

Tsukumoya Shinichi

He’ll get himself fired, no doubt about it, but until then I’m stuck with him. Which may prove entertaining or grating, who knows?

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Still, he is somewhat intriguing. Not to mention highly amusing.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

And he certainly has the technical knowledge. Even if it is buried under layers of memes.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

...many, many layers of memes.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Many.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

He despises me anyhow, so we’re beginning on a good footing. All-out war, I believe. I’m almost looking forward to and dreading Monday in equal measure.

Orihara Izaya

Wow, if I didn’t know better I’d say you had some sort of angry crush on this guy, but that’d require being human.

Orihara Izaya

Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone~

Orihara Izaya

Your secret’s safe with me

Orihara Izaya

So what’s his name? Not so I can message him about this and send screenshots or anything.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Ah, Orihara. I can’t give away that kind of information. Company policy.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Nice try though.

Orihara Izaya

Have fun making out with your new little friend. Xxx :)

Orihara Izaya confirmed dead!

Tsukumoya pushed the keyboard away and frowned. Entertaining though the banter had been, there was absolutely no basis for any of those allegations. No, it was merely Orihara being a complete fuck.

He did wonder why he’d made sure Donaghue of all people got the job. Rather than someone he might have been able to tolerate. He’d picked the most abrasive person possible. Handpicked them.

Why?

So they would get fired , he told himself.

Morbid curiosity , he told himself.

Schadenfreude , he told himself.

It wasn’t like him to meddle with things like that. He preferred to stay out of - well, everything. He didn’t do things like this at all.

Why Quentin Donaghue?

Why Hackey ?

Monday ticked steadily closer, but the answer remained at large. He did, however, know that Orihara was wrong.

Dead wrong.

-

Monday came around.

He heard the office door open and his new colleague enter. On heelies. Sipping a painfully bright green drink.

“What’s up, ya lonely little fuck?”

Shinichi smiled.

“Nothing much. Are those children’s shoes, Donaghue?”

So it begins .

Though it had already begun weeks prior to this, now the first salvo was fired.

Now it started in earnest.

-

And that was how the fuck Hackey Mouse got a job.

Chapter Text

First Day at Work For Hackey Mouse, Current Holder of Laziest Man Ever International Record

“I fuckin’ hate the guy. He’s such a condescending prick it’s unreal! Can ya fuckin’ believe he rigged everything so I’d get the job just so I’d get fired? Unfuckingbelievable. I wanna wipe that smug look off his face and set fire to his stupid goddamn egg chair. While he’s sat in it.”

Doubs raised an eyebrow. “That seems somewhat extreme.”

“Extreme?!” Hackey waved his arms dramatically. “Did ya hear what he said about my gaming chair? In fact, were ya even listening to anything I said these past twenty minutes? He’s a grade A asshole shitfuck bastard full of crap an’ jackassery an’ shit. He deserves everything I’m gonna rain down on him.”

“You’ve been ranting non-stop about him for twenty minutes,” Doubs pointed out. “This morning you said you weren’t obsessed.”

“I’m not!” Hackey reddened. “It’s just fuckin’ on. I’m takin’ that pretty sonuvabitch down a peg or ten or hell, a hundred.” Soon as the words had left his mouth, he realised what he’d said and prayed Doubs wouldn’t notice. Doubs always noticed.

“Oh, so he’s pretty, is he?”

“I mean, that was an insult!” Hackey protested. “Like, he’s tiny and Japanese and pretty, it’s a fuckin’ insult isn’t it?”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Doubs smirked wickedly.

“Piss off, Shakespeare an’ get back to makin’ dick jokes an’ fuckin’ Christopher Marlowe.”

“There’s no historical evidence that happened.”

Hackey snorted. “‘Course it did. Everyone knows that. Just like everyone knows if you call a guy pretty it’s an insult!”

“But you do think he’s pretty?” Doubs persisted, and Hackey was 100% certain he’d never hated him more.

Hackey groaned. “I guess. He doesn’t deserve it, ugh.”

Doubs laughed. “So let me get this straight. You’re going back to work and you fully intend to keep this job just to spite your admittedly pretty coworker who you ranted at me about for a full twenty-two minutes. This reeks of sexual frustration.”

“I- ya- I am NOT sexually frustrated!” Hackey spluttered. “You- you’re the one who’s sexually frustrated! Since ya last got laid in like, 17BC.”

Doubs’ smirk only widened. “Ah, but that means I’ve got laid. Unlike some people.”

“Fuck you, Doubs! I have too- I- I’ve done the do- your mom, alright! ‘Cause she’s a fuckin’ whore, ain’t she? She’d have to be to give birth to you!”

“Does that make you my stepdad?”

“Nope, so doesn’t. An’ I am absolutely not crushing on that fuck Tsukumoya. Even if I was, I could do so much better.”

“Like my mother?”

“Like your mom, yup. Exactly.”

-

The weekend was mostly spent online, trying to find out what he could about the mysterious basement goblin he’d soon be working with/declaring war on. Most of what he did find was in Japanese, a language he had basic knowledge of from watching a shittonne of anime as an edge teen and slacker adult. Still, some if not almost all slipped past him so he decided fuck it, he needed to recruit help. Aiji and Yellow would have to help him. He proposed an arrangement with them; he’d buy them lootboxes in return for their assistance.

Aiji and Yellow agreed to help.

Not without taking the piss. A lot.

[Yellooooo]: so what ur saying is u have a CRUSH <333
[HackeyMouse]: fuck u no i fuckin dont
[HackeyMouse]: 1st doubs no u bitches
[HackeyMouse]: the lot of ya are dead to me
[Indigohome]: Careful. We can message this Tsukumoya professing your feelings.
[Yellooooo]: yeah! we can send him screenshots of all the times you’ve bitched about him to us
[Yellooooo]: ...all the many, many times
[HackeyMouse]: if ya fuckin dare i’ll find that restaurant ya like in nyc and send that nice man who runs it lots of embarrassing memes abt u
[HackeyMouse]: and ya kno i will
[Yellooooo]: there is NOTHING going on there fuck you
[HackeyMouse]: well there wont be when im finished, ya can be damn sure of that
[HackeyMouse]: just tell me what ya found already

What they’d found was a big fat lot of nothing.

Shinichi Tsukumoya, it seemed, came from Tokyo. Specifically Ikebukuro. He kept a reasonably popular blog recording unusual happenstances and various other goings on. He’d graduated from a prestigious university with high grades and had plenty of experience in his field.

Beyond that, nothing. He was like a cardboard cutout, nothing behind that front. There was no info about him, no clear associates, no pressure points. If Hackey hadn’t met him face to face, there would have been absolutely no evidence the guy existed offline.

No family. No photographs. No nothing .

Aiji had demanded payment upfront so Hackey’s bank account was drained. And for what? Jackshit.

He was seriously pissed off now and determined to win this petty conflict of pettiness.

This determination, of course, somehow translated into a crush in the minds of everyone else. Fucking bullshit.

Like he’d like a stuck-up asshole like that. Like he’d ever.

Then it was Monday, all of a sudden, and he was due for his first day at work. He even woke up early, ready for it, downing his coffee while it was still hot and burning his tongue in the process, much to Doubs’ shitfuck amusement.

“‘s not fuckin’ funny,” Hackey muttered.

“Oh, it’s very fucking funny. Are you that eager to see your boyfriend again?”

“For fuck’s sake, we’ve met once, Doubs, and he pissed me off so much I’m only going back to get even. What part of that remotely speaks uncontrollable attraction?”

“All of it.”

“Absolutely fuckin’ not,” Hackey retorted. He picked out a neon pair of shoes with light-up heels. “Whaddaya think? Heelies, nice an’ extra an’ full of memey shit?”

Doubs smirked. “You will break your neck, my friend.”

“Yeah, an’ that’s good luck, right?”

“It’s legs, and only metaphorically. Not literally,” Doubs pointed out.

“Eh, what’s the difference? Nowhere in the office dress code does it forbid heelies. I read that shit last night, if he wants to complain he doesn’t have a leg to stand on.” Hackey folded his arms smugly.

“Neither will you, with your coordination. Are we forgetting what happened last time you wore those cursed shoes? Has the concussion affected your memory? Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should.”

“Sorry, can’t hear you, gotta go to work. Bye~” he sang obnoxiously, and heelied out the door, not even crashing into the door frame on the way. Fucking skilled .

He did crash into every other doorframe from that point on and manage to fall over on the bus somehow but that was beside the point. He rolled into the office, smugly sipping his slushie and grinning like a jackass. This was where it really began. This was the front line.

Huh. Maybe he was a little obsessed. Justifiably so though.

Justifiably.

“What’s up, ya lonely little fuck?”

He heard the piece of shit smirk from his perch in that egg chair. “Nothing much. Are those children’s shoes, Donaghue?”

It took all his effort not to spray the goddamn slushie everywhere. “Absolutely! So much cooler than your boring as fuck whatevers. I’ve got heelies. Jealous?”

“Funnily enough, no. Is that drink legal ? It looks like it violates several health codes and radioactivity levels.”

Hackey took a huge slurp, and gave himself brain freeze. “Jesus, is fun illegal in here? Like, do ya enjoy anything except being a killjoy and lording it over everyone else?”

“Well, there’s always time for smugness and disdain, not to mention showing other people up.” Tsukumoya shrugged. “That seems to be the crux of my hobbies, though I’m sure there are others I’ve neglected to mention.”

“Do ya really have to talk like a pompous asshat?” Hackey muttered, slouching into the dead cat chair. That reminded him, he needed to call some delivery guys to get his fancy chair over here, if he was going to be staying.

“English isn’t my first language, Donaghue,” Tsukumoya replied, not so much as glancing away from his screen. “Way to be a jerk.”

“Bitch, you speak better English than like, ninety percent of native speakers. There’s no way ya don’t do this on purpose.” Hackey spun around on the chair absently, casting occasional glares across the office at his coworker. Who was ignoring him like a total dick and actually doing work.

“If you say so, Donaghue.” Tsukumoya took a sip from a mug of tea. “There’s work to be done. You could make a start on your share of it.” He indicated a pile of paperwork sat on the desk. “Or not. Your choice.”

Ugh. People accusing him of liking this guy really had no clue. “Seeing as I work here now, I guess I’d better.”

“For now,” Tsukumoya murmured.

That really irked Hackey. He needed to find something to get under this dude’s skin soon, he couldn’t admit defeat. Opening a youtube tab he considered his options and then decided it was absolutely the time for a nightcore rendition of Take On Me at full volume. Perfect.

Glancing over at Tsukumoya, he smirked. Haha bitch. Enjoy .

The egg chair rotated and his coworker raised a lazy eyebrow, then turned back to his screen, clicking on a couple of things and then, suddenly Hackey saw his own cursor move by itself and close the youtube tab. A message popped up.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Headphones, Donaghue.

“Motherfucker!” Hackey shot a look across the room.

“I can do this all day, Donaghue.”

While Hackey wanted to test that, he decided reluctantly to start transferring this information to the relevant databases. The instructions provided were minimal and there was no way he’d ask that bastard for help. But he was smart, he did what he could, made his way through the pile until the phone rang.

“Ya gonna answer that?” he asked.

“I thought you worked here now,” Tsukumoya replied. And Hackey got a good glimpse at his monitor and God he’d never hated this guy more than right now.

“You’re playing fucking Tetris, ya lying hypocrite whoreface! What the shit?! Ya call me a slacker but you’re just a bad, ain’t ya? You’re a fuckin’ jerkwad, Shinichi Tsukumoya.”

“My mistake. Clearly you don’t work here. It’s been a pleasure knowing you, Donaghue.”

“No no no, ya can’t get rid of me that easy. I’m here to stay.” Hackey took the call. “Ha- Quentin Donaghue. How can I help?”

“Uh, this is Patricia? My computer won’t turn on, I think it’s broken.”

“Is it plugged in?”

“Um...what do you mean?”

Hackey sighed with exasperation, partly at this idiot he was talking to, partly at the look on Tsukumoya’s face as he got a fucking high-score on Tetris. “Into the wall? Is it plugged in to the wall?”

Movement, scuffling. “ Oh . Never mind. Goodbye.” She hung up, without even a thanks, leaving Hackey glaring at the phone in frustration.

Kicking against the wall he propelled himself across the room to where Tsukumoya was apparently now working and had never been wasting time ever or at all. “Did that really happen? Ya gotta be jokin’ me. People cannot be that stupid.”

“You’d be surprised. I’ve worked here three years, Donaghue. Once I was yelled at for half an hour because I couldn’t fix a computer they hadn’t even turned on. People are by large exactly as stupid as you can possibly imagine and more.”

Something clicked in Hackey’s memory. “Wait, isn’t Patricia the one who Martin’s cheating on his wife with? Why the fuck would anyone want to date someone like that?”

“The mind does boggle, doesn’t it?” Tsukumoya continued to keep his eyes fixed on the screen.

Grabbing his chair, Hackey turned him around so they were face-to-face. “Yeah, it fuckin’ does. I tell ya what else I’m confused about - you. Who even are you? I tried to find ya online.”

“I can imagine you had a time with that,” Tsukumoya said quietly.

“A real fuckin’ time, yep. What is your deal? I don’t get it. I just don’t get ya.”

Tsukumoya was silent. He wasn’t meeting Hackey’s eyes. Almost looking past him when he spoke. “What do you want to get?”

“I-” Hackey trailed off. “I dunno. Ya just...you’re fuckin’ weird, okay?”

“I’ve gathered as much, yes.”

“Why?” That was all Hackey could ask, honestly. Why was Shinichi Tsukumoya so confusing and why did he want to know more, despite finding him beyond irritating? Why was he the way he was?

Tsukumoya finally met Hackey’s eyes. “Could you get back to your side of the office? Please.”

And Hackey gave up. The hint of something he’d found interesting fizzled out and he whizzed back across the office to continue working through his assignments. He felt a little unsettled, so he decided to send Tsukumoya constant links, all of which were rickrolls. After the first one, he heard a small chuckle.

“Mature, Donaghue,” came the reply. And that was more reassuringly snide it seemed almost normal. There was a normal here.

His first day at work was going swell .

-

He went out for lunch. Tsukumoya didn’t move from his computer, not that Hackey would have invited him for lunch anyway. Ha, no way. He wanted to spend as little time in that guy’s company as possible. So he went to Subway, grabbed something to eat and heelied back, running into a red-headed woman on the way back into the office.

“Oh! Sorry!” She looked at him, confused. “Are you new here?”

“Uh...yeah. Quentin. Quentin Donaghue.”

“Ohhh, I remember. We spoke on the phone.” She extended a hand. He shook it awkwardly. “Congratulations on the job. I’ll get your ID badge down to you soon as. You’ll need a photo, come up at about 2 and we can sort that out.” She looked around surreptitiously. “How are things? Any trouble?”

“No, not really.” Aside from his colleague being a prick, no trouble. “I mean, could be worse, right?”

“I’d come down and help you settle in, but there’s things I need to do. And the basement creeps me out. What’s...uh, Shinichi, that’s his name right? What’s he like?”

A pain in my ass , Hackey thought. “He’s odd. Comes with the territory, I guess.”

“If you have any trouble, whatever, tell me.” She smiled reassuringly and Hackey decided no matter how much he hated Tsukumoya, he hated and distrusted this woman more. “It’s my job to deal with these things. And, well- from what I know of the guy, emails, he’s difficult. Don’t let him give you any trouble.”

“Trust me, I won’t.”

“Good, good. See you later.” The woman waved and walked away, leaving Hackey confused.

He got the elevator down to the basement again. “Have ya even moved since I left?” he asked immediately, Tsukumoya still sat folded up in his chair.

Tsukumoya shrugged. “So you met Kelly?”

“How did ya- oh you shit . Ya have access to security cameras?”

“Not officially, no,” Tsukumoya replied casually.

“That’s so fucking shady what the fuck what the actual fuck .” Hackey took a bite out of what remained of his sub. “She doesn’t seem to like ya. Guess your winning attitude doesn’t endear you to everyone, huh?”

“Did you tell her?” Tsukumoya asked quietly. “My little misdemeanours, getting you this job?”

Hackey practically choked on a pickle. “I- of course I didn’t, what the fuck do ya think of me?”

“I think you’re a headache who decided we are at war. I think you’d screw anyone over if it suited you. I think that’s precisely something you’d go and do.”

Hackey shook his head vehemently. “Nuh-uh. Snitches get stitches, motherfucker. I fuckin’ hate ya but this is between us. You an’ me. If I get ya fired then it’s all over, ain’t it? I lose my job too.”

“I was under the impression you didn’t really want this job,” remarked Tsukumoya drily.

“Well I...uh, I don’t,” Hackey admitted. “But I’m gonna take every opportunity to piss ya off, rather than just end this quick, yanno?”

Tsukumoya nodded, that ridiculous smirk toying with his lips ugh could he just stop it already . “Thank you, Donaghue. Appreciated.”

Hackey squirmed nervously. “Uh well...I didn’t do it for you. I just don’t like Kathy or whatever her name is. Don’t fuckin’ flatter yourself, alright? I still hate ya.”

“After all I’ve done to make you welcome,” Tsukumoya tutted.

Hackey rolled his eyes, but got back to the dead cat seat and actually did work for most of the afternoon, except when he was careening around the office spinning on the chair but that had to be done. One of the wheels caught on a table leg and snapped, depositing him on the floor in a cursing heap of arms and legs.

A hand offered him help up.

He took it without thinking. “Ugh, I think I sprained my ass. Is that possible? ‘Cause I think I did it.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not a medical professional.” Tsukumoya shrugged, moving immediately for a bottle of antibacterial gel in a not-even-subtle display of rudeness. “I hope you learnt your lesson.”

“Yeah,” Hackey acquiesced. “I learnt you’re a massive bitch, this chair is shit, an’ I’m bringing my goddamn gaming chair tomorrow.”

Tomorrow.

His second day of work.

Was he seriously planning to stick around?

Looking at Tsukumoya’s face, the look of aloof smugness written all over it, yes he absolutely was.

And it absolutely wasn’t because he had a crush.

-

“It’s absolutely because you have a crush.”

“Fuck off , Doubs!”

Doubs held up his hands defensively. “I’m just saying.”

“Can ya possibly just unsay that?” Hackey groaned. “How many times do I need to say it? I do not have a crush on Tsukumoya. Also I’m moving my gaming chair to the office so I need a new chair.”

Doubs shook his head. “You’ve got it bad.”

“ You’ve got it bad. And by ‘it’ I mean syphilis from the last time ya got laid in Whatever BC.” Hackey stuck his tongue out. “What’s that? Ya don’t have a comeback. One-nil Hackey, I win.”

“Except against Tsukumoya,” Doubs pointed out.

“That’s in progress.” Hackey clenched his fists dramatically. “An’ trust me, I’m goin’ to. I am so goin’ to.”

“I await updates with bated breath.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 4 - The Daily Workplace Shenanigans of Hackey Mouse and Shinichi Tsukumoya

While hiring Donaghue had seemed like a foolproof plan at first, as it so happened Donaghue was a fool. He was to reasonable daily operations what the iceberg was to the Titanic, what automated calls were to switchboard operators; a death knell. Everything he did was in the aid of one goal, and that was being an absolute nightmare.

And he succeeded.

On his second day working there, he had his unreasonably expensive gaming chair hauled in by a delivery company. Number of rickrolls - 15. Not counting other songs blared at full volume.

On his third day, he sprayed silly string across the whole office and somehow managed to break the coffee machine and clog the toilet. Number of rickrolls - 7. Shinichi no longer opened emails from him.

On his fourth day he heelied in with a bottle of vodka and slumped into his gaming chair, waving across the office at Shinichi. Already the area around his workspace was full of tack and leftovers, empty cans of Red Bull and grubby mugs stacked high. The lack of organisation was laughable.

“What’s up ya lonely little- Jesus fuck, do ya ever leave that goddamn chair?” Donaghue was asking, beginning his day at work with a swig of vodka. Something Shinichi knew he could report him for, were he not being blackmailed. It was in his interest to keep Donaghue in work and that was the worst part of it. There was nothing he could do about that. Nothing.

“Are you sure 9am’s the right time for alcohol, Donaghue? Daydrinking isn’t actually lauded in most workplaces, this one included.”

“What are ya gonna do, report me?” Donaghue scoffed. “We both know ya can’t.” He coughed awkwardly. “And uh...it’s water anyway. I refilled the bottle.”

Shinichi chuckled. “That is the precise definition of tragic. I’m so sorry this is your life.”

“Yeah?” Donaghue swivelled on his chair, arms folded stubbornly. “Well, at least I get out. Yanno, not often, an’ mostly just the journey here an’ home again, but that counts for somethin’ right? I saw sunlight like, once. It sucked, but I still saw it, with my own two shitty short-sighted eyes. I’m not a total vampire. I’ve never seen you leave this office. You’re always here when I arrive, an’ ya stay late. Do ya live here or what?”

“Yes. I actually sleep in the cupboard,” Shinichi said truthfully, but with a dry enough tone that he sounded 110% sarcastic.

Donaghue groaned. “See, shit like this is why ya have no friends.”

“I have friends. You, however, are not one of them.” He gestured up at the basement window. “And I do see sunlight, on occasion. About as often as you, I’d wager.”

“Who’d be friends with you?” Donaghue scoffed. “They’d have to be a massive bitch.”

He thought of Orihara, who he wouldn’t exactly call a friend. He thought of Kujiragi, with whom he couldn’t exactly put a name to their relationship. He thought of various others he’d either in person or in passing online. “Yes,” he agreed. “They are.”

“Huh.” Donaghue didn’t seem to expect him to agree. He leaned back dramatically, stretching out like a cat. “I’m so fuckin’ bored, God. How long have I been here?”

“You just arrived.”

“Ugggggh,” Donaghue whined, childish as ever. “I wish this was vodka. Kill me now.” He dragged himself up to his feet, long limbs gangling and slouching. He was considerably taller than Shinichi, gawky and awkward. One thing Shinichi had learnt about him was that he had no personal space, leaning in so close Shinichi could almost count his freckles. One, two, three. Constellations on his face. Absently Shinichi wondered how far the freckles went, then wondered why he wondered that. Curiosity, probably. Nothing more. It wasn’t like he truly wanted to see. He’d never seen anyone with so many freckles before, that was all.

“What’s that ya got there?” His thoughts were interrupted by Donaghue, indicating Shinichi’s tea.

“Jasmine chai. Sweetened with honey.” Soon as the words had left his lips, Donaghue was already sipping it, without even asking.

“Tastes fuckin’ gross.” He pulled a face.

“That’s because you’re an uncultured American,” Shinichi replied bluntly.

“ Rude . I’m very fuckin’ cultured indeed. I’m a Harvard drop-out, yanno.”

“I did know. I read your original resume.”

Donaghue grinned like the jackass he was. “An’ ya had me hired anyway.”

“And I’ve been regretting it ever since,” he remarked. “I was still cleaning up silly string at midnight.”

“The fuck were ya still doing here at midnight?” Donaghue narrowed his eyes. “I’m beginning to think ya are stealin’ from the company.”

“Think what you like.” Shrugging, Shinichi sipped his tea. “Now if you don’t mind getting back to your side of the office before I start playing dot-to-dot with your freckles.”

“Bitch,” muttered Donaghue, but surprisingly obliged. “Gonna have to fight you to the death after work. It’s fuckin’ on.”

“You say that a lot. All talk, Donaghue. You never deliver.” He set about disinfecting the areas Donaghue had touched, methodically tidying his own workspace. He didn’t notice his colleague watching him, but when he glanced up he saw Donaghue’s gaze fixed intently on him. Their eyes met, and Donaghue reddened, looking away, blushing furiously.

“What’s- uh, what’s with the hygiene thing?” Donaghue asked, spluttering slightly. Shinichi smirked; it was amusing to watch him floundering and fumbling for words. “Kinda obsessive, dude?”

“My parents were very obsessive,” Shinichi replied, “Very being an understatement here. They say we all become our parents to a degree. Though I’d dispute that, certain habits are learnt.”

“I fuckin’ hope not.” Donaghue scowled. “My parents can go die in a hole. If I never saw ‘em again it’d be too soon.”

“Yes, well. I left the country for a reason.” He didn’t hate his parents, nor did he wish anything bad upon them. They were just overbearing. They worried; he couldn’t fault them that. It was only natural. Still, he’d received the job offer and jumped at the chance and sometimes he felt guilty at how little guilt he felt for leaving.

“No offence, but that’s real fuckin’ extra. This is practically the other side of the world. Who does that?”

“Me,” Shinichi replied and settled down to another day of ignoring Donaghue’s antics and trying to work without interruption. An impossible challenge these days. Sometimes the interruptions weren’t altogether unwelcome; after dealing with a whole host of idiots who’d forgotten their passwords in a row, for instance he might look over at Donaghue and smirk as his colleague repeatedly banged his head against his desk, screaming expletives.

Lunchtime came around and, as war becoming routine, Donaghue stood up to go get lunch. This time, however, he stopped.

“He, ya wanna grab somethin’? I mean, ya want me to grab somethin’ for ya? You’ll have to pay me back for it, though.”

“Sure. I’d like a wrap, please. If it’s not too much trouble. Preferably chicken.”

“Gotcha. Promise I won’t poison it.”

“Seems legit,” Shinichi replied. He glanced down at the tupperware box of udon noodles he’d prepared for lunch and put them away.

He’d eat them later instead.

Never look a gift horse in the mouth, after all.

Even if that gift horse was Quentin Donaghue

-

After that, Donaghue often offered to fetch food, for a price of course. He stayed late on his second Wednesday and they ordered pizza, insisting he was in it for the overtime payments. Thursday it was Indian, Friday Chinese.

It wasn’t like they had a routine.

“Morning, ya lonely little fuck,” Donaghue would say, then launch into a list of complaints against his roommate or his friends or Shinichi himself. Shinichi indulged him.

He tried making tea once. Shinichi resolved to never let that happen again.

Fridays became movie nights; they finished their caseload late, and would borrow one of the portable projectors to crash and watch something, ‘watch’ being a debatable term, what with Donaghue throwing popcorn at him the whole time. He came in on Saturday once, claiming he’d got days mixed up but that didn’t explain why he stuck around for four hours blasting Russian synthpop.

He became a fixture, and soon his first employee review came around. In that first month (had it only been one month? How would he survive?) there was enough to not only get him fired but to burn any future career prospects to the ground. Shinichi could probably hold onto his own job in the aftermath of Donaghue’s dismissal. He could gamble, and would likely win.

He put in a glowingly positive review.

Firing him would be tantamount to a surrender in their war, and he wasn’t prepared to do that after all.

And perhaps he was growing used to the company after all, though he’d never admit it.

Donaghue was baffled. “What the fuck, man? The fuck is this shit?” He slammed the employee report down on Shinichi’s desk, prodding him hard in the chest. “Not only did ya talk me up, ya recommended me for a pay rise. What happened to getting me fired soon as?”

“Plans change, Donaghue. Is it too unbelievable to imagine I might want you to stick around?”

That stumped him. “I- yes, yes actually it is. Ya make it very clear how much ya hate me. An’ besides, I’m an asshole.”

“That is true. Would you like me to amend my report and explain that in depth? No? Then don’t complain.”

“Bitch, I will complain ‘til hell freezes over an’ then I’ll complain ‘bout how cold it is. Got it?” Shinichi nodded and Donaghue flounced back to his seat. “Man, I don’t get ya. I really don’t.”

“Why do you feel the need to try?”

Silence. An aimless shrug. “Dunno. ‘Cause I’m a fuckin’ idiot, apparently.”

“Glad we can agree on something.” Shinichi smirked.

“ Bitch !” Donaghue retorted. “Wipe that fuckin’ look off your pretty-ass face. Ya don’t deserve to look like that to begin with, I’m tellin’ ya now. It’s unfair. So quit smirking and give the rest of us a chance.”

“Was that a compliment, Donaghue?”

His colleague went red, spluttering like he was wont to when embarrassed. “No it was fuckin’ not, ya tiny little assfuck. Pretty is absolutely an insult. If ya thought I was complimentin’ ya, it’s ‘cause your English sucks. Yanno what else sucks?”

“I can guess,” Shinichi remarked drily, a distinct sense of deja-vu setting in.

“Your mom, right, ‘cause she sucks so much dick. Your mom.” He was still blushing furiously, freckles disappearing in the flush of his cheeks.

Shinichi wondered how far the blush went, how many more freckle-constellations it clouded. Then wondered why he’d wondered that, why he was thinking about Donaghue, the least poetic man he knew, in such poetic terms.

He looked away.

And got back to work.

-

He left the office.

If he wanted to get a taxi, it’d cost a lot from there across town. So he had to get public transport, which was fine. It wasn’t like they were breeding grounds for disease, was it? At least, not for anyone with a normal, functioning immune system that made antibodies like they should.

It’d be fine. He’d wear a dust mask on the subway and try not to touch anything. It could, he reminded himself, always be worse. There were patients who couldn’t leave sterilised environments, there were patients with his own condition who experienced complications and autoimmune disorders, lung diseases, organ damage. He had always been remarkably lucky.

He’d have his injection, general check-up to make sure none of the complications had decided it was time to make a surprise appearance, and then spend the rest of the day crashing. He wasn’t looking forward to the side-effects, which always wore him out.

Donaghue would be arriving in the office soon.

He wondered what he’d think when he found Shinichi absent, presumed missing. Would he worry?

Unlikely.

He’d be back soon, anyway.

Even if he would be rather worse for wear.

-

Tsukumoya was gone.

Time to panic.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5 - In Which Shit Does Not Get Gay

“Where are you off to?” Doubs barely looked up from his laptop, lounging back on the sofa with sunglasses on - indoors.

“What the shit are ya wearin’, Doubs?” He was wearing glimmeringly iridescent trousers and a rainbow shirt. And bunny slippers Hackey had bought him as a joke one time. Not to mention sunglasses indoors and a casual top hat. Honestly, Hackey shouldn’t have been surprised. This was just how Doubs liked to dress. “Ya look like a lost circus clown. All ya need is the nose.”

“I used to be in the circus,” Doubs remarked absently. “I can confirm this is not how the clowns dressed.”

“Yeah, you’ve said, only a thousand-and-one fuckin’ times. What kinda shitty-ass circus was it? A bullshit one made up of lies?” Hackey waved his arms madly. “Look in a fuckin’ mirror already.”

“Can’t. I don’t have a reflection.” Doubs grinned, his reflection clearly present in the TV. He looked like a jackass. “You never used to complain about my pyjamas.”

Hackey snatched Doubs’ coffee so he could spit it out dramatically. “Ya never used to dress like that to bed, bitch. If ya had I woulda gone runnin’ to campus security an’ reported ya for crimes against fashion.”

“Wouldn’t that be turning yourself in too?”

“Fuck you, I have impeccable taste,” Hackey snapped, proudly admiring his shirt that had ‘MEME TRASH’ written on it. It was indisputably his best shirt, no matter what bitches like Doubs and Tsukumoya said.

God did he hate Tsukumoya. Had he mentioned that already? Because he fucking did.

“You haven’t answered. Where are you off to at this hour? Morning, even. It’s Saturday.”

“I know that!” Hackey retorted. “I’m going into work to rave to Russian synthpop and give that obnoxiously pretty asshat a migraine. ‘Cause fuck him, amirite?”

Doubs shook his head in amazement. “You don’t say.” His grin turned wicked. “Fuck him, is it? No subtext there. Never mind you don’t get up til noon, you’re going into work on the weekend for the sole purpose of annoying a guy you absolutely aren’t obsessed with. Seems legit.”

Hackey flipped him off. “What about you? What’s your excuse for being up at this the ungodly hour of twenty-past eight?”

“I haven’t slept in two days,” replied Doubs, looking a little too pleased by that admission.

“Fuckin’ disgustin’. You’re a filthy animal, Doubs Hewley. Seeya later. Places to be, an’ all that jazz.”

“Coworkers to do .”

He left quickly, before Doubs could see him blush and further take the piss. It was an involuntary action caused by being naturally ginger, nothing more. Didn’t mean shit.

He hated Tsukumoya. And Tsukumoya hated him, Hackey made sure of it. With four hours of Russian synthpop.

And the bastard barely reacted to it. Not even a flicker.

Son-of-a-bitch .

-

It wasn’t that he looked forward to work, absolutely not, never. His job was awful, fixing stupid fuck-ups nobody with even half a brain cell would make. People locking themselves out of their PCs, people trying to torrent porn during work hours. He’d never believed that blog about working in tech support but now he’d learnt his lesson. It was as bad as you could imagine and worse.

At least there was Tsukumoya. That is, his war with Tsukumoya. Not the guy himself.

One day before the employee review; what Hackey assumed would be his last day on the job. There was no way Tsukumoya would let all this bullshit slide. It’d go down in flames. Hackey would almost miss it. Movie nights, pizza, the way things were right now.

[HackeyMouse]: cant believe im about to get fired lol
[Indigohome]: What did you do now?
[Yellooooo]: awwwww what happened to ur beautiful romance??? :(
[HackeyMouse]: stfu its the 1st employee review tmr. even tsukumoya won’t wanna keep me around
[Indigohome]: True, that. We don’t want to keep you around either, but we do.
[Yellooooo]: i thought he was madly in love. Did he finally realise what a fuck you are?
[HackeyMouse]: fuck knows. he hasnt had any human emotions in years. im not even convinced hes human

IridescentExtra has joined the chat
 

[HackeyMouse]: o fuck no
[Yellooooo]: the greatest evil of this age returns
[IridescentExtra]: And there I was thinking you’d be happy to see me. How rude.
[MrCAPITALIST]: YOU RANG?
[HackeyMouse]: jfc r u ever gonna quit using that pun
[MrCAPITALIST]: NEVER
[MrCAPITALIST]: I WAS GIFTED WITH A NAME UNIQUELY SUITED TO THE ART OF PUNNAGE. PLUS IT PISSES YOU GUYS OFF.
[IridescentExtra]: I want to ask why you’re only speaking in caps lock now but I have a feeling I know what the answer’s going to be.
[MrCAPITALIST]: I’M GLAD YOU ASKED.
[HackeyMouse]: im not
[MrCAPITALIST]: BECAUSE I’M A CAPITALIST. GET IT? GET IT? GOD I’M HILARIOUS
[Yellooooo]: that is the worst joke I’ve heard all day.
[TheViscousViscount]: Well, I found it funny.
[MrCAPITALIST]: THANK YOU GERHARDT. SOMEONE APPRECIATES ME.
[HackeyMouse]: bitch hes a dad. ofc he appreciates your terrible jokes. nobody else does tho. nobody. ever.
[IridescentExtra]: Are you sure you’re not doing this because you got the caps lock stuck again?
[MrCAPITALIST]:....YES
[IridescentExtra]: Convincing.
[HackeyMouse]: bout as convincing as the time ya tried to convince us ya own a fuckin t-rex
[MrCAPITALIST]: I ABSOLUTELY DO. WHY WOULD I LIE ABOUT THAT?
[HackeyMouse]: bc ur a shady rich guy and thats all ya do. when the revolution comes ya will be the first against the wall
[IridescentExtra]: shouldn’t you be at work?

“Can ya believe this guy?” Hackey shook his head in disbelief. “Shouldn’t ya be in work infuckingdeed. Where does he fuckin’ think I am right now?”

“The Bahamas?” Tsukumoya suggested, making a show of typing loudly. “Judging by the amount of actual work you do, that’d be my guess.”

“You’re literally-” he glanced over at Tsukumoya’s screen to see what he was doing. “What the fuck, you’re literally playing Breath of the Wild under your desk WHAT THE SHIT, MAN?”

“It’s a good game,” Tsukumoya retorted testily.

“I mean, fair,” Hackey conceded. “Still. Fuckin’ hypocrite. You’re worse’n Doubs.”

“What exactly is your history with Mr Hewley?” Tsukumoya asked curiously. “You seem to be...close.”

“What, ya jelly?” Hackey teased, and saw his coworkers eyes widen and he looked away. “Jokin’, don’t get your panties in a twist. Nah, we were in college together. Roommates. I’d just dropped out of Harvard, he’d scammed his way in with no qualifications. Like, he ran away to the circus as a teenager an’ never finished high school, an’ I uh - ditched my family too. We just clicked. Both absolute jackasses, yanno? Been friends ever since.” He shrugged. “I dunno. We argue, we bitch, but when my parents cut me off an’ said they wanted nothin’ more to do with me, he let me crash at his place. Now we got an apartment together an’ everythin’.”

“Are you - I don’t mean to intrude, but are you together?”

“Wowowowow ya nosey bitch.” Hackey coughed. “Nah, I mean - no. We fooled around in college after a few, I guess, but I uh...kinda suck at this kinda thing. I need a lot of alcohol in me. An’ then the next morning I’m too fuckin’ awkward to talk about it. Feelings an’ shit. They can piss off. But nah, I don’t feel like that about Doubs. He’s just a - a fuckin’ problem. That’s about it really.” He squirmed under Tsukumoya’s dark gaze.

“He seems...interesting.”

“That’s him. I’m never letting the two of ya meet, let me tell ya that now,” Hackey muttered. “So what about you? Any, I dunno, boyfriends, girlfriends, fuckbuddies, friends-with-benefits, exes of any description?”

“Why?” Tsukumoya raised a single eyebrow. “Are you-”

Hackey felt his cheeks burn. “It’s called small talk, ya pathetic little messman. They have that under whatever rock ya crawled out of?”

“I may be aware of the concept, yes,” Tsukumoya replied drily. “And yes.”

“Yes what?” Hackey asked, exasperated.

“Yes, I have had exes. There was someone - not exactly an ex, honestly. It’s not exactly an anything. I didn’t agree with everything she did, it was sketchy. She transferred to a rival company with stolen data, corporate sabotage. And I may have-” he cut off, sighing deeply. “She may have pinned the theft on me.”

“What the fuck , Tsukumoya? That’s like some fuckin’ TV drama shit right there. Why’d you even date her?”

“We didn’t exactly date. We spoke in person only a handful of times, mostly we interacted online. She was ambitious. She is ambitious, has her own priorities. Sometimes people don’t factor into them. To begin with part of me felt sorry for her. She’d had a hard time as a child; she was trafficked, broke free on her own. This turned into a...semi-rivalry between us. It was complicated.”

“That sounds so fuckin’ dysfunctional oh my God do ya even know how relationships work?”

“Do you ?” Tsukumoya shot back pointedly.

Hackey scowled. “You’re a bitch. I see why she framed you. What was - uh, I mean - what’s her name?”

“Kasane. That is, Kujiragi. Kasane Kujiragi.”

“That’s fuckin’ cool. I mean, not cool she screwed ya over but cool name, right?” Hackey sucked at being comforting. Normally he didn’t bother trying so he was out of practise. “I’m sorry?”

Tsukumoya glanced over at him. “Are you being nice ? This is unprecedented.”

Hackey sank into his seat, not wanting Tsukumoya to see his face. He cursed the ginger genes that made him redden so easily. That was clearly the problem, not any underlying emotion. “So what if I was? I took pity on ya, that’s all. Serves me right for being nice to a bitch like you.” He looked back over at Tsukumoya. “I am sorry, yanno? Like, you’re fuckin’ intolerable but ya didn’t deserve that.”

“Thank you,” Tsukumoya said quietly.

“Don’t mention it. No really, never mention this again. Can’t have people knowin’ I showed sympathy, it’d ruin my stellar reputation.”

He heard Tsukumoya smirk and felt a lot better. He didn’t like it when Tsukumoya wasn’t being a sarcastic prick. It wasn’t right.

Wouldn’t be his concern much longer; not that it concerned him now. Tomorrow was the employee review. Tomorrow was his last day at work, no doubt about it.

Except it wasn’t.

-

“I don’t fuckin’ get it, Doubs. Why would he do that? What’s his game plan?”

Doubs ignored him and continued with his crochet (??? what the fuck was he doing?) “Maybe he’s as into you as you are him.”

Hackey seized the needles to prod Doubs with them as hard as he could. “Real fuckin’ original. You’re a shining wit. Trust me, if ya ever met him, ya wouldn’t even think that. He genuinely despises me.”

“You should invite him round,” Doubs remarked, producing more needles from thin air with an elaborate wave of his fingers, to continue his work. “We might get along. A lot to talk about.” The innocent smile on Doubs’ face was so untrustworthy and wicked it probably broke world records for most traitorous bastard.

“You are never allowed to meet him. Ever. And like, I don’t wanna invite him round. Ew. Gross.”

“Scared of getting cooties?”

“If I could afford to move out I would,” Hackey muttered, slouching into his room and leaving Doubs to whatever the fuck he was doing. In the end, he was only coaxed out by promise of Chinese takeout, and it turned out the crochet was for a new magic trick he’d been working on. They didn’t talk about Tsukumoya anymore.

Why would they? He wasn’t particularly important to Hackey. He was just an ever-present pain in the ass. Constant.

Right up until he wasn’t there.

-

Hackey rushed into work the next day, lowkey pleased he’d kept his job if it meant he got to show off his masterpiece. Back in high school he’d personally made an edited version of Kill Bill, wherein everything was exactly the same except the sirens were ten times as loud as they should be. He could have replaced them with anything, with off-key kazoo or Rick Astley, but that was too obvious. He’d contemplated something along the lines of ‘Fuck you (very, very much)’ or some such, but in the end he’d opted for this. The sheer shit-yourself horror when you weren’t expecting it was a thing to behold. Even Tsukumoya couldn’t remain all aloof and distant in the face of that onslaught.

Hackey couldn’t wait to see his face.

“Morning, ya lonely little-” he trailed off, words dying where they were.

Tsukumoya wasn’t there.

Time to panic.

Had he been found out? Had they fired him? Why did that prospect scare him so much? Was he just in the bathroom, even he needed to shit right? The bathroom was empty. Was he in the permanently-locked supply cupboard? Hackey tried picking the lock but he wasn’t a notorious delinquent like Doubs, he couldn’t get it open.

Fuck, he wasn’t there. Hackey’s heart raced, panic flooding him. He ran upstairs, straight into Martin’s office without knocking.

“Heyyyy Martin, morning, how are ya yada yada yada listen I was wondering where the fu-” His eyes wandered to the swear jar. “Where’s Shinichi Tsukumoya?”

Kelly stared at him blankly. “Not Martin.”

“Sorry? What I asked stands though. Where is he?”

“You could learn to knock too.” She folded her arms testily.

“Sorry. Uh...anything else I should apologise for? Wanna get ‘em out of the way before I ask where my pain-in-the-a- neck, neck coworker’s apparated to.”

“He took the day off for medical reasons,” Kelly replied flatly. “No, I can’t tell you why, because I don’t know why. It’s confidential.”

If Hackey thought he was panicking before, he really hadn’t known the meaning of the phrase. “Is he sick? Is there something wrong?”

“Like I said, I wouldn’t know. What part of confidential do you not understand?”

“Brave words for a woman who kept trying to insert the USB the wrong way,” Hackey shot back, before turning and heelie-ing out as quickly as he’d come in.

Fuck.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck …

What the shit did medical reasons mean? Was that, like, a cold, or literally dying?

Probably nothing , he told himself. It’ll be fine .

What about watching Kill Bill vol. Loud? That’d have to wait for another day. After a few minutes pacing, Hackey collapsed into his seat. He could dick around all day without reprimand. Wasn’t it perfect? Wasn’t this the heaven he’d always wanted?

It felt hollow without someone there to bicker with. There wasn’t any point. He stood up suddenly and rushed over to Tsukumoya’s side of the office to search for clues. Everything was meticulously tidy, on the surface at least. Under the desk, piles of games, comics, manga, notebooks, snacks and other boxes of assorted junk resided, proving he was a nerdy little hypocrite underneath it all, just as bad and disorganised as Hackey in the end.  But there were no signs where he might have gone. He’d just vanished.

Medical reasons.

What the shit did that mean?

He decided to ask the chat and had typed most of it when the door opened with a creek. An exhausted-looking, half-dead Tsukumoya hauled himself in, limbs heavy and exhausted. His face was flushed and dripping with sweat as he collapsed into his stupid egg chair.

Hackey leapt to his feet, fell over because heelies, then hurriedly bolted over to his side. “Dude, what the fuck? I thought ya had the day off.”

“I do,” Tsukumoya croaked. “I’m taking it here.”

“Uh-huh, no ya ain’t. Get your ass home right now, ya look like shit.”

Tsukumoya smirked, but he didn’t look ridiculously pretty now. Just sick, feverish and woozy. Jesus, what was his problem? Why was he here?

“Technically I am,” Tsukumoya mumbled, shivering and pulling his cardigan around himself. “Seeing as I live in the cupboard.”

Hackey grabbed his shoulders, getting right up in his face without a second thought about infection. “Cut it out, man. This ain’t the time for any of your crap.”

“No, really,” Tsukumoya laughed hoarsely. “I rent it. Cheaper than an apartment.” Hackey must have still been staring at him dubiously because he produced a key and gestured for him to go and see.

The key turned in the lock.

The door opened.

Inside, there was a futon, an array of blankets, clothes hung up, ironing board folded in the corner...an entire life shoved into the confined space. Dumbstrack, Hackey looked back at Tsukumoya, who somehow managed to look smug while barely even alive. Such a headache.

“Ya sonuvabitch, I don’t fuckin’ believe ya. All this time I was wondering how ya got in an’ out without being seen an’ ya were livin’ in the fuckin’ cupboard. Fuckin’ tragic. Is that even allowed?”

“It’s in my contract,” Tsukumoya managed, clearly pleased with himself, hoarse as he was. “This was all discussed with the manager and agreed upon then.”

“He just lets you stay in the building overnight? You’re telling me I’m commuting for nothing?”

“He lets me stay in the building with full access to security systems...emails, passwords, camera access, alarms...everything. Now do you get it?”

Hackey did. “You’re a spy. You’re a fucking corporate spy.” Tsukumoya nodded weakly. “What the fucking fuck on a fuckstick - what? Why are ya tellin’ me this?”

He saw Tsukumoya muster up a lazy smile. “Who’s going to believe you?”

“Nobody,” Hackey cursed. “You’re the fuckin’ worst. Can’t believe I was worried about you.” Soon as the words had left his mouth he regretted it. Even sick, Tsukumoya was too quick on the uptake, too sharp.

“You were worried?” Tsukumoya’s voice was faint, quavering with surprise.

Hackey couldn’t look at him, scooped up in his egg chair, tiny and adorable and uncertain, tentative, almost afraid. Just couldn’t. He shrugged self-consciously. “Wasted on you.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, whatever, no problem.” Hackey waved it off casually but felt a confused rush of feelings he couldn’t name. Goddammit, why was he such a mess?

“Hackey?” He didn’t even register his name at first, so unused to it coming from his stubborn coworker. When Tsukumoya did call him that, it was always mocking. Not small and quiet and barely audible. Nope. Never.

How dare he do this now? How dare he make Hackey feel real human emotion? Uncalled for.

“Yeah?” Hackey asked, too worried to take the piss.

“Could you maybe fetch a blanket? Please ?”

So that was how they ended up curled up in a blanket fort on the floor, Tsukumoya leaning into Hackey even though there was a pillow right there.

He was staying late, he guessed.

His coworker was sleeping on his chest.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” he groaned.

They’d have to watch Kill Bill vol. Loud tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6 - The Hand Requisitions Department is a Very Real Thing

Gradually, Shinichi blinked himself awake, yawning and stretching and finding he was resting on Donaghue’s chest. He bolted upright. His colleague was asleep, snoring profusely, multi-coloured hair a mess, glasses still on. He was sprawled out, long limbs tangled up, one of his arms absolutely not holding Shinichi close. Faintly he remembered last night, falling into the pillow fort foggy and exhausted. Aside from that, nothing had happened between them. He had no idea what to class this as.

His fever had passed. The after-effects of his jab had worn off. Emerging from the pillow fort, he went through to the bathroom and cleaned himself up, picking out clean clothes and getting read for a day at work. He made himself tea and checked his watch. Shit, it was late. Already 9:45. He’d slept in. By all rights, he should wake Donaghue for their day at work to begin, but a swift glance was enough to establish he was just too cute to disturb. So, like the generous person he was, he graciously allowed Donaghue to lie in way into the afternoon, conducting both of their shares of work until then. Sometimes he looked back at his coworker and felt a tug of something in his heart that was scarily akin to actual emotions. Was that a side-effect of having a functional immune system? God, Shinichi hoped not.

He was midway through lunch when he heard rustling from the fort, followed closely by muffled swearing and the pillows collapsing inwards suddenly. More cursing. He watched in amusement as Donaghue’s head emerged from the pile of bedding, prime irritation written all over his face. He adjusted his glasses and glared over at Shinichi, pointing an accusatory finger.

“You...ya motherfucker, ya weren’t where I left ya. Nearly gave me a fuckin’ heart attack.” He scowled. “‘Specially after yesterday. Man, what the shit was up with ya yesterday? Almost had me worried.” Concern was written all over his face, attempts at disguising it proving futile. “Are ya okay?”

Shinichi nodded. “Much better, thank you Donaghue. Appreciated.”

Donaghue folded his arms stubbornly. “Yea, yea, whatever. Not that I really care. If you’ve given me the Black Death now I’m gonna fuckin’ kill ya.”

“I highly doubt it was bubonic plague,” Shinichi remarked drily. “I wouldn’t fret. It’s not contagious.”

“Now how do ya know that?” Donaghue asked sharply. “How can ya be sure?”

“First off, because bubonic plague is rare in modern day American and would have proven fatal to me. Second, I know I’m not contagious because the symptoms began after an injection.”

“Like, a vaccine?” Shinichi nodded. Donaghue pulled a face. “Careful, don’t wanna be makin’ yourself more fuckin’ autistic than ya already are.” Shinichi glared. “Joke, joke, I know that’s not how anything works. An’ before ya say shit, I’m allowed to make autism jokes, ‘cause we all know I’m on the fuckin’ spectrum. God, where is your sense of humour?”

“Confiscated at customs.”

“What, not allowed aboard planes? Too fuckin’ awful? Why am I not surprised?” Donaghue hauled himself to his feet and stumbled over to the coffee machine. “Ya absolutely sure you’re okay? Asking for a friend.”

“Really, I’m fine. I just...haven’t got the greatest immune system in the world.” Understatement of the century. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Bitch…” Donaghue spluttered with indignation. “When did I say I was worried? I didn’t. I’m not. Never have been, never will be. So ya can take your don’t worry and shove it up your ass, ‘cause I’ll do what I like an’ ya don’t tell me what to do.” He sipped his coffee, burning his mouth and spitting it everywhere. “Uggggggh. God. I’m not awake enough for this.”

“I know what’ll wake you up,” Shinichi said, tossing a bottle of soy sauce at his head. “Chugging soy sauce always helps.”

“Really?” Donaghue looked dubious, but started to unscrew the lid. Shinichi rolled his eyes.

“No, not really. Do not chug soy sauce. Or, you know, you’ll die?”

“Pretty sure that’s not how soy sauce works.”

“Yes it is. It’s the salt content. It’s too high so if you chug it it could kill you, right?”

Donaghue eyed him. “The question there makes me think you’re talkin’ out your ass.”

“And there I was thinking I was talking with my mouth.”

“You’re such a bitch,” muttered Donaghue, but he was grinning. He collapsed in his gaming chair and spent pretty much the rest of the day spinning around repeatedly. Shinichi watched him and felt that warmth in his chest again, like he cared about this problem child. He probably did. Cared so much, he sent him link after link about sodium overdoses until he conceded that yes, it was possible to die after drinking neat soy sauce. Then he bitched about Shinichi looking annoyingly smug.

At the end of the day’s work, Donaghue was heading home. He glanced back. “Ya sure you’ll be okay, livin’ in your fuckin’ cupboard?”

“Not that you care, or anything? Are you turning all tsundere on me?” Shinichi asked, somewhat mockingly.

Donaghue stormed up to him in a second, grabbing his collar and pulling him close so their faces were almost touching. “Fuck you, assfuck. I have to see your bitchy face every single day without fail, so excuse me if I give a single percentage of a fraction of a fuck about you. An’ you ain’t exactly reassuring. Ya live in a cupboard , ya don’t exactly get out, an’ I don’t know shit about you but what I do know is enough to worry a guy. I don’t wanna come in again an’ wonder if somethin’ happened to ya, where ya are. Just...tell me if you’re gonna go somewhere. Message me. Ya found me online once, right, ya can find me again? Alright?”

That was Donaghue admitting he cared about him, in his roundabout, obnoxious way that could be endearing when it wasn’t an absolute headache. It wasn’t like he’d been subtle, but it was nice to get some confirmation where that was concerned. Donaghue cared.

Hackey cared.

Shinichi still thought that was a ridiculous name and didn’t intend to use it with any regularity.

“Alright,” Shinichi nodded. “I’ll make sure to schedule my medical appointments with Dr Hackey.”

“I hate you so much,” Hackey groaned and walked out quickly.

Not quickly enough for his red face to escape Shinichi’s attention.

Maybe he would call him Hackey more frequently after all.

-

Later that evening he went online and found the account of one ‘Hackey Mouse’ and hesitated, thinking over what to say that would look casual and calm, and anything but...well, desperate. In the end, he managed to come up with a plausible excuse why he’d be messaging his awful coworker, voluntarily initiating conversation.

See, as it so happened, he’d left a DVD back at the office.

Tsukumoya Shinichi
I take it ‘Kill Bill vol. Loud is yours?

Hackey Mouse
ffs that was supposed to be a surprise

Hackey Mouse
we were gonna watch it yesterday but noooooo u had to get sick

Hackey Mouse
fuckin bitch

Shinichi snorted. Donaghue- Hackey, whatever - was exactly the same as always. An acquired taste for sure.

Tsukumoya Shinichi
I’m so sorry to inconvenience your truly malevolent plans. We can contact my immune system and see if it’ll reconsider its stance on illness for the sake of Tarantinos.

Hackey Mouse
do it

Hackey Mouse
tell it its for a good cause

Hackey Mouse
of memes

Tsukumoya Shinichi
I’m sure it’ll be forced to concede in the face of such an overwhelming argument.

Hackey Mouse
damn right

Tsukumoya Shinichi
We can always watch it tomorrow.

Tsukumoya Shinichi
...by any chance, are the sirens edited to ten times the usual volume?

Hackey Mouse
absolutely not why would ya ever think that of me

Tsukumoya Shinichi
I wonder. What possible reason would I have to suspect such a thing of you, of all people?

Hackey Mouse
ha fuckin ha lose the sarcasm already its not big or clever

Tsukumoya Shinichi
Are you sure? I was proud of it.

Hackey Mouse
ofc ya were

Hackey Mouse
of fuckin course

Hackey Mouse
i hate u so much

Tsukumoya Shinichi
:) :) :) :) :)

Hackey Mouse
ur such a prick

Tsukumoya Shinichi
ilu2 xxx

-

They ended up talking late into the night. Neither of them wanted to be the first to fail at coming up with a comeback. Neither of them wanted to admit defeat, scrabbling desperately to get the last word in. It was fun. A trainwreck, yes. But fun.

He’d almost say they were friends.

Were they? Did this count? He hoped so.

It’d be his first friend in America in the entire three years he’d been here. His first real friend in general in a while. That made him sound sad and lonely, which he wasn’t. It wasn’t like he’d missed any company or felt isolated.

Nonetheless, he appreciated the connection. It meant something.

He wasn’t sure what.

Something , that was all.

Something.

-

Sometimes when they were working, Hackey would get calls. Being the consummate professional he was, he always took them, bitching loudly at whichever of his friends had called to interrupt him. Once he muttered ‘Jesus Christ, Mirald, take your fuckin’ medication’ and then hung up (to be fair to him, he did call another friend immediately after to explain the situation and tell him to go check on this Mirald person, so he wasn’t as much of a dick as that initially sounded). Another time he shrieked ‘screw you Doubs Hewley, screw you to the moon an’ back’, on loop, for like twenty minutes. Shinichi printed off a few passive-aggressive signs about taking personal calls at work, but that just made his problem child of a coworker louder and more overt about it. He’d prank call his friends, turning them swiftly into enemies.  At this point, Shinichi wasn’t sure why anyone picked up the phone anymore. Or called him. Or voluntarily came into any contact with him at all.

Yes, this included himself.

Except one day something weird happened. Hackey’s phone rang and he reached for it absently, glanced at Caller ID and then just... froze . Completely tensed up. He was staring at his cellphone and not moving whatsoever, until suddenly he shook his head and rejected the call. Sighing, he slouched into his seat, looking very lost and afraid. The phone rang again. Hackey didn’t move.

Shinichi had no idea who it could possibly be, but he headed over without thinking, picked up the phone and, in his most affected Japanese accent, said, “Hello? You have reach the Golden Frog takeout, what is your order?”

“Quentin, you’re not fooling anyone!” a harsh female voice came. “We need to talk-”

“Oh, you have wrong number,” Shinichi said. “No Quentin. You want place order anyway? There is special offer, $10 family order. Ramen? Best ramen in the state.”

“Who are you? Where is Quentin?” The woman didn’t sound amused, whoever she was.

“Cannot help. Very sorry. You like curry? We make curry, very good curry, best curry. Bargain prices. You place order?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, I’m his mother ,” she hissed. “I know he’s there!”

“If you are not order, I hang up,” Shinichi warned. “Goodbye. Good luck with your find Nemo.”

“Quentin,” the woman corrected. “Put Quentin on immediat-”

Shinichi hung up.

The phone rang again.

“Hello? You have reach the Golden Frog takeout, what is your order?”

This time, she hung up. Shinichi turned to Hackey and handed him his phone back. It was then he realised Hackey was staring at him in confusion and wonder.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Golden Frog takeout,” Shinichi replied. “Tried and tested technique for getting rid of awful relatives.”

“Where did ya even get that one from?” Hackey shook his head, baffled. “What the fuck, Tsukumoya?”

“It was the first thing that came to mind,” Shinichi admitted awkwardly.

“Why would ya...why?” Hackey looked at him, the look on his face one of desperation.

Shinichi shrugged. “You didn’t want to talk to her. It seemed to be having a negative impact on you. I thought I’d try get rid of her. Did I...I’m sorry, was I presumptuous?”

“No, no,” Hackey said quickly, waving his hands. “Thanks. I didn’t expect it, that’s all. Ya did good.” He patted Shinichi on the shoulder self-consciously. “Really, appreciated.” He snickered. “Fuckin’ Golden Frog takeout. That accent, man. You’re such a prize-winning bullshitter. I love it.”

“No problem,” Shinichi said, shifting a little. Hackey didn’t seem to know when to stop patting his shoulder. “It’s what friends are for, right?”

“Friends?” Hackey’s jaw dropped. “Are ya sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’?”

Shinichi nodded. “Of course. We’re friends. Aren’t we?”

Hackey hesitated, then nodded too. “Yeah. I guess we are.”

Which was...well, something .

-

They worked late. The company had the bright idea of transferring everything over to a new system, so they needed to do a lot of overtime to get things up and running. Before hiring Hackey, it might have taken Shinichi a couple of weeks on his own. Together they could half that, but it still meant they were staying in the office into the early hours of the morning. The time was broken up by bitching and trying to catch popcorn thrown from across the room. Typical mature activities.

Three AM. Later than usual. The finish line was so close, in sight, they could absolutely finish this with one more burst of effort. Just an hour or so more, maybe two...it’d be done soon.

To be fair, Shinichi had been saying that for the past five hours, so he couldn’t blame Hackey for getting up, crossing the room and grabbing his hand.

“C’mon, we’re gonna go get some air,” he said, dragging Shinichi along behind him, up to the ground floor, through the still, empty silence of the late night office, and out into the parking lot. The sky above was pitch black, speckled with a few faint stairs. Constellations; Orion’s belt, the Big Dipper, the visible piercing light of Venus distant…

Outside.

It wasn’t like Shinichi didn’t ever go out, because he did. Mostly alone. Mostly for appointments, or to collect deliveries. Mostly alone.

Rarely - make that never - hand intertwined with someone else. Looking up at the stars from the empty parking lot and smiling, and then looking at the freckled patterns on Hackey’s face.

“Why don’t ya go out?” Hackey asked quietly. “Like, ya don’t have a problem with it, you’re not like...agoraphobic or anything? Is it like...people, or crowds or somethin’? ‘Cause if so, fair. Just...why are ya content to live in a fuckin’ basement? This is the first time I’ve ever seen ya outside. What’s the deal?”

“I suppose I may as well tell you the truth,” Shinichi sighed. “Actually I have an immunodeficiency disorder. To put it very, very simply, I don’t make antibodies by myself. When I was sick that time...that was because I’d had an injection to boost my immune system, to a roughly normal standard. My parents were pretty protective of me. I guess I got used to being indoors.”

Hackey blinked. “What the hell, man? I’ve come into work with a cold more than fuckin’ once, that coulda, coulda...that coulda fuckin’ hurt ya, right?”

“I am more susceptible to infections, yes.”

“What the fuck?!” Hackey was waving his arms frantically. “Why didn’t ya say somethin’? I coulda made ya sick!”

“It’s not that big a deal,” Shinichi said calmly. “I get treatment. I function. It’s not like the whole boy-in-a-bubble syndrome. No, I have Combined Variable Immune Deficiency. Less severe. Though it does come with its own complications...it’s treatable.”

“What kind of complications?” Hackey sounded genuinely worried.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Shinichi said, missing out all the ‘increased risk of cancer’ and various other less than pleasant traits that could crop up sometimes. “Like I said, I’m fine. I didn’t say anything because…” he trailed off. “Would you? People are weird about it. Even you...now that you know, you’re acting different.”

“I-” Hackey cut off. “Fine, okay. Nothing to see here. All normal.” He hesitated. “Wait, that explains the hygiene thing. The sanitiser. An’ I thought you were just some neurotic. Okay, I’m done. Sympathy over, back to the regular programme of fuck you. Today’s news: fuck you, Tsukumoya. Fuck you.”

“Thank you, Hackey. For being such a...I would say good friend, but my mouth won’t let me lie that much. For being such a jerkwad, then.”

“Fuckin’ rude . You’re such a bitch.” He coughed surreptitiously. “So uh...you just...calling me Hackey on the regular now or what?”

“I believe we’re on first name terms. And you don’t seem to enjoy being called any of your given names. It’s only respectful I use your preferred term of address.”

“Uh...thanks?” Hackey seemed really taken aback. “Shinichi. Right. Gotta get used to that one now. Shinichi. Gotcha. Shinichi.”

It was then Shinichi realised something important, while laughing at Hackey’s awkwardness and subsequently being cursed out, in an empty parking lot at 3:17am.

They were still holding hands.

And seeing as neither of them would be the first to back down…

Claimed hand, never to be relinquished.

All in the name of the Hand Requisitions Department.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7 - Hackey Mouse's 100% Foolproof Plan to Get Laid Goes Somewhat Awry

For fuck’s sake, why him?

He had a fucking crush on Shinichi Tsukumoya. The utter bitch he openly despised. He had a crush on him. They’d been holding hands in the parking lot at 3:17am and Hackey hadn’t wanted to let go and he’d looked at that ridiculously cute face and contemplated kissing him and realised for fuck’s sake I have a fucking crush on Shinichi Tsukumoya . He wanted to steal a samurai sword specifically for purposes of seppuku. Now which of his nerdy as fuck friends was most likely to own a sword? Doubs probably did somewhere but he owned so much random shit Hackey’d never find it anywhere.

What about Yellow or Aiji? They were like, Japanese-ish, technically? Right?

Was that stereotyping?

...that was definitely stereotyping. If any of them owned a sword, it’d be Rude. He owned collections of almost everything. What a rich asshat. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him.

He didn’t want this. How did you deal with a crush without dying in a brutal mess? Alcohol. Emily’s leaving party was coming up so all he had to do was sneak some booze down to the basement. Who Emily was, Hackey had no idea. He didn’t need to. He had a plan.

Step A: ditch the party to get drunk with Tsukumoya

Step B: get laid

Step C: never speak of it again.

It seemed a solid plan, at any rate. There were zero flaws in it, and no way it could go wrong whatsoever.

-

[mirror-mirror]: this plan has a hundred thousand flaws and more than a million ways it could go wrong.

Hackey glared at the computer screen. He’d privately messaged Mirald to ask for angry crush advice, then remembered why nobody in their right mind would ask Mirald for any advice in the history of ever. Because he was a fucking jackass.

[HackeyMouse]: ok then mr know it all tell me how u and dorrikey went from bitchy mcbitches to banging
[HackeyMouse]: bc i have been wondering abt that lemme tell u
[HackeyMouse]: if ya can convince someone to bone u then i need to know ur ways
[mirror-mirror]: honestly i’m as surprised as you are. I thought dorrikey knew better but apparently not.
[mirror-mirror]: esp after what happened in germany
[HackeyMouse]: oh yea, somebody went off their meds again. how’d that work out for ya?
[mirror-mirror]: perfectly fine. I got a boyfriend out of it, didn’t I?
[HackeyMouse]: ive said it before and ill say it again, mirald ya manipulative fuck ur such a bastard
[HackeyMouse]: any actual fuckin tips?
[mirror-mirror]: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
[HackeyMouse]: gr8888 ur such a big help screw u so much mirald ya motherfucker
[mirror-mirror]: what do you want from me? do i look remotely like an agony aunt? why are you asking me of all people?
[mirror-mirror]: because as we all know, i’m a schizophrenic mess who can’t be trusted on his own without being #medicatedtohellandback :))
[mirror-mirror]: so why am i qualified to help you with your frankly disastrous love life with your emotionally constipated immunodeficient coworker? You want me to ask Hawking for his input, see where that gets you?
[HackeyMouse]: sure what the fuck can’t hurt
[mirror-mirror]: he says shut your entire fuck, Hackey
[HackeyMouse]: really?
[mirror-mirror]: no I made that up ;)
[mirror-mirror]: he didn’t say anything. Amilsulpride on the other hand said ‘sure whatever, go for it Hackey. have a disastrous drunken hook-up. that sounds healthy but what would I know I’m an antipsychotic medication’.
[mirror-mirror]: but then, who am I to stop you? Go for it.
[HackeyMouse]: ya fuckin suck, mirald. major dick.
[HackeyMouse]: ground control to major dick, mirald is sucking it.
[mirror-mirror]: yes I absolutely am and it belongs to dorrikey ;))))))))))
[HackeyMouse]: didnt want to know
[HackeyMouse]: goodfuckinbye, asshole-in-chief
[mirror-mirror]: bye-bye xxxxxxxxx

“Ugh. Dickwad,” Hackey muttered.

“Who this time?” Tsukumoya asked from the other side of the office. Quickly Hackey closed the tab; given Tsukumoya’s tendency to snoop, he didn’t want him seeing the topic being discussed. He might have already seen it, since he spied on monitors all the time but if he had, he’d have said something. He was too much of a bitch to have not.

“Uh, Mirald? I told you about him, right?”

“I think I’ve heard his name before now, yes. Is he okay?”

Hackey nodded. “Yea, yea, just an annoying prick. Pain in the ass. What he should be, honestly. I mean, he always is but when he’s not taking his meds, he’s a fucking mess and it’s concerning. Put it this way, he claims he’s a telepath and talks to an imaginary black hole in his head so…but he’s good right now. Antipsychotics doing their magic.”

“Sounds tough,” Tsukumoya replied sympathetically. “How long have you known him for?”

“Since college. Used to crash with me and Doubs sometimes. Absolutely never had a fuckin’ threesome no matter what Doubs Fuckface Hewley says I wasn’t that drunk I’d fuckin’ remember it.” Hackey sighed. “He had this...I dunno, some kind of episode. Had to drop out in the end. If he wasn’t such a fucklord, I’d have felt more sorry for him, ‘cause he’s a smart guy really. I mean really goddamn smart. He can read people like he’s actually reading their fuckin’ minds. Pisses everyone off no end. And now he’s a filthy dropout statistic. Fuckin’ tragic. Still. He’s Dorrikey’s problem now, ever since they got together things have been...I dunno, manageable. Better, I guess. Yanno what I mean?”

“I understand,” Tsukumoya scooted over on that dumb egg chair and put an his hand on Hackey’s shoulder. Even as Hackey willed himself not to react, he could feel his cheeks burning and the contact made him feel his heart pounding loudly and he had a fucking crush on Shinichi Tsukumoya god he hated that guy so much. “Are you okay?”

“Yea yea, why wouldn’t I be?” Hackey laughed nervously.

“I just wanted to check,” Tsukumoya said. “I was under the impression it was polite to ask.”

“Bitch, ya didn’t have to make it sound so intense and emotional like what the fuck. It’s just asking how I fuckin’ am! Why’ve ya gotta make it deep?”

Tsukumoya smirked and Hackey groaned internally. Fuck him. “My mistake. Next time I’ll let you stew over it rather than doing the decent thing and asking how you are. I forgot any level of politeness was a foreign concept to you.”

“Fuck you!” Hackey yelled. “Politeness my ass, you’re such a fuckin’ bitch. Get off your high-ass horse already.” Really he just wanted to move things on so it didn’t feel so...so...like they were on thin ice that was going to crack sooner or later and unleash a veritable flood of feelings . Ugh. Feelings. Who needed ‘em? Not him, for sure. Moving on. “So uh...it’s Emily’s leaving party tomorrow, right?”

“I was under that impression, yes,” Tsukumoya remarked drily, moving back to his side of the office to continue pretending to work.

“Man, who the fuck even is Emily?” Hackey groaned. “And why am I supposed to give a shit? One less person to piss me off with their problems, an’ I get to raid the buffet, so I dunno why they expect me to be anything less than over-fuckin’-joyed.”

“Works in accounts. She’s moving to New York.” Tsukumoya didn’t even pause to think. Of course he knew everyone that worked in the building. He’d be a shitty corporate spy if he didn’t. Speaking of that, Hackey still had no idea what was up, and Tsukumoya hadn’t offered any more information since that one time he’d been ill. No, he was back to the cagey S.O.B. he’d been before and nothing had changed.

Nothing had changed for him .

Hackey, on the other hand, had the world’s most uncalled for crush.

“Good fuckin’ riddance,” Hackey muttered. “Take it ya won’t be comin’ to the party?”

“Ten out of ten. Do you want a prize?” The tone in Tsukumoya’s voice was almost flirtatious, except haha it was Tsukumoya, so he was clearly just being a bitch. Hackey rolled his eyes dramatically and ignored him.

“Hilarious. I was thinkin’ maybe I should bring some shit down for ya, yanno, takin’ pity on a lonely little fuck like you. That’d be my charity work for the year done an’ done. Whaddaya think? Anythin’ ya’d like me to grab?”

He looked over at his coworker who was staring at him with undisguised amazement. Like he’d just announced he’d buy him a goddamn pony or something. He smiled - genuinely, not that shitty smirk that got under Hackey’s skin so so much, a real, honest-to-gosh adorable smile.

“That’d be nice. Thanks.”

“Don’t fuckin’ mention it,” Hackey muttered, making a show of acting all begrudging. Inside he was laughing maniacally and rubbing his hands together. The plan was in motion.

Operation: bang Shinichi Tsukumoya was a-go.

-

“You’re not seriously going ahead with this, are you?” Doubs asked dubiously.

Hackey nodded and accidentally slipped, applying hair dye to his forehead. He cursed. “You’re damn right I am. Dunno why you’re surprised, what else do ya expect?”

“From you? Disappointment,” Doubs retorted. “Are you sure about this? I know you, you’re the opposite of smooth.”

“What are ya sayin’, bitch?”

Doubs smiled lazily. “Well, what I’m saying is that you’re hideously awkward and in all probability after this you won’t be able to look Tsukumoya in the face and you’ll wind up quitting your job just to avoid him. Which is fine and dandy in college but as a functioning adult…”

Hackey wished he could argue, but it was true. Fucking Doubs. Why did he have to be right? Such a prick.

“Guess who doesn’t give a fuck?” He pointed at himself proudly. “Me! And not a single fuck was given on this here day.”

“Have fun!” Doubs waved cheerfully. “Always use protection!”

“Fuck you!”

“Don’t you mean fuck Tsukumoya?”

“That’s the plan.” Hackey grinned wickedly. “And it is absolutely infallible. No matter what you an’ Mirald an’ everyone else try an’ say. In-fuckin’-fallible.”

Doubs snorted. “Whatever you say.”

-

Emily’s leaving party was absolutely delightful. Good, wholesome, swear-jar approved fun. To put it quite simply, it was a fucking drag and you couldn’t have paid Hackey to stick around. Well, you probably could have because, hell, money was money, but tonight he had places to be. Coworkers to do . And to have anything remotely resembling enough confidence required for that, he needed alcohol. In quantities along the lines of ‘lots’. He was already pretty tipsy by the the time someone started up the karaoke machine and Hackey decided it was definitely time to bail, rather than listen to Patricia utterly butcher Dancing Queen. Definitely Hackey’s cue to leave. Exit stage left, right?

Gathering up some snacks (read: half the buffet) and balancing a bottle of schnapps on top he made his way to the elevator as covertly as possible, while still acquiring more snacks on the way. He’d bought sake, specially for the occasion, and it was tucked precariously under his arm, constantly threatening to slip. Tsukumoya had better appreciate it. Carrying all this was practically a workout. Ugh.

The elevator doors dinged open and Kelly emerged, arms folding soon as she saw him.

“And where do you think you’re going with all that? Subsaharan Africa to feed the starving children? Other people do need to eat.”

Hackey tittered. Was he drunk already? Why was he such a lightweight? “Nah, promised I’d take some sh- stuff down to you-know-who. Wouldn’t want him missin’ out. ‘m generous like that, yanno.”

“How nice .” Her tone sounded like she suspected something but wasn’t willing to call him out. Hackey tried to look innocent. He failed. Kelly stepped aside and let him in and he punched the button for the basement.

The elevator creaked downwards.

Hackey’s mouth was dry. Shit. Had this been a bad idea after all? He took a carefully coordinated swig of the schnapps then wondered if Tsukumoya would be okay to drink from it. He said he had a normal immune system with treatment. What about kissing? How was he with kissing? Important questions.

Ding.

Hackey stepped out of the elevator and staggered to his office, TEH SUPPO, teetering under the weight of all the snacks. Maybe he had gone a little overboard. Easing the door open, he stepped inside.

“Hey, what’s up ya lonely little fuck? Brought some sustenance so ya don’t  starve to death in the long, cold winters.”

“You’re all heart,” Tsukumoya sniped back.

For some reason that was funnier than it should have been. Schnapps snorted out his nose.

“Ain’t I just.” He tried to wave the bottles and sent everything crashing to the floor. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck.”

Sighing, like he was dealing with a petulant child, Tsukumoya set about picking up the various foodstuffs. He paused at the bottle of sake, reading the label intently.

“What’s this? Your attempt to make me feel at home?”

“For what it’s worth, yea actually. Thought ya’d be a bit more appreciative than this,” Hackey grumbled.

“Didn’t you know? I can’t drink alcohol with the medication I take.”

Hackey’s jaw dropped. “I - ya coulda said somethin’! This ruins the whole plan now!” Soon as he’d said it he knew his mistake, slapping his hand over his mouth.

“Actually, I was joking,” Tsukumoya said, smirking like the bastard he was. “But now you’ve given the game away. What, may I ask, is your plan?”

“None of ya business!” Hackey snapped, blushing furiously. Tsukumoya was leaning a little too close, his eyebrow quirked ever so slightly upwards.

“At a guess, it involves getting me drunk. Some sort of...drinking game?” Tsukumoya tilted his head, confused. “Warm? Cold?”

“Uhhh yea yea, fuckin’ jackpot,” Hackey blurted quickly. “Drinking game, absolutely.” He fumbled to unscrew the top of the bottle Tsukumoya was still holding. After a few unsuccessful attempts Tsukumoya intervened, pouring himself a small cup of sake. He cradled the cup gently.

“So? What’s the object of this drinking game?”

Hackey laughed. “Here’s how it goes. Take a drink, right.” Tsukumoya obliged, making a face as he did. Hackey snickered, following suit with the stolen schnapps. “Now, ya face one another an’ just-” He leaned in, clumsily kissing Tsukumoya, hopefully on the lips. He felt him tense up completely, freezing stock still like a statue. It was like he was kissing stone, or ice, judging by how cold and unresponsive Tsukumoya was.

He’d really fucked this up now.

Pulling away he cursed himself internally. One job. He’d had one job in this godforsaken plan and he’d managed to balls it up. Mirald and Doubs had been right after all.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I just wanted to get this out my system,” Hackey said quickly. “I didn’t - I’m sorry, alright.” He ran a hand through his freshly dyed hair and sighed. “I’ll just go.”

He was halfway to the door when Tsukumoya at last came back to life. “Dona- Hackey, wait.” His cheeks were flushed. He grabbed Hackey’s wrist, tightening his grip. “We should talk.”

Hackey choked on thin air, spluttering. “Talk? What do ya want from me? Ya clearly don’t wanna kiss me, that’s for fuckin’ sure, an’ in case ya hadn’t notice, I’m pretty shit at this-”

“And so am I.” Tsukumoya interrupted firmly. “As you’re so fond of reminding me, I’m a hermit who lives in a cupboard. That’s the first time anyone’s kissed me since I left Japan. Over three years ago, Hackey ! Forgive me if the whole thing came as a bit of a shock.” He rolled his eyes. “Besides, I didn’t expect you to make the first move.”

What. The. Fuck.

“Are ya sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’?” Hackey hissed. “That I made this whole devious scheme for nothing?”

“Oh no, not for nothing. It’s proven very entertaining for me.” Tsukumoya was back bitching again. He didn’t seem all tense and weird and frozen. “And it’s brought our attention to the elephant in the room. Specifically - whatever this is between the two of us.” He waved a vague hand. Suddenly he seemed a lot less sure of himself and Hackey realised he was, as he’d been saying, equally out of his depth.

Under any other circumstance, Hackey would have relished the sight of Tsukumoya squirming but right now he had rather more pressing concerns. Namely the large degree of internal screaming.

“What do you mean?” Hackey managed, trying to keep himself relatively together (failing). “Hahaha there’s nothing between us whatsoever.”

“That explains why you wanted to get drunk and make out,” Tsukumoya replied drily.

Hackey coughed. “Actually I was kinda banking on more than that. Yanno how I said I need a lot of alcohol in me for this kinda thing.” Tsukumoya’s eyes widened. “Forget it, man. ‘m a fuckin’ idiot.”

“Yes. You are,” Tsukumoya agreed. “It’s simultaneously one of your most annoying and endearing traits.” Reaching over he patted Hackey’s shoulder gently. “Don’t worry about it. Neither of us are any good at this, are we?”

“Fuck no,” Hackey snickered. “God, I’m not drunk enough to deal with this. Fuckin’ feelings. Never have ‘em.”

“What are they? Is this some American concept nobody told me about?”

“Search me. I don’t know what they are. Nothing to see here.”

“Zero feelings. Especially toward you.”

“Agreed. Not like I’ve got any feelings for ya either.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Awkward silence. Hackey was conscious of Tsukumoya’s presence, his hand on his back, the closeness between them.

He coughed. “So uh...wanna skip the conversation since we’re a pair of losers an’ cut straight to sloppy makeouts?”

“Smooth,” Tsukumoya chuckled.

“Shut the fuck up, Shinichi ya assfaced bitch an’ kiss me.”

The plan hadn’t gone as intended.

Rather than a drunk hookup, getting this all out of his system, he was now curled up in that stupid eggchair, kissing Shinichi’s stupid smug face and ‘out of his system’, hell, he wanted more. So he carried on.

He’d regret it come morning. He knew he would.

Until then he’d continue. Shinichi couldn’t bitch while they were kissing, an added bonus. It wasn’t like he was enjoying it so much he literally never wanted to stop and he had a crush on Shinichi Tsukumoya what a fucking nerd, he was an awful kisser, so out of practise, and yet it felt amazing and he never wanted to stop.

He was so, so screwed.

-

“I should head home,” Hackey yawned. He’d have to get a taxi at this time. “Shinichi, c’mon. I gotta go.”

“You can stay here,” Shinichi murmured sleepily.

“In the fuckin’ cupboard? I prefer an actual fuckin’ bed, but thanks.” He went to move Shinichi’s arm off him but the smaller man was stronger than he looked. “Alright, alright, I’ll stay.”

He could have sworn he saw that son-of-a-bitch smirk.

Man, fuck Shinichi Tsukumoya.

Fuck him and fuck him .

-

His phone buzzed.

[mirror-mirror]: told u so

As Dorrikey said: mind-reading bastard.

-

“Told you so,” Doubs said smugly.

Hackey flipped him off and collapsed face down on the sofa in a heap of groans.

First Mirald, now Doubs. And knowing Doubs, the whole chat knew by now. Yellow would be churning out memes already. Shitty, subpar memes.

Screwed didn’t even begin to cover it.

Doomed - now that was more like it.

Chapter Text

Not for the first time, he woke up to Hackey beside him. This time, however, he just lay there, watching this lanky mess of limbs drool on his pillow. He didn’t really have much choice - one of those long arms was sprawled across him and while he could have wriggled out, he just didn’t feel like it. This was, against all odds, comfortable. Pleasant, even. He ran a hand through Hackey’s absurd hair and heard him groan.

“Fmfckin’ hmfngover ugggggh God.” Hackey was trying to retreat under the pillow. “Let me die already.”

“Sleep well?” Tsukumoya asked cheerfully.

“Fuckin’...hate you, yanno that?”

“So you’ve said,” Tsukumoya replied. “It’s not my place to call bullshit but I’m calling bullshit.”

“I have the worst taste in people,” Hackey muttered, stuffing the pillow completely over his head.

His arm was no longer around Tsukumoya, so he could get up. Much as he’d have liked to stay there a little longer, he definitely needed to make a start on work and he couldn’t just spend the whole day curled up in bed, no that was too clingy. He wasn’t clingy. So he left Hackey to rest and got to making himself some tea.

He was thinking.

He couldn’t stop thinking about last night, Hackey kissing him out of nowhere, and he’d just frozen like a deer in the headlights. Was it deer, in the saying, or rabbit? Both had a tendency to bluescreen in the face of the unknown. After that he’d recovered and pulled things around, but this now meant he’d kissed Hackey, Quentin Donaghue, and that wasn’t something that could just be ignored. They had to see one another every day. They had to figure something out.

What did he want from it?

If he knew that, it would have helped a lot. But being drawn to Hackey wasn’t so simplistic. It was frustrating, it was a headache, it didn’t make sense. He knew he liked their petty wars, and their movie nights. He tentatively would say he liked the intimacy, unfamiliar though it was. He liked… Hackey , inexplicably enough. After last night, he knew Hackey liked him, when he was drunk, when he could pretend his emotions were the alcohol talking. Sincerity was not his colleague’s forte. Figuring out an actual relationship would be a nightmare, even if it were not uncharted territory for Tsukumoya, perhaps even for Hackey himself.

Sipping his tea, he came to the conclusion he needed advice. And not from Orihara, who would piss himself laughing at the whole situation. A face appeared unbidden in his mind and he shut that idea down. No. That wasn’t an option. Besides, it wasn’t like she was any more experienced at relationships than he was, so it wouldn’t be any help.

Out of his friends - or the people he knew - that were dating or had dated, who could he ask? Granted, that pool was very small, not because he was lonely, but because a lot of his acquaintances were shut-ins and NEETs, or inappropriate to ask because they had slightly twisted ideas about relationships (looking at you, Shinra) .

It was time, he figured, to revive his blog.

He hadn’t updated since announcing his move, and bidding everyone farewell. There wasn’t much source material for him outside of Japan, outside of Ikebukuro. Or maybe he just hadn’t wanted to write anymore. Erasing his presence, becoming a ghost, barely speaking to anyone or going outside, it had seemed rational at the time, after the company had decided not to press charges and the scandal Kujiragi had caused had blown over. A self-imposed exile.

Updating his blog meant she would see it. Which wasn’t the same as directly messaging. Still, it would be turning back to his old life when right now there was so much to appreciate about the new. Like Hackey.

Who was so shit at relationships, he had to be drunk to make a move.

Tsukumoya needed to do this, if he was going to get anywhere with that disaster. Lord knew he wasn’t socially adept enough himself.

I live! (+a call for advice)

Did anyone expect to see this today? If so, you’re psychic, because I know for a fact I didn’t plan on writing it. But out of nowhere it happened, and you got an email update that the weird immunocompromised blogger who almost got arrested for corporate sabotage (a sentence that is difficult to parse by any stretch) is back.

Pause for applause.

Is that deathly silence I hear? I don’t blame you. Two years, give or take, off the grid does kind of kill any audience. How’s the WiFi in your graveyards?

What led me to update is this - I need some advice. I’m not, as we all know, romantically competent by any stretch of the imagination. Were I, hypothetically, to find myself in a situation with a coworker, who also happens to be one of the most irritating people alive, and neither of us are any good at talking, what would your advice be? Any tips for starting a relationship when you’re both total incompetents and work in IT?

The exact situation? As follows…

He gave a brief summary of the previous night, then edited, then edited again, staring at the screen. In the end, he compiled a bare-bones bullet-point list, as little detail as possible while still making sense.

Then he highlighted it, and hovered over ‘delete’.

Then he pressed post instead.

He closed the tab immediately.

Leaving the computer he headed over to the coffee machine to make Hackey a drink. That was a nice gesture. People did that, after romantic nights, which admittedly normally went further than snogging in a literal cupboard. People made coffee for one another. At this time, and as hungover as he was, Hackey would want black coffee with more sugar than was reasonable for any individual to take into their body in one sitting. That was his go to drink. The fact Shinichi knew this without pause for thought made him rethink certain life choices.

Namely, hiring Hackey Mouse, but that was neither here nor there. It had changed everything. Tentatively for the better.

He knocked on the cupboard door and inched it open. From under the pillow, Hackey groaned. “Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey! Well, I lie. Coffee. I made you coffee.”

Immediately Hackey sat up, bolt upright, and snatched the coffee out of Shinichi’s hands, water to a dying man. Once again, he scalded himself on it, and Shinichi shook his head. What an idiot . Why did he feel so happy to know him?

“Ugh...thank you,” Hackey mumbled, eventually. “I…about last night-”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Shinichi said, reluctantly. He wanted to. They were going to have to, eventually. Better to get it out of the way. But dimly, in whatever vague knowledge he had about relationships, he knew Hackey needed to take it at his own pace, and he’d respect that.

“I’m sorry I made shit weird.”

Shinichi stared at him. He seemed genuinely apologetic, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and yawning. “You made shit weird when you arrived. Last night was nice. The kind of niceness it’d be nice to have an encore for.”

“Heh. Gay.”

“You literally kissed me, Hackey.”

“Bitch, you kissed me back!” Hackey waved a dramatic arm. The caffeine was evidently kicking in. “Now you’re sayin’, what, ya wanna date?” He was nervous , of course he was. Shinichi’s own heart was in his throat.

“Yes?”

“Oh shit. What now?”

“I have no idea.”

And so began their relationship.

-

The weirdest part about dating Hackey was how little changed. They watched movies after work, they shot nerf guns across the office (mostly Hackey, but not completely ), they still had petty wars and Hackey still tried to avoid doing any work whatsoever. Only now he had another outlet for his powers of procrastination, and that was sauntering across the office to curl up with Shinichi in his chair and make out. Stealing kisses instead as installing updates. He really was incorrigible. More than once the phone had rang and one of them had answered it breathless, which didn’t leave a good impression about what was going on down in TEH SUPPO. Still, it was nice.

“ Nice . Ya suck at compliments, yanno that?” Hackey bitched, roughly three days in. “What happened to Mr Thesaurus Assface?”

“Not my first language, and you know it,” Shinichi pointed out, burying his face in that stupidly bright hair. “What would you rather I said?”

“Fuckin’ amazing,” Hackey murmured. He went bright red. “I mean-”

“No, I think you made your feelings clear,” Shinichi teased, and his boyfriend (?????? how had this happened????????) groaned.

“I fuckin’ hate you, God. Just fuckin’ shut up and kiss me so I don’t have to hear your bitchy bitch voice bitching anymore.”

That was just how Hackey expressed affection. Shinichi was used to it. Actually, he liked it. It wasn’t saccharine, Hackey never was. But it was, in its own way, affectionate. They’d been dating, though nothing much had changed, for three days.

And everything was as usual.

-

Orihara Izaya

So you don’t have a crush on your coworker, then?

Shinichi glanced over at Hackey, who was carrying out a long, frustrating conversation trying to explain how to connect to the WiFi.

“An’ then ya just click on the WiFi option, look, it’s in the menu...it’s not hard to find, Calvin ya dickhead. What no, I’m offended by the insinuation. I would never call ya that. I’m a fuckin’ professional. Fine, I’ll come up and help. Smell ya later.” Hackey hung up and groaned. “Gotta go get Calvin online. Ten to one it’s to torrent porn.” He crossed the room and gave Shinichi a quick kiss. “Seeya, wouldn’t wanna be ya, fuckin’ loser.”

He watched Hackey leave and then looked back to the computer.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

I’m as surprised by this development as you are, Yamcha.

Orihara Izaya

Except for the part where I called it from day one

Orihara Izaya

So how’s the beautiful romance going?

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Wonderfully, thank you for asking.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

We’re having hourly sex on top of our desks, of course.

Orihara Izaya

I’m hiring an assassin to kill you then myself so I don’t have to live with that image.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

:’(

Orihara Izaya

Save your crocodile tears for someone who cares because I sure as hell don’t

Orihara Izaya

...on the topic of cold-blooded reptiles, I ran into Kujiragi

Shinichi may not have been a reptile, but his blood ran cold. Was the timing bitter coincidence or something fated? Of course, he’d known she obviously still existed. She hadn’t commented on his blog post, but the world didn’t revolve around him, he couldn’t expect her to (the comments he had got were all happy to see him alive and gave a lot of pretty much useless advice - and disturbing in the case of Walker and Erika). Still, Orihara bringing her up couldn’t have been anticipated.

Orihara Izaya

Is this still a bad topic? I mean, it was two years ago now. If you’re still caught up over it, that’s kinda tragic.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

I don’t know about you, but being framed for corporate theft does tend to ruin an otherwise healthy friendship.

Orihara Izaya

Nothing about your friendship was healthy.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Is there a point to this story?

Orihara Izaya

Yeah we ran into one another. I think she misses you <3333

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Cute.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Did anything actually come of it or?

Orihara Izaya

We didn’t even talk about you. It was all work stuff, her company wanted to hire me on a contract.

Orihara Izaya

Except she said she was glad you’re okay. In veryyyy basic terms.

Orihara Izaya

She makes you look not emotionally repressed

Tsukumoya Shinichi

I mean it’s understandable. She’s been through a lot.

Orihara Izaya

And still screwed you over.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Way to rub it in.

Orihara Izaya

You’re welcome~

Tsukumoya Shinichi

I’d better go.

He closed the tab and stared at the empty screen. He was still staring when Hackey walked back in, already talking relentlessly and complaining about literally everyone they had to work with.

“Fuckin’ Calvin can choke on a fuckin’ dick. Who the fuck doesn’t know what the WiFi icon looks like? What kind of world are we living in?” He looked over at Shinichi. “Ya alright, man? Ya look spooked.”

You should communicate, one of the comments had said. Tell them what you feel. It’s cliche but it makes or breaks a relationship.

“It’s nothing.”

Chapter Text

...his weird boyfriend was acting weird. Definitely. He kept staring at his screen in mute silence and closing the tab when Hackey tried to see what he was up to. Shinichi being secretive was nothing new, he had a whole career built around it, but this was different. He didn’t seem smug about it, more disconnected, distant. There was something wrong and Hackey had no idea what to do. He was struggling enough with the idea of even having a boyfriend, he couldn’t talk about it . So instead he kept climbing into Shinichi’s stupid egg chair and wrapping himself around him, some kind of distraction from whatever it was that was bugging him. He seemed to appreciate it, anyway.

Even as out of it as he currently was, he was still thorough enough to erase his internet history. No chance of figuring it out that way.

Hackey was worried. There, he’d said it. He actually gave a crap about Shinichi and his obnoxiousness, though he’d never say it out loud. Who did they think he was, huh? Some well-adjusted human being and not a complete disaster? Yeah, no.

“You wanna get some air?” he suggested, in lieu of real communication. Shinichi shrugged vaguely and didn’t turn around. “C’mon, ya little basement goblin. Let’s split. We could, I dunno, go out somewhere, do something, whatever.”

Shinichi smirked. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“Ah- fuck off, ya dickeating prick, we are dating! Ya can’t act high and mighty when ya agreed to go out with me of all fuckin’ people.” Banter was good. Banter was the usual state of affairs. “No...well, maybe, I dunno. If ya don’t wanna go somewhere public, ya could come over to mine and play videogames.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?”

To think, to fucking think, Hackey had been worrying about this asshole. He hated him. He hated him so, so much. “I swear to God if you keep talking I’m gonna break up with ya and set your egg chair on fire.”

“There’s an obvious solution to that problem,” Shinichi pointed out, swivelling around. “You have to stop me talking.”

Hackey groaned, as though it were a chore, as though it weren’t exactly what he’d been wanting all along. “Fiiiiine.”

And so, they spent a sizeable chunk of the afternoon engaged in good, wholesome fun known also as kissing a hell of a lot. Hackey could feel Shinichi’s arms looped around his neck, he could feel him relaxing, and this felt so normal it was terrifying. Two birds, one stone; he’d managed to distract his weird boyfriend from being weird, and he was also sticking his tongue down his weird boyfriend’s throat.

Did that stop him worrying? It should have. Shinichi was acting his usual bitch self. There was nothing wrong with him. Even his immune system was doing what immune systems were supposed to do and functioning normally. Still, Hackey couldn’t shake the deep, uneasy feeling something was very, very wrong. Sometimes he even wished he was anybody else, someone who could raise this concern with Shinichi in the first place. So he kept deflecting and distracting and doing shit like this, because it made him feel better in the short run, rather than trying to figure out some kind of endgame.

“Yes,” Shinichi murmured, into his neck. “I’d like to come round and play videogames.” He pulled away suddenly. “As long as that’s all we do, Donaghue .”

“Yeah yeah, intimacy issues, we both suck at this, I getcha.” Hackey didn’t mean to sound bitter, he knew it was true. They were terrible at pretty much everything. He didn’t need that spelling out in neon caps locks, that both of them were pieces of shit. “When do ya wanna do this?” Shinichi didn’t answer. “Is tomorrow after work aight with you? That’d give me time to evict Doubs and sell all his shit online. I swear he’s the messy one, not me. Anyone who says otherwise is an out-and-out liar.”

Eventually, Shinichi nodded. “Sure. It’s a date.”

Hackey blushed. “You’re a fuckin’ jackass. I hate you.”

And everything was normal.

-

“I’m not moving into a storage container so you can hook up with your weird boyfriend.”

Doubs didn’t need to take up the entire sofa while he painted his toenails, but lo and behold, he was.

“Aw, c’mon. Just for one night!” Hackey pouted. “Besides, we ain’t gonna be hooking up.”

Doubs looked at him, disbelieving, then cursed. “See what you did? Your terrible lie made me smudge my nails.”

Reaching over, Hackey promptly smudged all of them and smirked, self-satisfied. Doubs glared at him and started again. “I’m serious.”

“Really? You’re incapable of having an actual relationship, for one thing. You’re telling me this isn’t going to end in disaster? Like when we were in college?”

“Okay first off, I’m not in college anymore. Second, that whole situation was totally not just my fault. You can act all innocent but I was there too. And then Mirald...well, yanno. His whole shit went down. It wasn’t just me.” Hackey flopped into his seat and slouched down. “Ya really think it’s gonna go that bad?”

“I know your track record,” replied Doubs, once more focusing intensely on his toenails. “It won’t be malicious, but it will implode.”

“Thanks for the optimism. Also, fuck you.”

“You’re welcome,” Doubs smiled. “I don’t mean any offence by it, Hackey. It’s just you. I’m saying this as an outside observer, and as someone who has honestly never had a committed relationship and isn’t about to start now.”

“And ya wonder why I want ya to move into a storage container,” Hackey muttered. Truth was, he was terrified Doubs was right. He often was, and that was the worst part. He knew things, and he was right about them and if he was calling this relationship as doomed from the start, what if it was?

What if Doubs was right?

And what if there was nothing Hackey could do about it?

-

They finished up work at actual closing time the next day, locked up the TE H SUPPO office and headed out. It was always pretty weird seeing Shinichi actually outdoors, and he squeezed his hand, trying to be a reassuring presence. He wasn’t very reassuring so it probably didn’t work, but he wasn’t going to let go now. Shinichi smiled faintly, before pulling his facemask up - they were getting public transport, and it was always better to be safe than sorry, even if his immune system apparently did work. The journey back to Hackey’s passed uneventfully; if anything, Shinichi was still too quiet, not bitching enough. But then who liked talking on the bus? Normal people didn’t like talking on the bus, let alone emotionally repressed idiots.

...he was totally overthinking everything, goddammit. Why was his brain doing this? He didn’t give a shit about anyone! That was his thing! This was just totally uncalled for, ugh. Put those emotions away, never to be seen again.

“This one,” he said when the stop was near, nudging Shinichi off his shoulder. “We gotta go.” From there, it would be like, five minutes walk back to the apartment. He explained all this, motormouthing as they got off the bus. “...an’ it ain’t far, so your tiny legs won’t get too fucked, trust me, it’ll be-”

“What’s with you lately?” Shinichi asked, out of nowhere. Hackey stumbled, basically tripping over the kerb. He cursed. Shinichi was fixing him with this serious look; of course he’d seen through his shit right away. “You’ve been acting...I’d say concerned, but no, that implies altruism. What are you after?”

“I’m acting weird? Bitch, if I’m actin’ weird, where’ve you been at?” he blurted, without stopping to think ‘hey, this might not be the best idea I’ve ever had’. “So do ya normally just stop speakin’ for days or do ya like me that much, huh?”

“What does that even mean ?”

Hackey whirled around, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him close. “What I fuckin’ said. Ya don’t say shit unless I start, an’ even then ya don’t really talk to me. Where’s the stupid self-importance, where’s the head-up-ass, where’s any of it? Where...where are you right now, dude, ‘cause it sure as hell ain’t here?” He looked at Shinichi, trying to read his expressionlessness and find something, anything that might help him out. Nothing. “I dunno. This was stupid anyway.”

Shinichi was quiet, then pulled the mask down and kissed him. “It’s honestly nothing,” he said, clearly lying, but Hackey really wasn’t in the mood to press further. “Just things dragging themselves back up. You don’t need to worry.”

“Did I ever say I was worrying?” Hackey spluttered, indignant.

“Of course not.” Shinichi rolled his eyes. “How could I ever expect anything remotely resembling empathy from you?”

“Bitch-”

And that was normal.

-

“...just to warn you, Doubs is- speak of the fuckin’ devil.” Soon as they got inside, Doubs was there. He didn’t seem to be doing anything particularly insidious, but with Doubs Hewley who even fucking knew? “Shinichi, this is my roommate and all-around dickface, Doubs. May have mentioned him like, once, and only negatively. Doubs, meet Shinichi. Coworker, boyfriend, and target of 900% of all bitching.”

Doubs gave an exaggerated bow. “At your service.”

Shinichi raised his eyebrows. “That’s a bit racist, bowing just because I’m Japanese. How culturally insensitive are you?”

Groaning, Hackey elbowed him, hard. “Ignore him,” he said to Doubs. “He has a shit sense of humour. Thinks he’s a comedic genius.”

“I’ll have you know I ran a popular entertainment blog for a good few years, so there are more people who find me funny than you.”

“He also can’t go five minute without a sarcastic one-liner.”

“You make that sound like a negative.”

“Because it fuckin’ is!”

Doubs stared from one to the other then grinned. “Well, I can see why you two get along. You’re both completely intolerable.”

“That’s me!” Hackey fingergunned. “Now if ya don’t mind, we’re gonna be playing Smash Bros without you.” He stuck his tongue out, shoving Shinichi through the door into his room.

“Have fun!” Doubs called out, just as Hackey slammed the door behind them. His stupid boyfriend was looking entertained, which was stupidly cute and shouldn’t have been.

Hackey flopped down on his bed immediately. “He’s such a jackass.”

“He seems interesting,” Shinichi agreed. “Thank you for inviting me over.”

And of course, cue ginger genes, and a horrible fucking blush.

-

They had several rounds on Smash Bros, a genius game if ever there was. On what other platform could you witness Ganondorf vs Pikachu? None. Shit was ridiculous, and ridiculousness was exactly what was needed right now.

Then, a couple of hours in, Doubs knocked and announced that pizza had arrived. He hadn’t said anything about having ordered pizza to begin with but hey, don’t take a gift horse to the water and all. Pretty much as soon as they entered the living room, Hackey realised something was up.

“Doubs that’s not a pizza box. That’s a fuckin’ DDR machine.”

Doubs tried to look innocent. “What? They must have mixed up my order. It’d be a shame to let it go to waste now, right?”

That was how Hackey wound up virtually concussing himself, and Doubs and Shinichi wouldn’t stop laughing at him about it all evening.

He knew introducing them was a mistake.

-

“I’ll be going-” Shinichi began. Hackey shook his head firmly.

“Nuh-uh, it’s like 2am. You can stay here tonight.”

“Are you sure?” Was it just Hackey or did he sound... off ?

“Sure. My bed’s more fuckin’ comfortable than your cupboard goblin cave. I mean, not to insult your place or anything but it’s a fuckin’ cupboard.”

It occurred to Hackey that this was almost an exact reversal of their first...not date, but the night after they’d first kissed. Alcohol had been required.

This time when he kissed Shinichi, he was stone-cold sober, and wondering where his life had gone wrong and why he was revelling in it so much. He didn’t think he’d ever find the answers to those questions.

But there was no harm in enjoying the journey, right?

Chapter Text

His phone buzzed.

He hesitated, checking Hackey was asleep, and then he covertly glanced at his screen. He tensed. Of course, he knew who it was, but that name never failed to cause a visceral reaction.

Kujiragi Kasane

it is a shame about Guillermo del Toro and Pacific Rim 2, but at least we got The Shape of Water out of it.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Yes, I’m sure you found the scientists very relatable. Lack of morals and all.

Kujiragi Kasane

...I liked the fishman.

Kujiragi Kasane

though of course their scientific curiosity was entirely understandable harsh as their methods were

Tsukumoya Shinichi

There we go. That’s more like it.

Kujiragi Kasane

that is not to say I did not appreciate him both aesthetically and as a character

Tsukumoya Shinichi

…………...aesthetically?

Kujiragi Kasane

I mean the prosthetics. Nothing else.

Did she sound embarrassed? She sounded a bit embarrassed. Or maybe he was projecting emotion onto someone so profoundly inhuman, seeing what he wanted to see. Either or.

He felt Hackey stir beside him and almost apologetically typed out a hasty message.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

As always, it’s been good to talk to you but I have to go.

And then, hesitating:

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Later, perhaps.

Once more his phone buzzed. He didn’t need to check to know it was her, but he did anyway.

Kujiragi Kasane

Talk soon.

He wasn’t sure why he felt guilty, but he tucked the offending phone out of sight before Hackey rolled over and hit him in the face with one lanky, out-of-control arm.

“Ughggughughhhhhgh hate mornings,” Hackey groaned. “Why you always so awake at this fuckin’ hour? Unfair. ‘s not like ya even have a healthy sleep pattern. Motherfucker.”

Shinichi smiled, a little sadly. “You know you mean a lot to me.”

Hackey started awake. “What the- of course I fuckin’ do. What kinda stupid crap are ya on? I like your bitch-ass too.” He kissed Shinichi’s cheek. “Ya doin’ okay?”

“Yes, I-” He deflated. “I know I’ve had a lot on my mind lately, but I don’t want you doubting how I feel, if anything-”

“If what?” Hackey interrupted. “The fuck kinda shit are ya talkin’? If what ?”

“Things can happen,” Shinichi said calmly. “If anything does, I want you to know I- never mind. If you’re going to be a little bitch about it, you don’t deserve to hear what I’ve got to say.”

“You are such a dick,” muttered Hackey, arms wrapped round Shinichi, clinging to him.

And even as he felt content, genuinely happy deep inside, he could feel the guilt eating him up.

He said nothing.

Only clung to Hackey instead.

-

Orihara Izaya

are you sure it’s a good idea for you to talk to her again?

Shinichi glanced across the room at Hackey, who was flinging popcorn into the air and catching it, engrossed in Not Working. He knew Hackey didn’t read Japanese, especially at this distance.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Unlike some people, Yamcha, I find it healthier to face my problems rather than flat-out ignoring them.

Orihara Izaya

Since when ?

Orihara Izaya

this isn’t even a case of pot-kettle, it’s just sad, really

Tsukumoya Shinichi

So speaketh the arbiter of all that is emotionally healthy and mature behaviour.

Orihara Izaya

I’m just saying, this is one of your worst choices and your choices involved speaking to her in the first place and dating your coworker.

Orihara Izaya

...and how is that going?

Orihara Izaya

are you planning on telling him you’re talking to your ex again?

Shinichi tapped the keys, replying and deleting until pettiness won out and he said;

Tsukumoya Shinichi

She’s not my ex.

Orihara Izaya

my point stands

Tsukumoya Shinichi

It’s not come up in conversation, but if it does, I’ll tell him.

“Who’re ya gossipin’ away with all secret?” Hackey drawled from across the room. Shinichi’s eyes must have widened because Hackey frowned. “See? You’re doin’ it a-fuckin’-gain. What the shit is up with you, man?”

“...got a headache,” Shinichi said, truthfully but still deflecting. “Need to turn the screen brightness down. Sorry if I’m a little off. I don’t know what it is either.”

And there he was lying, because he knew. He also knew that while Hackey sucked at empathy he had a tendency to freak out over Shinichi’s health. It was a dick move, it was low, and it made him feel disgusting but he’d said it anyway.

“Oh, what a surprise, a headache.” Hackey rolled his eyes, any concern badly masked in being an utter bitch. “Ya think maybe living in a fuckin’ cupboard an’ never leavin’ the computer ain’t exactly good for ya?”He folded his arms stubbornly. “If ya can’t do your work, quit whining an’ go take a nap. Dumbass.”

Since the headache was real, Shinichi did as suggested. He kissed Hackey first - and tasted betrayal in the back of his throat. He swallowed it down. He wasn’t doing anything wrong.

So he almost believed.

-

If things were different, both of them acted like nothing had changed. If things were tenser, neither of them noticed. That is, both of them noticed, but neither of them lampshaded it.

Shinichi visited Hackey’s place a few more times. It never progressed beyond innocent make-out sessions. The distraction was tangible. They played Mario Kart instead, took turns on Overwatch. Doubs chipped in as Sombra more than once. It wasn’t lost on Shinichi that both he and Hackey mained robots - Hackey memeing as Bastion and Shinichi, while not really one for first-person shooters, taking a shine to Zenyatta. Right then, he’d have given anything not to be human, not to have all these complications.

Something would eventually have to explode. It was a matter of where and when.

As it turned out, the catalyst would be at work.

-

He’d been called into the boss’ office. Normally, his employer would come down to the basement himself, but today he was insistent. Shinichi left Hackey to it, and headed up to the top floor where the boss waited, absently leafing through several files at once. On seeing Shinichi loitering just outside, he leapt to his feet and practically dragged him inside. They sat in silence for a minute, the boss swaying in his seat just a little, until he was satisfied they weren’t being listened to.

Something Shinichi had learnt long ago was that this company was far from normal. All the data he looked over, all the numbers with sinister shadows behind them. The boss was paranoid, hence why he’d hired a (disgraced) corporate spy.

When he spoke his tone sounded absent, but his dark eyes glinted with ominous presence. “So, your colleague. How’s he settling in?”

Shinichi studied the man opposite, searching for hidden purpose and coming up empty. “When motivated to work, he’s brilliant. He’s just so rarely motivated by himself, I have to make sure he focuses. But he’s good, yes. An asset.”

“Good. If he were left to his own devices, could he rise to the occasion?”

The question was innocuous, and the smile that accompanied it was pleasant enough. Like the figures and the data, it too had more below the surface.

“Why do you ask?”

The boss’ grin widened; Shinichi’s skin started to crawl. He slid a file across the desk, and Shinichi opened it. Is stomach dropped.

“You don’t have to make your decision now,” his boss was saying. “You can get back to me by the end of the week.”

Dumbly - numbly - Shinichi nodded, and left.

-

No matter how much Hackey needled him, Shinichi refused to tell him what the meeting had been about. Eventually he got bored and went back to his ‘Dorito Rating Experiment’ (very scientific. Not procrastination at all). Shinichi watched him, already feeling a pang of loss, like this was all about to be over. Kujiragi, and now this file, this opportunity.

The increase in pay was the least of it. Everything about this job was an improvement. He’d be a fool not to accept.

And he’d be an asshole to keep Hackey in the dark about it.

He typed out a message to Hackey and pressed send, and before he could respond (disbelief, outrage, hurt) , walked off into his cupboard, locking the door.

He sat there, knees pressed up against his chest, ignoring the frantic banging on the door, the panicked yells.

His phone buzzed.

He ignored it.

Shinichi Tsukumoya

I’m transferring back to Japan.

Shinichi Tsukumoya

You can’t change my mind.

Shinichi Tsukumoya

I’m sorry.

Hackey Mouse is typing...

Chapter Text

Hackey Mouse

tell me its a joke

Hackey Mouse

tell me its a joke you fuckface son of a bitch

Hackey Mouse

please

No answer. He almost started banging on the door again in frustration but -

didn't.

It was, at least, the end of the work day. No awkwardness, lingering around the office like a bad smell. That said, he didn't want to go home. Fuck, he was shaking. He thought he might cry. Why would Shinichi do this? It was dumb. Why would he- did Hackey really suck that much that Shinichi would go to such lengths to end things with him? Well, it made sense. For a man who'd fled Japan to avoid his family, it made sense this was how he'd go about breaking things off.

Hackey wanted to scream. Didn't. Got the bus home instead.

Leaving Shinichi to his stupid fucking cupboard and lonely, sad, pathetic life. Yeah. Sucked to be him.

It hurt so goddamn much, that was the truth. And Hackey was too dumb to have seen this coming, but he should have known nobody would want to date him long term. Should have anticipated this blow that had cut him in two. He had fucked up, hurt Shinichi somehow, and now he was leaving.

God knows what a wreck he must have looked, because Doubs noticed. Asked something about what was wrong. Hackey said nothing.

Grabbed vodka. Sat at his computer (in his second chair, because his proper one was at work) and said nothing. Not even when he got Play of the Game.

Radio silence on his end.

Nothing.

-

If you asked him, he couldn’t even begin to explain exactly why he’d shut down like this. On paper, this shouldn’t have affected him so much. But it had, and he’d short circuited. Too many genuine emotions, couldn’t process them. So yeah. Error #404, Hackey not found.

He left his room only to go to the bathroom. Straight back to the computer after that, staring emptily at the screen. Without a word, he stopped going into work and turned his phone off, so he wouldn’t have to hear them fire him. He hadn’t checked his emails, but he was pretty much positive by this point, he was out.

Part of him wondered if this would affect Shinichi leaving, and he killed that thought dead. He didn’t care whether Shinichi left or not. Nope. He didn’t care one bit.

Barricading himself in his room and moving his shelves across the door so Doubs couldn’t get in had nothing to do with anything. It was just what Hackey felt like doing right now. On second thoughts, he really should have considered Doubs Hewley Is A Nonsense Man Who Cannot Be Stopped and put something across the window because, three days into Hackey’s fun and games fun plan, he drifted off at the screen and woke up to the sound of someone climbing in from the fucking fire escape.

So this was how he died.

“Aw, fuck-” he mumbled. His head hurt. He was really, really hungover, not to mention hungry (ran out of snacks yesterday), sleep-deprived and otherwise a mess. There was a crick in his neck that was killing him. If the intruder ended his life that’d be just fine. It’d be a mercy killing right now.

He heard tutting and looked up to see his roommate surveying the mess. Bottles and wrappers were strewn everywhere. Doubs’ nose was wrinkled in disgust.

“Gerhardt said you went AFK mid-game, so I assumed you were asleep,” Doubs said, apropos of nothing. “He’s worried about you, by the way. I would say everyone is, but Yellow said it served you right for being an asshole. I think he’s mostly joking though.”

Hackey said nothing. He turned his chair around and blankly went back to the computer.

Footsteps behind him, and then the power went out.

“Hey!” He glared at Doubs, who had just pulled the plug. “Asshole!”

Doubs shrugged, unfazed. “I called in sick to work for you. They’re expecting you back in tomorrow.”

“Nope. Nuh-uh. Not fuckin’ going back.” Hackey folded his arms. “I won’t fuckin’ do it.”

“Yes, you will,” Doubs replied firmly. “You know why? Because you’re no fun at all, moping around. It’s depressing me. Desist now.” Hackey opened his mouth to complain, and Doubs interrupted. “I’ll put a Craigslisting for a new roommate, don’t believe I won’t.”

“Who’d live with you?” Hackey muttered.

“You did. But you’re right. I’ll have to work very hard to find a roommate that doesn’t get tired of me quick. So I’d very much prefer it if you would consider ceasing the miserable nonsense and sorting your life out, please and thank you, before I have to take drastic action.”

Hackey stared. “Doubs, what the fuck? Did your voice just fuckin’ crack, man?”

“I’m going through a second puberty,” Doubs replied quickly, already doubling down on the denial. “Hackey. Just sort this bullshit. I know, Shinichi’s leaving, whatever. He’s been in your life all of five minutes. I’ve been your friend years.” He looked, for a split second, completely lost. Hurt, even. Only for that second, and anyway, the lighting was bad and it probably was nothing, just Hackey seeing things. “Look, I drafted you a letter of resignation so you can quit this job if that’s what you want. I could do with a hacker for this job I just took on. It just involves changing some text on a bank’s website so it’s not super illegal, but I need it on the real and actual website for five hours. Don’t ask why.”

He hadn’t seen Doubs this visibly upset in years, if ever. Doubs was a bullshit man - even now, he was obviously lying through his teeth - and he masked his emotions under selfishness and being a complete prick, but he had been rocked.

“Fine,” Hackey groaned. He couldn’t be bothered looking for a new apartment, for one thing. “Whatever. Fuck you.”

“Go sleep,” Doubs said tonelessly, moving the shelves aside and opening the door. “I’ll wake you up in the morning.”

There was a time when Doubs would have joined him. There was a time Hackey would have suggested Doubs join him. Neither of those things happened. Doubs stalked out of the room like nothing mattered to him. Like he wasn’t terrified of being alone, and hadn’t essentially admitted it just then.

Hackey was tempted to plug the computer back in and get back to his shit, but he was tired. He passed out on the bed, without even tucking himself in. His stomach was already turning preemptively for tomorrow.

Fuck. Why had he let Doubs talk him into this, again?

He needed the apartment, yeah. That was it, and that was all.

There was nothing deeper to it.

-

He woke up before Doubs, and hauled himself out of bed. He showered and threw on some clean clothes, for the first time in days. He shaved too. There was a hideous pimple starting in the middle of his forehead. Ugh. He let his hair hang down over it, and went to get breakfast.

Doubs was nowhere in sight, for all that he’d said he’d wake Hackey. Assfuck. Bitchface. There were lots of words running through Hackey’s mind right now. Bastard from Bastard City. His mom. Total whore.

“Oh, you’re up?” Hackey jumped, and looked on top of the fridge. Doubs was sat up there, typing away. “Thank you kindly for saving me a job.” Hackey didn’t reply. Doubs leaned down toward him. “Are you going in?”

“Yeah,” Hackey replied. “Get it over with. You’re right, yanno? This thing with Shinichi was never gonna last. You an’ me, we’re forever.”

Doubs raised his eyebrows, but he was smiling faintly. “We can get takeout tonight, if you want. Watch some dumb movies?”

“Sure,” Hackey replied, heading for the door. “Hey, my resignation letter-”

“Already in your bag,” Doubs replied. “Don’t come home too soon, by the way. I need to videochat a client and if you show up, she’ll figure out I’m not really the monarch of a small European country, alright?”

Hackey rolled his eyes. That was normal Doubs. None of this weird emotional bullshit, just an utter fucklord. “Sure. Smell ya the fuck later.”

“Okay, Gary Oak,” Doubs called after him.

And Hackey headed to work.

Hopefully, for the last time.

-

It seemed as though Hackey had fundamentally understood how easy quitting your job was. When he dropped his resignation letter in, he’d expected that would be it, but fucking Kelly from fucking HR was telling him no, he had to stay another full month. It was, apparently, in the contract. If he’d bailed on this when his probation period was still on, he could have just walked. But he’d had to go and pass it. Fucking Shinichi. Making everything so much more complicated.

He got in the elevator, heading down to the basement. TEH SUPPO. First things first, he’d sort out having his chair delivered back home. Dead cat chair would do, for a month.

The door creaked open. He poked his head around, cautiously. Part of him almost expected Shinichi to already be gone.

Nope. There the bastard was, sat at his desk like nothing had happened. On hearing Hackey enter, he turned, looking at him with big, confused eyes.

Hackey swallowed a lump in his throat. “What’s up, ya lonely little fuck?”

He saw Shinichi smile.

Oh fuck.

Oh fucking fuck.

Fuck.

….he was fucked.

Chapter Text

Orihara Izaya

and here I thought you were being emotionally competent and functional now

Orihara Izaya

this is a new low, even for you.

Shinichi sighed. He couldn’t even argue. In his catalogue of worst decisions, this was definitely up there.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

If you think about it, it’s for the best. Tearing off the band-aid before it gets ingrained and skin heals over.

Orihara Izaya

That is disgusting imagery

Orihara Izaya

also, no it the fuck isn’t

Orihara Izaya

It sucks

Orihara Izaya

you suck

Orihara Izaya

Fix your damn self, Tsukumoya

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Bold words coming from you .

Tsukumoya Shinichi

I don’t take advice from catfishers, Twitter trolls or people who are banned from every single karaoke bar in Ikebukuro, and you fall into all three of those categories.

Orihara Izaya

You’re deflecting. I know your game.

Orihara Izaya

yes, I suck. wbk

Orihara Izaya

But you don’t even own up to your mistakes. And that’s just dumb.

Orihara Izaya

I am revoking your high horse card, do not pass go, go sit in a corner and eat shitty american sushi and cry about how dumb you are

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Noted. Now, if that’s all, I’ll be getting on.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Next time I want your advice, Yamcha, I’ll scream into a bucket instead. It will give me far more constructive critiques.

Orihara Izaya

people hated jesus because he spoke the truth too

Orihara Izaya

besides, shinjuku bars are so much nicer xx 

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Orihara, did you just compare yourself to the son of god??? 

Tsukumoya Shinichi

That is concerning on so many levels, please get help. See a therapist. 

Orihara Izaya

Hahaha can you even imagine they would be like ‘Mr Orihara what is the problem’ and I am supposed to what? Answer??? Truthfully?????????? With a straight face????????????????????

Orihara Izaya

Don’t make me laugh I’ll choke on the hotpot I’m having with all my friends without you~

Tsukumoya Shinichi

...you are eating hotpot alone again, aren’t you?

Orihara Izaya

I revoked your high horse card, which means you can’t get on my case about it, so there

Tsukumoya Shinichi

When I’m back, we can eat hotpot. And you can maybe show me the Shinjuku bars. 

Orihara Izaya

Ew no i don’t wanna eat hotpot with a creep like you that’s just disturbing 

Orihara Izaya

I don’t even want to be on the same landmass as you let alone show you around. Gross. Just stick to Ikebukuro and I won’t have to file a restraining order :)

Orihara Izaya

Besides, since when did you drink?

Since Hackey , he wanted to type. Since he brought me sake, specially, and we kissed, and I felt like someone cared about me just this once. I felt like I mattered.

Instead he typed this:

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Goodbye, Orihara. See you soon.

Orihara Izaya

I fucking hope not.

Orihara Izaya

See you NEVER

Orihara Izaya

Oh yeah and sort ur life

Orihara Izaya confirmed dead!

-

It had gouged a hole in his chest, hearing Hackey bash on the door those few times, and beg him to open. When his phone had buzzed with messages for almost an hour. He’d pulled his blanket over his head, screwed his eyes shut, and willed himself to leave his body. This damn body, too small and sick and fragile, falling apart at all angles. He left it behind, curled up in a cupboard, knees to its chest. He waited it out, until he was certain Hackey had given up and left, then opened the door a crack to check. No Hackey in sight. He exhaled and wiped his face. There were tear stains - he must have cried, reflexively, out of his own conscious control. Maybe he’d underestimated how strongly he did feel about Hackey. He’d never had a good handle on his emotions at the best of times, but now it felt like he was lost at sea, and his only life belt had vanished.

That reminded him of Hackey’s Titanic theory, that he’d come up with out of nowhere one day.

“Consider though, when whatshisname says, ‘I’m the king of the world’, he ain’t joking. He’s a goddamn trickster god, right, an’ he causes the iceberg, then dies in front of her just to fuck her up for funsies. Shits and giggles, right. That’s definitely what that movie was about.”

“Riveting analysis as always. I’m sure that was exactly what James Cameron was trying to articulate.”

“I know, right?” Hackey had grinned, embracing his blissful idiot status. Shinichi had rolled his eyes. Then kissed him. And things had felt okay, right then at least.

Lost at sea. Drowning under the weight of emotions he’d never been less equipped to deal with.

Even with Hackey gone, he couldn’t face leaving his room. He shut the door and turned the light off. For a few hours, he sat in dark and quiet, unmoving. Trying to be unthinking, unfeeling. Failing. 

After some time, he’d messaged Izaya, which had gone as previous. It was weird to get advice from someone so profoundly incompetent in his personal life. Shinichi felt decidedly called out. When Orihara was judging your life choices, you knew you’d hit rock bottom. 

It wasn’t a surprise when Hackey didn’t show up for work the next day. Or after that. Radio silence online, and no sign of him at the office. Apparently he’d called in sick, sent a doctor’s note giving him a full week away. It hurt . If he never saw Hackey in person again, if this was it - the thought made him feel ill. Time and again he drafted messages, but couldn’t send them. Couldn’t bring himself to. It felt like blundering through a minefield blindfolded. The next step coil be his last, so he just found himself still, stagnant. Trapped.

He looked at apartments in Ikebukuro online. He thought about contacting his family. Didn’t. No, he wasn’t ready for that. He wouldn’t message them until he was already back in the country.

He thought about Hackey again. Hackey who was estranged from his own parents. Hackey who understood him. Who he’d told about his condition and held hands with under the stars. Who he’d kissed. A lot.

Who he missed.

Even more.

His phone buzzed; he jumped to check it immediately. It wasn’t Hackey. Just his own chatroom. He relaxed, at first, before he read the username and felt even worse. There was no point in questioning how Doubs Hewley had got his details, that tracked, but what he had to say was bound to be agonising.

IridescentExtra returns to life!

IridescentExtra

This takes the cake, my friend

IridescentExtra

Do you have any idea how badly you’ve hurt Hackey?

Shinichi swallowed, and stared at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure what to say. He’d been trying to avoid thinking about that.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

In the long run, it’ll be easier on him.

Doubs was typing for a while, and then finally replied with:

IridescentExtra

Motherfucker

IridescentExtra

He likes you. A hell of a lot.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

What if I can’t be what he needs?

Tsukumoya Shinichi

I know my emotions aren’t exactly normal.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

And when it comes to intimacy, I’m frankly embarrassing.

IridescentExtra

I’m sorry, have you met Hackey?

IridescentExtra

He is a bona fide disaster.

IridescentExtra

This is just stupid. You’re both dumb, pining assholes.

IridescentExtra

Take it from someone who was with Hackey for a while, and knows him better than anyone, he takes things harder than he pretends, and that’s not a euphemism fyi

IridescentExtra

When Mirald had his first breakdown, Hackey shut down completely. He didn’t cope. That’s what he’s doing right now.

IridescentExtra

are you still there?

Tsukumoya Shinichi

...I’m here

IridescentExtra

Good.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

He’ll move on.

IridescentExtra

Hackey? Stubborn little bitch Hackey?

IridescentExtra

Bold of you to assume he moves on from anything.

IridescentExtra

With Hackey, dumb bitch hours are twenty four seven, seven days a week, three six five days a year

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Tell him I’m sorry.

IridescentExtra

No. I’m not your messenger pigeon.

IridescentExtra

Sort your life out

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Someone else said pretty much the same thing. Not someone whose advice I trust.

IridescentExtra

You are the worst. Just admit when you’re wrong.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

...have you been talking with Orihara? 

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Is he the one who gave you this chat?

IridescentExtra

nooooo of course not who is that

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Why is he meddling in my life?

Tsukumoya Shinichi

And don’t say he cares. Because we know that’s a lie.

IridescentExtra

When isn’t Izaya meddling in other peoples’ business?

Tsukumoya Shinichi

...is Hackey really sick?

IridescentExtra

Physically? No. I hope you can work out that implication on your own.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

oh 

IridescentExtra

Anyway. I think I’ve said my bit.

IridescentExtra

Talk it out. Leave, don’t leave, whatever. But talk to him.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

I’ll try.

IridescentExtra

I’ll get him back into work. You talk.

IridescentExtra

My regards to you.

IridescentExtra

Au revoir

IridescentExtra confirmed dead!

Shinichi set his phone down and tried to get his breathing under control. Tried to keep himself level.

He almost succeeded.

Just not quite.

-

The next day Hackey was in, as Doubs had promised. Shinichi didn’t doubt he’d meddled excessively. Why did they both have such difficult associates? At any rate, however he’d managed it, Doubs had lured Hackey back.

Hackey...who looked like shit. Tired, worn out, his obnoxious hair limp and lacklustre. There were huge bags under his eyes. 

“What’s up, ya lonely little fuck?” Hackey asked, as always, like normal, like nothing had happened, except the strain in his voice and the exhaustion apparent in his frame. But Shinichi felt that thing in his chest, a sense of completion, wholeness, upon seeing him, and couldn’t help smiling.

He stood up. He wanted to hug Hackey, wanted to cry into him for some reason, and he couldn’t have explained why. Emotions of this strength used to be totally foreign to him; now they were threatening to overwhelm him, strangling, suffocating, choking him.

“I am, aren’t I?” he murmured, feeling more and more distant and vague and alone .

Hackey frowned. “The fuck do ya mean by that? You’re the one who decided things were done, that you’re fucking off to Japan. You made it pretty clear ya didn’t want to talk about it, especially with me.” He flounced over to his chair and collapsed into it. Shinichi stood stock still, uselessly, staring over at Hackey and wondering why his stomach was turning.

Say something , he urged himself. Anything. A single word, even. Say something to him.

“You could visit,” he heard himself say, and groaned. Really, Shinichi? That’s what you’re going with ?

Hackey jerked, as if he’d been slapped. He opened and closed his mouth before just...deflating. He looked impossibly sad. “What the fuck, Shinichi? I don’t know shit about relationships but- why? It’s not even that you’re leaving, I could do long distance, but you’re acting like a total prick about it. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. This was hardly even a thing. I didn’t even like you. It was a prank, haha, why would anyone wanna date your stupid ass?” He was shaking. “It’s better this way, right? Good riddance.”

He was lashing out. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

“When do you leave?” Hackey asked, diffidently. 

“A month,” Shinichi replied, equally careful in his neutrality. 

“Huh. Funny,” Hackey scoffed. “Haha. That’s pretty funny.”

“Do elaborate,” Shinichi pressed, but got no response. Before he could inquire further, the door swung open, and Martin from HR poked his head in. He coughed nervously.

“I’m not interrupting, am I?”

Hackey swivelled his chair to look at Martin darkly. “No, fuckhead, ‘cause we stopped the sloppy makeouts on account of bein’ too mutually stupid to function. I started banging your mom instead, she’s way less bitchy. Next question.” There was an unnatural glint in his eyes, a pointed edge to his words. He was so clearly hurting, and it made Shinichi sick with guilt.

Martin looked between the two of them and squirmed. “Yeah, uh, okay? Uh, Shinichi. Boss wants to speak to you. About your transfer.” He heard Hackey snort. 

He swallowed. Walked across the room. Avoided eye contact with Hackey, holding himself in check.

He cast one glance back. Hackey was looking down, equally avoidant. It hurt.

Peeling off a band-aid, Shinichi thought. It’s better off this way.

It was better this way, wasn’t it? Right? 

-

“What do you mean the transfer’s cancelled?”

“What I said. While we had Quentin Donaghue, it could have gone ahead, but he’s tendered his resignation.”

Shinichi’s world fell away beneath his feet. Doubs fucking Hewley . Orihara . This had their fingerprints all over it.

“Excuse me,” he breathed, turning and running out of the room, leaving their boss blinking in his wake.

-

Hackey didn’t look up when the door swung open, closed. Didn’t look up when he heard footsteps coming close.

Didn’t look up when a hand touched his cheek.

And then lips met his, and Shinichi was kissing him and he was kissing back, and he was so going to murder Doubs when he got home, whenever that was, because right now he was kissing Shinichi Tsukumoya silly, and nothing in this world could have stopped him, short of an earthquake, or maybe a pandemic. 

They were kissing, and it felt enough.

It felt like a breath of fresh air after being plunged in deep water, lost at sea.

Hackey wasn’t crying. His eyes were leaking, and that was all. Known to happen. Nothing else. Nope, not here. Feelings not detected, nuh-uh.

...too many feelings. Too, too many. 

Fucking gay, Hackey thought. Deal with that shit later.

And just kept on kissing.

Chapter Text

This definitely wasn’t healthy, Hackey knew that much. He was dumb but he wasn’t that dumb. No, he knew kissing Tsukumoya again was ridiculously stupid even for him and yet he just couldn’t stop. Before he knew it, he had one immunocompromised asshole curled up in his lap, clinging to him and refusing to move. 

Hackey wiped his eyes and poked his sort-of-ex-sort-of-not-it’s-complicated-ahhhhhhhhhh in the ribs. “What was that?” Idiot. It was kissing . Why was his tongue tied in fucking knots? What the fuck was wrong with him?

Why did he still love Shitface McFucko Tsuku fuckyou ? He must have hit his head, that was it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I’m not leaving,” Shinichi breathed, like a weight had been lifted.

“That’s - oh shit. What?” He didn’t understand. 

“You quit,” Shinichi said. “They can’t lose both of us. So...I’m not leaving.” He looked at Hackey desperately. “Why did you- why would you do that?” 

Anger hit Hackey like a freight train and he pushed Shinichi away. “What kinda assfaced question is that? Ya were fuckin’ off, bye-bye, finito . Why would I stick around without ya?” Shinichi looked equal parts dejected and baffled, as if he couldn’t believe what he were hearing. Hackey tried to stay mad and couldn’t. “‘s fine, really. I’ll just leech off Doubs again. He won’t mind. Fucker probably missed me while I was workin’.”

“Are you sure?” Shinichi had the gall to ask. 

Furious, Hackey grabbed his face, forcing Shinichi to look at him. “Yes I’m fuckin’ sure. I don’t want to work in this shithole without ya. Could ya even imagine? I’d commit murder within a day.”

Shinichi gave a faint smile and buried his face in Hackey’s neck. “I didn’t exactly want to leave you, you know?” he murmured. “I - they offered the job, and I didn’t feel like I could say no.”

“It wasn’t so you could hang out with your lovely online ex who screwed you over?” Hackey muttered darkly. “That Kujiragi whatever?”

Shinichi now drew back. He touched Hackey’s cheek, oddly gentle. “I never met her, Hackey. We were just passing acquaintances online, nothing actually happened between us aside from her framing me for corporate fraud.” He paused. “I have been talking to her again, on an entirely detached basis.”

“Jesus,” was all Hackey could say to that. “You’re a fuckin’ disaster.”

He didn’t stop clinging though.

Because he was a disaster too.

-

Almost no work got done that day. They were too busy fussing over one another, it was disgusting. Too sweet. Hackey was getting cavities. He could picture Doubs’ smug bitchy face being all smug and bitchy about it. Ugh. He flicked Shinichi’s forehead and saw the other man pout in way, way too cute offense. 

“What was that for?”

“We’re being too mushy, I needed to make things bitchy again or risk losing my reputation as world class troll,” Hackey explained, very seriously. 

From his spot, still curled up in Hackey’s lap, Shinichi snorted. “Of course.” 

“Very, very legit. Obviously I hate your guts.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” Shinichi said, very quietly. 

That fucking floored Hackey. What could you even say to that? Anyone else might have said something reassuring or kind or - shudder - gentle but Hackey was himself. He was none of those things. Faced with a situation calling for his compassion, his brain short-circuited and he decided it was time to distract instead and just - deflect. That was perfect.

[He was a mess ]

Pushing Shinichi off his lap, he got to his feet. “Right, that’s it. We’re going out.”

“Where?” Shinichi asked, a little taken aback by the abruptness.

Hackey grinned. “We’re going on a date.”

-

“When you said a date,” Shinichi said slowly. “This was not what I had in mind.”

They were outside one of the fanciest restaurants in town, waiting to be seated. Neither of them were dressed appropriately; Hackey in particular was an eyesore as always, with a t-shirt that read ‘Bigfoot is real and he sucked my dick’. Already they were getting Looks. The fact they were obviously a couple, Hackey with one arm draped across Shinichi’s shoulders, that probably didn’t help much. 

“Why not?” Hackey replied blithely. He flashed their waitress an idiot smile. “My boyfriend and I would like a table, ‘s that aight?”

She nodded warily. “Any special occasion?”

“Nope. I just loooove him soooooo much~” Hackey gushed, watching Shinichi go bright red with too, too cute embarrassment this time. 

“You’re an asshole,” his boyfriend [they were back together, right??? This shit was confusing] muttered as they were led to their table.

“And ya love me for it.” Hackey beamed.

“My judgement must be impaired, but yes I do,” Shinichi retorted, taking a seat opposite. The candlelight lit up his features in a soft, delicate way. Hackey wanted to kiss him stupid.

“Bitch, me too. Why didn’t ya just talk to me, asshole?” Their waitress was hovering politely, clearly confused about their dynamic and just wanting to do her job. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, we ain’t havin’ a domestic. We’re sooo in love like I said.”

“Right. Sure. Your drinks order?”

“Uhhh, chardonnay? That’s a word, right?”

“A dry white wine,” their waitress confirmed.

“I hate to break it to you, but uh, wine’s wet. Just thought you ought to know about liquids an’ like, physics.”

“Duly noted,” the woman replied drily. “And for yourself?” The look she gave Shinichi was clearly one of sympathy, that he had to put up with Hackey’s antics. The joke was on her - she didn’t know what a godawful bitch Shinichi was too.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” Shinichi smirked. See? Asshole .

The waitress was far too tired for this. “Certainly. Enjoy your evening.” Off she went, stick up her ass, probably to bitch to her coworkers about them. 

“Ugh,” Hackey groaned. “Couldya be any cheesier?” 

“Is that a challenge?”

“Motherfucker!” Hackey scoffed. “But seriously. Am I really that shit of a boyfriend that ya wanted to run away?” 

Shinichi looked impossibly sad. “I figured..well. I suppose I figured you’d get sick of me anyway. I come with baggage, Hackey. There’s my health for one thing. And my interpersonal issues. I think it’s pretty obvious my social skills aren’t exactly up to much.”

“Me neither!” Hackey snapped. “That’s why we worked. Bitchy bitches on the spectrum, that was our fuckin’ tagline. Why would that put me off you?”

Shinichi closed his eyes. “Because I don’t want to go any further. My interest in that kind of physical contact is...limited. I know you and Doubs were involved, and - who was it, Mirald? You can do that stuff. I just-” He sighed. “You know me. I’m this way. You know when you kissed me, I blanked.”

Their waitress was back with the chardonnay. Both of them fell silent. 

“Are you ready to order?” she asked. “Or should I come back later?”

“Later,” Hackey said quickly. “Kthanksbye.” She set their glasses down in a huff and walked off without another word. Hackey took a long swig of his and spat it out again. “This stuff is godawful. What’s that fuckin’ meme, huh, sometimes things that are expensive are worse?” Shinichi didn’t answer. Hackey was nothing if not a motormouth, though, and he just kept talking. “That’s it? What you’re so in your head about? Ya don’t wanna bone down? Jesus, Shinichi, ya didn’t think to, I dunno, fuckin’ talk to me?”

“I’m not good at that,” Shinichi admitted sheepishly. He sipped at his wine. “This is good, by the way, you just have the palate of a sixth grader.”

“Damn right I do,” Hackey chirped. He reached a hand across the table impulsively, taking Shinichi’s hand in his. “Ya like our sloppy makeouts though, right?”

“Obviously,” Shinichi replied, as if Hackey had asked the stupidest question in the world. “I wouldn’t let you keep sticking your tongue down my throat if I didn’t get any gratification from it other than your silence.”

“ Rude .” Hackey pouted. “Why don’t we stick to that then? Ya don’t wanna do the do, we stick to what we both enjoy like sensible people. An’ I won’t get sick of ya because of it. Dumbass.”

“Are we really talking about our non-existent sex life in a fancy restaurant?” 

“Well, we weren’t talkin’ ‘bout it at work, so why the fuck not?” He saw the ghost of a smile dance across Shinichi’s lips. Huh. Sloppy makeouts were definitely a-okay with him.

He took a look down at the menu. To his dismay, he understood maybe half of it. The rest looked like some super made up Dr Seuss word salad.

“What the fuck even is this even? Salmon scotch egg with sorrel veloute? The fuck is a Scotch egg? Some gross British bullshit? The fuck is a VELOUTE?”

“French for velvet,” the waitress said out of nowhere, at the exact same time as Shinichi, because of course his know-it-all boyfriend knew that . The waitress coughed and continued. “It means a smooth, velvety sauce.”

“Cool, cool. So uh, one more question.” Hackey was grateful for his sincere lack of shame. Anyone else would have cringed themselves to death about now. “What’s sorrel?”

At which point the waitress seemed totally lost for words, Shinichi’s head fell into his hands, but Hackey could see his shoulders shaking with laughter, and Hackey looked in pride at the sincere bullshittery he’d created.

He loved being a dumbass sometimes.

Really fucking loved it.

-

“I cannot believe you,” Shinichi said later, after they’d settled up and left [the bill had been eye-watering, but Shinichi had covered it and left a generous tip that the staff definitely deserved after the night they’d had]. “You truly are a glorious dumbass.”

“It’s a fair question!” Hackey sulked. “Like, bitch, I live off instant ramen and pizza. Not all of us are fuckin’ megadork Gordon Ramsey motherfuckers. That food was sexy though. Like Doubs’ mom. See, I’m bein’ nice an’ romantic an’ not makin’ jokes about your mom on a date.”

“You truly deserve a medal,” Shinichi deadpanned.

“I do,” Hackey agreed. “But I’ll settle for a kiss.”

And Shinichi smiled, and - under the streetlight, in that warm glow-

Things felt like they might actually be okay.

-

“You’re late back,” Doubs observed.

“Yeah ‘cause I’ve been bangin’ your mom all night,” Hackey retorted. “I uh - went on a date actually. It was super romantic. Candles ‘n’ everythin’.”

“You’re really trying to be my stepdad, aren’t you?” Doubs scoffed.

“Not with your mom, fuck no! She’s too cheap for that,” Hackey sighed. “Shinichi and I uh...fuck it, yanno exactly what happened, ‘fess up. I know you had a hand in it.”

“What, me?” Doubs feigned innocence. “I absolutely didn’t spend multiple conversations coordinating with Orihara so that you and Tsukumoya would have to talk to one another.”

“See, puttin’ it like that makes it sound like ya did that.” He coughed. “Uh, thanks. I guess.” 

“Don’t thank me,” Doubs hissed. “It’s just weird.”

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck you sideways into Monday, blah blah blah. Now,” he clicked his fingers. “We need ta find a way for me to keep my job and him stay, an’ everythin’ll be just peachy. That’s an unsarcastic peachy by the fuckin’ way. In case ya were wonderin’. Everythin’s gonna be just perfect.”

Doubs rolled his eyes and got back to the cape he was making himself so he could go to Walmart and pretend to be a vampire out shopping who’d never encountered modern culture. He had nothing else to say on the subject, but - did he seem pleased? Hackey wasn’t sure.

Smug bastard. 

Hackey sauntered off to his room. His phone buzzed.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

I am never letting you take me anywhere nice again.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Etiquette is beyond you.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

I had a good time. Thank you.

Hackey Mouse

dont even mention it, ya fuck

Hackey Mouse

n im a fuckin delight, screw u

He wasn’t blushing.

He was blushing so, so hard.

“Bitch,” he muttered, putting his phone aside - and, for the first time in actual days, he crashed into bed and slept .

Chapter Text

Tsukumoya Shinichi

I realise this is out of the blue, but it’s important that I ask.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

And I feel as though Doubs Hewley might be less than forthcoming on this issue, thus it is to you that I am forced to turn.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Tell me this - is Doubs in love with Hackey?

mirror-mirror

obviously. you’re just noticing that?

mirror-mirror

he’ll never admit it because he’s profoundly fucked up, like, as a person

mirror-mirror

we all used to be chaotic in college before i had my lovely little breakdown and went fruit loops xxx

mirror-mirror

doubs pretends he moved on but he’s a bitch-ass liar

Tsukumoya Shinichi

I see…

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Then why did he make sure Hackey and I got back together?

mirror-mirror

what am i, a telepath????? lol no

mirror-mirror

he cares about hackey. don’t ask me why. its very ooc of him. i think hes trying to repress his feelings and pretend everythings fine

mirror-mirror

would u object to ur sweet little bf seeing doubs too, thats the real question

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Thank you, Mirald. You’ve been very helpful.

mirror-mirror

said no one ever

mirror-mirror

this IS weird btw. you and hackey. but i guess nobody ever thought i’d find someone either

mirror-mirror

and now im sucking dick every other night

Tsukumoya Shinichi

I believe we’re done here. Goodbye. 

mirror-mirror

ye ye im taking the hint

mirror-mirror

going off to suck some d(orrikey) right now 

mirror-mirror confirmed dead!

Shinichi put his phone down and sighed. The fact was, he wouldn’t object to Hackey going out with Doubs as well. The fact also was that it oddly hurt to think about Doubs playing the asshole, all the while still holding a torch for his college love, his roommate, his closest friend. And Hackey was too oblivious to notice.

So. it was time for Shinichi to step in and play matchmaker. 

Because someone had to.

-

Literally nobody had to.

-

It wasn’t just that he wanted Hackey to get laid, if that was what Hackey wanted. He saw the way Hackey lit up when talking about his roommate, and it was increasingly obvious that, whether he knew it or not, he hadn’t moved on from college either. Since Doubs had been so instrumental in helping Shinichi and Hackey, Shiichi figured it was only fair to return the favour.

“Can I drop by your apartment again?” Shinichi asked, as they were finishing up for the weekend. “I feel as though there’s a lot I need to make up for, these past few weeks.”

Hackey snorted. “Make up for, my ass. But uh, yeah. That’d be nice. Hell, stay for the weekend. Fuckin’ slumber party, fuck yeah.”

Shinichi blinked. “Right now?”

It was Hackey’s turn to look confused. “Why the hell not? Ya got anywhere better ta be, ya lonely little fuck?”

“In that case, I’ll grab my things,” Shinichi said, his mind whirring. He hadn’t thought about this further than ‘somehow get his boyfriend’s asshole roommate to talk to one another’. Which wasn’t even the beginnings of a plan. It wasn’t even a pl. Optimistically he had a P[roblem], and an L[iterally going into the situation right now], and an eNd goal, but no A[ctual way of achieving it].

A pln. He had a pln, and no idea how to get any further, other than going in blind. Which he hated. He liked to be overprepared. But he found he couldn’t say no to Hackey right now, if at all. Somehow, he’d developed a weakness.

And in all fairness, his preparations would only have been brainstorming with Orihara, so this was quite possibly for the best. 

Having got his things together, he followed Hackey out to a waiting uber, put his face mask on, and leaned against the window, hoping the numbing vibrations would somehow transmit an idea into his brain.

They didn’t.

He arrived at Hackey and Doubs’ apartment without a single thought in his head.

Orihara was going to rip the piss out of him over this, he thought, and then headed inside.

-

Doubs was, either fortunately or not, out when they got in. he was teaching an under 12s magic class, apparently. Whoever let him near impressionable young minds had no idea what they were letting themselves in for. He said this to Hackey, who snorted.

“Yeah, he’s probably gonna teach the little fuckers pickpocketing an’ how to make dicks out of balloons, an’ like, magical arson. I mean, I’d have wanted to learn that age whatever, ten. Shit, I wanna learn that now.” He pouted. “Why the fuck won’t Doubs teach me magical arson?”

“Do you really think you have the hand-eye coordination for any of that you just listed?” Shinichi pointed out, raising one eyebrow.

“Uh-huh!” Hackey nodded, and proceeded to trip over a beanbag. “Okay, but that doesn’t prove a thing.”

“No, I think that’s pretty damning evidence, actually.”

“Uh, objection.” 

“What?” Hackey motioned for him to lean in, and Shinichi, like a total fool, did. Hackey pulled him in and kissed him. “Hmm. Persuasive, but - no, overruled.”

“Bitch!”

There was a knock at the door. Both of them jumped, taken aback.

“Did Doubs forget his key?”

Hackey shook his head. “He knows how to pick locks. That wouldn’t stop him.”

The knocking grew louder. More persistent. And with it, a woman’s voice: “Quentin? I know you’re in there, Quentin. Open this door at once.”

The voice from the phone, when Shinichi had pretended to be a takeout. Hackey’s mother. H looked at Hackey, who had just. Frozen.

“Make them go away,” he begged. “Tell them I moved, whatever, just make them leave.”

Shinichi nodded wordlessly and went to the door, where a prim woman in a pencil skirt and blazer, and a man in slacks and a sweater vest were stood. The man looked bored. He had a pressed white shirt, and a tie with fish on it. Before Shinichi could say a word, the woman pushed past, forcing her way into the apartment.

“Where is he?” she demanded, looking around. Hackey had concealed himself somewhere. “I know he’s here, I saw him arrive, so don’t bother trying to tell me a pack of lies. I want to see my son this instant.”

“No,” Shinichi said firmly. “Get out or I’ll call the police.”

“Do you know who we are?” the man piped up. He didn’t look a thing like Hackey: short and jowly, with thinning brown hair. “We’re his parents .”

“I only have your word for that,” Shinichi said. “You could be lying. Perhaps you’re trained assassins. I need biomedical evidence you have any genetic relationship with him before I’ll give you the time of day.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” the woman snapped. “I’m his mother, this is my husband. Quentin’s stepfather. We have a right to see our son.”

“Your son is a grown adult who can make his own decisions.”

“We’ll treat him like an adult when he acts like one,” said Hackey’s mother derisively, looking Shinichi up and down and scowling. “You know, I have connections in immigration. I could have you thrown out of this country at any time.”

“Leave him alone!” Hackey . He stepped out from behind the couch where he’d been hiding. “I mean it.”

“ Quentin ,” the woman hissed, icily. “Come with us at once. Or we’ll make that call.”

Hackey just...deflated. He looked so tired. His mother on the other hand, gave a sniff.

“Where’s that good-for-nothing grifter boyfriend of yours?” she asked, looking around. “Is he still stringing you along? That man’s nothing but a climber. Nowhere near good enough for you. If you will insist on dating men, at least find someone of the same social class.”

Shinichi coughed. “Doubs isn’t currently your son’s boyfriend.” He gave a benevolent smile. “I am. Now get out.” The woman started to say something, but Shinichi cut her off. “Go ahead, call immigration. Do it. Play your trump card. Do you think I don’t have my own connections. I know several yakuza families who would be more than happy to help me out. I’ve done independent work for a lot of people. My current boss has excellent lawyers too, if you want to see me in court. So I’ll ask you again, get out, or I’ll make a phonecall. You’d better hope any call I make would be to the lawyers, or else I’d be concerned about permanent consequences. Far more permanent than being deported, or anything else you can muster up. I- no, really. I invite you to try me. Do it.” He spread his hands beatifically. “Well?” 

“You haven’t heard the last of this!” the woman threatened, shaking her fist cartoonishly as she stormed on out, followed by her ineffectual husband.

Once she was gone, Hackey collapsed onto the couch, breathing heavily. “Okay, but that was hot , what the fuck ? You were scary, Shinichi. Since when were you scary, and why was it hot?” Although his tone was cheerful, and he was forcing a smile, his hands were trembling. Shinichi sat down next to him, pulling his boyfriend into a tight hug.

“I won’t let them hurt you,” he promised. “I’m here.” 

At this point, Doubs burst in, semi-frantic [well, not smug and self-satisfied, which was frantic for him]. “I saw your mom and stepdad in the hall,” he said. “I’ve never seen her that royally pissed off. what happened?”

And - well. There was no way he could put his plan into action then. They were both so caught up looking after Hackey, too distracted to even act bitchy. Instead, they watched Kung Fury, the three of them, and Hackey clung to Shinichi like a drowning man to a life raft, with no land in sight.

They fell asleep like that until morning.

Chapter Text

Morning came, and Hackey woke up. Disgusting. He hated being awake in the morning. This job had done such a number on his wonderfully cultivated, chronically horrific sleep schedule. He was almost a functional person now. Disgusting . Slowly, he pried himself off Shinichi, who was all clingy and adorable. 

  The previous evening was fresh in Hackey’s mind. He needed to deflect, distract, put all of that behind them so nobody, least of all Shinichi, confronted him about his like, actual emotions and trauma. He went to shower, and found Doubs like, actually flossing his teeth.

“What the fuck are ya doin’ Doubs?”

“What does it look like?”

“Yeah but like, nobody actually flosses. Dentists tell ya to, then ya ignore them, then ya lie when ya see them next.”

“I am my own dentist,” Doubs replied. “I’ve decided to save money and perform my own dentistry. I can’t lie to myself, can I?”

Hackey blinked. “What the fuck? Even dentists like, go ta see other dentists! Also shut the fuck up, ya lie to yourself all the fuckin’ time. Anyway, get out, I need to fuckin’ shower. Go play get along with Shinichi. Make us breakfast or somethin’. Ya do weird shit like breakfast, don’t you.”

“Most important meal of the day,” Doubs replied, brightly.

Hackey shivered. “You fuckin’ disturb me.”

Doubs bowed, and made his exit. Shuddering again, Hackey quickly showered, and then got dressed. It was before 10. That was ungodly.

He emerged, to a full fry-up Doubs had somehow produced in the time he’d been showering. Let it be said again: Doubs was fucked up, disturbed, a danger to society, and probably well on his way to a life in federal prison. What the fuck ?

Over breakfast, he recapped the previous evening.

“Ya should have seen him, Doubs. He threatened to set yakuza on my mom. It was amazing. And hot.”

      Hackey was aware he was gushing, which was uncharacteristic, but it was flustering Shinichi, and he was so damn cute when he blushed. So, so cute.

“Really, it was nothing,” he kept saying [too cute], “Honestly.”

“Nothing my ass,” Hackey scoffed. “It was scary . And, did I mention, really fuckin’ hot.”

“Several times, my friend,” Doubs remarked drily. “You are, dare I say, gay as shit. As the kids say.”

“‘As the kids say’, Doubs how old are ya even? Asshole.” He punched his asshole roommate on the shoulder. “You’re uninvited from laser tag with us.”

“I wasn’t aware I was ever invited. Besides, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

That was it. “You’re coming laser tag with us, Doubs Hewley. I was gonna invite ya mom, but she was busy sucking dick behind Olive Garden in exchange for breadsticks, so I had to settle for you instead.”

“You’re too kind.” Doubs looked at Shinichi curiously. “What about you? Are you happy with me third wheeling?”

“Oh,” said Shinichi, all innocent. “Inordinately.” 

Hackey narrowed his eyes. His stupid boyfriend was planning something. You could tell by how off-the-scales smug he looked. He was using big words again, and being all pleased with himself. Someone needed to take him down a few notches. Via laser tag!

Foolproof.

Hackey burped. “Fuck, I gotta take a colossal dump. Be like, a week.”

“Thank you for that update. We all needed to know that,” Shinichi said, through bites of mushroom.

“Damn right ya did,” Hackey beamed. 

He was a fucking delight, honestly.

-

Hackey lost miserably at laser tag, but it all worked out in the end because Doubs fuckface Hewley proved good for something, for once, and he beat Shinichi by miles. Turned out being a sad little shut-in didn’t exactly help in the field of combat. It was just unfortunate Hackey had the hand-eye coordination of a Sesame Street puppet on acid, and kept literally tripping over his own feet, otherwise he’d really have put that lonely little fuck in his place.

“Fuck, that was fun,” Hackey pressed a kiss against Shinichi’s cheek. His boyfriend sucked with PDA, he got all shy and embarrassed, though he insisted he didn’t [lies, he totally did]. Meanwhile, Hackey was a tactile person who loved to be a headache to those around him. He saw Doubs standing a foot or so away, with a distant, weird expression on his face. Well, they couldn’t have that. “Hey, asshat, bring it in!” He looped a long, ungainly arm around Doubs’ shoulders. “You, my friend, are a big damn hero. Ya defeated the greatest evil known to man - my awful boyfriend, who deserves everythin’ he gets. You’re a fuckin’ manic pixie renaissance man, and I cannot thank ya enough.”

“Glad to be of service,” Doubs said, quietly. Hackey didn’t stop to dwell on what that quiet meant.

“You’re fuckin’ welcome, bitch. Now, who wants ta go home ‘n order pizza, my fuckin’ stomach is already digestin’ itself.”

“You should have eaten more at breakfast,” Doubs told him.

“Fuck you. That shit ain’t natural. Breakfast.” Hackey pulled a face. “Man, I wish I was a digital bein’ made of code. Eatin’ virtual pizza out of Papa’s Pizzeria. Shit, flash shut down. What the fuck do digital entities do now?”

“Most flash games got archived,” Shinichi pointed out. “I’m sure the digital entities eating digital pizza from Papa’s Pizzeria are fine.”

“Phew. That’s a weight off my chest, I tell ya. Anyway~” he wheedled, one arm around Doubs still, and the other around his tiny boyfriend. “Let’s go get us some pizza pasta! In a box! Delivered to our house and-”

He was shut up by Doubs kissing him.

-

Earlier:

“I think we both know what I’m about to say,” Tsukumoya began. 

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Doubs interjected. He did know, and he didn’t want to face up to it. He knew exactly what Tsukumoya was about to say, and why he’d waited until Hackey was out of the room to bring it up. “Consider it of no consequence.”

“I consider it of major consequence, actually. Be honest with yourself, how do you feel about Hackey?”

Doubs laughed hollowly. “You must not know me. Honesty and I are sworn enemies. Particularly honesty of the emotional sort.”

It was as if Tsukumoya could see right through him, into the messy core that Doubs Hewley had always kept hidden behind many layers of bullshit. And he hated it, being rendered so blatantly transparent. Of course Hackey had to fall for a guy like this, who didn’t do bullshit and could just incisively pry right to the heart of things.

“You still have feelings for him. Forgive me, I’m far from an emotional expert myself, but I’m not blind. You have feelings for him.”

“So what if I do?” Doubs folded his arms. “He’s with you again, all loved up. I barely factor s a footnote in his romantic history. After what happened with Mirald, Hackey never looked at me the same. He likes you. Me? I’m just the long-suffering roommate.”

“Perhaps he doesn’t look at you the same,” Tsukumoya conceded. “I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t there at the time. But you’re deluding yourself if you think he doesn’t like you, and if he hasn’t tricked himself into thinking he doesn’t. You cut yourself off from him too, didn’t you? You’re equally responsible. As you helped to effect my own reconciliation with Hackey, I feel obligated to do the same.”

“What are you saying?” Doubs asked, though he knew exactly what he was saying, and didn’t want to face up to it.

“I’m saying if you kissed Hackey silly, I wouldn’t have a problem with it. The ball, Mr Hewley, is in your court.”

“Whatcha talkin’ about?” Hackey interrupted.

“Doubs’ mother’s sexual proclivities,” Tsukumoya deadpanned, causing Hackey to just about choke. 

“Hey, I’m the one who makes the ‘your mom’ jokes around here! Don’t you go muscling in on my trademark. Plus that one sucked. Like-” 

“Like my mom?”

“Like Doubs’ mom behind Olive Garden, yep.”

-

Hackey’s eyes were like saucers. He could just feel them popping out of his face. He looked between Shinichi and Doubs, his brain short-circuiting and fizzling out. “I- was that what you two were whispering about all hushy-hush?”

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Doubs said, and made to walk off. 

“Wait!” Hackey grabbed his arm. “Doubs, what the fuck? I thought - I dunno. After Mirald, things were never the same, but I did miss kissing ya, yanno.”

Doubs looked genuinely surprised. It didn’t suit him. His face was better suited to all-knowing smugness, just like Shinichi. Weird they both did that. Hackey had more of a type than he thought, huh? 

“You did?”

“Yes, asshole, I did.” Hackey looked to Shinichi, who - of course - had an impossibly smug expression on his face. “There’s no need to look so pleased with yourself. Bitch.” There was a nagging doubt at the back of Hackey’s mind, that he needed to clarify. “This isn’t about what we talked about at dinner? ‘Cause ya don’t need ta, I like ya whatever, ya don’t have ta-”

“I was sick of seeing the two of you dance around your feelings,” Shinichi said. 

“Oh, because you’re obviously so in touch with your emotions, Mr Bitchy Bitch King of Repression.”

“I never claimed to be good at feelings,” Shinichi replied blithely. “You’re just worse.”

“Fair,” Hackey huffed. “I guess .”

He took Shinichi’s hand, squeezing it in a wordless thanks. No way would he say that out loud. Then he offered his other hand to Doubs.

“Ya comin’ home with us?”

“I live there too,” Doubs pointed out.

“Shut the fuck off, idiot, an’ hold hands with me!”

Doubs smiled, a real, genuine smile, from this man who normally never let anything remotely honest show. It was cute. It did something to Hackey’s heart, made him go all uwu or whatever. When Doubs took his hand, he straight up died.

And they headed home together.

Chapter Text

"So let me get this straight," everyone's favourite HR turbo-bitch pinched the bridge of her nose job in a way that almost made you feel sorry for her, if you hadn't seen the amount of time she spent on Twitter during work hours, or else ordering herself a new wardrobe (literally -- from IKEA. It was a KLEPPSTAD); or the time she'd crashed the intranet by trying to restrict what other people could access and accidentally blocked everything . " You want to rescind your resignation, even though we already put out ads for the role, and you don't want to go back to Japan anymore, even though it's technically a promotion and has a massive pay rise. If I didn't know better, I'd think there was some sort of office romance going on."

Hackey almost choked, and Shinichi cast him a disparaging look. He smiled innocently at their eternal nemesis. "What," he said, "makes you think you know better?" He smirked at Hackey, who was now bright red. When you knew he was ginger under all that obnoxious hair dye, it was obvious.

"Oh God." Kelly looked haunted. "I didn't want to know that."

"I didn't want to know a lot of things about your personal life," Shinichi replied. "Including things you don't want anyone else to know either. Clear? Everything stays the way it was, and nobody discusses anything painfully awkward or otherwise uncomfortable about anyone's personal life."

"You didn't need to blackmail me," Kelly grumbled. "I was going to do it anyway. The hiring inbox has been flooded with -- I don't know what to call them, but it's not normal. One claimed to be from the Emperor Napoleon, another Kanye West, and another was by Clown Clownsley from Clown college." She studied them both. Hackey was looking at the ceiling. "Neither of you know anything about that, of course."

"I dunno what ya could possibly mean," Hackey replied blithely.

"I'm afraid I'm none the wiser too."

Kelly didn't look convinced, which was rude seeing as they were both telling the truth and had nothing to do with the fake resumes.

Those were all Doubs' handiwork.

Becoming a polycule had made them triply insufferable.

Shinichi wouldn't have it any other way.

-

Orihara Izaya returns to life!

Orihara Izaya

must be some good dick ur getting

Orihara Izaya

Kujiragi told me. which is fine. tell her, the lying bitch who led u on and almost buried ur career, and not me. see if i care

Shinichi could only sigh. His sort-of-friend -- only friend, best friend if it came to that -- was a brat. He was the very embodiment of that bird tweet; 'I feel uncomfortable when things are not about me'.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

I never told her I was staying. She must have hacked company memos. Who knows?

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Were you looking forward to having me around again, Yamcha?

He expected a 'You wish', something snotty and on brand, but instead the reply, which took a while, surprised him.

Orihara Izaya

doesn't matter

Orihara Izaya

not like we hung out much anyway. you always were a recluse

Orihara Izaya

i think we talk more since you left, actually

You couldn't ask Orihara if he missed you. You couldn't apologise to someone like him. It wouldn't go over well; he'd assume you were pitying him. The best thing to do was something Shinichi hadn't found yet. The only thing he could do was pretend he hadn't noticed Orihara was, as Doubs had been, clearly jealous. Except it was different -- Doubs had other friends, in addition to his lifetime ban from the zoo. Orihara had people who barely tolerated him, which had been the basis for their friendship, such as it was. Neither of them was particularly good at, or interested in, being sociable, so Shinichi had assumed. He'd been wrong, or he'd been right and things had changed. Orihara was jealous because he was frustrated, maybe, because people simply didn't like him very much. For their friendship, that hadn't mattered. Tolerating one another had always seemed enough. But now Shinichi wasn't coming back, which didn't matter because like Orihara said, it changed nothing -- except of course, he'd chosen to stay, for his boyfriends. If Doubs could also be considered his boyfriend. If that was what was going on.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

I can start ghosting you, if you'd like.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

ooooo spooky im a ghost~

Orihara Izaya

you're an idiot. you KNOW that isn't what it means >:(

Tsukumoya Shinichi

I'm moving objects in your home

Tsukumoya Shinichi

Manifesting snakes

Orihara Izaya

…i'm not sure you know what ghosts do either

Tsukumoya Shinichi

When you get eaten by a boa constrictor, it'll be your own fault for ignoring my warnings.

Orihara Izaya

Hackey's been a bad influence on you. you're acting like him now.

Orihara Izaya

sexually transmitted stupidity

Tsukumoya Shinichi

How do you explain your own idiocy?

Orihara Izaya

thats a genetic factor and i think its very rude you would even ask. you of all people should know better

They were on safer ground again. Not that it mattered. It didn't matter.

Still, he was concerned about his sort-of-friend. Which was why he ordered him an air fryer as emotional comfort. In case the first got lost or damaged, he ordered a second. And in case that wasn't enough, he ordered a third.

All he had to do now was wait.

-

Two days later

Orihara Izaya returns to life!

Orihara Izaya

you bastard

Orihara Izaya

I don't even want an air fryer

Tsukumoya Shinichi

I haven't a clue what you're talking about.

Tsukumoya Shinichi

I have to go, I'm having a threesome and it'll take all evening, bye~

Tsukumoya Shinichi confirmed dead!

Being in a polycule was great. Even if you had no intention of having threesomes, you could torment others with the knowledge that you might .

For some reason though, Shinichi forgot to tell the others about these pranks. Normally, they would love to laugh at Orihara's expense. Instead, he holed up in his office, his little cupboard hideaway. This was normal enough that neither commented on it. He didn't spend every night at theirs anyway. He wasn't cutting himself off, he replied to messages, but he did withdraw a little from the physical world again. If you'd asked him why, he wouldn't have known what to tell you. He was cozy here, at home, in this world he could control. He was safe.

He'd figure it out after the office party, which was a terrible idea Hackey had become obsessed with -- that they should actually attend the office's Halloween party together, with Doubs as a shared plus one (regardless whether those were allowed or not).

Shinichi just hoped attending meant stealing snacks and disappearing downstairs to make out. He shuddered to think what else his demon boyfriend might have planned. 

He'd find out very soon.

The party was that night.

-

And whatever this was, he'd be over it by then. It'd be dealt with. 

Right?

Not exactly, no.

-

"What the hell are you supposed to be?"

"Guess."

"A scene kid who fell on every rack in Hot Topic."

Offended, Hackey opened his mouth and pulled out a set of plastic fangs. "Vampire. I'm a goddamn vampire. Just because I put my own twist on it, Doubs fuckface Hewley, you have to be a critic. You like my costume, don't ya Shinichi."

Shinichi studied Hackey carefully. "How is this any different to your regular outfits?"

Hackey put the fangs back in, glowing with pride. "See? Vampire."

"I…see."

"Ignore him," said Doubs. "You'll see how it's really done when I show up."

"What are you going as?" Hackey asked Shinichi, ignoring Doubs.

"It's a surprise."

"Oh." Hackey pressed a messy kiss on Shinichi's cheek and his boyfriend tried not to flush. This was, of course, a catastrophic failure. "Well, I'll see ya there, ya lonely little fuck." With that, he swanned off. He really was a prize-winning idiot.

As it turned out, Doubs was dressed as a 19th century magician, complete with top hat. Shinichi also failed to see how this was any different to his regular attire, but did not point this out. Nobody at the office really knew Doubs, so they would assume his costume was more costume, less regular unfiltered Doubs Hewley, left to his own devices. Meanwhile, Shinichi was dressed as the Invisible Man, because this was absurdly funny to him. Indeed, it also meant all he really needed was bandages and glasses -- the rest was, again, his regular clothing. Still, nobody recognised him. He was asked if he was new, repeatedly. Nobody had expected him to turn up. Before Hackey, he would never have considered it. Even Hackey took a minute to notice him.

"Sorry, I'm lookin' for someone," he said, then blinked. "Wait a fuckin'- Shinichi? What the fuck are ya, a mummy tech guy? I don't get it."

"You're a cultural illiterate," Shinichi told him.

"Nuh-uh, my parents were definitely married, otherwise how would they have got divorced?" He looped an overly affectionate arm around Shinichi's shoulders. 

"Where's Doubs?"

"Giving an impromptu lecture on the history of pumpkin carving," Hackey groaned. "A surprising amount of people are interested."

"This is great," Martin was saying, as he passed by, heading for Doubs' little crowd. "I can't believe they shelled out for an entertainer." He was dressed as a cat maid. It was awful. Shinichi and Hackey exchanged a look.

"Raid the snacks and bounce?"

"You read my mind completely."

Hackey's outfit, fortunately, had a lot of pockets that aided in the snack theft mission. Impulsively, Shinichi grabbed a bottle of Schnapps, for old times' sake. Before anyone could confront them, they had a satisfactory haul and made a beeline for the lift, giggling like kids. If Doubs wanted to catch up, he would. Right now, he seemed in his element, so they left him where he was, giving his unasked for but clearly beloved pumpkin carving display.

In the lift, Shinichi passed Hackey the Schnapps and revelled in his delight as he swigged straight from the bottle.

"This was -- oh damn, you remembered? I was so embarrassing then. Cringe."

"Cringe culture is dead," deadpanned Shinichi, taking the bottle back and swigging it too. Honestly, he'd prefer mixers. This was a bit much. But it made Hackey happy, for some reason.

"Fuck yeah! Let's watch a horror movie and make out during the scary parts," he suggested, dragging them into the office and flopping onto his stupid beanbag that lived there permanently now and had been the site of many a sloppy makeout. 

Whatever had been rising in Shinichi these last few days, it burst forth abruptly. "Open a stream. So Orihara can join too."

"Wait a fuckin' minute, you want your asshole not-friend to watch horror movies with us? Do you want to make out with him too?"

"I don't know," Shinichi admitted. "But I'd like him to be here. You, me, him, Doubs. You have to admit, that balances out perfectly."

"Two nerds, two insufferable jackasses," Hackey mused. "It sounds alright. Let's do it. You set the stream up, I gotta call our manic pixie renaissance man to join us."

So that was how their evening went. Eventually, they did get Doubs down to join them, and Orihara was his usual nightmare self over chat, pretending he was busy with D&D that night, until they asked him what D&D stood for and he couldn't answer, forcing him to join a voice channel. This was a mistake, as he and Doubs would not shut up. They were a terrible combination, but everyone had said that about Hackey and Shinichi already. This was nothing new.

It felt nice, whatever it was.

Watching horror movies and making out in the scary parts, while Doubs and Orihara attempted their best Wilhelm screams.

It was nice.

-

And this is where it ends, the story of those bitchy tech guys and their whirlwind office romance. Maybe things worked out for them. Maybe their little polycule would expand, to include Mirald and Dorrikey, and maybe Orihara would reluctantly (so he would claim) visit. Maybe Doubs' ban from the zoo would be overturned and they could go on a date there, only for him to be barred again after stealing multiple penguins.

Maybe this is what happens next. Who knows. It doesn't matter, really, anymore.

Some endings end with an ending, and some with the possibility of a future. This is one of those latter, where we leave with possibilities and stolen penguins, some of which have yet to be returned -- please, Doubs, for the wellfare of the birds in question, take them back. Perhaps we'll return to those other stories, but for now, let's draw a line here, with the understanding that this is not an end.

This is a beginning.

• K.K.