Chapter Text
“Flea markets don’t carry fleas, y’know.” Akira mused, taking the bowl Ryo handed him to dry. “I always wondered why.”
His friend paused mid-scrub, closing his eyes. Sidebangs pulled back in a pair of Miki’s barrettes, flower print apron pulled over his usual sweater and slacks, and elbow length rubber gloves made the boy look absolutely ridiculous – and equally intimidating.
“Sometimes I worry Amon took half your brain when you two fused.” He took a deep breath, before preforming an olympic level eyeroll and shrug, “But maybe if we PUNCH the demons hard enough, we’ll win the war anyway!” He scoffed quietly, “Christ.”
“If it ain’t broke, then don’t fix it.” Akira put away the bowl, reaching for a glass to dry. “And Miki brought it up one day. I can’t take credit for that kind of—”
“Stupidity?” Ryo offered with a nasty sneer, dishes forgotten. He was always up for a bit of a Miki-roast, as much as he knew it was absolutely below him.
“Well, I…I wasn’t going to be that mean…” Akira frowned, looking longingly at a soapy pot. He really wanted to finish dishes so he could go cuddle Ryo in the guest bedroom, but at this rate…it may be a while.
“I have found few things of worth come from girls her age. There’s a reason I chose you over her.” Ryo spoke casually, and returned to his dishwashing post. “I admit, however, her cooking is vastly beyond your or my abilities.”
Akira stared at his friend, face contorted in a mess of conflicted emotions, before lightening.
“Yeah, that’s why I’m worried if we ever strike off on our own—”
“Ah, I suppose that’s what they’re calling marriage these days.” Ryo interjected playfully, handing the boy the pan he had been lusting over impatiently.
His blue eyes shimmered in the kitchen light, dark lashes catching the starshine glow like raven feathers. The damn look that always stopped Akira in his tracks.
“R-Ryo!” He whispered hotly, glancing around furtively, in case Miki’s father was nearby. “…Guys…guys can’t get married to each other!” His ears were already burning at the idea.
“Says the man who wonders why you can’t buy fleas at flea markets. Which you can, if you know which vendor to look for.” He set down a plate and took the barrettes from his hair, and slipped off his rubber gloves. “The exact same goes for men getting married.”
“R-Ryo…c-c’mon, don’t talk about that s-stuff here…” Akira drew in closer, hands shaking as he kept up his vigilance for Miki’s parents.
“Don’t be so childish. Demons are roaming the streets and here you are worrying if someone sees you kiss another boy.” Ryo churred, and as much the truth stung, it was gentle—just as his hands were, curling around his friend’s trembling ones. “Priorities, Akira.”
The boy made the mistake of looking down into blue moon eyes, a silver flame that the moth was ever-drawn to.
“Ryo…we…shouldn’t, we really—”
“You’ve said enough idiotic things tonight, and I won’t let you say another, Akira.” His friend smirked, tilting his head as he tugged the boy’s hands back, causing him to stumble forward. In an effort to catch himself, Akira braced himself against the wall, staring down wide eyed at Ryo, a fox’s grin curling the corner of the blonde’s mouth. “Let’s put these lips to better use now, shall we?”
Akira’s whole body bristled as slender fingers brought his face down, hair fluffing at the simple touch of Ryo’s lips to his own. He was terrible at kissing, but his friend was kind enough to patiently show him kiss by kiss how it was properly done.
When breath was lost and the body begged for relief, they broke away, Akira’s nose to Ryo’s neck as he panted, heart pounding like hell against his ribs, eyes wide. The shock of kissing his friend so out in the open – and like THAT, too – had left his nerves scorched.
“No more looking for fleas in flea markets, Akira. You have what you want in front of you, you fool.” Ryo reminded him in a smarmy purr, to which the boy groaned.
It was foolish to look somewhere for something that had always been with you, wasn’t it? Akira was left brooding to come up with something clever in response, but found nothing.
They finished dishes in silence, Akira’s calloused hand clinging desperately to Ryo’s soft one for reassurance. He wanted this, but fear held him back – and yet, he needed his friend to know that he wouldn’t back down. That the old Akira was still there, still determined to believe in what was right and true—but his heart was also just as fragile and shy.
Ryo squeezed his hand in his, fingers perfectly lacing into one another. He knew. That’s why they kept this hidden behind the kitchen counter. But even if the world couldn’t see it – he could. That’s what mattered most.
People usually were blind to fleas at the market, anyway.