Archive of Our Own

Another day, another job.

It didn't even look like an interesting job. All it involved was tracking and information gathering. Boring.

Twain yawned. Sure, Fitzgerald didn't make use of his sniping skills very often, but being stuck with a mission like this was almost insulting. It was just something to keep him occupied, and didn't really require any of his talents.

He flicked the folder open with one hand. There was his target, in grainy black and white, thanks to some outdated security camera. A skinny guy, with short, dark hair, wearing a huge black coat. The photo quality was so bad, that was about all he could make out.

The report tucked behind the photo identified the man as Ryuunosuke Akutagawa, agent of the Port Mafia. It included a list of crimes that he'd committed.

It was, Twain had to admit, a pretty well-rounded list. It had a little of everything. Your basic arms dealing, abductions, a couple bombings, and a handful of what seemed to be straight-up murders.

Not that any of that was particularly intimidating. After all, assassination, espionage, and kidnapping were common occupations among Twain's acquaintances. It was a fact of life for most ability users: sometimes the only way to get by was working outside the law.

Underneath the report was a photocopy of a wanted poster. He held it up and examined it. For someone who was supposed to be famed for his ruthlessness, he really looked like he wanted to be left alone. His expression was tired, irritated.

Twain shrugged to himself. Didn't matter to him. All he was going to do was follow the guy, see if he could find out any new information, and call it a day.

He just hoped that this Akutagawa didn't try to kill anybody while he was watching. Not that he'd try to interfere, of course. That wasn't in his job description, and would probably get him killed, too. Mostly he was worried about the blood. Some of the other Guild members teased him for it, but Twain wasn't a fan of the sight of blood. Maybe he'd play it safe, and have Tom and Huck do the actual surveillance, while he stayed at a safe distance.

Then again, where was the fun in that?

Twain leaned against the wall of a convenience store, staring out at the busy crosswalk. There were more people than he'd expected, but that didn't bother him. It wasn't like he was going to have to spot Akutagawa all by himself.

In fact, he didn't have to spot him at all.

Completely unconcerned, he finished off the drink he'd bought earlier, and turned his attention towards finding the nearest trash can.

Before long, Tom's voice echoed in his head, "Target sighted."

Bingo.

"Good job, Tom. Keep an eye on him. Huck, scout around and make sure he's alone."

"Roger that."

A few more minutes passed, and then Huck announced, "No backup located. Target is alone."

"Awesome!" Twain grinned. He really did have the best ability. "Where is he?"

"You are not supposed to initiate contact. It's against orders."

"Ah, to hell with the orders. I'm not gonna sit around and not talk to this guy. Who knows? Maybe we'll hit it off!"

Tom and Huck sighed in unison in his head.

"C'mon, where is he?"

"Fine. But when Fitzgerald fires you, don't blame us."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Lead the way, boys."

Following Tom and Huck's instructions, he made his way down the road, ending up on a side street. And there he was. Ryuunosuke Akutagawa, in the flesh. He was shorter than Mark had expected, and even less imposing in person than he had been in the photograph. Kind of cute, though, in a tired sort of way.

He sidled up alongside his target. "Nice day, isn't it?"

Akutagawa didn't respond, and continued on his way.

"Not much of a talker, eh? No problem. Everybody tells me I talk too much anyway." Twain laughed at his own joke, but again, Akutagawa gave no indication that he'd heard it.

Time to try a different tactic, then. "You are Ryuunosuke Akutagawa, right?"

That earned him a response: a harsh, icy glare.

"I thought so. You're pretty recognizable. I mean, me too. Try not to be too awed."

The glare wavered a bit, and became slightly confused.

"What? You don't recognize me?" Twain let out a long sigh, "That hurts."

Finally, Akutagawa stopped walking, and spoke. His voice was quiet and rough, like he'd recently lost it. "How do you know who I am?"

"Oh, that's pretty obvious, isn't it?Your picture's up in all the police offices." He smiled warmly, as if he knew of Akutagawa from school, instead of the fact that he was a wanted criminal.

Akutagawa narrowed his eyes. "You're American. You're with the Guild, aren't you?"

"I sure am! Mark Twain, master sniper, at your service." He held out his hand.

But Akutagawa didn't take it. Instead, he simply sneered, "Go tell your master to keep his dog at home, or he might suffer an unfortunate accident."

Twain pouted. "I'm being friendly, and you threatened me. Give me a chance. I'm not here to cause trouble."

"Why are you here?"

"To ask you out to dinner, obviously," he answered, turning on his most charming smile.

He heard a disgusted groan in his head from Tom, which was echoed beside him by Akutagawa.

Twain kept on smiling. "There's a little restaurant a few blocks back. I know it's still kind of early for dinner, but--"

"What are you doing?" Huck demanded. "You're supposed to be--"

Twain dismissed them in an instant. The last thing he needed were his personal Jiminy Crickets harping on him while he was trying to win over Akutagawa.

"So, dark and mysterious stranger, what do you say?" he leaned in towards Akutagawa and winked.

"Leave me alone."

"Why? I'm cute, you're cute, it'd be a shame not to go be cute somewhere together."

"I will not be fooled by your empty flattery." Akutagawa's voice was harsh, but Twain couldn't help but notice that he'd turned a little bit pink nonetheless.

"Who says it's empty?"

"I have no need or desire for your friendship, or whatever little game your organization thinks it's playing. Go away."

Years of experience coaxing his way into people's hearts and beds had taught Twain that persistence had its place. And so did its opposite. He'd made a good start, and didn't need to push any more right now. He smiled again, bright and wide as ever, and started to walk away. "Sure, okay. See ya around."

Under his breath Akutagawa mumbled, "I hope not."

As he walked back to the Guild's temporary headquarters, Twain whistled happily.He'd learned some very important things about Ryuunosuke Akutagawa.

First, he wasn't very personable. That was no problem; in Twain's experience, most ability users were difficult in one way or another. Just another challenge. And Mark Twain was not someone who backed down from a challenge.

Second, he was confident in his ability to protect himself from an enemy agent. That was downright good news, since it meant that he would probably be alone, unless he was on a mission of his own.

Third, and most important, he was actually fairly attractive. Twain hadn't been lying when he'd called him cute. Sure, he was a little on the malnourished side, but that glare of his was almost endearing.

Surely the boss wouldn't care about any of that information. So, there was no reason to report it.

And that meant that he hadn't completed his mission.

Darn it. He'd just have to try again.

Every few days, Twain sent out Tom and Huck. They'd scout around for Akutagawa, and if they found him, Twain would orchestrate an "accidental" meeting. He'd just happen to be at the same laundromat, or be heading into a store as Akutagawa was heading out. Nothing that warranted more than a few minutes of conversation at most.

"You again?"

"Yup! Miss me?"

"No."

And so on. He was sure that his natural charisma would win Akutagawa over. Eventually.

"Why are you following me? If the Guild wants me dead, tell them to send a real assassin, and--"

"Woah, hey. I'm a real assassin. I assassinate people all the time. I'm a regular assassinator." Twain managed to sound both incredibly hurt and insufferably proud at the same time. "But anyway, nobody wants to kill you or anything. Well, I mean, Nate might. But other than him."

Akutagawa glared back. "Stop. Stalking. Me."

"Stalking? I ran into you by pure chance!"

If looks could kill, Twain would have been dead long ago, but the look Akutagawa fixed on him in that moment would, despite that, have dug his body up and stabbed it a few times out of sheer spite.

"I mean it!" he insisted.

The look proceeded to throw Twain's body off a cliff.

The sheer malevolence couldn't be ignored, no matter how hard he tried. "Okay, okay... Maybe I am, a little bit, but it's not creepy stalking, I promise! It's for work! Like a private detective sort of thing!"

At the base of the cliff, another, even harsher look, picked up his battered remains and repeatedly ran them over with an SUV.

Twain continued talking, trying to make his actions sound better. "I mean, you know I work for the Guild. So I'm following you because I've got a mission, y'know? Oh, but don't worry! I haven't told them anything!"

Akutagawa sighed, and his look returned to merely murderous. "You're an idiot. Why do you think that following me on orders is better than following me of your own accord?"

"Um. I dunno."

If Akutagawa had been a man with less restraint, his mouth might have dropped open. As it was he simply stared at Twain. "You don't... know?"

"Nope!" Twain grinned cheerfully. "Anyway, I'll see you later!"

Akutagawa couldn't think of anything fitting to say to that, so he watched Twain leave in complete silence.

Even by Twain's admittedly low standards, his encounters with Akutagawa hadn't been going well. Try as he might to look at them with an optimistic eye, the fact remained that Akutagawa didn't seem to be charmed by him at all.

But surrender wasn't in Twain's vocabulary. (If he'd said that aloud, Tom or Huck would have corrected him, pointing out that yes, of course it was, he'd just said it, hadn't he? They really could be obnoxious little jerks sometimes.)

Twain had never been very introspective, so the question of why it was so important to strike up a friendship with this particular man hadn't yet occurred to him. All he knew was that it was important, and that he was running out of ideas.

So the next time he ran into Akutagawa, he decided to take a risk. Determined to sit down and have a real conversation with him, Twainplanned to take his arm and tug him towards a nearby cafe.There was a chance it would backfire spectacularly, of course. That Akutagawa would get angry, or worse, actually hurt him.

He stood on the corner opposite to where Tom had sighted Akutagawa, and steeled his nerves. Maybe this wasn't the most perfect plan, but hell, he wasn't Alcott. This was the best he could do.

Akutagawa crossed the street and headed in his direction. Just behind Twain was a restaurant. It would be a simple matter to take hold of his arm, and direct him inside. Nice and easy.

With hardly a second thought for his own safety, he reached out.

Akutagawa saw him coming, and jerked away. "Don't touch me."

There was something in his voice besides the usual disdain. Something hard and sad. It was forceful enough that Twain recoiled as if he'd been hit.

He dropped his hand immediately, and mumbled, "Sorry. Won't do it again."

"No one touches me."

It was unmistakable. Akutagawa's voice was full of pain, deep-rooted and aching.

Twain knew he'd made a mistake. A serious mistake. His plan had been risky to start with, but he'd never expected such a slight gesture to unearth something so strong. Stupid. Ability users weren't known for having easy lives, after all. He should have been more careful.

"I'm really sorry," he said again, louder. "I didn't mean-- No. I didn't think. I'm sorry."

Akutagawa glared at him, but his expression had softened into one of confusion. "You should be."

"I am. Look, I know I've been brash and pushy... Hell, I am brash and pushy. That's like, at least half of my personality. And I don't know what you went through, and I'm damn sure you don't want to talk about it with somebody like me. But... I understand. People call it a gift, but--"

"It is," Akutagawa snapped. "It pulled me out of the gutter. It gives me worth. You don't understand, you could never understand."

"You're right. I don't, not really. Pain's personal. Real personal. I just... I'm sorry. I went too far, and I want you to know that I know that."

Akutagawa's eyes narrowed, and he stared at Twain for a moment. "Good."

Twain sighed. "I messed up. All I wanted to do was get you to sit down and talk to me for a while." He tried to smile, and rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly. Whatever had happened to Akutagawa must have been bad. Of all the ability users he knew, only a few thought like that. Most of them acknowledged that their life would be easier without their gift, but they didn't consider themselves completely worthless without it.

"I have no desire to speak with you, now or ever."

"Don't blame you." Twain took a deep breath. This was probably the last time they'd talk, and although he wasn't sure what was causing the dull pain in the pit of his stomach, he couldn't ignore it. He had to say something, even if it didn't do any good. "I'll leave you alone. But... Your ability? It's not what gives you worth. That's what it looks like to you, but you can't see everything. It's like your face, you know? How much of your own face can you see, without any help? A little bit of your nose, maybe your lips if you stick 'em out. You can't even see your own eyes. And I hardly know you, but I can tell you one thing for sure. You've got really pretty eyes."

Twain turned on his heel and started to walk away."See ya around."

"Wait."

Surprised, he stopped in his tracks. "Huh?"

"Don't think that you know me."

"I don't. That's why I've been trying to talk to you, you know?"

"Don't mock me."

"I'm not!" Twain spread his arms wide in a gesture of surrender. "You're more than your ability. Everyone is. Even if you lost it tomorrow, you'd still be a person with a life to live. And that's who I want to get to know!"

"I hate people like you," Akutagawa continued, "All high and mighty, acting like you're so much better--"

Despite the situation, and the growing worry in his gut, Twain burst into laughter. "What? Better? I told you, I work for the Guild. I'm an assassin. I shoot people for a living. I kill people. On top of that, I drink a lot, I sleep around, and I'm real good at getting people to let me do both of those things to my heart's content. And you know what else? There's nothing about it that's ever even tickled my conscience. I bet you've got some reason you're doing what you're doing. But me? I've got nothing better to do. Sure, I've got a sad story, but I'm not out here, doing this for my family, or honor, or revenge. I took this job because it paid good and I get to play with guns. I ain't better than anybody. All I know is that if I didn't have Tom and Huck, I'd still be me, and that's all I'm saying to you. Without that whatever-it-is of yours, you'd still be you. And that's not nothing."

Akutagawa huffed, "So you're a drunk."

"That's what you took out of that? Jeez. Should've saved my breath." Twain shook his head, and walked away, leaving Akutagawa alone, staring after him.

When Twain got back to his room, he flopped down on the bed and sighed. What did it matter what that stupid Port Mafia guy thought, anyway? Sure, he was cute enough up close, but so were plenty of other people. He was also stubborn and irritable and a lot harder to win over than Twain had expected.

Tom popped out of thin air. "You're an idiot."

"I agree," Huck added, materializing a second later.

"Didn't ask you."

"You summoned us, so yeah, you did."

"Guess so." He stared up at the ceiling, wondering if his ability could help him untangle the knot in his stomach. "I made a really bad mess of things."

"That much is obvious," Huck huffed. "You've screwed up your mission, and your secondary goals as well."

Tom lighted on his pillow, and nodded, "What were you doing?"

"I thought... I thought if I made him sit down with me, we'd have a good time. But I went to touch him and it was like I was poisonous. I've never seen anybody react that strongly to being touched."

"That's what you get for grabbing people."

"I was ready for him to be mad. I was ready for him to slap me, or use his ability, but... all he did was sound so hurt that... I dunno, that it hurt me, too." He let out a long, loud sigh. "And I don't know why."

Tom and Huck glanced at each other. "You really are stupid."

"And losing your touch, too."

"Oh, shut up."

"It's all over for our Casanova. And maybe all over for his job, too. The boss isn't gonna like you messing around with the enemy like that."

"I know. Either of you got anything useful to say, or are you just gonna nag at me?"

"Nag," they announced, in unison.

Twain groaned, "Do other people have to deal with this from their abilities?"

"Dunno. You think Steinbeck talks to his grapes, Tom?"

"Probably. Guy's a lunatic."

"Least he doesn't get a crush on enemy operatives so bad he can't function."

"Shut up," Twain repeated, his voice full of desperation. "I don't have a crush on him. That'd be stupid."

"Just like you, then."

He rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, dismissing his ability. Sure, they weren't fully autonomous. Sure, they could only echo thoughts that bounced around in his own head. But they had a knack for picking up the most pointed of those thoughts, and he couldn't listen to them being voiced aloud any more.

It wasn't like that. If anything, he felt sorry for the guy. Yeah. Sorry for him. Like he could use a friend. That was it.

Even though Tom and Huck weren't there to give it voice, the thought that he wasn't fooling anyone was loud in Twain's mind. Nobody at all. Not even himself.

A few days later, he was walking through the shopping district, minding his own business, when someone grabbed him from behind and pulled him into an alleyway. The cold edge of a knife pressed against his throat.

"Damn it," he murmured. That's what he got for letting his guard down in hostile territory. Now he'd have to try to talk his way out of the situation.

He was spun around, his back shoved up against the brick wall. In the dim light, he could see that his assailant was a slim, dark haired figure, with a black mask covering most of their face.

"Hey," he smiled, praying silently that it was only a mugger and not a professional.

The figure's eyes narrowed. "What do you want with Akutagawa?"

Shit. He really had gone too far.

"Answer me."

Twain wasn't used to being on the pointed side of danger like this, and he blurted out the first thing that came to him. "Do anything to me, and you'll have the full wrath of the Guild on your head."

His assailant snorted. There was something familiar about it, but he couldn't quite place it, what with the adrenaline screaming through his veins. "He said you were a blowhard, and I see that he was right."

Okay. So this was someone that Akutagawa spoke to, someone that he'd talked to about him. But something seemed strange. Surely Akutagawa wasn't the type to outsource his violence. If he wanted Twain hurt, he'd do it himself. So this might not be someone he ordered to attack him. It might be someone that he'd confided in, ranted to. Someone taking matters into their own hands.

That was something he could work with.

Twain relaxed a little bit, and tried a different tactic. "Oh? What else did he say? Did he mention my dashing good looks?"

"He said you spouted nonsense about how he shouldn't kill people. And that you were a drunkard."

The knife still pressed against his throat was the only reason he didn't laugh. "What? Seriously? He really wasn't listening. I sure never said anything like that."

"I don't believe you."

"Look, I don't know who you are, but you're obviously someone who knows Akutagawa pretty well, right? Pull that knife away a little bit, and I'll tell you exactly what happened."

"No. I don't trust you."

"That's fine. But I'm not armed, and from the way you yanked me in here, you're stronger than me anyway. Not like I can get away."

The figure regarded him carefully for a moment, then nodded. The knife moved away a few inches, but remained trained on him. "Talk."

Twain exhaled with relief and rubbed his throat. "Thanks. Anyway. All I did was tell him that he shouldn't base his self-worth on his ability. I mean, I got nothing against killing people. Do it from time to time myself." He stuck out his hand for a handshake, "Name's Mark Twain, I'm a sniper for the Guild. Pleased to meet you."

His gesture wasn't returned, so he asked, "And you are?"

"None of your business. But did you really tell Ryuu--I mean, Akutagawa--things like that? Why?"

Right on the money. This was somebody that knew Akutagawa well enough to slip up and nearly use his first name. Somebody that, in all likelihood, cared about him.

Twain grinned, "I sure did. And I said it because it's true. You know that too, I bet. He puts way too much value on that ability of his, doesn't he?"

There was a slight pause, then a soft sigh, "He does." The stranger pulled their face mask down.

A lady. A rather attractive lady, at that. And oddly familiar looking.

"I'm his sister, Gin. He tries so hard, but... he gets carried away. He needs to take better care of himself."

Well, that explained why she seemed familiar. The family resemblance was striking. "Yeah, sure seems like he does."

She looked up at Twain curiously, "What I don't understand is why you care. What business is it of yours?"

That was a good question. A really good question. He shrugged and smiled, "I'm just your average everyday incredibly handsome good Samaritan."

"I doubt that," Gin answered. "You're with the Guild."

"It's a job, kiddo. Like yours. Unless you're really into the ninja lifestyle or something."

Gin pulled her mask back up with a snap. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'd just as soon eviscerate you as look at you."

"Just like your brother, then. Guess I read both of you wrong." He shrugged again, then risked a single sideways step. The point of the knife didn't follow him, so he reached out and gently pushed it downwards. "If you're planning on eviscerating me, you're aimin' kind of high."

"I'm not," she huffed. "I'm not here on orders, and if I caused trouble with another organization..."

Twain nodded, "Right? It's the same for me. Scout's honor."

"What?"

"Uh... cross my heart and hope to die? Is that a thing here?"

Gin stared at him blankly.

"Pinky swear?"

Finally she nodded with understanding. "Ah. I see. I will trust you for now. But raise a hand against my brother, and you'll pay for it."

"Understood."

With another nod, she turned to leave.

"Hey, wait a minute. Your brother, is there anything he actually likes?"

"Why?"

"Because I obviously pissed him off, and I'd like to apologize."

Gin considered the question for a moment. "Figs. He enjoys figs."

Twain raised an eyebrow.Figs? "Okay... not exactly what I expected, but I can work with that. Thanks."

"Remember. Do not hurt him."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

It was only after she'd left that Twain wondered why she hadn't simply told him to leave Akutagawa alone.

Early the next day, Twain sat outside a cafe, drinking a cup of coffee and listening intently to Tom's report.

"Target has opened the door and spotted the basket."

"Good! What else? Did he pick it up? Did he read the note?"

"Not yet. He seems to be staring at it. Huck says he is looking at it 'as if it might explode at any moment'."

Twain wrinkled his nose, "Like I'd be stupid enough to send him a bomb. Give me a little credit..."

"Alert! Target has picked up the note card!"

"And? And?"

"Confirming report... Confirmed. Target rolled his eyes, but appears to be relieved. It is believed that he might have smiled. Slightly."

Twain pumped his fist in the air and hollered, startling a random passerby on the sidewalk. "Yes!" Not that he'd been worried. His note had been pretty damned good, after all. He'd spent at least an hour on it, and had both Tom and Huck help.

I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot , and I'm very sorry about my behavior the other day . Please accept this as a token of my sincerity. I'd like to see you again . I'll be at the restaurant at 8pm tonight if you feel the same. Your favorite sniper, Mark.

Huck had insisted he leave out a line about how he hoped that Akutagawa would think of him when he had the figs in his mouth. Twain had protested, but eventually complied.

"Looks like you got yourself a date," Tom remarked.

"Sure did!"

"Try not to screw it up this time."

Twain sat alone at a table in the restaurant he'd tried to pull Akutagawa into a few days before.Tom's words were still rattling around in the back of his mind, fueling his nerves. He'd already twisted his napkin into a wadded mess, and was starting in on the corner of the drink menu.

A few minutes after eight, Akutagawa stormed in, heading directly towards Twain's seat.

Before Twain could even say hello, Akutagawa had him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him to his feet. "How did you get my address?"

Twain blinked. "Um. Guild info?"

"Likely story. You already admitted you've been following me. This is your last warning. Leave me alone, or suffer the consequences."

A quick glance around confirmed Twain's suspicions that he wouldn't get any help out of the other patrons. The handful of people in the restaurant were all doing their best to pretend that nothing was happening.

He swallowed hard and tried to rally with a smile. "Hey, I like this hard stuff as much as the next guy, but shouldn't we save it for the bedroom?"

Akutagawa dropped him with a disgusted noise. "What is your problem?"

"Right now, my problem is that you won't sit down and have a nice, civil date with me."

Twain expected Akutagawa to spit back some retort, but instead, his face turned red. "Date?"

"Yup. Why do you think I asked you here, anyway?"

"To--To-- I don't know, to gloat that you had so much information about me, or--" He sputtered a bit longer, then fell silent.

Twain laughed warmly and shook his head. "Sit down. Is it so hard to believe that I'd honestly be curious about you?"

"Yes."

The sheer amount of self-loathing contained in that single word broke Twain's heart. "Hey, come on. Don't be like that. Sit down, order some food, let's talk, okay?"

Akutagawa sat down mechanically, as if his mind was elsewhere and his body was operating on automatic.

"Thanks." Twain smiled and stuck out his hand, "Here, let's start fresh. I'm Mark. Nice to meet you."

Silence answered him.

"This is where you introduce yourself."

Akutagawa looked confused. "You know who I am."

"Yeah, but... We're starting over, see? It's a symbolic thing."

"Very well, then," he huffed. "I am Ryuunosuke Akutagawa."

"See, not so bad, right?"

"That remains to be seen."

"I'll pay for your food."

"As you should, for the inconvenience involved."

Well, at least it wasn't a no, and that was something.

Twain ordered the greasiest thing he could find on the menu, fries and a burger, to remind him of home. Akutagawa ordered so quietly that he couldn't make out what he'd asked for.

When the waitress returned to their table with one heaping plate of food and a single, small cup of tea, Twain frowned. "Guess yours is taking longer to make, huh?"

"No. This is my entire order."

"That's it?" Twain looked at the cup in dismay. "I might not look like much, but I can afford whatever you want."

"This is all I wanted."

"Well, it wouldn't be very charming of me to sit here and eat all this while that's all you have. Here, take some fries." He shoved his plate across the table.

Akutagawa looked down at them with disgust. "No."

"Oh come on, they're good for you."

"They aren't."

"Well... that's true. But still, I'm trying to win you over here, and right now, these fries are all I've got. Work with me."

Akutagawa's eyes narrowed. "Win me over?"

"Yeah. You know, make friends. Maybe a little more than friends."

A slight blush crept onto Akutagawa's cheeks. "I have no need for friends."

Twain let out an over-exaggerated sigh and flopped back in his chair. "Anybody ever tell you you're a real difficult person?"

"Yes."

"At least you're honest," he laughed.

"They tell me I'm difficult and then they leave me alone," Akutagawa continued, pointedly.

Twain rocked his chair forward again, and his face became very serious. They could banter back and forth all evening, and while that was better than nothing, it still wasn't what he wanted."Look, Ryuu--"

"Don't speak to me so familiarly."

"Sure, fine. Akutagawa. Listen. I'm gonna put all my cards on the table here. You get me?"

Akutagawa shrugged.

"Well, whatever. Anyway. Here's the deal. Yeah, sure, I work for the Guild. Ol' Fitzy pays my bills, lets me play with the big guns. But it's not like he owns me. If I'm not on a job, I'm a free man. Just your regular charming, handsome, incredibly talented guy, making his way through the world. And I'm not on the job right now. Well, I suppose technically I am, but none of this is anything I'm gonna report back. The boss doesn't care if you don't eat dinner, you know? I'm here because I want to be, because I want to get to know you. I... Ah, hell. I know I should leave you alone, that it'd be easier. But I don't want to. I think I'm kinda worried about you."

"What?"

"Right? It surprises me, too. And I know it's not any of my business, but you really do have a lot more to offer than just your ability. I want to know what it is. I want to get to know you better. So far I've seen that you put on a real good front, but you've got something real sad you're hiding. And nobody should have to deal with that sort of thing by themselves."

"You're rambling."

"Am I? I don't know. I'm nervous. That's stupid, right? If we part ways here, my life isn't gonna be any different. Nothing to be nervous about."

Akutagawa's eyes narrowed, and he stared at Twain, more confused than ever. "I don't understand."

"Me either. But I think about not seeing you again, and it's... weird." Self-consciousness started to get the better of him, and he stood up awkwardly. "Anyway, you can have my dinner. I'll... I should be going. Thanks."

"For what?"

"Thanks for sitting down with me. That's all I wanted."

"Why are you leaving?"

"Because, you keep telling me to leave, so even though I don't want to, I'm gonna. No way I'm gonna win you over if I don't respect what you want. And no way I'm gonna win you over if we don't ever talk again, so... I guess this is it. Goodbye."

He took two steps away from the table, his heart sinking, when he heard Akutagawa's voice, faint and soft. "Stop."

"Huh?"

"You don't have to go."

Twain whipped back around and plopped back into the chair, a huge grin on his face. "No? You're okay with this?"

"Of course not."

A long, terrifying moment passed, as Twain wondered what Akutagawa was talking about.

"The tea here is entirely second-rate, and this food you want me to eat looks nauseating. If we are going to eat dinner, I will pick the location."

Twain's eyes widened and he felt his own cheeks heating up. Over something so little? Ridiculous. But he couldn't deny that he was thrilled. "Sure, yeah, of course. Sorry, I'm not from around here, you know, I don't know where's good and I don't know much about tea anyway, and--"

"You're babbling again."

"Yeah. Yeah, I am," Twain laughed. "I do that when I'm nervous, like before, or when I'm happy."

Akutagawa's cheeks darkened further, "Happy?"

"Yeah, you know, the emotion that's not angry or sad? When you feel like you could float away?"

"I know what happiness is," he snapped. "I don't understand why--"

"What? Oh, come on. I'm happy because you just agreed to a second date." Twain leaned across the table so his face was level with Akutagawa's, and grinned so widely it wrinkled his nose. "That means you like me."

The blush took over Akutagawa's entire face. "It does not."

"No? Then why do you want to eat dinner with me again?"

"For--for information gathering purposes, of course."

"Aaaah, right. Well, babe, I'll let you gather all the information about me that you want. Real personal information."

"What are you insinuating?"

"You. Me. Bed."

An odd strangled noise came from Akutagawa's throat. "What? I would never-- I couldn't possibly-- I don't even know you--"

Twain leaned back and shrugged, "Just putting the offer out there. Don't worry, I won't be pushy about it. I'm good with dinner and snuggling, too. Or lunch and making out. Or breakfast and... Well, not really breakfast, unless it's breakfast in bed. Too early for my tastes. But just talking is good too. And here I go rambling again. I really do talk a lot, I hope that's okay. I mean, you don't seem to talk much, and--"

Akutagawa stared at him in thoroughly flustered confusion. "Excuse me?"

"Ah... could we start over again? I'm a lot more charming than this. Let's do it. Hi, I'm Mark. You're adorable, especially when you're blushing like that."

The look on Akutagawa's face could only be described as lost. Everything seemed, for a few moments, to have been tilted on its side, only barely connected to reality. There was a strange, loud foreigner flattering him, and somehow he'd agreed to see him again, and he wasn't sure how he felt about any of it. Everything was strange and floaty.

The evening continued on, an awkward, flustered mess. All of Twain's careful pick-up lines and charm were thrown to the wayside, lost to the increasing earnestness that bubbled up inside him, and Akutagawa hardly knew how to respond to any of it.

It had been amazing. Especially considering neither of them had taken their clothes off, or in fact, had touched at all. But Twain's heart was still racing when he got back to headquarters. His cheeks were still red, his mind still turning over the little half-smiles and surprised laughs that he'd managed to coax out of Akutagawa.

He'd never had a date like that before. Most of his previous experience was simply a prelude to getting someone into bed, a pastime he didn't put much emotion into. It was fun, sure, but that was it. It wasn't... whatever this had been.

What had Tom said? That'd he had a crush? Maybe he did. Maybe that's why he felt so happy, just talking to Akutagawa. It explained that strange feeling in his stomach that was sort of like nervousness but if you wanted to be nervous for the rest of your life.

"Ah, fuck."He slumped against the wall and laughed at himself.He really did have a crush, didn't he?

Fine. Good. It was bound to happen eventually, right? Even to a natural playboy like him. It was natural. Probably.

Well, it wasn't like he was going to let the name Mark Twain get sullied by something as stupid as a crush. Hell no. He'd win this thing. And that meant that he'd do everything he could to be the most goddamn charming, wonderful boyfriend this guy had ever seen.

The very next night, he stood on Akutagawa's doorstep, a bundle of flowers clutched in one hand.

When Akutagawa opened the door and glared out at him, nerves overcame him and he thrust the bouquet forward. "Here! Take it!"

"What do you want?"

"Uh. For you to take these flowers?"

"Why?"

"They're for you?"

"Why? Are they some sort of trap?"

"What? No! They're flowers."

"Interesting." He took them carefully, then moved to shut the door.

"H-hey! No, come on, I thought we could go somewhere, too!"

Akutagawa turned back to him. "Oh?"

"Yeah! I saw a street festival on my way here, I thought maybe you'd go with me?"

"Is this another one of your... dates?"

"Yes... Is that okay?" Sudden worry gripped him. Akutagawa seemed back to his curt, suspicious self, like the previous night had never happened. Had something gone wrong?

"Fine... I'll be out in a minute."

"Can I come in?"

"No." The door shut unceremoniously in his face.

Twain fidgeted outside, trying not to panic. Akutagawa was a high-ranking member of the mafia, of course he wasn't going to let an enemy agent into his home so easily. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that he'd agreed to go out.

It felt like an eternity until the door opened again.

They headed out in silence. Every conversation Twain tried to start was rebuffed before it could take hold. Eventually he gave up and kept quiet until they reached the festival.

It was bigger than Twain expected, brightly lit, with music playing in the distance. There was a decent-sized crowd, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. The atmosphere was infectious. Twain found himself wide-eyed with excitement, staring around at all the different vendors and the other fair-goers. It reminded him of a carnival back home.

"It's too bad we didn't get all dressed up, huh?"

"I would never take the time to get dressed up simply to be seen in public with you."

"Aww, but you'd be even cuter in a yukata, I bet."

Akutagawa looked away, shaking his head.

Twain laughed warmly, "Well, too late now anyway. Maybe next time. Hey, you wanna scoop fish or something?"

"I do not."

"Wanna get some food?"

"No."

"Uh... we could go watch the drumming?"

"I'd rather not."

Twain sighed.This was nothing at all like their previous date had been. He could barely even get Akutagawa to talk to him, let alone smile or laugh. Something had to have happened. He'd made a mistake and not noticed, or Akutagawa had decided he didn't like him. The thought twisted his stomach. He needed to find out for sure.

"Hey, Ryuu?"

"Don't call me that."

"Sorry." Akutagawa still wouldn't even let him call him by his first name. Maybe he really was getting sick of him. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"You're talking to me right now."

"I mean talk seriously. Come on, let's get away from all these people."

Twain turned a corner past one of the food stalls and walked out into the park that surrounded the festival area. It was reasonably empty, so it didn't take long to find a bench that was both secluded and out of sight of the crowd. He plopped down heavily onto it. To his surprise, Akutagawa actually sat beside him. As far to the other side of the bench as he could get, of course, but it was still something.

"I'm only gonna ask this once. I'd like it if you answered honestly, but there's nothing I can do about it if you don't." He took a deep breath, and tried to reassure himself that everything would be fine. "Why the hell did you agree to come out with me if you're gonna act like it's all a huge pain in the ass? I thought we were getting along pretty good last night, but today it's like we never did any of that stuff."

Akutagawa looked away before he spoke. "I dislike crowds. And this open area makes me feel exposed."

A rock formed in Twain's stomach. "Oh. I messed up again."

"No."

"You just said so! That you don't like the crowds or the noise, and--"

Akutagawa's answer was almost too quiet to be heard. "I don't mind being here if it's with you."

"Huh? You don't?"

"No."

"Oh."Overcome with a rush of joy, Twain leaned towards Akutagawa, arms wide. And then he remembered what happened last time he tried to touch him, and shrank back immediately. "Oh god. Sorry."

"Sorry?"

"Yeah, you don't like to be touched, right? I forgot for a second there. I'm really sorry."

Akutagawa blinked at him. "You remember that?"

"Of course I do. The way you looked at me, and your voice that time... I won't ever forget it. I might not be great at feelings, but I'm not out to hurt people."

"Oh." Akutagawa looked away again, his cheeks starting to flush.

Twain smiled, "So, uh. You want to stay, or should we call it a bust and get you home?"

"You want to leave?"

"No! I don't, this place seems like a lot of fun to me. But if you're not enjoying it, there's no point."

Akutagawa shook his head, "I'll be all right. You seemed very excited by everything..."

"I can come back by myself, I don't--"

"No. I'm trying to say it's okay." Akutagawa frowned at him. "I'd... like... to walk around the festival with you."

Twain's cheeks caught on fire. "You would?"

"Yes."

He knew that if he kept sitting there, he'd make a fool of himself, even more so than he already had. So he sprang to his feet, grinning lopsidedly. "All right! What do you want to do first? Oh! I know! I told you I'm a sniper, right? I think I saw one of those games that had guns, I bet I can win you something!"

Akutagawa looked slightly alarmed. "I don't need--"

"Too late, you're gonna get a prize. If I don't get to show off a little, what kind of a date would it be, anyway?"

Twain was off and heading back towards the festival before Akutagawa could respond.

"There it is!"

By the time Akutagawa caught up with Twain, he had already paid for a round and was inspecting the toy rifles. "There you are! Ready to watch the best shooter this side of the Mississippi show you his skills?"

The man running the booth raised an eyebrow at Twain, and then looked over at Akutagawa, who was still bright red and trying his best to be inconspicuous.

Twain picked up one of the wooden guns and hefted it to his shoulder.

As a member of the Port Mafia, Akutagawa was no stranger to guns, although he had no personal use for one. And while the toy was clearly very different from an actual firearm, there was still something about the way that Twain handled it that was... Well, it was almost impressive. Very few people held them with that much confidence.

And then Twain looked back at him and winked.

That in itself was slightly alarming to Akutagawa, who still wasn't used to Twain's methods of showing affection. But what was even more shocking was that he'd fired while his head was turned. Without even looking at his target. And yet the cork bullet flew true, nailing the tiniest and most valuable of the targets dead center.

Despite himself, Akutagawa gasped.

Twain grinned while the stall owner scowled at him and rummaged under the counter for his prize."Pretty impressive, huh?"

"Did you use your ability?"

"Did you see 'em? Heck no, I'm just that good. Like I said, best shooter this side of the--"

An unamused voice interrupted him, "Here. Take it."

The stall owner was holding out a very large, incredibly bright orange, plush rabbit.

Twain's eyes widened, "Oh shit, it's so ugly, I love it!" He took it from the man with glee, then thrust it towards Akutagawa. "Told you I'd win you a prize."

"I am not carrying that."

"Aww, but it's for you."

"Keep it."

"But--"

"No." Akutagawa folded his arms and shook his head.

"Fine, be that way." Twain shrugged and wound his arms around the rabbit. It was almost half as tall as he was, not counting the huge floppy ears. He stuck his hands underneath the rabbit's arms, and moved them around. He made it wave at Akutagawa. "Look how cute he is."

"It's hideous."

"I know, but still. He loves you, look." He extended the rabbit's little arms out as if it were asking for a hug.

Akutagawa glared at it.

Twain laughed."Don't worry, I'll carry it around tonight. But once we get back to your place, it's all yours. It'll remind you of me, right? I mean, look, our hair's almost the same color and everything."

A soft snort answered him.

There was the reluctant laughter he'd been trying for. "I bet you'll put him on your bed and snuggle up with him at night, wishing it was me there instead."

Akutagawa turned away sharply, "I certainly will not."

Now that he knew that Akutagawa was flustered, it was a lot easier to tell when he was fussing out of embarrassment and not irritation. "Sure, sure. Anyway, you want to get something to eat?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Oh, c'mon. My treat. Wait, I know. I'll get us some shaved ice, that's hardly even food. We can go back to that bench in the park and eat it. You go wait there, I'll be back in a flash."

Once again, before Akutagawa could answer, Twain was off into the crowd, although navigation was a little bit harder now that he was clutching the rabbit.

After a few minutes, he appeared from between the back of two of the stalls. He was barely balancing the two snow cones in one hand, and had the rabbit tucked under his other arm. "Man, this is tricky... Here you go."

He handed Akutagawa one of the desserts, then sat down on the bench, placing the rabbit between them.

They ate in silence for a while, until Twain announced, "I'm having a lot of fun."

Akutagawa didn't answer immediately. He was staring of into the distance. He didn't seem annoyed or angry, just sad."This isn't a good idea," he said at last.

"Not much in my life has been a good idea, but I'm still doin' okay." Twain swung his feet as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"....you'll get hurt."

"I'm not worried about the mafia, I--"

"Not by the mafia... By me." Akutagawa's voice was soft and sad.

"You? Nah. I'm not worried about that. If you wanted to hurt me, you'd have done it--"

"Not on purpose, you idiot!" he snapped. "Don't you understand? This sort of thing... It's not for someone like me."

The hurt was back in his voice. And it ripped Twain's heart apart even more than the first time he'd heard it. He looked up at the stars for a moment, then answered. "Look. I'm not an expert, but it seems to me that might happen no matter what. No matter how hard you try, no matter who you are... You're gonna hurt someone you care about, even if you don't mean to. People're complicated. And distance feels safe. If you're the one making the distance, that is. I really do get that. I usually try not to get involved, either. Our line of work... stifling your feelings is kind of a requirement, y'know?"

"Then why? Why are you here?"

Twain shrugged. "Dunno. Wait, no. That's not true. I do know. It's hard to talk about."

Akutagawa nodded. "I don't know how to respond sometimes, either."

"I get it. But I'm gonna say this as plain as I can: I like hanging out with you. I like talking to you. I realized that a little while ago. Took me long enough, huh?"

A soft, tiny smile crossed Akutagawa's face for a split second. "Me too."

Sheer happiness made Twain reckless. "So, you wanna do this, then?"

"Do what?"

He turned around on the bench so he was facing Akutagawa, "You and me. You know? I ain't never been somebody's boyfriend before, but I'll do my best."

Akutagawa went entirely red. "Boyfriend?!"

"Yeah! What, am I not charming enough for you? Not handsome enough? C'mon, look at this, I'm a catch!" He lifted his chin and tilted his head sideways, showing off what he thought of as his best angle.

"I-- I don't--"

"Don't tell me you're not into guys after all of this."

"N-no, that's not--"

"Okay, good. Then it's settled."

"It is?"

Twain laughed, bright and infectious. "Hey, Ryuu. It's okay with you, right? This is you not knowing how to say yes?"

Akutagawa stared down at his feet. "I..."

"You don't have to say anything. I'm getting carried away, sorry. Just... nod or shake your head, whichever. If that's easier. Okay?"

"Okay..." A moment passed, and Twain's heart was in his throat. He was pretty sure that Akutagawa, for all his protesting, felt the same way he did. But he wasn't completely sure, and the sliver of doubt seemed to grow with each passing second.

Finally, Akutagawa nodded, very slightly.

Twain almost lunged at him to pull him into a hug, then remembered. "Yeah? Awesome! I'm gonna boyfriend your ass off!"

Akutagawa's mouth dropped open, alarmed. "What?"

"Uh. That didn't come out right. I mean. I sure wouldn't mind-- Hey! I just realized, I called you Ryuu and you didn't say not to!"

"I was distracted."

Twain grinned. "Ryuu... it's pretty. Fun to say. I like it."

The blush spread to Akutagawa's ears. "Fine."

"Yeah? You'll call me Mark, too, right?"

"Maybe."

He lurched forward again, and caught himself. "Augh. I really want to hug you. Can I hug you?"

"No."

Twain squirmed in place. "Can I... can I hold your hand, at least?"

"Hold the rabbit's hand if you have to hold something."

"Okay, but only if you hold his other hand."

"No."

"Aww, c'mon, Ryuu. Nobody's around. Nobody's gonna know but me and you. You don't have to keep being stoic. You're happy, right? It's okay to be a little bit silly when you're happy."

"Fine." Without even looking at the rabbit, Akutagawa took hold of one of its arms. With a wide smile, Twain did the same. And then he leaned over and placed a light kiss on top of the rabbit's head.

"What are you doing?"

"If I have to hold his hand instead of yours, I figure I can give him a kiss, too. Unless you'll let me give you a kiss?"

"N-no!"

"Don't worry, Ryuu, I'm just teasing. I don't mind waiting until you're ready."

"It's not that... I mean... I don't..."

Twain stared over at him, his smile warm and fond. "God, you're adorable when you're flustered. It's a problem. All it makes me want to do is get you all embarrassed, over and over."

Akutagawa turned to him, eyes wide with shock and confusion, "What?"

"Adorable. You. Are. Adorable."

"I am not!"

Twain's grip on the rabbit had visibly tightened. He was clearly having a very difficult time restraining himself. It was that small gesture, even more than his words, that really flustered Akutagawa. "Tw-- Mark?"

He immediately snapped to attention. "Yeah?"

"It's... okay. Whatever you... want to do..."

"Oh, don't say it like that. A less chivalrous man would be all over you."

"No, I mean--"

"I know. But it's okay. I didn't mean to pressure you, I really didn't. I can keep my hands to myself," he smiled. "I really don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Akutagawa forced himself to look at him, to make eye contact. He stuck his hand straight out. "Do it."

Twain's eyebrows raised, and his easy smile dissolved into laughter, "Ryuu, no. Don't say it like that."

"I said, do it. Touch me."

This time, Twain almost doubled over with laughter. "Not like that either!"

"What's wrong with it?"

"Because it sounds like you're trying to get me to fuck you! And I'm pretty sure you're not!"

Akutagawa stood up straight, his blush spreading to his ears and down to his chest. "No! No I am not! I just meant! Hands! You can hold my hand!"

Twain was still covering his mouth with both hands, giggling. "Ryuu, Ryuu, Ryuu... you're amazing. For a second there, I thought--"

"No! Just hands!"

Biting his lip to keep himself from laughing more, Twain nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I know. You're sure?"

"Y-yes..." Akutagawa's hand was still held out.

Warmth filled Twain's chest, and for a second, he felt entirely overwhelmed. Despite the ridiculous conversation, Akutagawa was serious. And judging from how he'd reacted before, it was no small gesture. In a way, it was demonstrating just as much trust as anything more intimate would have.

And that thought made Twain suddenly shy. He reached out slowly, heartbeat pounding in his hears. "Okay. I'll be real careful. I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise."

Akutagawa nodded back at him. He'd visibly tensed, as if he wasn't sure of his own reactions.

Twain brushed his fingers across the back of his hand, and Akutagawa startled slightly.

"You scared me."

"Sorry. Is it still okay?"

Akutagawa stared down at their hands. Twain's hovered an inch or so away, waiting for his confirmation. "Yes."

Twain dropped his hand, brushing again past Akutagawa's knuckles, before entwining his fingers around it and locking their palms together. Akutagawa's hand was warm, and very sweaty. More than the heat of the evening warranted; but then again, he realized, so was his. They were both nervous. And over such a small thing as holding hands.

A little lump had formed in Twain's throat. Something fierce had taken hold inside him, something that wanted to fight to give this slight, sad man everything he'd ever wanted, everything he deserved that the world had kept from him. To make sure that in the future, he didn't flinch away from touches, that he didn't think himself second to his ability, that he knew how important he really was.

He looked straight into Akutagawa's eyes and completely failed to express any of it. "Hey."

Akutagawa glanced up at him, then back down at their hands. His face was bright red, but he didn't try to pull away."Hello?"

The blush darkened as Twain squeezed his hand gently. "Hey."

"You said that already."

"Yeah... Sorry. Dunno what else to say. This is... this is nice, isn't it?"

Akutagawa looked away again and shrugged, "I guess."

"Hey, Ryuu?"

"What?"

"I've got a problem."

Akutagawa's brows furrowed with worry. "What is it?"

"I don't ever want to let go."