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This wasn't a usual situation for either of them. There were no angry fathers (yet), no exploitative underworld criminals to stop and no maniacal plans to take over the world. It was simply her and Sharaku, side by side on the couch in his fathers' living room, briefly after school had let out but still a few hours before his parents would return.
He'd requested this, too. He'd asked for Wato, next time they had some time alone, to tear his bandage off and begrudgingly promised not to cause any trouble.
And so far, he'd kept that promise -- Yet he didn't seem much for talking, as his arms were crossed and his eyes trained on the rain falling outside the nearest window.
Wato decided to break the silence and put her arm around him, squeezing his shoulder gently with a kind smile. "I'm proud of you, you know."
The lack of a snarky retort surprised her. Instead, underneath her fingertips, she felt him relax almost uncharacteristically with a sigh.
This surprised her, so she scooched a little closer, and maintained the half-embrace.
Little gestures like this were not foreign to them, even though neither had been quite upfront about what they were to one another.
Ever since Sharaku had drank himself into a drunken, crying stupor one night after his failed attempt to create a new mother for himself, consequently laying his emotions out bare for her to see, she'd begun to see things a little differently.
Sure, he was a bit maniacal and his ideas continue to be more than questionable, but the more time she spent with him, the more she was beginning to feel convinced that perhaps he lashed out so often because he had never felt understood -- or, that he belonged anywhere, really, in the first place.
She was determined to change that.
"I mean it. I'm really glad you didn't run off anywhere."
Her praise seemed to stir something in Sharaku's chest. He began to turn to face her, but almost upon realizing it'd move her arm, he stops, settling back into his former position. "Yeah, well.. my plans for the world can wait until tomorrow." His muscles tensed up just a little bit, and he seemed to lean a little bit away, indecisive. "I just wanted to see you."
She smiled just a bit. Sharaku was stubborn, perhaps the most stubborn bastard she'd ever met, to the point where she sits up a little straighter and interrupts the conversation quite boldly, removing her hand from Sharaku's shoulder while making a bit more room next to her. "-- No, come here. If you want to be close to me, come here."
Wato had caught him visibly off guard. All three of Sharaku's eyes were now scanning her suspiciously as he begins to shake his head in protest and he suddenly presses his palms to the worn couch cushion, standing up. "No”, he stuttered, “I don't need you to--"
"-- Sharaku, please, you can be open with me." Before she could think about it, she’s grabbed Sharaku’s wrist and she could see the clear conflict in his expression, tugging gently. She didn't want him to leave. "Please come here."
He did, and it surprised her. He sat down again, and for a moment, doesn't make a single effort to come any closer until he steals a quick glance in her direction, silently checking for another confirmation that it was indeed okay.
Of course, she smiled, and with some hesitation and a sigh, Sharaku finally gave in and began to come near.
In preparation, she moves over to the right end of the couch, finally kicking up her feet before beckoning to the other to join her, and he does, climbing over carefully and finally settling himself perfectly between her legs so he could rest his head against her chest (still facing the door, though -- The looming threat of his dads coming home still remained) and he does, to her delight, even closing two eyes after a moment, clearly content.
Wato can't really think of anything to say, so instead, she finds his hand near his chest and intertwined his fingers with her own now that he's past the point of resisting comforting gestures, and when he squeezes her hand in return, that makes her smile, too, stroking her thumb gently along the side of his palm.
They remain like this for several more moments, her heart fluttering all the while (which she's sure he can hear, all snuggled up like that) but briefly, Sharaku once again interrupts it all, working his fingers apart from her own and squirming like he was threatening to get up.
"Aren't I supposed to be doing this for you? This isn't right."
The thought makes her frown, and she reaches to thread Sharaku's fingers between her own, using her other hand to gently guide him back down, shaking her head all the while. "No, no, no. I don't want to hear it. You're okay. I want this."
She wasn't sure if Sharaku was going to listen, but he did lay back down, so she squeezes his hand back, closing her eyes and instead finding it worthwhile to continue to rhythmically stroke his palm as they both listened to the drumming rain outside, one much more content than he may ever be willing to admit as he listens to his companion's heartbeat.