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Akutagawa yawns for the fifth time that night, pulling a light chuckle from Nakahara. They’re sitting in the executive’s office, going through report after report that all their subordinates suddenly piled on them, and Akutagawa feels himself going cross-eyed at all the words.
“Tired?” Nakahara-san asks him. Akutagawa blinks wearily from his seat on the executive’s three-seater couch in his office, grey eyes finally tearing away from the paper before him to look at the redhead. Nakahara-san still looks rather put-together for someone working at 3 in the morning, but Akutagawa can see the boredom cleanly on his face.
Nakahara-san sighs.
“If you don’t want to answer, it’s fine,” he says, eyes going back to the report before him.
Akutagawa watches, deadpan, as the executive raises his thermos of coffee – or what Akutagawa hopes is coffee; the only other thing he’s ever seen Nakahara-san drink is wine and he hopes his superior has enough sense to not put wine in a thermos – with gravity and takes a sip.
Akutagawa’s eyes shift back to the neatly typed report before him as he addresses the redhead.
“Is that why there were so many drink-stained reports?”
Nakahara-san lets out a clumsy questioning sound and Akutagawa can almost feel him think.
The weight of his stare is palpable too, and Akutagawa looks up in deference.
“What drink-stained reports?”
Akutagawa looks back at his paper again, even if he’s not reading it.
“From a few years back,” he answers. Nakahara-san blinks.
“Oh,” he replies, stifling a yawn unsuccessfully. “Yeah, that shitty mackerel. Aah~ he used to pounce on me whenever I try to drink. Inconsiderate bastard.” A light laugh accompanies his words, belying his harsh language. Akutagawa hears the armchair creak from Nakahara-san supposedly leaning backwards on it and applying pressure on its spine and notes the way melodious sounds fall from his lips all the time. It doesn’t even have to be words; Nakahara-san hums an awful lot, including songs, and he’s always making colloquial noises. If Akutagawa were candid, he’d blame it on Nakahara-san liking the sound of his own voice too much, not that he minds.
Nakahara-san’s voice is really deep and beautiful.
“But why’s the topic suddenly on him again? Well… I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. It is you after all,” the executive muses, eyes flitting back to his own report. Silence lapses over them again, but Akutagawa can’t concentrate on the words before him, growing bored once more and he yawns.
Nakahara-san laughs and Akutagawa looks up. In hindsight, that was a mistake – he’s really pretty when he laughs, and Akutagawa can feel a little heat on his face. Really, if the redhead weren’t stuck in the mafia he’d probably be an idol or an actor by now.
“Is your work stamina really that low, Akutagawa?” Nakahara-san sighs with an impish grin over his lips. “It’s just one all-nighter, you know.”
Akutagawa purses his lips. “It’s my fourth all-nighter, actually.”
“What?!” Akutagawa flinches at the way Nakahara slams his arm on the table. “Why didn’t you tell me? Go home and rest, Akutagawa.” His lips settle into something bordering on concern, and Akutagawa feels his own shaping into a small smile. With any luck, Nakahara-san won’t notice it.
“It… wouldn’t have helped. I can’t sleep.” A yawn punctuates his statement.
Nakahara-san frowns.
“You can’t sleep? Something wrong?”
Akutagawa hums non-committally, closing his eyes and responds. “I don’t know the reason. I just can’t sleep. Gin’s tried what she can already but nothing works.” When he looks up, Nakahara’s stepped out of his seat and is tinkering with his drink machine.
Akutagawa can’t help but stare. Nakahara-san’s lithe form is really easy on the eyes, and everyone seems to agree. His vest just about hugs his waist and his dress shirt cases his shoulder blades in all the right ways. The sleeves and pants of his outfit tease the outlines of his muscles, and Akutagawa supposes they’re elastic because he’s never seen them rip apart despite Nakahara-san’s active demeanour.
A while later, he’s holding two cups of jasmine tea and is extending one to Akutagawa. He accepts, thanking his superior and bringing the cup to his lips to taste the sweet-scented tea while Nakahara-san flops onto the couch beside him.
“It’s probably not my place to pry, but have you been having nightmares recently? Could that be why you can’t sleep?” Akutagawa looks over to where Nakahara-san’s head is tilted over the top edge of the couch, and watches as the executive turns away from Akutagawa with a wistful sigh.
“They used to get to Dazai a lot, too. You don’t need to hide it, if that’s the case.”
Akutagawa shakes his head despite knowing that Nakahara-san can’t see it.
“No, I’m not bothered by nightmares. Those days are over.” Then, in a comparatively hushed tone, “I simply can’t sleep.”
Nakahara-san hums thoughtfully. The executive hops to his feet and stretches his limbs. When he’s done, a satisfied exhale leaves him and he turns to Akutagawa.
“Want to try my sleeping methods? They always worked for Dazai.” A near-blinding smile plasters over Nakahara-san’s face and his lips twitch a little, almost returning the smile, but he holds himself back.
The only thing that registers is how gorgeous his superior looks.
“Nakahara-san, are you sure this is alright?”
“Hmm? What’s not alright about this?”
Akutagawa and Nakahara are pulling out of the mafia’s car warehouse after Nakahara-san demanded a driver hand over the keys to his car. Clearly, the guy was uncomfortable with this – he was paid to drive the higher-ups, not hand over the whole car. But the executive used his leverage and easily got the car to themselves, Nakahara seated in the driver’s comfortably and Akutagawa sliding into the passenger side.
“Well, what if something happens to us or the car? He’d get in trouble. I know I wouldn’t allow this,” Akutagawa points out, but Nakahara-san simply laughs.
“Oh, lighten up. At worst I’d just write a 50-word report and it’ll be smoothed over,” the executive replies, relaxing into the seat cushion with his one hand on the wheel and the other reaching up to Akutagawa’s shoulder.
“Trust me,” he added, looking at Akutagawa for a split second before returning his focus to the road. Akutagawa tightens his grip on the seatbelt subconsciously, which earns him a light-hearted flick from Nakahara-san.
“Geez, you look like I’m going to get you killed. I learnt driving, all right? This car isn’t going to crash soon.”
“You hope,” Akutagawa retorts. Nakahara stares at him, deadpan.
“You’re an asshole,” he remarks, turning back to the road resignedly. “Worst comes to worst, we have abilities, Akutagawa. We aren’t going to be killed so soon.”
Akutagawa scoffs.
“What’s so funny?”
“It’s weird that a mafia executive can declare that he won’t be killed so soon. Aren’t we always in danger?” Akutagawa questions his superior, who merely hums in response.
“Yeah well. We’ve survived this long,” Nakahara says, turning to look at Akutagawa. His sky blue eyes glimmer with the reflections of the streetlights flying by and Akutagawa can’t help staring again. He needs to stop doing that, but…
Just this once…
Nakahara-san breaks their eye contact as he turns onto the highway, a soft smile gracing his features.
“There’s no reason to believe any of us will die soon.” He glances back at Akutagawa.
“Get some rest.”
Akutagawa leans his head against the headrest but his eyes keep drifting to Nakahara-san’s form. “What about you?” he asks.
“Me? I’ll just keep driving. Sitting in the car and resting used to help Dazai. He always liked sleeping in the car, so maybe it’ll work for you too.” Nakahara-san shrugs casually. “I don’t know. I guess the driver could’ve just drove us around, but I kind of like driving. Speeding along the highway is relaxing for me.”
Nakahara-san’s free hand reaches to pat Akutagawa’s hair. He stills reflexively, cheeks turning the reddest they’ve been in years and his eyes widening like saucers. His brain malfunctions and all he can think of is how hot Nakahara-san’s gloves feel on his scalp.
And yet… he can’t help but lean into the hand that’s been offered.
Nakahara laughs. “That’s a nice shade of red on you. Makes you look healthier, hmm?” he comments casually, grinning in a way that’s unfairly disarming, baring pristine white teeth and all at Akutagawa.
How lucky he is.
Good God, he’s finally asleep.
It was when Chuuya glanced at Akutagawa for the fifteenth time that he finally noticed Akutagawa resting. He’d probably been on the highway for an hour or so now, Yokohama fully left behind at the rate they were going. In all honesty, Chuuya had never been this close to Tokyo before whenever he drove Dazai around.
Man, this kid is worse than the mackerel. It’s almost impressive.
Chuuya turns his focus back to the highway, yawning again and he slows down slightly, looking for an exit to hightail it back home. He needs some rest too, and he isn’t willing to spend the night in some dingy motel along the road. It would be a hassle to rush back to Yokohama in the morning.
After getting on the opposite side of the road (fuck it, nobody will see anyway, I’m just going to gravitise the car over…), he starts speeding back to their city. This, at least, is familiar to when he used to drive for Dazai – the hushed sounds of deep breathing, the low rumble of the engine muffled by the soundproofing of the car, his passenger: fast asleep – except that the person was different. Instead of the demon prodigy, it’s the mafia’s rabid dog.
Chuuya scoffs quietly, feeling like an over-glorified personal driver to the mafia’s upper echelons despite his own executive status.
But when he looks over again, he notices how soft Akutagawa looks. Contrary to his regularly murderous behaviour and lifeless eyes, when sleeping he almost manages to look angelic. With his lips parted slightly, chest rising and falling slowly, eyes gently shut, he appears so peaceful - nothing like the violent subordinate Chuuya often witnesses.
“Even you can make a face like that, huh?” he mutters, unsure if he was talking to himself or the sleeping beauty beside him.
Ahh~ just this once. For you.
The first rays of daylight crack through the night sky when Chuuya finally pulls up at the Akutagawa household. He takes the liberty of unbuckling Akutagawa from the passenger seat and hoists him up slowly, bridal style. He leans the sleeping man against his chest and feels Akutagawa's head rest against him, right across his heart.
Chuuya thanks the heavens that Akutagawa is actually asleep, so he can't hear the frantic beating.
He turns to the iron-wrought gates, fully intending to just float them over and into the house without waking the younger Akutagawa, but sees that Gin's already standing at the doorstep.
“Morning, Chuuya-san,” she greets him with a short wave and uses her remote to open the gates for him.
“Morning,” he replies with a nod, walking up to the door with Akutagawa still fast asleep in his arms and Gin sidesteps to let him in. She shuts the mahogany door behind them and leads Chuuya up to her brother’s bedroom, flicking on a bedside lamp. Chuuya shifts Akutagawa in his arms a little, just enough to get some of his weight off his chest and he places Akutagawa down lightly. For a second, his forehead wrinkles a little and Chuuya fears he might actually wake up, but he just turns hugs the bolster and turns on his side.
“I should get him out of those clothes,” Gin murmurs in a hushed tone so quiet that Chuuya wonders if she’s even talking to him at all. He turns to look at her and sees that she doesn’t even initiate eye contact with him, bending down to rummage through her brother’s closet for more comfortable clothes while all he does is watch.
He wonders if that was his cue to leave, but Gin speaks again before he can.
“Are you just going to stand there? Help me get his coat off,” she says nonchalantly, but it was understandably not a request. Chuuya stands there for a minute, hesitant, facing the sleeping man. It shouldn’t have sounded as daunting as it did, but well.
He’s unsure what to do.
Gin doesn’t pay him anymore attention though, so he approaches Akutagawa slowly, climbing onto the bed as lightly as he can with his gravity. Gently, he removes one of Akutagawa’s arms from where he’s hugging the bolster and starts to slide the coat off him.
He hears a chuckle.
“He’s not going to break, Chuuya-san,” Gin whispers, setting her brother’s clothes by the side of the mattress. “Here, just gravitise him and I’ll get it off.”
“What if he wakes?”
“He won’t.”
Chuuya looks at her indignantly, before sighing quietly and raising Akutagawa off the bed just enough for Gin to slip the coat off him. She makes quick work of his cravat and frilly shirt as well, tossing everything aside on the floor.
The executive looks away, face slightly red at seeing his subordinate getting stripped naked despite there being no sexual intent at all. Get a hold of yourself, he chides, dumbly watching as Gin helps her brother into a baggy long-sleeved shirt - his night clothes, presumably.
“You want to change his pants?” Gin offers suddenly as if it wasn’t a big deal. His brain freezes, causing his control over his ability to almost slip out of surprise and Gin seems to realise it too. She laughs at how uncharacteristically flustered he was at that.
“It was a joke, Chuuya-san. Don’t-” pffft “-don’t take it too seriously.”
Chuuya rolls his eyes at her.
“Shut up, you.” She has the gall to laugh, and gets started on undressing his pants. Chuuya, in a show of decency, looks away while keeping his ability steady. The last thing he would want is for Akutagawa to be jolted awake. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for her to be done, which implies that it’s not a first for her.
Really, Akutagawa should take care of himself more.
He lowers the Akutagawa brother back on the bed and watches him shift a little, snuggling deeper into his pillow. A smile appears on his face and he catches himself before it turns into an over-affectionate grin which Gin will certainly not be blind to.
No, he’s not about to show it now.
Gin stands from the bed, stretching her body and turning to her superior.
“Care for some drinks?”
The duo leave Akutagawa’s room after that, Chuuya closing the door with one last glance.
When Akutagawa wakes up, it’s past 2pm.
No surprise, he thinks, considering his lack of sleep and that he really only dozed off somewhere between 4 to 5am. Groggily, he gets up from the bed and half sleepwalks to the living room, surprised to find Gin there and Nakahara-san asleep on the couch.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” his sister quips smugly, but he doesn’t have the mental capacity to process it at the moment. He blinks and yawns for lack of a response, Rashomon moving through the air slowly to remove Gin’s coffee mug from her hands to take a sip for himself.
“You know, this guy here was super worried about you,” she informs him, pointing at Nakahara-san fast asleep. “It was almost cute. He was so awkward when I asked him to help undress you. It’s really obvious and I don’t think you need to worry about him not returning your feelings, at least for now.” That, Akutagawa’s mind manages to process into wait Nakahara-san undressed me?! and he turns slightly redder at Gin’s tease, walking away and placing the cup in the dry kitchen’s sink.
“You can’t know that for sure,” he mutters to himself, heading back to the living room. Gin’s super hearing never fails her though and she greets him with a shrug when he returns.
“Well, for now, I really think there’s nothing to be too worried about. Maybe you want to say thanks to him?” she suggests, turning away from both men and heading up the stairs. “I’m heading to headquarters for a while, but Chuuya-san’s actually gotten us the day off.” With that, she disappears up the stairs without a sound.
Left alone, Akutagawa turns to his sleeping mentor curled up on one side of his three-seater couch. A quieted Nakahara-san is an interesting contrast from the usually lively energy bomb that the mafia has grown accustomed to. He seats himself on the opposite end of the sofa with a book in hand, but it’s almost impossible to concentrate and he finds himself shyly glancing towards the redhead every so often.
Just this once… thank you Nakahara-san.