Archive of Our Own

“Well, that does it,” Reigen says triumphantly, brushing the coarse grains of salt from his hands. “No more meddling, booze-stealing spirit. And, might I add, I highly recommend investing in security cameras to keep any other spirits at bay. Spiritual beings tend to be wary of technology.”

The bar owner nods seriously. “Thank you. I will.” The bartender behind him looks ashen, avoiding eye contact.

“I’ll send you the invoice,” Reigen says, and then nods to Serizawa. “Ready to go?”

“Hey, as way of saying thanks, come back later tonight.” The owner produces a flyer and hands it to Serizawa. “Live music, drink specials. I’ll waive the cover charge.”

Serizawa looks at the glossy flyer: a young woman at a keyboard, flashy text surrounding her image, proclaiming the date and the name of the bar. “Oh, okay. Thank you.”

Out on the street, Reigen bemoans the case, mostly to himself: “I don’t understand people who steal from their workplaces. And then he has the gall to blame it on a spirit and his poor, dumb boss believes him. Honestly, I should have ratted him out, but I’d like to get paid, too, you know? And I did solve his problem. I never claimed my methods were conventional!”

“I’ve never been to a concert before,” Serizawa says suddenly, his mind still a few minutes behind Reigen’s.

Reigen stops on the sidewalk, turns to face him. “What? Really? Never?”

It’s three separate questions, and Serizawa isn’t sure which one he should answer first so he says, “Yeah.”

Reigen grasps both of his arms, his face lighting up. “Then let’s go to this thing tonight! We can get in for free, so why not? And I can probably blackmail the bartender into giving us free drinks, too. It’ll be fun.”

Serizawa nods. “Okay. Yeah. Do you know this band?”

He holds out the flyer to Reigen who squints at it. “No, never heard of it. Probably a very small, local band. It’s important to support artists like that.”

“Maybe we should pay the cover charge then.”

Reigen looks like he doesn’t follow. “We’ll support them with our presence.” He claps Serizawa’s shoulder with an air of finality and turns on his heel to continue down the street.

After finishing up some things at the office, they return to the bar. Reigen gives their names to the bouncer and when he gets no reaction he explains who they are and drops the owner’s name, and then, in an increasingly irritated voice, asks to speak to the owner. Eventually the owner comes over and says, “Oh, it’s the exorcists! Let them in!”

Once they’re finally through the door, Reigen asks Serizawa, “Do you want a drink?”

Serizawa glances around the bar; they’re setting up the small stage toward the front, and it’s relatively busy. Everyone looks to be around twenty-two, dressed casually. Serizawa feels a little embarrassed that he and Reigen are still in their work suits. He tugs at his tie, loosening it a bit.

“Yeah, I’ll get a drink,” he says to Reigen.

“What do you want? Our favorite bartender is here, so I’ll order for us and see what I can do.”

Serizawa pauses, considering, and Reigen launches into a monologue again:

“Have you ever had a drink, Serizawa? An alcoholic drink, I mean, obviously. I’m sorry, I didn’t even consider that.”

“Yes, I have, Reigen,” Serizawa says, chuckling. “Not… many, but I have.”

Reigen looks relieved. “Oh, good. I don’t drink much myself, to be honest. I don’t have much of a tolerance for it. Well, what would you like? Beer? I’m more of a fruity cocktail type myself, don’t tell anyone, but you seem like you would—”

“I’ll have whatever you have.” Serizawa doesn’t mean to cut him off, but Reigen doesn’t seem to understand that he needs to pause after asking questions if he expects the other person to answer. Serizawa watches as Reigen makes his way over to the bar. The bartender’s eyes go wide when he recognizes him. A minute later, Reigen returns with two tall glasses, full of ice, and a broad smile on his face.

“What did I tell you—free drinks. Lemon sours.” He hands one to Serizawa and clinks it with his own. “Cheers.”

Serizawa takes a sip. It’s mostly sweet, sour, with just a hint of alcohol at the back of his throat as he swallows.

“What do you think?” Reigen asks.

“It’s good, yeah.” Now that Reigen has something to drink, something to occupy his mouth and hands, there’s a chance for Serizawa to get some words in edgewise. He asks him, “Have you been to a show here before?”

“No, no. I’ve never been here before at all, actually, before today. I don’t really… I haven’t been to a concert in a while, to be honest, it’s probably been, oh…” Reigen starts to count on his fingers, gives up. “It’s been a while.”

The bar gets more crowded; Reigen and Serizawa hover near a wall, toward the back, looking out over the crowd. The musicians take the stage, and the room swells with cheers. Serizawa uses the hand that’s not holding a drink to pat his own wrist in some approximation of clapping. Reigen solves that problem by sticking his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and whistling—loudly.

It only gets louder from there. Serizawa can feel the bass thumping in his chest, not able to decipher any lyrics or even a distinct melody. Next to him, Reigen bobs his head steadily, one hand in his pocket. A few songs in, and they’re both done with their drinks, and it’s even more crowded now. They’re pressed up against the wall, along the route to the bathroom, so they’re constantly jostled by strings of drunk twenty-somethings as they file past.

Reigen leans in, cupping his hand around his mouth and shouts into his ear. Serizawa can’t make out a single word. Reigen tries again: “Do you wanna head out?”

Serizawa nods. As they weave through the crowd, Reigen's hand absently holds onto Serizawa's elbow. Outside, Serizawa’s ears ring in the relative quiet, a rushing sound that fills his head. Reigen laughs. “Well, now you’ve been to a concert.” They go to get ramen.

*

Earlier that week, Reigen and Tome had spent almost an hour discussing a movie, their theatrics increasing by the minute as they all but acted it out. For how bad the movie apparently is, they certainly seem to both enjoy it a lot. Then Tome whirled around in her chair and said to Serizawa, “Have you seen it?”

He looked back at her blankly. “No.”

“You gotta watch it!” Tome and Reigen cried in near-perfect unison.

“It’s terrible,” Tome added.

“It’s the worst,” Reigen said in agreement.

Serizawa looked back at them, confused. “Why would I want to watch a… bad movie?”

“Oh, Serizawa-san, you’re so naive,” Tome said, shaking her head. “Bad movies are the best movies.”

Serizawa wasn’t sure if he agreed with that, but before he knew it, Reigen had talked him into a bad movie marathon on Friday night.

Now, on Friday, Serizawa is at Reigen’s apartment for the first time. They came after work, picking up some take-out on the way. Reigen assured him that he had plenty of popcorn and some drinks at home.

Reigen’s apartment is a small studio, tidy, sparsely decorated. Serizawa suspects the tiny kitchen just off the entrance is all but unused, and there’s no kitchen table. Reigen slips out of his shoes and coat, starts working at his tie. “You can put the food on the coffee table,” he says to Serizawa.

Serizawa does what he’s told, and settles down on the couch in front of the TV. He loosens his own tie a little, untucks his shirt.

Reigen sets down two bottles of beer on the coffee table, says, “If you want one.” He kneels to open the door of the cabinet under the TV, revealing an extensive collection of DVDs. “We have to start with ‘Birdemic,’” he says, holding up the case. “It’s a classic.”

Reigen pops in the DVD and sits next to Serizawa, his feet up on the coffee table. He grabs a take-out box and one of the beers, so Serizawa follows suit. For the next ninety minutes, Reigen points out every jump-cut, every bit of weird dialogue, every unresolved plot thread, and of course, all the awful special effects. In fact, he’s talking almost the entire time, so that Serizawa spends more time watching Reigen than the screen. But he doesn’t mind; he doesn’t think he would enjoy this movie whatsoever without Reigen’s running commentary.

“The funniest thing about that movie,” Reigen says as the credits roll, “is that it was all a metaphor for environmentalism, but it’s such a bad movie that you don’t even realize it until the end.”

“Oh,” Serizawa says, something clicking. “Is that why they kept talking about solar panels at the beginning?”

“Yeah!” Reigen laughs. He hops up from the couch and grabs another drink for each of them, before selecting the next movie. “Now this one is truly a classic…”

After the third movie, and as many drinks, Serizawa catches a glimpse of the clock on the wall. “Oh my god, it’s almost two a.m.” He throws his head back against the couch and rubs his eyes. “I should go.”

“Go? What do you mean? It’s way too late, and you’re in no condition to go home. Just crash here for the night. Have you ever crashed on a friend’s couch before? That’s another important right of passage, you know. I spent most of college couch-surfing.”

“It’s not very comfortable,” Serizawa says.

Reigen is kneeling on the couch now, facing him, his eyes bright. “Of course it’s not comfortable! That’s not the point! It’s just one of those things you have to do while you’re young.”

Serizawa turns his head to him, raises his eyebrows. “I’m not young.”

“Yeah, you’re young! Thirty is young! I mean, my back wouldn’t hold up so well sleeping on a couch anymore, but you’ll be fine.” Reigen hops up, and goes to the closet by the bathroom. He returns a minute later with an armful of blankets and pillows. He dumps them onto the couch and then points at Serizawa, and says, like he’s ordering him, “Make yourself at home. Let me know if you need anything else—really. I’m gonna pass out pretty soon, but don’t hesitate to wake me up if you need something.”

Serizawa nods, even though he’d rather die than wake up Reigen in the middle of the night to ask for a pillow. “Thanks. Goodnight.”

Reigen grabs his pajamas from his bed and goes to get changed in the bathroom. While he's gone, Serizawa spreads a blanket across the couch. He unbuttons his shirt and steps out of his pants, folds them both neatly on the coffee table. He gets under the blankets, in his undershirt and boxers, and it’s not comfortable—his feet hang off the end and a lump digs into his side—but it still feels nice.

When Reigen comes back from the bathroom, in dark gray sweats, he turns out the light and blindly feels his way across the apartment to his bed. He ends up knocking his shins against the coffee table, swearing under his breath. "You'd think I'd be used to that by now, huh? Goodnight, Serizawa." He falls into his bed and he's snoring within minutes.

*

“What’s your read on this?” Reigen asks Serizawa.

Serizawa looks at the carousel, spinning wildly enough that it’s a blur, sparks shooting out every which way. “Definitely a spirit. Want me to go ahead and exorcise it?” He raises his hand.

“If you would,” Reigen says with disinterest. He pulls out his phone to tap out some emails.

So, Serizawa does: The sparks get brighter for a moment, and then disappear altogether. The carousel is still spinning but begins to lose momentum. When it’s nearly slowed to its usual pace, Tome runs up from behind them and jumps onto it, hitching a ride around.

“Tome—!” Reigen calls out, and then shakes his head as she shrieks in delight. “It’s safe, right?” he asks Serizawa.

Serizawa watches as Tome goes flying past them again, one of her arms stretched out. “Yeah. There’s no spirit now, anyway.”

When it slows enough to no longer be fun, Tome hops off and staggers toward them, off-balance. “Can we go on some rides now?” she asks. “Please, please, please, please—”

“No,” Reigen says bluntly, checking his watch.

“Please, please, please, please, please,” Tome continues, the words slurring together.

“You know, I’ve never really gone on any carnival rides,” Serizawa says.

“Really?” Tome grabs his arm and starts yanking him in the direction of the Tilt-a-Whirl. “We gotta go, then!”

“We don’t have anything else scheduled today, right, Reigen?” Serizawa says, shooting him an apologetic glance as he allows Tome to pull him along. “We could just do one or two rides. While we’re here.”

“I guess that’s fine,” Reigen says with a shrug. He follows them into the line.

It’s only after they’re strapped into the ride that Tome asks him, “Do you get motion sick, Serizawa-san?”

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

The ride begins, spinning slowly at first and then whipping them around. Tome laughs uncontrollably, seated in the middle, between Reigen and Serizawa. Serizawa’s stomach lurches each time they go flying around the track, but it’s not an unpleasant feeling; he’s gripping the handrail in front of him hard enough that his knuckles are white, but he’s smiling broadly. After a minute or so when the ride slows to a stop, Reigen is immediately fumbling with his seat belt. He leaps up as soon as he can, hand covering his mouth, as he bolts for the exit.

“Oh, shit,” Tome says. “He’s gonna barf.”

And he does, but not until he reaches a trash can located conveniently near the ride’s exit. When Serizawa and Tome catch up to him, the worst of it is over, as he sits miserably in the grass, pale-faced.

“That’s why they call it the Tilt-a-Hurl,” Tome says, unsympathetic.

“Are you okay?” Serizawa asks him.

Reigen nods and rubs a tear track away from his blotchy cheek. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I should’ve known not to go on that ride. I just need to… sit here for a while.”

“Can we go on another ride, Serizawa-san?” Tome asks.

Serizawa looks at Reigen, frowns, but Reigen waves his hand. “Go on, go have fun, I’ll be fine.”

“Or we could play some carnival games!” Tome suggests, eyes bright.

“Those are all rigged, you know,” Reigen grumbles. “It’s a waste of money. You’ll never win.”

“Oh yeah? You wanna bet?”

Reigen groans and flops back into the grass. “I’m not… challenging you, Tome, I’m just stating a fact. Carnival games are rigged.”

Tome, more determined than ever, heads off in the direction of the games and Serizawa follows. He doles out a hundred yen and watches her take a few unsuccessful throws, hitting the bottom-heavy bottles, but not knocking them over. On her next throw, he secretly helps her out, giving a little more aim and force to the ball. The bottles tip over and the attendant looks up in surprise. A few ESP-assisted throws later, Tome is walking away with a huge teddy bear over her shoulders and a smug smile on her face.

Reigen, standing up now and looking considerably better, watches them approach, a smile growing on his face.

“What were you saying, again, Reigen-san? That I couldn’t win?”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I was wrong.” Tome leads the way to the next ride on her agenda, Serizawa and Reigen trailing her. “I’m shocked at you, Serizawa,” he says quietly, teasing. “I didn’t think you were the type to cheat.”

Serizawa looks at him, smiles sheepishly. “Cheating? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

*

Sitting at his desk, Serizawa cranes his head to one side and frowns, reaching to dig his fingers into the meat of his shoulder. It feels tense and tight. It’s been sore for three days now, despite his best efforts to stretch and sleep in careful positions. The ever-present ache makes it hard to concentrate at work, in class. He's starting to understand why so many of their clients believe themselves cursed; if he didn't know any better, he'd suspect the same.

“Neck hurt?”

Serizawa glances up at Reigen across the office and smiles. “Yeah. It’s been all week.”

“Where is it?”

Serizawa runs his hand from the base of his skull down to the end of his left shoulder. “From here to here.”

“Hm.” Reigen takes his own head and pulls it one direction to demonstrate, dropping the opposite shoulder. “Try this. Move your head around and try to find where it is.”

Serizawa gives it another shot, even though that’s what he has been doing. He can’t quite find a position that feels right. He sighs, giving up. “It feels… too far back, almost.”

Reigen stands up then and shrugs out of his coat, takes a few steps toward Serizawa to stand behind his chair. Serizawa tenses as Reigen’s hands hover over his head and shoulder. The other man pauses. “Is this okay? If I touch you?”

Serizawa relaxes and nods. “Yeah.”

Reigen takes his head and bends it to one side and with his other hand starts pressing in at the back of his neck, exploratory but firm. He works his way down to his shoulder before saying, "Might help if you lose your coat.”

When Reigen withdraws his hands, Serizawa slips his coat off and leaves it over the back of his chair.

Then Reigen dives in again and he seems to have found the spot from his brief assessment before, because within a second Serizawa’s shoulder is tingling painfully under his fingers. “If it hurts, that means it’s working,” he says, picking up on Serizawa’s reaction.

Serizawa grits his teeth. “Well. It’s working.”

“You have a knot,” Reigen says, and Serizawa can feel that too, the tense bit of muscle rolling under Reigen’s fingers.

When it’s almost too much, Reigen moves to his neck, under his ear, fingers on his bare skin.

“Ow,” Serizawa breathes with a laugh.

“Too much?”

“No, no.” It definitely hurts, but it also feels good, and if it will remove the soreness in his shoulder, then it’s all worth it. Besides, Serizawa kind of enjoys Reigen’s attentiveness, his skilled hands on him, like when he cut his hair the first time, months ago.

Reigen moves back to his shoulders and pushes down on both of them with what feels like his full weight, providing a nice stretch. Serizawa's eyes flutter shut as he sighs. Reigen finishes by gently kneading both his shoulders. “Is that better?”

“A little. Thank you.” When Reigen steps back, Serizawa can feel that there’s still some tightness left, not all of it alleviated, and he stretches his neck to the side. “I’ve never had a massage before.”

“Really?” Reigen pauses in front of his desk, looking down at him. “Well. You do seem pretty tense. And we have a bit of downtime right now. If you want a real one.”

Serizawa blinks. “You’d give me a massage?”

Reigen shrugs. “Sure. One of the perks of the job. And we’ve been, you know, trying to expand your experiences lately. I think it’s a good experience to have. To get a good massage. And not to toot my own horn, but I’m a fairly accomplished masseur. It’s all the spiritual power, right? Guaranteed the best free massage you’ll ever get. What do you say?”

Serizawa’s mouth has been open since Reigen began speaking. He says, “Okay.”

Reigen nods. “Okay. Come on, then.”

Serizawa follows him into the massage room off the office, still reeking of incense after a client earlier that morning. He doesn't come in here often, only when Reigen needs extra help cleaning. His eyes scan the cabinet and shelves along the wall, the bottles of massage oil, neatly rolled towels, the incense tray, all softly lit, so different from the harsh flourescent of the rest of the office. Sitting on the edge of the massage bed, Serizawa awaits instructions.

Reigen rolls up his sleeves, past the elbow. “Take off your shirt. If you want to.”

Serizawa starts unbuttoning his shirt; his fingers feel clumsy. Reigen watches him for a moment before whirling around to get a fresh towel and pour some scented massage oil into the palms of his hands. Once unbuttoned, Serizawa shrugs his shirt off, folds it neatly. He tugs his undershirt off over his head. It’s warm enough in the office that he doesn’t miss the lack of clothing.

“Okay, great!” Reigen says, his voice too loud for the small room. “Lay down on your stomach for me.”

He does as he’s told, fitting his face into the cut-out in the massage bed. Reigen starts at his shoulders, kneading gently, working away at what’s left of the knot in his left shoulder, but now without a layer of clothing between them. His hands are warm. Serizawa figures this must be mundane for Reigen—how many dozens, even hundreds, of people has he touched in this way?—but Serizawa realizes he can't remember the last time he's been touched, really touched, skin to skin, more than an incidental brush of hands. He tries not to think about it too hard; it's not helping him to relax.

And Reigen notices. “Your shoulders… lots of tension,” he says with a soft hum. “Are you stressed out? Problems with work?”

Serizawa hears the smile in his voice and smiles too, though Reigen can’t see him. “Yeah. My boss is working me too hard.”

“Really?” Reigen’s hands glance down either of his arms, a light touch. “He sounds like a dick.”

Serizawa laughs, his whole body shaking a little as a result. “He’s not that bad.”

Reigen’s hands start working their way down his back on either side, and the touch on his lower back has Serizawa squirming, even as he wills himself to stay still. “Sorry,” he says, glad that he’s face-down so Reigen can’t see him blush.

“Don’t apologize. Ticklish?”

“Yeah. Can you… stick to my shoulders? Please.”

“Of course. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.”

Reigen returns to his shoulders, working rhythmically, until Serizawa starts to feel loose and weightless, melting into the padded table below him; he lets his eyes slide shut. Reigen gives some attention to the back of Serizawa’s neck, and then his fingers work into his hair, pressing little circles into his skull. Serizawa likes that best of all, as the feeling sends pleasant tingles down his spine. He’s not sure how long it goes on.

“Serizawa?” Reigen’s voice sounds distant. “Katsuya?”

“Mm?”

“We have another client soon.”

His eyes fly open and he scrambles to sit up. “Oh, I’m sorry! How long were we—how long was I—?”

Reigen is laughing. “Did you fall asleep?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think so, I was just… really relaxed.”

Reigen smiles at him. His sleeves are rolled up, tie draped over his shoulder. “Told you I’m a good masseur.”

Serizawa stares back at him for a long moment, before realizing he’s still shirtless. He leans off the table to retrieve his shirt. Reigen turns away to wash his hands.

*

“Arataka!”

Serizawa watches as Reigen is swarmed by his mom and sisters and several other female family members whose names he wasn’t coached on beforehand. Reigen hugs each of them, kisses their cheeks, before turning and gesturing to Serizawa.

“This is Katsuya,” he says. “I told you about him. We own Spirits & Such together.”

Now it’s Serizawa’s turn to be swarmed, hugged, kissed. He barely gets the names as Reigen rattles them off. “Congratulations,” he says to Reigen’s younger sister, Mariko.

She beams at him, stunning in her white dress. “Thank you so much for coming. It’s really nice to meet you. He never brings anyone home.”

Reigen leads Serizawa to their assigned seats for the reception dinner. “Now, this is the best part of any wedding. The food—and there’s an open bar! Mariko married into money.” He waggles his eyebrows at Serizawa. “Daishin’s family paid for the entire wedding, but don’t let that slip, my mother is mortified.”

Serizawa nods, a little alarmed by the volume of Reigen’s voice as he spouts out family secrets. And it doesn’t end there; over dinner, as the waitstaff continually tops off his wine glass, he airs all of his family’s dirty laundry. Serizawa learns about his cousin’s stint in rehab, the aunts who are no longer on speaking terms, his parents’ divorce—“ancient history” is what Reigen says, but their father is conspicuously absent tonight.

Shortly after dinner, Reigen is whisked away for family photos. He stumbles a little when he stands up, and steadies himself on Serizawa’s shoulder, laughing into his ear. “Too much wine.”

Serizawa ends up abandoned for the first time that night, and looks at the rest of the guests around the table, smiling shyly. One of Reigen’s aunts leans toward him over the table and asks, “How did you meet Arataka, again? I never quite got all the details.”

Serizawa fights the rising panic, stuffs it back down in his chest. Reigen coached him on this, so he knows just what to say. “I met him through my previous job. It was a similar line of work. When that business dissolved, he offered me a job.”

“That’s nice. You two seem very… close.”

Serizawa notices a certain tightness to her smile; sweat itches the palms of his hands. “Well, we are co-owners of his business now. And we’re… good friends.”

It feels a little weird to say for some reason, and Serizawa realizes he’s never referred to Reigen as his friend before. He can’t remember a time that Reigen has referred to him as his friend either. But they must be friends, right? They spend loads of time together, both at work and outside of it. They even call each other by their first names sometimes. And he's at Reigen's sister's wedding, for god's sake, meeting the entire family. Serizawa spends far less time with his school friends, and he still refers to them as his friends. So, Reigen must be his friend, and he must be Reigen's friend. Maybe even his best friend. No one else comes to mind. It's hard to tell, though; everything with Reigen is so easy yet so complicated. He gets swept along in his current, and the months go by, and he doesn't realize how far downstream he's traveled until he comes up for air.

Reigen returns suddenly, two drinks in hand. He settles down next to Serizawa again. His presence puts his mind at ease, even though he was the reason for his worry in the first place. Reigen has that effect on him somehow. Reigen hands him one of the drinks and asks, “How do you like your first wedding? Wait, that makes it sound like it’s your wedding. You know what I mean.”

Serizawa accepts the drink from him, takes a sip. Lemon sour. “It’s nice. Great food. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Well, I got a plus one, so.” Reigen pauses to take a long drink. “Everyone, uh…” He lets out a bark of laughter that startles Serizawa a little. “Thinks we’re dating. Which is… understandable. Going to a wedding together is kind of… Well, it has connotations.”

“Oh.” Blood rushes through Serizawa’s ears. He swallows back a lump in his throat, but he can’t figure out why he’s reacting so strongly to this. “Does that bother you?”

“Bother me? No. No, no, no, no. Maybe my mom will finally stop pestering me to get married.” He laughs again, distinctly humorless. “It’s just… funny, right?”

“Yeah.” Serizawa nods slowly, doesn't laugh, doesn't smile. “It’s funny.”

Reigen is quiet for a long moment as they both look out over the dance floor. “When do you think is the earliest we can leave without looking rude?”

*

“Are you nervous?”

Serizawa glances over at Reigen as he adjusts his seatbelt across his lap. “No, not really.”

Reigen nods thoughtfully. “That makes sense. I mean, you of all people have no reason to get nervous on an airplane. If anything happens you could just… guide the plane to safety, right? Or at least put up a barrier and protect us. There’s really no reason to be nervous at all, Katsuya.”

Reigen stretches out his legs into the aisle; Reigen said since he’s got longer legs, he should get the aisle seat, which has left Serizawa crammed in the middle, knees bumping against the seat in front of him. He has no armrest of his own since the stranger to his right and Reigen to his left have claimed both of his; a bony elbow pokes into Serizawa’s ribs. Despite his insistence, Reigen really doesn’t have longer limbs, he’s just pointier, ganglier.

“Are you nervous?” Serizawa asks him.

Reigen looks at him, apparently offended by the insinuation. “I’ve flown before. Not in a while, but I have flown before. Only once, but still.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Serizawa pushes back on Reigen’s elbow with his own. “You’re talking a lot.”

Reigen withdraws his arm. “Well, geez, sorry, but don’t I always talk a lot? Doesn’t mean I’m nervous.” He drums his fingers against his leg, a rhythmic tapping sound.

When the plane takes off, Reigen’s hands are back on both armrests, knuckles white. Serizawa puts his hand over Reigen’s, reflexively, and Reigen doesn’t move so he leaves it there, until the other man's hand is warm and relaxed under his own.

When they finally reach cruising altitude, Reigen digs in his pocket for a pack of gum. “Helps pop your ears, if you chew this.” Serizawa accepts gratefully.

After a long day in Seoul—two clients, sightseeing, eating—they end up at their hotel. Serizawa sits on the edge of one of the two beds, texting a couple photos to Tome. He hears the toilet flush, the water running. Reigen emerges from the bathroom in an old t-shirt and sweatpants. He sits next to Serizawa, sighing as he settles down—very close to him, their thighs pressed together.

“What a day, huh?” Reigen leans back, propped up with one hand, his head turned to face him.

“Yeah. I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” There’s an unexpected edge to Reigen’s soft voice. His thigh is still pressed insistently against Serizawa’s, heat radiating through his sweatpants. Serizawa thinks about the other bed, presumably where Reigen will sleep; Reigen could have sat down there, across from him, facilitating easier eye contact for an end-of-the-day conversation. His choice to sit here, beside him, and this close, has got to mean something.

Serizawa clears his throat. His heart is pounding. “I’ve never, um. Kissed anyone… before.”

Reigen doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move—except for his eyes that flicker down to Serizawa’s mouth. That, too, has got to mean something. So Serizawa kisses him. He takes a moment to adjust to the feeling. Somehow, it’s not quite what he expected; there are a few more components, with noses and teeth and tongues. Reigen is patient, accommodating, open, pliant. He lets Serizawa set the pace, matching him. When Reigen breaks away to take a breath, Serizawa mouths along his jaw to his ear, tongues the folds of cartilage. Reigen moans a little in reaction; Serizawa makes a mental note of that before moving down to his throat.

“Is this… is this okay?” Reigen asks suddenly, his hands firm on Serizawa’s shoulders, holding him at bay. “I don’t want… Like, we’re in another country and we’re staying in the same hotel room, I don’t want you to feel… trapped, or like you can’t say no, so if this is too much or too fast… But I really—well. It doesn’t matter what I want, but I’ve kind of been trying to get something like this to happen for a while, and you’ve been a little slow on the uptake, no offense, it’s understandable, of course—”

“It’s okay,” Serizawa finally answers the initial question, cutting off Reigen’s increasingly manic rambling. “I didn’t… I didn’t know you wanted this.”

Reigen laughs once, hollowly. “And here I thought I was being shamelessly obvious.”

Serizawa figures he laid Reigen’s fears to rest, so he moves in again, but Reigen catches his shoulders, stopping him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. We can… get to that in a moment, but. Do you… Do you want this, Katsuya? I don’t want you to just… go along with this.”

Serizawa nods desperately. His skin feels a few degrees warmer than usual, more sensitive, as he's hyperaware of every place where his body is touching Reigen's: the press of fingers on his shoulders, the knee bumped against his thigh. He thinks maybe he's never wanted anything more. He says, finally, his voice catching in his throat, “Yes.”

“Okay.” Reigen smiles, looking relieved. “And, I… I wanna tell you, you don’t have to feel… self-conscious or anything. It’s been, well. It’s been, honestly, years since I’ve done this, myself. So, uh.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Inexperience is… not an issue.”

Serizawa nods again, more slowly this time. “Okay. Thanks for… saying that.”

Reigen winces a little. “Yeah, I know it’s weird, but I just thought… I didn’t want you to feel a lot of pressure or anything—really, you do not have to worry about impressing me. Um. Okay, I’ll shut up now.”

He does more than just shut up, lunging forward to kiss Serizawa again. Reigen takes a more proactive role this time, coaxing Serizawa down onto his back on the bed. Straddling him, Reigen kisses down his neck; Serizawa tips his chin back, feels the graze of teeth followed by the balm of his tongue. He clutches a fistful of Reigen’s t-shirt, feels the skin beneath the worn cotton, the ridge of his vertebrae.

Reigen pauses, hovering above his collarbones. “Oh, and I have… god, this is… gonna sound weird, but I have… supplies, in my suitcase. Again, no pressure, but I figured I should cover my bases.”

Serizawa laughs against his hair. “You came prepared.”

“Better safe than sorry is what I always say.”

“Was this your plan all along?”

“Was it not yours?!” Reigen asks indignantly, sitting back to look at him. "I mean, you agreed to sharing a hotel room, I thought that maybe—”

“I’m here strictly for business,” Serizawa says, enough of a smile in his voice to convey that he’s teasing. “I didn’t know you were bringing me to Korea as part of some elaborate scheme to take my virginity.”

“Oh, god, please don’t say that,” Reigen says, covering his eyes with his hands. “That makes me sound so creepy.”

Serizawa sits up, arms around Reigen, holding him in place in his lap. He kisses the hands that cover his face. “Arataka.”

Reigen drops his hands, looks back at him; wary, hopeful.

“I’m glad it’s you.”

Reigen smiles and Serizawa kisses him again.