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Fuyuhiko didn’t consider himself to be a stupid man. Dense, maybe. Stubborn, absolutely. Hot-headed wasn’t out of the picture either. These were all things he could own up to. Flaws he could rephrase as things beneficial in other facets of his life. Being an idiot was never really part of the line up, but right now, he felt hopelessly stupid.
The foundation had been kind enough to provide him and his partner of almost a year now, Byakuya Togami, enough credit to rent a car. It was an outdated model of some shitty imported sedan, and someone had obviously spilled coffee in it a few weeks ago, because the smell lingered in the car no matter how long they tried to get it out. It was January, and it was cold outside though, so neither of them wanted to stand in the ankle-deep snow of the Japanese backhills for more than a few moments, no matter how bad the stench. They conceded to the sour smell after a few days. “It gives it character.” Fuyuhiko had joked, but his company didn’t seem to find it particularly entertaining.
There wasn’t a lot of entertainment included in this job description. The last few weeks had been almost painfully monotonous as they made their rounds about the small town the specimen they had been slated to acquisition had last been spotted in. Knock knock. Hello? Hi, we were wondering if you’d seen this man in the past 48 hours. No? Never seen him? It’s alright. Thank you for your time. Fuyuhiko could recite the script from memory. This was the worst part of acquisition. Not the high-stakes, heart-stopping standoffs. Not the volatile and alien objects or people they had been sent to retrieve. Not even the immediate threat to their life at any unpredictable moment. No, the worst part of catch missions was by far suburbia.
They had been driving around this neighborhood for a couple hours now, and they were now taking refuge in their sour car, heat cranked all the way up. Fuyuhiko had cracked a crabby joke about the weather, or the town, or the lack of good food anywhere, and Byakuya had laughed.
Fuyuhiko had spent a lot of time with Byakuya by now. Their conversations had formed a rhythm, and as much as the demeaning quips and jabs had grated on Fuyuhiko when they were first assigned together, he saw a version of himself in the coldness, so he couldn’t hold his partner too accountable. Besides, on the off chance his cutting snark was aimed at someone other than Fuyuhiko, well. He could swear it was almost like Byakuya had a sense of humor. He hadn’t missed the satisfied gleam in his eye when he had said to a particularly uncooperative hardware store employee “You're like a child lost in the woods, you know that? A total waste of space,” without a hint of irony or hesitation, and Fuyuhiko had doubled over in laughter right there at the service counter.
Byakuya was smart. They kept up with each other, each’s drive perpetuating the other’s, and it worked. It worked fucking well. In the past ten months, the pair of them had acquiesced thirty two different specimen for the Foundation, well over double the expected amount for a team three years more familiar with each other. He was confident, proud, but not cocky. Not in the way an athlete is cocky, or the drunk men are bars are cocky. He had absolutely nothing to prove to anyone, and Fuyuhiko admired him for that.
He wasn’t bad looking either. Tall, much taller than Fuyuhiko, and a lean, slender frame. His suits were tailored to accentuate every angle in a way that evoked power, self-assuredness. His eyes were a striking icy blue, making his razor-sharp glare that much colder, when he chose to use it. His skin was fair, smooth, and without blemish. Fuyuhiko had never really had problems with his freckles; when he was younger kids his age were too busy keeping their good distance from the heir to the Yakuza throne to sling any teasing words towards him, but Byakuya's perfect skin made him feel like he wanted to scrub his sunspots away. It made him wish he put scar cream on his hands more often, like Peko told him to.
So, in this shitty import car, as Byakuya laughed at his idiotic quip, in buttfuck nowhere, in the middle of January, why wasthisthe moment Fuyuhiko realized he wanted to kiss his partner?
It was, reflecting on it in the moments of sheer panic ensuing this epiphany, the first time in ten months he had seen Byakuya honest-to-god laugh, Fuyuhiko realized. His eyes had crinkled on the sides, squeezing shut in amusement and he had brought his hand off the steering wheel to half-cover the smile that was gracing his face with a weak fist. It was just a chuckle, but it was genuine.
Fuyuhiko’s face had flushed and his heart had tripped over itself. He didn’t even know his heart could do that, in all honesty. He laughed along with him for a few moments, and then his eyes had widened and he had stopped suddenly, realizing the repercussions of his chest palpitations.
Fuyuhiko didn’t consider himself a stupid man, but he knew for sure now he wasn’t a fucking smart one.