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A body flies across the alleyway, crashing against the wall as Sasara lets out a yawn, absentmindedly fixing his beloved orange tie. Samatoki stands up straight, dusting off his jacket and running a hand through his hair with a huff before turning to face his partner-in-crime.
He opens his mouth to speak but Sasara's already on the move, hopping over unconscious bodies — there's a particularly resounding crunch and Sasara mumbles a curse — to reach him. "Nice work," Sasara hums, handing the other man a cigarette, "I think you might've given one of them a broken rib or two."
Sasara lights a cigarette then leans closer to light Samatoki's, another one of his signature smiles on his lips. The other man rolls his eyes, exhaling. "Their fault for picking a fight with us," he bluntly states, heading to the nearest exit, "now hurry up before the cops get here."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," Sasara sighs, following him. He glances back at their handiwork, grimacing once he sees the carnage they left behind. As ironic as it sounds, he never was a fan of violence.
—
Once they get back to base, several subordinates greet them, eyeing their wounds. Sasara waves off the offers of help, telling them they'll handle it themselves. Samatoki waits at their office door until Sasara finally dismisses the last of them, immediately slamming it shut once the shorter man enters.
They crash on the couch, Samatoki sitting with an arm behind the couch as Sasara throws himself across it, sprawling over both the cushions & Samatoki's legs. Samatoki frowns, but says nothing as Sasara groans.
"Man, I'm beat!" he jokes, laughing at his creative genius as Samatoki merely sighs in disdain. Sasara frowns back, disappointed. "Seriously? Come on, what kind of reaction is that? That one was funny!"
Samatoki stares blankly at him, bringing his cigarette to his lips to avoid telling Sasara to shut up.
The older man clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "A swing and a miss..."
Samatoki swiftly slaps a hand over his partner's lips, wishing for one minute of peace and quiet.
—
Sasara lets out a drawn out sigh, putting his cigarette out in the ashtray on the table beside them. "Guess we should clean ourselves up, huh?"
Samatoki, barely clinging onto consciousness, simply grunts. Sasara slides off the couch, yawning again. He pads on over to the desk, shuffling through the drawers.
Blinking himself awake, the taller man sits upright, shrugging off his leather jacket. He narrows his eyes at the cuts and bruises across his arms and knuckles, hoping Nemu doesn't fret over his current state when he comes home.
Sasara lets out a little, "aha!" before making his way back to the couch, plopping down next to Samatoki. "Alright, lemme see," he says, and the tired man lets Sasara pull his right arm closer.
They sit in relative silence, comfortable, Sasara uncharacteristically calm as he focuses on cleaning Samatoki's wounds. Samatoki can't help but think that he likes this side of Sasara, glancing up at him.
He stares for a moment, spotting a bruise slowly forming near Sasara's lips. Samatoki blinks and catches himself, opting to look away.
On second thought, maybe he just likes the fact that Sasara's not spewing out awful jokes right now.
Lost in his thoughts, Samatoki suddenly jolts up once Sasara dabs at a certain cut, gritting his teeth as the older man continues cleaning it. "M' bad," the former comedian mumbles, slapping a band-aid over the wound. He marches on, looking at Samatoki's face.
"You got a gash on your cheek," he says, immediately leaning forward. Samatoki blinks again and suddenly the shorter man is a lot closer than he was a split second ago.
"Hey—" Samatoki coughs out, ready to shove him away, but Sasara leans back himself, tossing a band-aid to him. "Jeez, I was just cleaning it," he says, leaning into the couch as Samatoki stares at the band-aid.
There's some cutesy cartoon mascot and an obnoxiously bright yellow background on it. Samatoki's eye twitches, a mix of both irritation and disgust spreading across his face. "What the hell is this?"
Sasara, busy fixing himself up, raises his head, then shrugs. "It was cheap," he explains simply, a smile slowly creeping across his lips.
"There's another reason you bought this, isn't there?"
"Of course not!"
"You're a damn liar," Samatoki hisses, begrudgingly placing it over the gash on his cheek. If he wasn't so tired, he would definitely chew the living hell out of the guy. Sasara laughs, packing up the rest of the med kit.
"We're matching, though!" He teases, tossing the kit next to the ashtray and pointing at a band-aid placed over a cut on his right hand. Samatoki can only narrow his eyes at him, knowing Sasara would drag the joke out until he was personally satisfied.
The two eventually ease into the couch once more, falling into a comfortable silence. Sasara yawns again, loosening his tie. He resumes the position he was in before, much to Samatoki's annoyance.
Samatoki's the first to fall asleep, arms crossed and his head bowed. Sasara, barely awake, glances up at him, staring at the band-aid on his face as one last thought crosses his mind.
"That's kinda cute..."