Work Text:
Noi is still digging through a sea of packing peanuts when Shin finds the instructions taped to the inside of the box. The paper is about five times it’s previous size when he finishes unfolding. When he holds it out, he can see neat illustrations and towers of text, guiding them on how to put together this damn shelf.
She calls his attention with jingling, and when he looks up, he can see she’s found a clear bag of nuts and bolts which came with.
“Looks like you and your hammer can help this time,” she smiles. Noi’s got her hair up; tied away from her face in a bun, like it always is when she’s busy and doesn’t have her mask to keep it back. She looks excited to start working, like she always does.
“Those are screws, you can’t hammer screws,” he tells her, spoiling her fun. “You’ll probably need a screwdriver and— maybe a wrench.” She holds up the handtool before he can say anything more.
Focusing back onto the paper, Shin runs his eyes over the guide again, properly this time. In the drawings, the pieces are all lettered for convenience. Big and bold, A, B, C. He’ll check if they’re labeled in real life too, once Noi stops ripping open plastic.
The actual written instructions are tiny. Shoved underneath the artwork, they look.. smudged. Misprinted, maybe? He brings the paper so close that he can smell the glossy coating. Argh, that’s worse. He holds it back.
Assembly time: approx. 2 hours.
Jeez. It isn’t unbearable, but two hours? He didn’t have anything else planned, but surely Noi wants to do something a little less... tedious.
“You know, there are people here who could do this for you. For free.” En’s employees would gladly take over, and they’d have it done in thirty minutes, tops. Knowing her, that won’t be enough to convince her.
“I know, but I wanted to do it with you.” She’s been rearranging her apartment since she moved back in. Since they first became partners. Decorating is apparently her thing. Noi likes to adorn her space, and make it her own. Whenever he comes over, it’s something like; her couch in a different position, or a lamp by her bed, or Senpai, I bought a whole new set of kitchenware I didn’t need, come cook with me!
She always lets him use blankets that still have the tag on them, or drink coffee out of a brand new mug she’s bought.
“Plus, weren’t you a carpenter before you left Hole? This should be easy-peasy, Senpai.”
He wouldn’t call himself a carpenter. Maybe a woodworker, at most. Shin worked in a factory, alongside his dad, for the last few years of his life as a human. He remembers his hands being all sorts of fucked up after each shift, cuts and nicks and scrapes like he had stuck his fingers beneath the electric saw itself. He remembers how his dad’s hands were worse; how he’d take the blame after Shin fucked up and sanded something down too much, or used the wrong coating. He remembers getting better through their home projects, like the birdhouses they carved together, and hung outside the window.
He remembers how it was pretty fun, making something with someone you love.
“If you think that crafting shelves and putting some store-bought ones together are on the same level, I don’t think anyone can help you at this point.”
Noi, without missing a beat, responds; “That’s not a no.”
Shin can’t not laugh, but once he’s done, he brings himself back to the paper.
“Flip over the main piece, and open up, the uh, bag. With the screws inside.” He says, unsure.
“The biggest piece?” Noi asks, and he watches her handle the plastic wrapped pieces, flit her eyes between them. “A or B?”
“Huh?”
“There are two pieces that are the same length, does it say which one?”
Shin’s been relying on pictures, so he drags his eyes to the actual instructions again. He squints.
“A, I guess? That’s what you’d start with, normally.”
Judging on the way she reaches over, Noi’s decided to keep the shoulder-shrug to herself and trust him. “Okay. Which screws?”
Shin hesitates, thinking back. If this piece connects to the top, it wouldn’t just need a normal fastener. “The cam lock ones, probably.”
“No, I mean, which number. I have like, three bags of screws over here.”
As she jingles them again, they rattle in their confinements. Shin can’t remember it being this difficult, on a technical scale, at least. They haven’t even started.
He crinkles the paper back together, folding it in half, and holding it out to Noi.
“It’d make more sense if we switched places. I can’t read this thing at all.” Pouty because she won’t be doing the manual work, Noi takes the assembly instructions. “It’s all smudged, the ink probably got wet.”
Reaching over to grab the aforementioned bags, he opens up the cam lock fasteners. They’re longer and thicker than flatheads, which makes them easy to tell apart. As Noi opens the instructions, Shin takes the screwdriver from her side and starts. Getting onto his knees, he places the metal in the premade eyelet and starts screwing it in, shallow and upright.
“What?” Puzzled, Noi peeks over the sheet to watch him work. “It’s not smudged, I can read it just fine. Was it really blurry?”
“Yeah.” He pauses, plucking out two more fasteners, placing one between his lips, and starting on the other.
Noi hmmmmms. “You should get your eyes checked out.”
He doesn’t respond, but hears the crinkling of paper as she tosses it aside and calls out for his attention.
“Senpai,” she says mischievously, scooting back with a hand by her face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
Shin takes the screw from between his lips. “Wow, you’re bored already? That was fast.”
“How many!”
He sighs, because when Noi is bored, she’s impatient, and it’s not a good mix. “Three.”
She makes her fingers into a peace sign. “Two.”
She holds up all five. “One.”
“Really?!”
“No. Noi, I’m not blind.” He tosses her the bag of screws. Even without instructions, he can assume what they need to do. “Start attaching these at the corners, where the holes are.”
Noi perks up, and if she had a tail, it’d be wagging. Shin can pinpoint those moments, this far into their partnership. Noi isn’t always an open book, but when she is— it’s like a pop-up. There’s no ignoring how she feels. With clumsy hands, she starts, and Shin watches for a moment to make sure she’s doing okay, but she’s good at most everything, and can probably figure out a screwdriver. The few extra seconds he lingers are only to assure himself she’s not fucking up, obviously, before he’s back to his own business.
“Don’t worry about my eyes.” He adds, using his teeth to tear open the bag of dowels no longer than his pinky finger. “If they really needed fixing, your smoke would just heal them.”
____________________
After Shin had incorrectly labeled some trash bags, switching the tags between two detractors and making the whole torturing process a lot more complicated, En books him to get his eyes checked. It was more just to spite him, but turns out he’d actually been in pretty dire need of glasses.
The next day, when they’re scheduled for another job, Shin waits outside the car for her to join him. He watches Noi round the corner and flags her down with a wave before settling into the drivers seat.
She’s wearing that new tracksuit, the one she had devil-made. It’s almost hard to recognize her under all that jersey, thick nylon fabric that hides any shape to her figure. She opens up the passenger door to come inside, and when she sits, the car buckles.
“Was I late?” She asks, sounding like she had done more than jog here.
“Just on time.” He tells her, because it’s the truth. He buckles in and starts the engine. Noi lets out a relieved sigh, less concerned about the job, and more about making him wait. In theory, she’s very well-mannered. “No suit today?”
Once reaching to unzip her mask, she shakes her head. “That’s why I didn’t come earlier. I swear, I couldn’t even find one. All of them are getting washed.”
Noi had expressed that she’s tired of sending her clothes to the cleaners (the real ones) every time they got a spot of blood on them. This tracksuit is easy to clean; or—easier than a white shirt. It looks comfortable, like it restricts her less than dress pants.
“Sorry we can’t match,” she says, grinning. That wasn’t on his mind before, but it is now.
“Like that matters.” He says, and tugs off his mask. He stuffs it in the cup holder, and the valves of his heart stick up, exposed at the top. Shin, with an already practiced hand, takes his glasses from his jacket’s front pocket, shakes them open, and slips them onto the bridge of his nose.
Noi is staring like she’s never seen someone do this before, eyes wide and mystified.
He can already feel the familiar burn of humiliation, as all her attention falls on him.
“Senpai—“
“Seatbelt.” He interrupts, which he usually does not do. Noi instead, leans closer.
“You didn’t tell me you wear glasses!” Yeah. He wasn’t going to burst down her door, or text her some self-congratulatory message about how he’s now bespectacled. The tone in her voice sounds like she wishes she’d known sooner.
Shin hums, and not an adequate response, Noi continues.
“When did you get them?”
“Yesterday.”
“Are they uncomfortable?”
“I haven’t been wearing them all day, so... no.”
“Do you have to wear them all the time?”
“Whenever I’m not wearing my mask.” The interrogation won’t stop until he makes it stop, so he eases onto his conversational breaks. “Noi, put your seatbelt on.”
She reaches for the belt suspended besides her, but continues talking. “Wait, so when you eat too? Is it uncomfortable then?”
“Why would it be?” Shin indulges her, accidentally.
“Because the middle part,” she pinches the bridge of her nose to show exactly where she’s talking about. “It seems hard to eat, or drink, or like— breathe with them squeezing you between there.”
Shin looks... confused. “They’re not squeezing me. I can take them on and off just fine.”
“Oh.” Noi doesn’t look like she’s struggling for words, just having a cool down period as she gathers her thoughts. “Is there anything different?”
He tries to find an answer she’ll find sufficient.
“Remembering to bring them with me is already a pain.”
“What about kissing?” She asks. Obviously his answer was not sufficient enough. Shin doesn’t even think she properly heard him.
“What about it?”
“It seems like it would be harder with glasses on.” She stays quiet, delicately tilting her head. “Yeah, looks like it.”
Shin wants to renounce these wiry little things he’ll have to wear for the rest of his life. He regrets the contract for letting Noi puppeteer his thoughts, steering them to the wrong direction. Fuck, he doesn’t even know if it’s the contract’s fault. He doesn’t want to think about what else— who else could be to blame.
“... How should I know?”
She doesn’t even grace his response with a acknowledging hmmmmm. It’s too quiet, only the buzz of the engine, and the fact they should have left by now heavy on his mind.
“They suit you,” she says, and makes it worse.
He turns to face her, to see the kind of face she’s making while tormenting him so easily.
“Noi.”
She doesn’t ignore him. If he looked for a moment longer, thought with his brain instead of his heart, he would have noticed; the flush of color dwelling under her skin, or the embarrassed smile at her lips, or the quick palpitations of her heartbeat against their shared contract. At the time, he had mistaken the feeling for his own.
“Yeah?”
“Seatbelt.”
And finally, it clicks.
____________________
Tonight, they’re seated on the floor of his room watching devil T.V., eating the thickest-crusted pizza Shin’s ever put into his mouth. He always has dinner with Noi, but it’s usually dine-in or takeout. When they have time and money, it’s an ambient sushi place, or an adequate-enough steakhouse. When they don’t; it’s chinese food stuffed in to-go boxes, or a handful of whatever she can grab from the gas station.
They’re only halfway through the pizza. ‘Full’, which is a feeling he doesn’t feel a lot, is starting to work like a survival instinct.
Noi had frankenstined this thing herself, and in his kitchen, nonetheless. On the counter, there’s a mess of flour and sauce they’ll deal with later. Now, the monstrous thing, covered in pepperoni, olives, and anchovies, is dangling off the biggest platter he could find in the house.
Dear god, if you take one more bite of this poison, his nervous system pleads, You are going down with me.
The oddly chewy dough, which he’s got a sneaking suspicion is not fully cooked, goes unmentioned by Noi, who devours her creation slice by slice. Shin tosses the anchovies to Gura. The dog gulps them down, and begs for more, so he holds out the rest as scraps. He wasn’t that intent on finishing.
When the show they’re watching ends and transitions swiftly, he realizes it’s a movie they’ve already seen. It’s some action flick, gory and nonsensical like everything else that shows on his television. Shin reaches for the remote and changes the channel.
“Mmfh,” Noi’s mouth is full, but she swallows almost as swiftly as Gura did and scraps the crust, dropping it to her plate. “I wanted to watch that.”
Shin would usually let it go, flip the channel back and let her live, but he’s remembering the drawn-out subplot about the main character’s second cousin and his quest for revenge which was nowhere near fleshed out enough to make it into the final cut— but it did. He doesn’t want to sit through that again.
“We’ve seen it before,” Shin says, flippantly surfing the channels.
“I know,” Noi doesn’t lay off. “It’s good. Let’s watch it again.”
“You thought it was good?”
Shin raises an eyebrow and she raises one back. “You didn’t? C’mon, it’s a classic, Shin! I’ve watched that once since I was a kid.”
Oh, of course. Nostalgia is clouding her memory. That movie is minimum three hours long and filled with nothing but long pauses for suspense and the world’s worst acting.
“Yeah, well, classics can be shitty too.”
Noi gasps, as if she doesn’t get bored forty five minutes into any movie.
“I’d rather watch anything else,” he grins, pushing her buttons. Testing the waters. She grins back, giving him a sneaky little go ahead. “Actually, Noi, let’s pop in one of En’s autobiographies, it’d be a lot m—“
Before he can finish, he’s flat on his back. Noi’s tackled him in an attempt to seize the remote from his hand. In an instant, they’re playing tug-o’-war with the remote. Hand hooked around his wrist, Noi laughs as Shin grits his teeth and pulls away, holding the remote above his head. Reaching up, Noi presses too-close-for-comfort style against him.
She’s too dressed down to be starting a fucking wrestling match. They’re no better than a pair of rowdy teenagers, and he still has the nerve to think like one. On instinct, he rolls them both over, getting on top instead.
Gura is barking excitedly, circling them and pushing his wet nose against their sides in order to find a way to join. Shin hisses when his shirt rides up, and his mutt’s cold snout presses onto his skin.
Wide open, Noi AH HAH’s and takes her chance. She steals the remote and maneuvers herself back on top. Bending her knees, she holds it higher than he can reach. Only by default does he admit defeat.
Shin props himself up on his shoulders, watching Noi hype herself up with the imitation of a wooed crowd. Honestly, the thrill of winning was more important to her than any stupid movie. She holds the remote controller like an athlete would a gold medal.
She’s so cute. She’s unreasonably cute.
Next, when she holds the remote to Shin’s face, it’s a microphone.
“And Senpai, how would you describe the taste of defeat?”
He stares up at her. “Sweet.” Like honey.
Noi leans back on her palms. “Huh. I thought it was supposed to be bitt— ah, fuck!”
Shin quirks an eyebrow as she drops the remote and brings her hand back, shaking it at her wrist. Suddenly, blood is oozing down her arm.
“Shit, you okay? What happened?”
Noi shifts to the side and reveals his glasses, which had fallen unnoticed in their match, and been crushed by one of them. The lenses are shattered and the frames are crooked.
“Oh,” Noi says. The blood is still leaking down her hand, but the wound has closed up. She wipes her hand on her shirt, and he wonders why she has the gall to complain about cleaning.
With both hands, she gingerly holds them by the parts that fit around his ears. He sits upright, fully now, as her smoke leaves her lips and envelops his glasses in a charcoal cloud. When it clears, they’re good as new.
It’s easy to forget Noi can heal more than flesh with her magic.
“I didn’t mean to crush them.” She hands them back, a sorry hiding behind her words.
Shin takes them, hangs them off his shirt pocket. “It’s fine. You fixed them, anyways.” With Gura at his side, goes quietly to the kitchen for a dustpan. He comes back and sweeps the leftover glass. Noi watches, sitting crisscross.
“Want me to try and heal your eyes?”
Shin doesn’t look up until all the glass is gone, then he’s pattering to the kitchen and shaking the glass into his trashbin.
“If you want,” He shrugs, not particularly enthused. “You’ve already healed my whole body. Wouldn’t that cover it?”
“I’ve never tried to fix just your eyes. Maybe that would work.”
He nods in agreement and sits across from her.
“Uh, open or closed?”
For a moment, Noi hesitates. He entertains the idea that it throws her off. “It doesn’t matter.”
Shin closes his eyes and hears her move closer. Subconsciously, he holds his breath.
The sensation of smoke hitting his skin lasts for a solid six seconds, before he hears her stop, and the cloud dissipates once more. When he opens his eyes, she’s already leaned back. She’s further away than before.
“Did it work?” She asks, and he blinks a few times, but it’s still fuzzy around the edges. The blue light from the television is harsh and unforgiving, but it makes a halo around Noi’s head, her hair becoming opalescent. Shin shakes his head no, then eases his old-man spectacles onto his face.
“You gave it a shot,” he reassures her, but she’s already frustrated. Noi’s hands are at her head, rustling her wild mane of hair like she’s trying to knock her brain back into place.
“I don’t understand why,” she moans, dramatically.
“I wouldn’t know,” Shin says, but backtracks because he can’t help it. “Maybe my body’s gotten used to my eyes being broken.”
“No, it isn’t you.” She tells him, looking sheepish, like she’s let him down. “I think I’ve gotten used to your eyes being broken.”
Shin is puzzled. He doesn’t try to pretend like he knows how her magic works, but her manner of speaking is never this... roundabout.
“I mean, you’re always wearing your glasses. I could probably fix you but— I don’t know.”
Noi’s going in circles. “Spit it out.”
“I don’t think you need fixing.” She tells him, at a volume that, for once, won’t get them a noise complaint.
The televisions white noise is deafening as Shin tries to comprehend. He wishes she had just spat out a compliment that could make him bloom red in the face, one he wouldn’t be thinking about hours— no, days later, like this one would.
He sighs, then laughs without making a sound. “... Then why’d you offer in the first place?”
____________________
Shin wakes up with daylight shining through the windows.
He’s in her room, in her bed.
Gura’s slept over too. Shin hears his snoring, then notices him fast asleep in the cushy dog bed his partner bought, and decided to keep in her room. Both animal and owner linger long enough to justify the purchase.
Noi, however, is not beside him. With her, the bed is barely big enough for the two, but without— Shin feels five foot five again. It’s much emptier. It’s colder, too, even with the duvet. He likes being the early riser in their relationship.
Laying flat on his back, Shin reaches over and feels around aimlessly at the nightstand beside him. He feels a lukewarm glass of water and pulls his fingers back before he spills anything. Sitting up to check properly, he realizes his glasses, the same pair as ever, the ones he swore he had laid to rest before bed, are gone.
It’s past the time he was supposed to be up, he guesses. Noi doesn’t use an alarm, just trusts her internal clock, or Shin’s fussy nature to come wake her up himself. It doesn’t matter, there isn’t much to do today. En hadn’t mentioned any work, but maybe he’ll run into him and get roped into a meeting. Hopefully he’s got his hands full with Fujita on his trail.
Shin doesn’t stretch as he rises, just rolls his shoulders back and steadies himself so he doesn’t crash into any tables.
He smells something cooking, and when he turns the corner he finds Noi, predictably in the kitchen.
“G’morning,” he says, on the cusp of a yawn. She’s not ready for her day yet either, he can tell by the fact she’s not yet wearing pants.
“Good morning,” She says quickly, opening the overhead cupboard and taking out another dish. “Do you want eggs? I made too many.”
”Sure,” he says, and before he can ask more, she’s shoving a plate of (slightly overcooked) scrambled eggs at him, stacked a pile high. Jesus. Did she make the fucking dozen?
He decides not to vocalize that quip, just reaches around her hip for a fork and eats as he always does, funneling food into his mouth without taking a seat.
“It’s good.” Shin takes a break from inhaling the eggs, and she looks satisfied with just that. She leans against the oven, watching him eat. He doesn’t have to look up to know she’s angelic as ever.
“Want to come clothes shopping with me and Ebisu today?”
“Not really,” he says with his mouth full.
“Why?”
He’s finished, scraping the last bits to the side of the plate, then sloppily into his mouth. “Because you’re going to buy something you don’t need, and Ebisu’s going to make you buy her something she doesn’t need.”
Noi crosses her legs. “I can say no.”
They both know Shin finds it too hard to do that. If it’s cheap enough, he always caves.
“I’ll drive you, but that’s it.“ Looking up, Shin sees Noi’s majestic bedhead, held back from her face by—
“My glasses.” He points, setting the plate down in the sink. She’s wearing them like someone stylish might wear sunglasses. The clear lenses camouflage into her snowy hair, and he can only tell from the dark rims on the sides.
She looks confused for a second, then oh’s!
Once she removes them, her long bangs fall featherlike in front of her eyes. One hand sweeps her hair back, and the other outstretches to offer the glasses. Shin takes them and puts them on, right away.
“I tried them on, but didn’t look as handsome.” She’s unbearably flirty, but without a wink or pause, Shin can’t tell if it’s on purpose or not. “Forgot to put them back.”
“That’s okay,” he says, adjusting them to keep his hands busy. “I thought you might have run off with them.”
“And leave you alone?” Innocently, she shakes her head. “I was gonna go back to bed...”
It’s quiet, as he refuses to say anything and indulge her, but staying quiet might just be having the same effect.
“... But, only if you were, too.” She adds on softly, shy with no reason to be.
Seeing clearly, Shin steps towards her and doesn’t have to take his glasses off for this part.
____________________