Chapter Text
The act of visiting the hospital morgue wasn’t any more annoying than a normal person making a trip to the supermarket. No, what made it annoying was the morgue attendant Reigen had managed to establish an arrangement with. At this point, he could hardly remember how he’d met the irritatingly aptly-named morgue attendant, Shinra Banshomaru. It had to be some vague friend of a friend (or acquaintance in Reigen’s case; he didn’t have friends.) situation that had slowly developed into an odd, near-frenemies thing, that Reigen appreciated as much as he loathed. He was grateful for the guy, of course. As Shinra so often reminded him, not many people would stick their neck out for him like this (haha), especially without expecting any payment in return. When questioned about why he had even agreed to the arrangement, he’d said something vague and needlessly mysterious about morals and knowing someone else afflicted.
Whatever. Reigen didn’t really care. It was a good, low effort agreement. All he had to do was keep his mouth shut about it, and not piss Shinra off more than was strictly necessary when he came in for a re-up.
Which was…
Well, it should’ve been easier than he made it, Reigen thought about this as he descended the stairs to the basement, vowing to be nice this time, no matter what comments the man made about how much paler or skinnier or evil he looked since the last time.
Hospital basements weren’t as creepy as people made them out to be. They were just cold and clean, clinical in a way that unsettled people, Reigen assumed. There was a level of certainty that came with being a creature of the night. You were always sure to be the most dangerous thing in any given place.
Reigen heaved a sigh behind his face mask, hunkering lower into the popped collar of his overcoat. In the past, Shinra had nagged him to not do things like this, claiming it made him look more suspicious, or something, but this was for his own comfort! And he’d gotten a weird look from a few nurses in the stairwell as he took the ones to the basement. This was safest in the long run.
He finally reached his destination of the double swinging doors into the morgue. He took a breath before gently knocking the call from “Shave and a Haircut,” shoving his hands back into his pockets as he waited for a response.
And he waited.
… And he waited.
One of his eyebrows twitched. He double checked the time on his phone, ensuring that, yes, Shinra had a shift right now. He knocked the melody again, louder, before stepping back and crossing his arms. There was the sound of a tool being set down on the other side of the doors, and he let his glare show, eyes trained on where Shinra’s stupid face would appear once he pushed the door open.
The door opened, and Reigen was staring at… scrubs?
He looked up, and his eyes widened when he saw the person they belonged to.
He was much taller than Shinra. And certainly… not what Reigen expected in a morgue attendant. Strong jaw, dark eyes, thick eyebrows, perfectly imperfect close-cropped hair. He was holding one earbud, the other in his ear. Reigen could faintly hear what sounded like disco still playing.
In short, he was perfectly Reigen’s type. They’d been standing there staring at one another for nearly a full minute now. When he realized this, Reigen was suddenly extremely grateful he couldn’t blush.
“Are you lost?” asked the man in a voice that seemed unused to speaking. And what a shame that was, because it was such a nice voice.
“No,” Reigen immediately blurted, and then swallowed.
“Oh,” he said, glancing to the side, in the direction Reigen just came from. “Then, can I help you with something?”
He blinked, once, twice.
“Where’s Shinra?” he asked bluntly. It was the man’s turn to blink, and Reigen watched as he pulled his other earbud from his ear, the beginnings of suspicion dawning on his face. “Ah, I mean…” he laughed lightly, nervously, unattractively and jerked his head down into a bow. “Apologies for interrupting you, and for my rudeness. I’m here to see Banshomaru-san, as we have some business to discuss.”
“Oh,” he said again, a little quieter. “Banshomaru-san isn’t here. He’s on vacation for the next week. I’m his replacement until he gets back.”
Reigen looked up at him with wide eyes and tried very hard not to scream. The man’s expression was unreadable, neutral and guarded and maybe a little confused.
A week. How could Shinra not tell him he’d be gone for a week?! He agitatedly chewed on his bottom lip behind his face mask, expression very quickly developing into a glare. When he saw that guy again… oh, there would be hell to pay.
“So,” the man uttered, and Reigen’s gaze snapped up to his. He noticed when he subtly broke their eye contact, gaze straying just enough. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
Fuck.
“Um,” he said intelligently.
The man looked at him expectantly.
“Did… Did Shinra really not mention I’d be coming by?” he asked. He was stalling, and he didn’t have a plan, but he was just too hungry to walk away.
“I don’t know who you are,” he replied.
Reigen almost pulled down his face mask, but maybe it was for the better. He nodded, looking down and to the side, trying to figure out a plan of action.
It had been an embarrassingly long time since he’d hunted anything. He’d had this agreement with Shinra for the past two years; before that, he’d had a dealer. It had to have been at least five years since he last fed on something living. At this point, he wasn’t sure if he could stomach it. There was a reason why he made biweekly trips to the morgue.
There was always the option of going without, but Reigen always got… snippy when hungry. He had a professional image to uphold, and being a bitch to customers while ogling their necks certainly wasn’t part of that.
He could try and get in touch with his old dealer… but what were the odds they’d kept their phone number for this long? Besides, that was money he did not have.
This was the best option. It was always going to be the best option.
“I’m just a guy looking to strike a deal,” he finally said, lifting his head. The other man squinted at him, looked him up and down. Then he dropped the door and turned away.
Reigen’s jaw dropped. He knocked again on the door, clenching his hands into fists. He needed this.
“Go away,” the man called from inside.
“You’re not even going to listen to me?”
“I’m calling security.”
Reigen pushed the door open and stepped inside, yanking his face mask down. He could threaten someone, right? This guy was just some nerd morgue attendant. No different from Shinra.
He stopped dead in his tracks as he took in the scene in front of him. The man was on the other side of an examination table. His expression was no longer unreadable. Now, it was a glare, thick brows shading dark eyes. On the table between them was a cadaver, one that had already been autopsied, the Y-incision standing stark against pale skin.
“Who’s that?” Reigen asked.
The question hung in the air for a beat.
“Is that seriously a question you’re asking me right now?”
“I’m just curious,” he muttered, going on his toes to get a better look.
The far side of the man’s face was mutilated. It had been mostly stitched back together, but it was enough of a shock that Reigen felt his stomach drop, and he froze where he was. His lips parted slightly, and he let out a huff of a breath, tearing his eyes away to look at the morgue attendant. He was wincing.
“Don’t faint.”
Reigen blacked out.
When he came to, he was lying on the floor. He blinked blearily a few times, trying to center himself.
He could feel hands at his waist. His gaze snapped down to see large hands undoing his belt buckle. Reigen yelped and practically skittered away, shuffling back until he hit the examination table with such force the corpse’s hand slipped off and brushed against his shoulder. He yelped again, batting it away and springing to his feet. The action made him sway, made stars appear in his vision.
“Woah,” the man said, and he was suddenly at his side, supporting him with a hand on his back, the other holding his arm. “You fainted,” he informed him, and Reigen looked up at him with a glare.
“I did. Why did you… Why were you…”
“Loosening constricting clothing,” he answered.
Reigen opened his mouth, but nothing came out, so he just nodded.
“You don’t have a pulse.”
Reigen opened his mouth, and expected nothing to come out. Instead, he said, “I need blood.”
They looked at one another for a few seconds. Reigen could feel the warmth of the man’s hands even through all his layers of clothing. He could hear this stranger’s pulse, senses heightened by hunger, their proximity only making it more distracting. They were so close that he could see it thumping just below the square of his jaw.
He felt like he was going to faint again.
The man’s brows furrowed slightly.
“Are you Reigen Arataka?”
Maybe he would.
“What?” he uttered. He wanted to hear this guy say his name every day. Every hour.
He needed to sit down.
“Banshomaru-san left a package for you.”
“Why didn't you tell me?!” Reigen barked, and his head throbbed. He brought one hand to the back of his head, feeling a bump there. Touching it made him flinch.
“You didn’t introduce yourself,” he said flatly. And then, gentler, “Are you alright?”
“I’m Reigen Arataka,” he replied as answer to both statements.
Shockingly, the man laughed. It was brief, and seemed more out of awkwardness than anything, but again Reigen was thankful he couldn’t blush.
“I’m Serizawa Katsuya,” he said, wearing a small, tired smile.
“Cool,” he breathed.
“Do you want to sit down?”
“I should sit down.”
Five minutes later had Reigen sitting on a stool with a water bottle in hand, and a small, red, handled cooler at his feet. The morgue attendant— Serizawa Katsuya —stood to the side, arms crossed, one hand over his mouth. He was looking at Reigen as though he were a complicated math problem to be solved.
“So, is… this like some kind of—“
“No, it’s not a sex thing.”
“That’s not what I was going to ask.”
They stared at each other. Serizawa began to blush, just a little.
“Are you a cannibal?”
“Can’t be a cannibal if you’re not human,” he replied with a small smirk.
“So you’re a…”
He trailed off. The silence dragged.
“Oh, come on. It’s not unheard of.”
“How long?”
“That’s a little personal.”
“Is it?”
Serizawa was smirking now. Reigen resisted the urge to glare at him.
“Not long. A decade, give or take?” he spoke as he screwed the cap on the water bottle. “I still age normally, as near as I can tell.”
“Hm,” Serizawa remarked, holding his chin in the pinch of his bent finger and thumb, really looking as though he was examining Reigen now. “Can you tell that it’s expired? Do you have a preference for a specific type? Is it—“
“This is inappropriate!” Reigen blanched, setting the water bottle on the table beside him. Serizawa shrugged with another one of those small smiles.
“You’re in my morgue.”
Reigen laughed.
“It won’t be next week.”
“It might be,” Serizawa said then. “I’m… a night owl,” he said with a small shrug. “Banshomaru-san complains about this shift a lot anyways.”
Did he? Reigen hadn’t realized he had a problem with it. Maybe because the only thing he complained about when Reigen was around was Reigen.
“Huh,” he said. And then, “So, I’ll be seeing you?”
Serizawa paused, letting his hands drop into the pockets of his scrubs. He gave him a smirk then, tipping his head slightly to the side.
“You might. You’re going to have to be a little less averse to sharing, though…”
Reigen picked up his cooler and pointed a finger at the other man.
“Are you negotiating with me right now?” he asked with a laugh in his voice. “You’re aware that I’m a monster, aren’t you?”
Serizawa gave him a look.
“A monster that faints at the sight of a few stitches.”
“It was—It was more than a few, okay?”
“Sure, sure,” he said with a warm smile, and almost immediately Reigen didn’t even care about the teasing. His gaze strayed back to the table again, and he stared at the man for a beat.
“Seriously, who is he though?” he asked, looking back over at Serizawa with a grin.
“You’ve got everything you need, don’t you, Reigen-san?” he replied with a finality, an unsaid goodbye.
“Yes, I do,” he said with a short nod, turning on his heel. The ice in the cooler sloshed noisily with his movements. He crossed the morgue and was just about to step out of the place when Serizawa spoke up again.
“Ah, Reigen-san?” he called. He looked over his shoulder, not knowing what he could possibly be stopping him for. Serizawa glanced down at his waist, and Reigen followed his gaze. He dropped the cooler in his hand when he realized his belt was still undone, and rushed to buckle it again. He snatched the cooler up again, giving the handsome man he’d just made the worst imaginable first impression with a wobbly smile.
“Thanks,” he said breathlessly, before rushing his way through the door and into the hallway.
He was eternally lucky he didn’t have a pulse. If he had, that interaction would’ve made it stop for sure.