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They’re back in Asakusa, back in Benimaru’s room, Joker still clutching the diary they got from Burns, going on about Raffles I, about the Holy Sol Temple, about Haijima, about how on earth could Benimaru forget about Konro’s medicine. He reminds Benimaru of an over-sugared kid, like the twins, when Konro grows too negligent and lets them have too many sweets. But the deep lines beneath his visible eye hint at the Dark Hero’s exhaustion. Benimaru doesn’t know all the details, but he knows that his companion fought a very personal fight today, and it has taken a greater toll on him than he wants to let on.
“Yo, give me the book for a moment,” he says, more to shut him up than out of genuine interest. Joker hands it over, almost letting it slip from his fingers in the process. Benimaru pretends not to notice and squats on the floor, idly flipping through the pages.
“I don’t think we’ll come up with a strategy against Haijima tonight,” he says. “Let’s get some rest first.”
“Well, if Mr. Almighty wants to take a rest, I’m going to take my leave,” Joker says with a deep bow, lifting his hat, the sarcasm clear in his voice and in his gestures. He staggers slightly when he rights himself again.
“You can sleep here,” Benimaru says, his eyes still on the book. He doesn’t need to look up; he can feel the ringed purple eye resting on him.
“What’s your boyfriend gonna say to that?” Joker asks, mocking inflection in his voice.
“We aren’t exclusive,” Beni answers, mind half occupied by a very detailed description of how exactly Raffles I failed to please his wife after his reappearance.
Joker’s incredulous laugh draws his eyes away from the pages. “What?”
“You sure are something, Mr. Almighty,” Joker says, his laugh petering out. The exhaustion is seeping into his voice as well, making it sound coarse and even deeper than usual. He doesn’t protest though. He lets Beni get him a blanket and a spare cushion, strips out of vest and shirt, and takes a spot on the tatami mat, rolling into a fetal position.
Beni stays awake, his mind going over everything they learned today. Haijima Industries is a powerful opponent, a force that can’t be overthrown by brute strength alone, and the affair with Konro’s medicine poses a problem.
After a while, Joker begins to toss and turn, crying out softly every now and then. Nightmares? Beni waits for him to wake up, but he doesn’t, he just continues to fight whatever he’s battling in his dream.
Beni sighs. He won’t be able to get any sleep of his own like this. When Konro has nightmares, which happens from while to while, he likes to have his head petted. It’s worth a try. Beni crouches down next to Joker’s twitching figure and lets his fingers rest lightly on the sleek black hair, now free from its usual restraint. It’s very soft. He strokes a strand out of Joker’s face.
In the blink of an eye, Joker’s hand closes around his in a death grip, his face a snarling mask, a flaming card starting to form between the fingers of his free hand. Beni doesn’t think. He just flexes his arm and sends Joker flying against the back wall. Body and wall collide with a dull thud. Joker slides down, boneless, shaking his head as if to wake himself.
“My, that was a bit of an overreaction,” he says, stretching his legs out on the floor and leaning his head back against the wall. “Ow!”
“On your part, you mean,” Beni says, sounding bored.
Joker chuckles, neither confirming nor denying the remark. He’s not wearing the bandana, but his hair obscures the left side of his face. “What were you even trying?”
“You had a nightmare. Konro sleeps better when I pet his head. I thought maybe you would, too.” Beni shrugs. It’s only logical, isn’t it?
Joker just stares at him, jaw slack, purple eye wide. He flicks a cigarette between his lips from seemingly nowhere, ignites it and inhales deeply. “Well,” he says finally, “don’t touch me again without warning.”
“Okay.” Beni shrugs again. He doesn’t have to ask. He’s gleaned enough to have a very good idea what made Joker react this way.
Joker takes a last drag from his cigarette and lets the smoke curl from his mouth. He groans when he gets up, his shoulders askew, right arm hanging lower.
“Did you dislocate your shoulder?” Beni asks.
“I don’t think so.” Joker tries to rotate it, hissing at the pain.
“Let me see.” Beni gets up from where he’s still squatting.
“Nah, it’s okay.” But the look on Joker’s face says that it’s not.
Beni shakes his head. “You might like to play dark hero, and you have your strength and your tricks, but your body’s not indestructible. Now let me see.”
Joker grumbles but complies, not drawing away when Beni touches his shoulder, his fingers sinking into the muscle. The shoulder’s not dislocated, but the muscles are strained, feeling hard and knotty beneath his hands.
“Wait a sec.” Beni rummages through his desk drawer, looking for a salve that he knows must be here somewhere… a yes. When he turns, Joker’s back on his mat, sitting with his back turned to Beni, the blanket drawn around his legs and hips.
Beni crouches behind him, showing him the salve. “This will help your muscles heal faster.”
Joker grunts his assent and pulls his hair out of the way without looking up. Beni applies the salve, carefully massaging it into his shoulder, not touching longer than necessary. “Done!”
Joker draws the blanket around his shoulders and lies down, body curling into a protective ball again. Years of sleeping alone in dark places, Beni assumes. Years of not knowing what will wake you up during the night.
There’s one question still lingering in his mind. “Now, do you want to have your head petted?”
Joker huffs a laugh. For a minute, he says nothing. Then: “Maybe it isn’t that bad.”
Beni rests his hand on Joker's head for a moment before he starts to stroke the long, black hair, letting strands of it play through his fingers. He watches Joker fall asleep, watches his body relax, the tension seeping out of his limbs.
He lies down next to him, a hand’s breath of air between their bodies, still caressing the sleek hair. Joker smells of smoke, of burnt wood and his cigarettes. Even in a world where the scent of smoke is so persistent, he stands out. His is the aroma of campfire, of a well-stoked hearth welcoming you after a day out in the rain. A bit ironic that the man without a place of his own smells like home. Beni buries his head in his hair and breathes in deeply. Joker mumbles something, but doesn’t toss, doesn’t wake up.
It will be a bit of a challenge to find out how they fit into each others’ lives. Maybe even a bigger challenge than going up against Haijima. Beni knows that worrying won’t help, so he doesn’t worry. They will find a way.