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“Ainosuke-sama...” He doesn’t look up from his phone as Tadashi approaches his desk, but Tadashi continues. “That boy looks up to you.”
“And what of it?” His voice is light, airy; he’s only partially concerned with the conversation, as if it’s none of his business. “Many people look up to me.”
“...”
“And rightfully so.”
“Surely you remember our previous discussion,” Tadashi offers instead. He can’t make everything easy all the time, as much as he would like to.
“Discussion... Is that what we do around here?” Ainosuke mumbles, still scrolling.
Plus his master is being more insufferable than usual today, and now he wants to be a little mean.
“It wouldn’t hurt to call him.” Ainosuke’s thumb stills just briefly, his only sign of discomfort. Tadashi presses. “You could take him up the mountain.”
His eyebrow twitches in irritation. Just barely perceptible and only to Tadashi.
“He could come over for tea, and you two could use the pool like we used to.
Or perhaps that redhead is better suited to-“
Ainosuke snarls, slamming his phone down. Tadashi doesn’t flinch, is unfazed with the tantrum unfolding before him. He started it, after all.
“You damn dog! Who said you could have an o—“
When he looks up his breath catches in his throat with a stupid choking noise that makes Tadashi want to laugh out loud, but he remains unmoving.
Staring down defiantly at his Ainosuke-sama (frustratingly beautiful even with his face contorted in confusion at his own anger), Tadashi widens his eyes and lets his bottom lip quiver just once.
Ainosuke stiffens then, feels something-or-other akin to shame warm his skin, and he can’t help but break first to look down at the desk.
“Ah, I...”
He clears his throat, fingers desperately scanning for his cigarettes.
Only then does Tadashi move, reaching into his own breast pocket for the case his master is seeking. He doesn’t thank Tadashi, and his fingers shake as he lifts the lighter. His exhale is foreign and disturbing in the tense silence.
“Ainosuke-sama,” Tadashi starts, unsure if he’d pushed too far somehow. He realises he doesn’t know what else to say.
“You’re right.” Ainosuke admits after a moment. Then adds after another, “I’ll give him a call.”
He’s still staring down at his desk, looking very much like a boy again. Tadashi bites his tongue, waiting.
For what?
“I’m sorry.” His voice is small. Tadashi can see his knuckles are white around the phone he’s picked up again. He moves his own hands behind his back, fighting their base instinct To Hold.
“I’m sorry.” Ainosuke says again louder, glancing up at Tadashi carefully this time.
“Thank you, Ainosuke-sama.” Tadashi breathes. “It’s okay.” He assures.
Because it is.
Anyone else would have missed the way his master’s lips quirked in response. Tadashi’s fingers itch.
“Hmph. Now then,” Ainosuke announces regally. “You’ve given me a headache, you yapping mutt.”
It’s silent for a beat as the man looks up at Tadashi expectantly. Then laughter slips past his lips easily over how dishonest his master can be.
“Care to enlighten me as to what is so funny?”
Tadashi moves to stand behind him, running his fingers deftly, gently along Ainosuke’s scalp. He wants to laugh again, as a release of sorts for the butterflies making home in the pit of his stomach, but he knows it will sound like teasing if he does.
“It’s nothing, Ainosuke-sama.”
Tadashi can be dishonest too, at times.