Chapter Text
He saw the red light — a laser targeted at his brother’s heart.
Panic seized him as he screamed out a warning — too little, too late.
No please, not Hiroto —
Blood scattered across Hiroto’s face.
Already in motion, Masaki flew towards his brother — his brother who had just been shot, who would be bleeding to death, if not already dead.
Finally, he reached his side, staring in horror, eyes locked to Hiroto’s.
Only for relief to crash down as someone — Saigo — pulled away.
Somehow the cop had sheltered his brother, had taken the bullet himself.
“You okay?” he whispered, Masaki caught Hiroto’s eyes again, terror and relief clouded them, “Yes.”
The small reassurance from Hiroto would have to be enough for now, they didn’t have time to stop — they were still being shot at.
All his efforts went into keeping Hiroto safe as they fled from Kuryu’s gunmen. They got out safely, Saigo leading them into an old warehouse, once there Masaki had the opportunity to check his brother over. The two had stayed close while running but it hadn’t been nearly close enough to check if Hiroto was okay. Now with Saigo distracted with getting patched up and Kohaku and Tsukumo talking quietly, Masaku took the chance to get close to his brother.
Hiroto was leaning against the far wall, away from the dull lights where the shadows almost swallowed him up. Masaki took a cloth from the supplies Saigo’s man dug up from somewhere and wet it using one of the bottles of water he was using to patch the bullet wound. Then he made his way forward until he was standing in front of Hiroto.
Masaki stepped closer, left arm sliding around his brother’s waist to settle gently against the small of his back. He started to slowly wipe the blood off Hiroto’s cheek.
His brother didn’t protest, didn’t hesitate as he wordlessly followed Masaki’s lead, hands settling on his hips, sliding slightly under Masaki’s jacket and shirt.
Masaki felt himself ease, becoming slightly less tense as Hiroto pulls him ever so slightly closer, thumbs tracing circles into the skin just above his waistline.
Gently he cleans the blood off his brother’s face and neck, carefully wiping under his eye, down the bridge of his nose, across his cheekbone, back across his jawline, down his neck several times before tracing across his collarbone.
Hiroto lets Masaki take care of him without a fight, basking in his quiet attention and pushing into his warmth. He barely waits until Masaki finishes, tucking his face into the crook of his brother’s neck as soon as the cloth drops away.
Masaki sighs under his breath, pulling Hiroto closer, his now free hand sliding up his brother’s arm to gently hold the back of his neck, fingers sliding into his short hair. Hiroto shudders against him, tremors shaking through him, his hands tighten on his hips, strong enough to leave bruises.
Masaki just holds him tighter, shifting closer until they are pressed together from head to toe, “that was close, Hiroto,” he whispers.
“Too close, Aniki.”
He feels more than hears Hiroto’s response, his brother’s lips moving against the skin of his neck softly.
Masaki falls silent, just holding Hiroto close to him, seeking comfort in his warmth pressed against him, Hiroto’s heart beating in sync with his. But more than his own comfort, Masaki seeks to comfort Hiroto — who almost got shot, who could have died.
He checks his brother all over, hands starting at his shoulders, tracing down each arm to come to a stop covering his brother’s hands where they hold his waist. Masaki takes his time, traces each finger to ensure they aren’t broken, then moves back up, rechecking his arms and shoulders for injuries. He feels down his brother’s sides, covering every inch as he traces up Hiroto’s back to his neck. It's more difficult to check his throat and down his chest, he doesn’t want to dislodge his brother from where they are pressed together. Masaki takes it slow, one hand resettling along the small of his brother’s back as the other slides in between their bodies, mapping out the planes of Hiroto’s abs and chest carefully before caressing over the front and sides of his neck. Satisfied with what he finds, Masaki turns his attention to his brother’s waist, hands sliding across before moving down across his ass. Hiroto gasps into his neck, as Masaki gropes him, body pressing against his hands slightly before moving even tighter up against his front. He smirks but doesn't let himself get carried away, hands sliding down to run over what he can reach of Hiroto’s thighs and legs. When he’s finished, Masaki brings his arms back up to hold his brother, hugging him tight.
Thankfully, apart from his ever bruised knuckles from fighting, he didn’t detect any injuries.
By now, Hiroto’s trembles have faded away completely but he holds him longer, until Hiroto begins pressing soft kisses into his skin, his hands sliding even further up his shirt.
Unfortunately, he can’t let this progress too far, they aren't exactly in the best place to fuck right now but Masaki decides a few kisses can’t hurt and presses his own lips to Hiroto’s temple.
All too soon, Masaki forces himself to slide away — not too far, just enough to check on Hiroto.
He looks over his brother one last time, satisfied when Hiroto gives him the all good.
He doesn’t have time to check more in depth than he already has, for now he trusts Hiroto’s judgement.
Later he will lay his brother — his boyfriend — down and check every inch of him, body and mind.
Now he pulls away, guiding his brother to a chair closer to Saigo and forces his attention to what the cop has to say now that he’s been patched up.