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When Ryuunosuke pried his eyes open against the morning sun, he wasn’t surprised to find that he wasn’t in his bed back at his own apartment deep within Port Mafia territory.
This had become a strange sort of routine, him sneaking into the dorms belonging to the Armed Detective Agency via a window that was left strategically unlocked and living a peculiar, domestic life that he’d never imagined himself having years ago.
He rolled over onto his side to admire his partner as they rested together on a futon spread out over the stiff flooring, drinking in the way his white hair almost seemed to glow in the weak morning light. Onyx eyes drifted over the purple marks decorating the weretiger’s neck and shoulder. Ryuunosuke could remember leaving each one, staking a claim. Mine. No one else’s.
The mafioso couldn’t deny the thrill he felt at the thought of the weretiger belonging to him and him alone. One of these days, it’d be official, but not today. Today, he was more than content to live in the moment, pretending he didn’t have to go to work and clean up any messes that the newbies being trained left behind.
He continued to stare until the telltale tickle of a cough began to creep its way up his throat, and he peeled himself from the futon, taking great care not to disturb Atsushi as he continued to sleep. Some tea would help his poor throat. Pulling on a pair of pajama pants that the weretiger had insisted he leave here for when he stayed the night, Ryuunosuke wandered from the bedroom and into the kitchen, squinting as he rummaged through the cabinets in dim lighting, trying to search for the tea he’d stashed for such occasions.
He found it eventually, his fingers grazing against the container where it was stashed toward the back of a cupboard, away from the prying eyes of one Dazai Osamu (who, according to the weretiger, had made it a habit to sneak into his dorm and go through his things).
Ryuunosuke pulled two mugs from the next cabinet over, setting them gently on the counter and getting to work. A quick peek in the fridge told the mafioso that Atsushi had not yet had a chance to run for groceries, so he quickly retrieved his phone from the pocket of his jacket from where he’d discarded it in the previous night’s endeavors to order breakfast for the both of them. It was the least he could do as the weretiger had paid for dinner the last time they’d gone out.
Soft thumping from behind him broke the silence that stretched over the apartment as its owner made his grand pajama-clad appearance, blanket wrapped around his shoulders almost like a cape as Atsushi peered from the doorway with ametrine eyes still blurred with sleep. He almost looked as if he were trying to make himself smaller in the doorway, Ryuunosuke noted upon turning to face him, two steaming mugs in hand.
“You’re awake,” he greeted the weretiger softly. “I made tea.”
Atsushi’s eyes flicked to the mugs in his hands, and his shoulders slumped, almost as if he were relieved. He leaned against the doorframe for a moment before he abandoned his perch to set up the table, as it had been leaned up against the wall to leave the floor clear for the night.
Once the table had been returned to its rightful place in the middle of the living room, Ryuunosuke knelt down in front of it, claiming his spot as he set the two mugs out for the both of them. Atsushi followed suit, still wrapped in his blanket-cape as he took his mug into his hands, eyes fixated on the steam that rose from the tea and dissipated before it reached the ceiling.
Once they were both settled, the mafioso took the opportunity to really examine his partner. Atsushi’s shoulders were slumped still as he took a sip of his tea, and despite how heavily he’d slept the previous night, those dark circles of his were still visible beneath his eyes. Taking this information in, Ryuunosuke inhaled, setting his mug down. “Did you sleep well?”
Atsushi jolted at the question, lifting his head and staring at Ryuunosuke in what could only be surprise. Not undeserved, Ryuunosuke supposed; he would only ask that question of a select few, mainly Gin and much more recently the weretiger himself. After a few moments of consideration, Atsushi’s gaze dropped back down to his tea, gently tracing the rim of his mug with his finger. “Yes,” he said softly.
“But?” Ryuunosuke prompted, sensing that there was more to that thought than the initial confirmation.
“I thought you’d left.” And, there it was. This was something both of them were working on. Despite the other party’s insistence, neither Ryuunosuke nor Atsushi held themselves in very high regard, so situations like this were common and to be expected. “The futon was empty when I woke up, and I couldn’t hear anything, so….”
“I would not leave,” Ryuunosuke reassured flatly, and despite the lack of emotion in his tone, the way that relief flickered through Atsushi’s eyes at the reassurance left his heart feeling warm. It was nice to know that he was needed, wanted , so long after his former mentor had disappeared from his life and shown up now on the opposing side. “Not unless you ask it of me.”
“I would never.” Atsushi’s voice, while quiet, was firm. He kept his eyes trained on his tea, his cheeks dusted red after his proclamation. It was truly a sight to behold.
Ryuunosuke’s heart stuttered for a moment as he watched his partner’s face, a hand reaching out (definitely of its own accord, he later insists) to touch the weretiger’s cheek, making him flinch in surprise and raise his head.
Atsushi’s eyes were bright and, in Ryuunosuke’s opinion, easily readable. He could see each and every insecurity that weighed the weretiger down in moments like this. The fear of abandonment, the need to be useful to everyone around him, the mafioso could see it all.
And all he could do to lay those insecurities to rest for even the briefest of moments was pull Atsushi closer to him, careful not to disturb the mugs of tea on the tabletop as their lips brushed together. “You worry too much,” he murmured against Atsushi’s mouth, allowing the faintest of smiles to curl his lips upward as ametrine eyes fluttered shut in anticipation.
It felt right when they finally connected, everything clicking into place and allowing them to truly relax, let everything melt away once more. Ryuunosuke was no longer the Port Mafia’s Rabid Dog, and Atsushi was no longer the weretiger that belonged to the Armed Detective Agency. They were only themselves, holding each other together when life got rough and threatened to pull one of them under.
And that, Ryuunosuke decided when they pulled away, allowing himself to fully smile at the way Atsushi’s eyes shone in the light from overhead, was all they needed.