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one.
People are staring when Itaru walks in. There are always people who turn to look at him, because there are always new clients and aspiring job applicants and whoever have you, dressed in their best-pressed suits and their nicest ties as they turn to look at Itaru dressed in an oversized pastel sweater and sneakers.
In any case, Itaru’s gotten used to it. Enough not to get conscious when he makes his way straight to the elevator after giving the receptionist a little smile and a wave so she knows to tell Chikage he’s on the way up. He ignores the stares that he gets, and instead focuses on how much ranking he can get in with Chikage’s super-fast wifi.
“The boss’s boyfriend,” is the reply that people get if they ask any of the company’s more senior workers, or if they happen to be around any of the looser-lipped employees. They don’t mean it like what ‘boyfriend’ usually means. They mean it in that sly way where they say boyfriend, but in their heads they’re thinking of any number of other words, none of them very pleasant. Itaru doesn’t bother saying anything about it.
It’s not too often that Itaru drops by the office in the middle of the day. If Chikage has meetings, then he’ll usually be occupied all the way until the evening, so Itaru’s usually at the arcade. If he doesn’t, then Itaru will probably have been in the building since before office hours started, likely also playing games. Today, though, Chikage’s afternoon meeting has been cancelled, so he called over his favorite body pillow.
That’s Itaru, if it wasn’t already abundantly clear.
Itaru didn’t know what to expect when he first started this job, but what he has now is much better than anything that his mind could have come up with. Chikage calls him up for companionship, cuddles, and the occasional coffee date. In return, he gets paid handsomely in a pretty black credit card that he can use to buy anything he likes, including, but not limited to, gacha currency, gacha currency, pizza, and gacha currency. Sometimes, Chikage buys him clothes that he wants to see Itaru in, though they’re usually the same kind of oversized sweaters and comfy pants that Itaru already likes wearing, so he sees that as a total win. On the off chance that it’s literally anything else, Itaru puts them on when he comes over to visit, and he looks damn good in them.
The elevator doors open with a pleasant ding!, and Itaru steps out onto the top floor of the building, making his way to the door at the end of the short hallway. He knocks politely, just so that Chikage knows he’s there, then opens the door before hearing an answer.
“Good afternoon, Chikage-san,” Itaru greets with a grin. Chikage doesn’t look up from whatever important work he’s doing at his desk, which is also pretty normal. Even without all the meetings and international flights, he’s usually busy, which Itaru supposes is why he’d want to pay someone to keep him company.
“Afternoon, Chigasaki,” Chikage greets back. He never calls Itaru by his first name, which was a little strange to him at first, but it’s a little endearing now. “Have you had lunch? There’s pizza on the table if you’d like.”
“I have, but I’m definitely having some pizza right now. What flavor?” Itaru asks, immediately making a beeline toward the low table in the middle of the room. He sits on the couch, his usual spot when he’s here in the office alone, and opens the box. The pizza is still perfectly round and whole.
“Margherita,” Chikage says. “I bought it for you.”
“I can tell,” Itaru says, reaching down to take a slice. It’s still hot, and the cheese stretches deliciously. He wants to take a bite right now. “How about you, Chikage-san?” he asks instead, because he’s polite, if nothing else, and though his job description doesn’t contain keep Chikage fed, he takes the responsibility upon himself anyway, because Chikage himself clearly isn’t doing it. “Had lunch yet? You just came back from a meeting, didn’t you?”
And as expected, the answer is… “No. It’s fine, I’ll eat later.”
Itaru sighs. “Seriously? You’re such a handful,” he says with a sigh, before standing up. Careful not to let any oil drip onto the very expensive carpeted floor, he makes his way to the desk. Chikage looks up as Itaru comes to a stop beside him. “Here,” Itaru says, holding the pizza slice out. “Eat something before you pass out. I can’t carry you down those elevators.”
Chikage’s lips quirk up into an amused smirk. “I don’t pay you to dote over me,” he says. He doesn’t take the pizza, instead biting into the slice while Itaru’s still holding it.
“You pay me to wear cute clothes and act as your heater, actually,” Itaru says, holding the pizza out toward Chikage. “Since you’re so nice going above and beyond by buying me pizza, the least I could do is make sure you don’t starve to death. Now take the slice, pretty please? It’s about to burn my fingers off.”
Chikage shakes his head and laughs, taking the slice. Itaru watches him, then nods his head in approval when Chikage takes a bite. He starts his way back to the couch, but long fingers curl around his wrist. “Where are you going?” Chikage asks.
“To eat my pizza?” Itaru responds, raising an eyebrow but not pulling away. “I can sit on your lap if you want, but let me get my pizza first.”
“I thought you already ate?” Chikage says with a sigh, but he lets go of Itaru’s hand nonetheless. Itaru gives Chikage his sweetest smile, before heading back to the couch for real and sitting down. He takes a slice of pizza with one hand, still hot, and begins to eat. With his other hand, he takes out his phone and starts up the main game that he’s ranking in.
“I thought you said you’d sit on my lap with your pizza,” Chikage says, in a tone that’s almost pouty if he were actually capable of that. When Itaru looks up at him, he’s rubbing alcohol on his pizza-less hands.
“I said if you wanted, but you didn’t say you wanted me to,” Itaru says petulantly, though he’s already wolfing down the rest of his slice and getting up.
He brushes the crumbs from his hands with a tissue, wiping them down with one of the several alcohol dispensers that Chikage keeps around the office. “What a brat,” Chikage remarks as Itaru closes the pizza box, though there’s familiar fondness in his tone that assures Itaru that he hasn’t crossed the line just yet.
“Yes, yes, Chikage-san,” Itaru says with a long-suffering sigh, as he picks up his phone and heads over to the desk. “You like me like this, though. You’d get bored if I was all nice and docile and stuff.”
Chikage rolls his chair back, and Itaru settles onto his lap, leaning back against his chest. He wraps an arm around Itaru’s waist, keeping him steady as he gets comfortable. “You can believe what you want,” Chikage says, though they both know that it’s true.
two.
By nature, their relationship is a physically intimate one, though Itaru likes to think that Chikage considers him good company outside of that. Itaru does his best not to pry and follows the rules that Chikage set -- don’t ask about the scars and don’t ask about family -- and in return, Chikage is nicer to him than what Itaru thinks their arrangement would entail. They don’t know everything about each other, but Itaru might almost call them friends.
For one thing, Chikage doesn’t understand Itaru’s games, but he never really makes any actual mean comments about them, so Itaru will overlook any teasing jabs made about how all Chikage’s money is going to pretty PNG files. Itaru keeps his mouth shut during Chikage’s office hours, but on the occasions when Itaru is at Chikage’s actual house, he chatters on about the games he’s playing to a not-quite-asleep Chikage hugging him from behind.
“Today’s event starts at three,” Itaru says, tapping idly at the screen as he waits for the time to tick on. Soft sound effects ring from the phone speaker as he taps through his cards, filling in the silence. Chikage’s place is smaller than what one might expect from the CEO of a top-tier company, but it’s still too big for one person to stay in all by himself, which is probably why he lets Itaru go on about things he doesn’t even understand. “I have enough strong cards to rank decently well if I wanted, though I’m planning on saving for now. We just finished Honami’s event, so I’m running a little low on gems, honestly, because I was gunning for Shiho’s four-star and she didn’t come home until I sparked her, but it’s fine because all I really want from this banner is Ichika’s lim.”
Chikage hums against the back of Itaru’s shoulder to show that he’s listening, vibrating pleasantly through the fabric of Itaru’s hoodie. His entire body is relaxed against Itaru’s, and his glasses are sitting on the bedside table, but he’s definitely not anywhere near asleep. Itaru doesn’t think he’s ever seen Chikage sleep, honestly, and they’re together most of the time. He’s tried to coax Chikage into taking a nap on more than one occasion, but it’s never worked.
Itaru swipes down from the top of his screen and watches the time change to 15:00. He clicks on the gacha button, then downloads the additional data. “I seriously have no gems for this,” Itaru says, “and I know you’re pretty much paying me to play games and stuff all day, but if I can get her with just free gems, I will.”
Download complete, Itaru presses the ten-pull button. He waits with a bated breath, which he releases with disappointment as the ball in Miku’s hands glows yellow. Three-star, then, which sucks, but okay. He taps through the assorted two-star cards to get to the three-star. A pause as a girlish voice filters through his speakers--
“Boo,” he says with a pout when Saki’s initial three-star pops up, skipping to the end. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Saki and all, but I literally already have this. Actually, I already have all the three-stars, so I don’t know what I was expecting.”
Itaru sighs. That’s a bust. He wiggles around a bit, so he’s on his back laying on Chikage’s arm, then holds the phone over to him. “Here, you try,” he says, as Chikage blinks his eyes slowly open. He squints at the screen, then takes Itaru’s phone to hold it closer to his face. It’s a strangely endearing action. “Jeez, you really are blind without your glasses, huh?” Itaru teases.
“Quiet,” Chikage snips, though there’s no heat behind the words. He points to the white ten-pull button on the bottom right part of the screen. “I just press this one, right?”
“Yep,” Itaru says. He peeks over to look at the screen as Chikage taps on the button. There’s a sound, and a flash, and Itaru holds his breath--
“Boo,” he says again, when the orb in Miku’s hands once again glows yellow. He reaches over to take the phone. “Thanks, Chikage-san.” He turns back onto his side, and Chikage follows suit, laying his arm over Itaru’s waist. Itaru taps through three two-star cards, before deciding to just press the skip button.
Immediately as he does, a white stripe appears across the screen, with words and a familiar voice coming from the speaker.
Itaru drops his phone onto the bed.
“Holy shit,” he says, blinking in surprise as the art of Ichika’s unbloomed limited card appears on his screen. “Chikage-san, I think you’re my lucky charm. I’m going to owe you my life, literally. Like, I’ll do anything you want.”
Chikage laughs, an amused huff of air that brushes against the back of Itaru’s neck. “You already do anything I want because I pay you to,” he says quietly.
“Actually, you’re paying me to act as your body pillow,” Itaru corrects. “Everything else is up to interpretation, though I do what you ask from me because you’re nice and you pay for my gacha expenses.”
“You just said the same thing in more words,” Chikage huffs, shaking his head. “Fine, then. I want a hug.”
“You are literally hugging me right now,” Itaru says, though he wiggles and turns around so he can wrap his arms around Chikage, whose hold on Itaru loosens a little when he does, but whose arm is still warm against Itaru’s waist. Chikage doesn’t pull him closer, so Itaru does it for him, shifting a little closer and resting his face in Chikage’s chest.
He knows he should probably be queueing up a multilive now, so he doesn’t waste the energy that’s sitting there at maximum capacity, but he stays still in Chikage’s arms for a few moments longer.
three.
Itaru’s sitting on Chikage’s lap as he works. It’s not an odd occurrence. Itaru knows from personal experience that sometimes you need a pillow to act as a buffer between you and the cold, harsh world that is spreadsheets, and Itaru happens to be a great pillow. He doesn’t really pay any attention to what Chikage does on his laptop most of the time, preferring to catch up on whatever game is catching his fancy.
Today is no different, one earphone securely in his ear while he watches YouTube and lets one of his games run on split screen. Chikage’s always cold, like a vampire, which is probably why he pays Itaru to be his human heater six days a week, but it’s comfortable sitting there nonetheless. He can feel Chikage’s heartbeat through the fabric of his sweater, and Chikage’ s chin is resting on his shoulder. Both of Chikage’s arms are keeping him trapped between his seat and the desk, but he doesn’t plan on going anywhere, so it’s not an issue.
“Hey, Chigasaki,” Chikage says, and Itaru hums in acknowledgement, not looking up from his phone. “Check this over, won’t you?”
At that, Itaru does look up. “I’m not your secretary, and neither do I work for your company, you know?” he complains, though he leans forward to look at the mess of numbers on the spreadsheet. He scans through them quickly. “Mm… looks good.”
Chikage doesn’t always ask Itaru to look over his work, only when it’s a particularly important thing. Like Itaru said, he doesn’t work for Chikage in any business capacity, only in a personal one. And in any case, Chikage is meticulous and organized, and his work is usually perfect. The only reason he gets a second opinion from Itaru is because Itaru once caught an error when he wasn’t supposed to be looking.
The first time he brought it up, Chikage went silent, and he got a calculating stare that he usually kept reserved for business meetings or other official work functions. Itaru nearly ran out right that instant, but Chikage nodded and fixed the error, then pat Itaru on the head and called him a good boy. Which, by the way, made Itaru giddy for reasons that he did not want to get into at that moment, nor any moment.
“Thank you,” Chikage says, and Itaru takes that as the cue to settle back against his back.
“Gotcha,” Itaru replies. He maximizes his YouTube app again so he can rewind his video back a few seconds. Before he can press play, though, Chikage pokes his shoulder. It’s better than him calling Itaru’s attention after he starts watching again, though, so he’ll give it a pass. “Mm?”
“I’ll ask you something, though it may be a little personal,” Chikage says. “Would that be okay?”
Itaru blinks, then rests his phone on his lap. “Sure,” he says. The way Chikage says it makes Itaru shift nervously, though there shouldn’t be any reason to. Itaru doesn’t confide in Chikage with his personal troubles and issues, the same way that Chikage doesn’t confide in Itaru with his, but whenever they intersect, as they’re bound to do when they’re together so often, Chikage’s never rude or mean about it.
“There’s no need to worry,” Chikage assures him, pulling his hands away from the keyboard and around Itaru’s waist. “It won’t affect anything moving forward. Your birthday is coming up, isn’t it?”
Itaru blinks. “In a few weeks, yeah,” he says, relaxing a little. It won’t be his first birthday doing this job, and it probably won’t be his last. “If this is about a gift, you can get me whatever. You got all the measurements for my clothes, anyway, and if you want an itemized list of new game releases that I want, I’ll be happy to give you one.” He’s only half joking.
Chikage hums. “How about a binder?” he asks.
Itaru’s phone slides down his thigh and hits the ground before he can catch it. Itaru leans down to retrieve it, and Chikage’s arms pull away from his waist so he can get it. His heart is beating loudly in his ears, and he swallows, getting back to his feet. “What… brought this on?” he asks carefully, through a mouth that feels like it’s full of cotton.
“Mm… no reason,” Chikage says casually, like he’s not the reason Itaru’s hands are shaking. “I wondered if you would like one. I know that not everyone does want to bind, and that sizing itself is a tricky thing, so I wanted to check with you first.”
“How long have you known?” Itaru asks instead, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a torrent.
Chikage holds a hand out to him, but stops shy of actually making contact with Itaru’s arm. “A while. I do pay you to be physically close to me, you know. It wasn’t very hard to notice.” His eyebrows furrow a little. “Sorry, perhaps I should have waited for you to bring it up instead,” he says.
Uh, yeah, Itaru thinks. That would have been very much appreciated so that he doesn’t get a heart attack. “It’s fine, it’s whatever,” is what he says instead, because Chikage does look decently sheepish at Itaru’s reaction -- though it’s a little hard to tell with this guy -- and because he doesn’t think that Chikage meant any harm by it. “It’s… are you serious about it?”
Chikage nods. “Of course I am,” he says, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “I wouldn’t joke about it.”
“No, I know you wouldn’t. I’m just…” Surprised? Unsure? Apprehensive? Getting my hopes up? One of those, or maybe none of those. Itaru settles for ending his sentence with a shrug, and hopes that Chikage doesn’t press.
“I see,” Chikage says. “Well, we can talk about it anytime you’d like, even if that time is never.” He opens his arms, and Itaru settles back onto his lap.
four.
Itaru knows the shit that the people in the office say about him. Given the nature of his and Chikage’s relationship, it’s no surprise that there are rumors circulating around. Chikage never brings them up, though Itaru’s sure he knows about them, and Itaru never talks about it either. It’s not worth worrying about.
Besides, more often than not, the rumors are pretty funny, and they make for good entertainment if nothing else. Itaru’s heard a few different things floating around depending on the source, including a rumor that he’s actually Chikage’s estranged foreign son, and a rumor that Chikage is actually a vampire who drinks Itaru’s blood for sustenance. Itaru would think that these people, being grown adults with nine to five jobs, would have better things to do than tie red string everywhere on their walls, but here they are.
Most of the time, though, Itaru keeps the rumors out of sight and out of mind. He honestly forgets that they exist a lot of days, and when he’s unfortunately reminded, it doesn’t take long for him to get distracted by the sparkling movements of little characters on the screen of his phone.
The elevator comes to a stop, and Itaru looks up. The number four blinks on the panel above the buttons, and he steps backward as a woman enters the elevator. She’s pretty, probably a few years older than him, though she has that serious, no-nonsense expression that Itaru finds most appealing in two-dimensional characters rather than actual people. Itaru gives her a polite smile as the elevator doors slide shut. He doesn’t expect her to say anything -- most of the office workers don’t. The novelty of a man in a hoodie wears off pretty quickly, after all.
And indeed, she doesn’t say anything. Not until after she presses the button with a long red nail and the doors slide shut, when she leans against the side of the elevator and gives Itaru a look that he really doesn’t like. He shifts uncomfortably as she gives him a once over, shoving his hands into his pockets and watching the numbers tick up slowly in the corner of his eyes.
“You’re not that cute,” she says disinterestedly, turning to face the elevator doors as they slide open on the eighth floor. Her heels click as she steps out. “You must be a freak in bed, if Chikage-san likes you so much.”
Itaru stays rooted to his spot as the doors close again, leaving him alone in the elevator.
Despite the things that make their rounds across the office, he’s never had anyone say anything to his face, for reasons that he hopes are along the lines of basic decency but in actuality probably start with chi and end with ge. He shouldn’t be surprised that someone would be enough of an asshole to just say that when he’s alone, but his chest feels tight and he feels lightheaded.
He tries to inhale, taking a breath of elevator air, and finds that it isn’t quite going into his lungs the way it should be. He lets out an unsteady laugh, because of course he’s about to have an asthma attack right now because of some shitty comment from some shitty person. His hands are shaking as he digs around his pockets for his inhaler and he prays for the elevator to go faster so that he isn’t stuck in a windowless metal box.
His fingers close around the inhaler in his pocket that he didn’t think he’d need, and thanks the voice in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like his older sister that he didn’t leave the apartment without it. He tightens his grip on the inhaler and closes his eyes as he leans against the back wall of the elevator. He shakes it a few times, trying to even out his breathing as he lets the medicine mix, or whatever it does inside that canister.
“Chigasaki?”
The inhaler goes flying out of Itaru’s hand at the sudden voice. His eyes snap open in shock. The elevator door is open, and when his eyes dart to the empty hallway behind Chikage, he thinks they’re probably already on the top floor. Huh. How about that. “H-ey,” Itaru manages, blinking quickly.
“Hey,” Chikage replies, holding a hand out. “Are you… You should get out of that elevator.”
Itaru inhales, a little easier now that the doors are open, but not by much. “Prob’ly,” he agrees. “The…”
“I have your inhaler here,” Chikage says, holding up the small blue thing with his other hand. “Come on, now.”
Itaru reaches out and takes Chikage’s hand, curling his fingers tightly around Chikage’s own. He walks forward carefully so he doesn’t trip, and he’s pretty certain that the asthma isn’t the only thing that’s making him feel like throwing up and passing out, and he’s not about to take any chances right now. A few steps later, he’s out into the hallway.
Chikage ushers him to the side of the wall, guiding him to sit on the floor under the window. As soon as he does, Itaru feels a little better. He leans his head against the wall as Chikage holds the inhaler to his mouth. He reaches up to take it from him, not saying a word as he takes a puff. His lungs and throat immediately feel less like they’re dying.
“Thanks,” he says after a few breaths of sweet, sweet oxygen. “Uh. Hi. By the way. And sorry.”
Chikage shakes his head. “Nothing to be sorry about,” he assures. His eyebrows knit together in a remarkably clear sign of concern from him. “Are you feeling better?”
Itaru takes another puff, just in case. “Yeah,” he says after a few slow breaths. “I’m fine. I’m just going to. Sit here for a little. If that’s okay.”
“Of course,” Chikage says immediately. There’s a slight pause, before Chikage lowers himself to sit on the carpeted floor beside Itaru, which sure is something, because Itaru’s seen him personally wipe down every package that gets delivered to his door twice. As soon as he’s settled, Itaru leans on his shoulder and closes his eyes. Chikage laughs a little, but doesn’t move away.
“May I ask what happened?” Chikage asks, considerate as always. Itaru takes in a slow breath, suddenly feeling the sick feeling in his stomach again. Asthma attacks, though wildly inconvenient and terrible, are also apparently a great distraction against thinking about people’s horrible misconceptions about you.
“You don’t have to respond if you don’t want to,” Chikage says, running a hand through Itaru’s hair. “Don’t work yourself up over it.”
Itaru takes another breath, and then another puff from his inhaler. That makes three.
“What do you think about me?” Itaru asks instead, and he feels Chikage’s shoulder tense up under his chin.
“What brought this on?”
Not an answer. “What do you think about me?” Itaru repeats. He lifts his head from Chikage’s shoulder and turns to face him. There’s an unreadable expression on Chikage’s face. His usual inscrutable look that somehow feels like the worst sort of answer. “Like-- I know that we’re just… Work partners, I guess. Or something. You know the things that people say. We didn’t even know each other existed, and we went straight to… ugh. I don’t know. You don’t think I’m a slut, right?”
Chikage is silent. His expression shifts, but it’s still familiar. Gaze shifted slightly to his right but seemingly unfocused, the expression he makes when he’s trying to gather the words he wants to say. This could be good or bad, and Itaru turns his head away so he doesn’t have to see Chikage putting words into sentences inside his head.
“I think you may be the best thing that has happened to me,” Chikage finally says. His voice is soft, and Itaru’s breath hitches. “You’re reliable, even if your head is in the clouds. You’re caring, you’re smart. You’re warm, too. If there’s something about our arrangement you would like changed, or if you’d like to stop at any time, tell me so we can figure something out.”
Itaru laughs. It sounds unsteady in his ears. “‘I love you’ would have taken less words,” he says, though he’s a little doubtful that Chikage has ever said those words in his life. He doesn’t look the type. Not for the first time, he wonders what Chikage’s life might have been like before Itaru came into the picture. “You think I’m cute?”
“I think you’re pretty,” Chikage corrects.
“Love that for me,” Itaru says. “And for the record, you don’t think I’m a hoe?”
“No, I don’t,” Chikage replies.
“Cool.”
five.
“I think I can die a happy man now,” Itaru says, completely serious.
Across from him, Chikage quirks an amused smile and shakes his head. He’s wearing his blue jacket, the one he usually wears when they go out on casual dates like this. It’s a little short on him, and every time he wears it, Itaru can’t help but sneak a peek at the dark ink that sneaks past the hems of his sleeves. Another one of Utsuki Chikage’s mysteries that Itaru doesn’t ask about.
“I’d rather you didn’t die,” Chikage says, leaning back against his seat and tilting his head as he smirks. “It gets chilly in the winter, you know, and I don’t really want to pay an additional heating bill in the office.”
“I think having a personal heater that whales on gacha games is more expensive, you cheapskate,” Itaru shoots back, though he mirror’s the little smile on Chikage’s lips. “I thought you like seeing me happy,” he simpers, fluttering his eyelashes. He laughs when Chikage’s expression scrunches up in mock disgust.
“Do I?” Chikage asks, though they both know that he does. “I’d be happier if you ordered something before we get kicked out for staying too long.”
Itaru snorts at that. “We won’t. You have, like, rich people privilege,” he says, though he looks at the laminated menu that Chikage wiped down with alcohol twice before letting him touch. Different Kniroun-themed foods and drinks look at him, practically begging him to spend (Chikage’s) money on them.
“Rich people privilege,” Chikage repeats, sounding like he’s half a second from bursting into a movie villain cackle.
“That’s definitely a thing, and you know it,” Itaru says, pouting. He sets the menu down and points. “Okay, anyway, I want the Lancelot Special Waffles, Mordred’s Magic Macaroni, and the Dark Magic Cold Brew. I don’t know if you’d like anything, but Gawain’s Xtra Hot Wings sounds like your thing.”
He has absolutely no delusions that the food will be anything exceptional. As is the usual for these kinds of anime pop-up restaurants, the main draw is the concept and what it looks like, not so much the taste. And as is the usual for Itaru, he’s going to spend money on it anyway because he’s terribly attached to these two-dimensional characters.
Chikage laughs. “Gawain,” he repeats. “That’s the one you said looks like me, right?”
Itaru blinks, then nods. “Yeah,” he confirms, though he does remember that he mentioned that all the way at the beginning of their relationship, when they were circling around boundaries and Itaru was just beginning to spend weekends over at Chikage’s place and fill in silence with gamer talk. “He’s way wilder than you, though.”
“Oh?” Chikage asks. “Do tell.”
Which, of course, launches Itaru into a long, detailed ramble about Gawain as a character, as well as his development, and how he and Chikage are pretty much complete opposites, interrupted only by Chikage ordering and their food arriving. Itaru keeps talking even as he snaps a few dozen pictures of the fruits on top of the waffles that are arranged to vaguely look like Lancelot.
“Like, no offense, Chikage-san, but I seriously don’t think that you’d ever be the type to swear undying loyalty to anyone,” Itaru says as he takes a bite of surprisingly-good baked macaroni. “And that’s, like, Gawain’s whole thing, you know? It’s his major, overarching character arc of becoming his own person outside of what he’s expected to be because of his knighthood. All the other things are just a part of that. Like, his whole affair with Ragnelle and the little villain arc he goes through in VI, it’s all following the trajectory of him doing things on his own, and yeah, maybe fucking up a lot, but that’s what it is about being your own person and living your life freely. You’re free to fuck up and all that. Also, unrelated side note, but I’ll defend the VI corruption arc with my life. People just don’t get how-- Chikage-san, are you okay?”
“Of course I am,” Chikage says, blinking slowly. Itaru seriously doubts it. There’s a distant look in his eyes, and he looks as close as he’s ever gotten to crying, though Itaru can’t spot any tears. Chikage gestures at his food. “This is just very spicy.”
Itaru shoots him an unamused look. “Chikage-san, I’ve seen you drown your every meal in hot sauce. With all due respect, I call bullshit. Is…” He trails off a little, before starting up again. “We can talk about something else, if you want.” Clearly, he stepped on some sort of landmine to make Chikage’s face look like that.
“No, no,” Chikage says with a wave of his hand. “It’s fine.”
It’s very clearly not, but Itaru hesitantly keeps going. “Yeah, well, okay. Like I said, I’ll defend VI’s corruption arc with my life. I get why people don’t like it, ‘cause it seems to go against his whole chivalry thing, but that had some of the best character development Gawain’s ever had, especially when you take into account the redemption arc he has at the end and how he continues to deal with the consequences of his actions for, like, the entirety of VII, and Chikage-san, we really don’t need to talk about this, I’m a little scared you might start crying.”
“I’m not going to cry,” Chikage says, but he’s unsteady.
Itaru sighs. “Look, let’s just… Why don’t you talk about something, for a change?” He leans his elbows on the table and rests his cheek in the palm of his hand. “You’re always listening to me talk about stuff I like, so why don’t you talk about something you like? I have no idea what you like, actually.”
“Me?” Chikage looks like he didn't expect that. He sighs a little, pursing his lips. “... I like the stars.”
“The stars?” Itaru repeats.
Chikage nods. “And the planets. Space in general. I wanted to be an astronaut when I was younger,” he says. He taps a finger on the surface of the table. “Escape to a world far away from this one.”
“It’s…” Itaru weighs his words around his tongue. “It’s hard to imagine you in a space suit, Chikage-san,” he settles on. “But you’d probably make a good one. You’re smart enough for it.”
Chikage’s lips quirk upward. “Thank you,” he says, half-sincerely. “That’s what my eldest brother said as well, but there was never an opportunity for it, and I wouldn’t have wanted to leave him and our youngest alone for so long, anyway.”
“Oh.” Itaru blinks. “Chikage-san, you have siblings?”
Chikage is silent for a moment, his finger going still. “... I had two,” he says quietly.
Had. Past tense. Another thing in Chikage’s mysterious private life before Itaru became a part of it. Itaru swallows. “Oh,” he says again. “Sorry. Shouldn’t have asked.”
Chikage shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he assures. “I’ve had enough time to move on. Besides…” He quirks a little smirk at Itaru that makes his stomach feel strangely warm. “I have you keeping me company now, don’t I? So it’s not so bad.”
plus one.
Through the haze of his fever, Chikage thinks he sees Misha. He knows somewhere in the back of his mind that it’s not Misha -- that Misha is dead and gone, and so is Hisoka, and that it’s been years since he’s seen either of them outside of his own mind. Still, his eyes trace the familiar swoop of bangs and the familiar curve of his face.
Something cool brushes the top of his head, startling him into awakeness, though his vision blurs. He blinks quickly, trying to clear up his eyesight, but all he can make out is a sparkle of pink. “Sorry,” comes the voice, and it’s not Misha’s, but it’s comforting nonetheless. The towel continues to steadily wipe the sweat from his brow. “God, your temperature’s high. This is what you get for overworking yourself. I’m seriously starting to think that you need a nanny and not a cuddle buddy.” Despite the words, the voice is soft, and terribly fond, and his touch is gentle.
“You can be both,” Chikage mumbles, but he’s not sure if Itaru can hear or understand him.
“I have no idea what you just said,” Itaru says, followed by a soft tinkling laugh. “Let’s get some water in you.” His entire body feels heavy, but Itaru slips a hand under his back to help him sit up. Chikage rests against the pillow on his back and blinks, eyes fluttering shut every so often before he forces them back open. The end of a cool metal straw touches his lips, and he takes a careful sip of water.
There’s a hand running through his hair as the water travels down his throat, cooling him down just a little, but not enough. It’s cold, and it’s hot, and his head hurts, and Chikage thinks that he really, really, really hates being sick.
“Big same,” Itaru says as he pulls the water away. Chikage hears him put the bottle or the cup or whatever it is on the bedside table, before the hand on his back eases him back down into a lying position. “There we go. Your fever’s going down, but it’s probably best if you get some more rest.”
“Mh,” Chikage replies. He shifts a little, half-turning on his side as his eyes flutter shut. He hates falling asleep when others are awake. It makes him feel vulnerable, makes his skin crawl when he wakes up, like the gazes of the others haven’t quite faded from his skin. His eyes flutter shut regardless, and he half-turns on his side, holding a hand out and opening and closing his fingers.
A hand goes to his hair, running carefully through hair that he’s sure is gross from all the sweat his body has produced. “No cuddles today,” Itaru says with a little laugh. “If I get sick, no one’s gonna take care of both of us. I’ll hug you when you’re healthy again, so hurry up and get better.”
“Promise?” Chikage mumbles, closing his hand into a fist and holding out only his pinky finger.
“Is this the kind of character you are when you’re sick, Chikage-san?” Itaru asks, but he winds his pinky around Chikage’s anyway. “Promise.”