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2 am was the real witching hour.
In the Mountain Villa the sober-minded businessmen and mobsters took to their chambers early in the evening - to facilitate their punishingly early morning work - and the League took sole control over the night-dark house.
Shigaraki unfolded himself from his room to take over the TV in the front parlor, legs crossed on the lush velvet settee. Kurogiri floated through the halls on errands like an antique sailing ship. Dabi made himself comfortable making grilled-cheese sandwiches between his hands for Spinner in the servant’s kitchen, and Twice and Toga danced their eager youthly dances in the cleared-out dining room.
It made Compress miss Magne - she would have loved the excess, the contrast between dark deeds and dark rooms with slashes of light reflected off of giant mirrors and sumptuous glassware.
Compress would have to enjoy it for her, he thought idly as he stared back at his reflection in the glass window across from him in the parlor. He heard the muted sounds of video games wafting through the archway into the next room, but other than that, it was all dense dark silence, just Atsuhiro and his double-old-fashioned of Re-Destro’s nicest whiskey. It was still clinging to his lips, pleasantly numb and smooth. He was a little tired, a little run-down, but mostly he missed his Mimic.
As the Shie Hassaikai’s main espionage expert Irinaka was sent to tag along on sundry missions for Overhaul despite his position as the gang’s general manager - which, if the hours he spent at it were any indication, was also a very important position. Compress was of the opinion that he ought to be given a break now and again, especially now that the PLF had an entire administrative team and Irinaka had an energetic new lover to come home to at the end of the day.
Ah, but he was out on a job with Chronostasis. Overhaul’s wisdom in sending out two important members of his gang apparently didn’t stand to be questioned.
The two of them should be getting back that night, though, with Kurogiri’s gentlemanly assistance in returning them home in one piece with minimal car chases.
Compress allowed himself to drift off a little bit. The quietness of the night, the gentle suggestion of the League around him, the slight buzz of liquor, the deliciously stealable fineries of the mansion… When they inevitably had to break up their new alliance and decamp, he’d make sure all these lovely paintings and vases and antique furnishings were well cared for, certainly.
He hadn’t anticipated that this PLF alliance would last for this long without being torn apart by the conflicting ambitions of the people in charge, but somehow, despite his prognostications, they’d all stuck together. A couple romantic entanglements, some tentative friendships, and a ludicrous capitalization from Detnerat, and there they have it - the Shie Hassaikai and the League were officially inseparable.
Compress couldn’t complain. He never liked to stay in one place for long, or with one person for long, really, but this had been an era of firsts for him.
He slipped into drowsy half-sleep thinking about his big, tall, angry yakuza, probably grousing about how late he and Chrono were getting home and how much overtime he’d have to assign them for. And what Compress would do for him to make up for the three endless days he’d been deprived of him…
A gentle knock at the door frame woke him.
How long had he been asleep? He leaned his head back over the edge of the couch and found himself looking upside-down at Chronostasis. For once Compress was more masked than the Hassaikai lieutenant, who was stripped down to a sleeveless tactical shirt and sweatpants while Compress was still en balaclava. Chrono was also sporting a nasty looking bruise blooming against the side of his face.
“Welcome back,” Compress said, stretching up. “I see that you survived.”
“One of us did. Irinaka got shot in the head.”
“He what?!? ” Compress leapt off the couch.
Chrono waved his hand at him with an air of dismissal. “He’s fine now. Well. He’s in one piece, thanks to Overhaul. Still out of it, though, I put him to bed with a PCA pump. I thought I’d let you know so you didn’t spend all night waiting up for us.”
“He got shot? In the head?!?”
“I said that already. He has been un-shot. We finished the mission successfully. He’ll be fine tomorrow, or next week or something. Goodnight.”
“Wh - I don’t know if you realize it, but the head is generally where the brain is domiciled-” Compress shot out. Chrono leveled a flat, judgmental look at him and turned to leave.
“Oh! Irinaka, what are you doing up?” The sharpshooter called out into the hallway. Compress joined him, gliding behind him to peek over his shoulder.
“Lookin’ for tylenol!”
“You don’t need a tylenol, you have a morphine - what, did you take out your IV?”
“Mimsy, darling!” Relieved, Compress brushed past Chrono, the heartless little hitman, and took his lover into his arms. “I heard you got shot in the head?”
“I got shot?” Irinaka asked slowly, arms raised like he didn’t know quite what to do with them as Compress swept him into an embrace. “Whassat?”
“You’re concussed and high as hell,” Chrono sighed, leaning over to flick on the hall light. “Compress, can you make sure he gets back to bed? Make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble before he sobers up. I’m not good for babysitting right now.”
“Of course, you delicate hothouse flower. Go let yourself be fawned over, you’ve already done enough for Joi. ” He gestured to Irinaka’s head. Chrono rolled his eyes and left with a flick of his arrowed hair. Compress had his opinions on Overhaul’s ability to resuscitate his gang members leading to them taking irresponsible risks and getting themselves gored, but Irinaka had heard them already. And he’d hear them again, by god!
Now alone, he clapped his hands on his lover’s face to examine him.
“The hell are you?” Irinaka mumbled. He looked tired, even more glowery and stubbly than usual. His head, however, looked wonderfully in one piece. Compress had never been attracted to cranial contiguity before but it was suddenly a very seductive trait.
“Me?”
“You.”
“You don’t remember?”
Irinaka narrowed his eyes. “Mmmm… this a trick?”
Compress cocked his head. “Irinaka-kun, I hope that this is because your brains got temporarily evicted from your head and not because you’ve actually forgotten the solid month of effort I put into convincing you to come to bed with me.” He reached back and pulled off his balaclava. “There. Anything?”
Irinaka stared down at him (cor, wasn’t it nice to feel small for once!) and blinked slowly. “Huh.”
“Eloquent.”
“... You’re pretty.”
“Thank you, pet, I try.”
“No, I mean - you’re - ah fuck, you’re, uh. Damn, you’re…” He swallowed. Oh, god, was Irinaka broken for good? Had they finally determined the limits of Overhaul’s party-trick quirk? “Real fine lookin’. Real looker. What’s a guy like you doing around here?”
“Are you implying that this isn’t the place to find fine lookin’ people?”
“Think I’d remember seeing you around here, that’s all. Wouldn’t… you seeing anyone? Here?”
Oh, he really didn’t remember, did he. Well he was probably confused as all get out as to why he’d been dumped in the middle of a mansion in the woods instead of his cozy former yakuza base in Esuha, but he was faking confidence like a good one and focusing on more present matters. Compress smirked.
“I have a little something going on with someone in the yakuza, actually,” he said airily. “Someone high up in the mob’s food chain. A real tough customer. Big and strong, of course, but surprisingly soft and squishy underneath all that.”
Irinaka’s glower deepened. “Bet I could take him in a fight.”
“You’d get yourself knocked out if you tried.”
“Yeah? Wanna point ‘em out? I’ll try my luck.”
“Why don’t we get you to bed first.” Compress put an arm around his waist and squeezed him affectionately. Baffled, Irinaka let one of his arms be manipulated around the villain’s neck as they made their way through the maze of halls and up the stairs to the residence wing. He was uncharacteristically quiet, looking around like it was the first time he’d ever walked these darkened halls. Like they hadn’t spent the last several months sneaking around them to one another’s rooms. He really was out of it, wasn't he? Compress almost had half a mind to be concerned. Overhaul would probably ensure he was still functional, but...
Irinaka was leaning on him pretty heavily when they got to his little room at the end of the hall. Compress patted his trouser pocket before remembering that he didn’t actually have a door key, and Irinaka was fastidious about keeping his door locked.
“Darling, do you have your key?”
Irinaka looked down at him, brow deeply furrowed. Then, with great gravitas and a little slur - “Fuck, you’re pretty.”
Compress sighed.
“Oh, you poor dumb little thing. Alright, let me check-” he patted the sides of the mobster’s (very nicely muscled) thighs, and then at his back pockets-
“OI! NO TOUCHING THE GOODS!” he swatted at Compress with his free hand, nearly falling over before he was caught.
“Do you want to sleep out here in the hallway, Mimsy?” Compress deadpanned, propping him up on a shoulder. “It wouldn’t be below me to leave you..”
There was a click somewhere down the hall. Compress looked over Irinaka’s shoulder and saw Spinner poking his head out a couple doors down, using his phone as a light. Both of Compress’s hands were grabbing a generous handful of unpuppeted ass. Spinner stared. Compress withdrew a hand to wave. Spinner returned to his room.
“And you wouldn’t give me a pass to feel you up?” He asked laconically as he found the room key hiding at the base of his back pocket. Ah, how his pickpocket skills had atrophied in the long years since his youth. “I thought I was pretty. Can’t I cop a feel?”
“... I guess you can get a pass… ain’t never met a man who I’d want getting familiar with me, that’s all.” Oh, how cute, he was blushing in the way he used to do back when twice the number of cocks in a relationship was new and terrifying territory for thrice-divorced heteroflexible Mr. Irinaka.
Compress let him slip a little off his shoulder so he could unlock the door, and then leaned over to kiss him on the nose. Irinaka blinked in surprise. “We’re already familiar, pet. And when you’re back to yourself we’ll get a lot more so, I promise.”
“Familiar? Us? Already?”
“Yes, I hate to spoil it for you since you’re obviously coming to terms with a lot of things right now, but we’ve been etre maqué for a little while already. We’re involved. Making amorous congress. Taking a turn about the grounds together.”
Compress led him in, flicking on the light, and then gave him a gentle push to the bed. Irinaka obediently let himself get managed down to sit, and then to lay on top of his blankets. “Wh… is that a different language… or is everything just not making sense?”
“Part of it was french, yes. But forget about that now. The sooner you get some rest the sooner you remember that we’ve been dating since the summer and you can get back to fucking me senseless like you did before you got shot.”
“WE’RE FUCKING?!?!”
“Oh, yes! At all times, in all places, in a veritable rolodex of unusual positions.. It’s all very acrobatic - no, lie back down, don’t make me get Chrono to put this IV back in.”
“You and me? We’re - you - but - no!”
“Why ‘no’?”
Irinaka gestured at him furiously. “'Cause you’re outta my fuckin’ league! I’m not gonna start... Punching above my weight class like this all of a sudden! The hell kind of - uh - kind of-”
Compress was laughing. Perhaps it was cruel to laugh at his lover, usually so verbose in his fury, reduced to concussed stuttering, but realistically he’d probably do the same to Compress after telling him off for getting hurt on the line of duty. And really, how could someone not be flattered by a performance like this?
“Out of your league, mm?”
Irinaka scowled and getured at him again. “You’re-”
“Yes?”
“You’re out here looking like a glamor centerfold and you tell me we’re - lovers?”
“That’s about what I’m telling you, Irinaka dear, yes.” From his perch at the side of the bed, Compress leaned over and pressed his hand to the center of his chest. “Somehow you caught yourself the most dangerous thief in the world. You make me lovely things to wear and let me get you worked up enough to yell about silly things because it makes me laugh. In the morning after another night of wild passion you get me coffee and the morning paper before you go off to work and then you spit and sputter whenever I remind you how much you like me.”
Irinaka swallowed. In the dim overhead light he looked positively starry-eyed.
“... I’m a lucky fuckin’ guy.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I know that, right?”
“I’ll remind you of it when you come to.”
“.. So we’re really dating, huh.”
“M-mhm.”
“You n’ me.”
“Quite.”
Irinaka sighed, settling into the bed, staring at the ceiling with almost comical disbelief. Then, he let out a long, low whistle. Hopefully he’d come back to himself before he started inquiring about the physical mechanics of their intimate life. At least he seemed like he’d finally come to terms with his new relationship, for now. That much had been re-established.
Then, - “... You’re dating me? ”
“Oh, for god’s sake!” Compress leaned over, grabbed him by the chin and gave him a quick, stubbly peck before rolling back over to stand up. “As much as I enjoy your being gobsmacked by my beauty I need you to go to bed and sleep off your propofol hangover and let your brains re-curdle, alright?”
“You're leavin’..?”
“I’ll be just down the hall. You need a little undisrupted rest, I think.”
Irinaka looked up at him plaintively, eyes flickering gold-green in the dark room. His little good-night kiss had left him flushed up to the tips of his ears. “But I like looking at you.”
“You’ll look at me as much as you want tomorrow, I promise.”
“Not gonna stay the night?”
He resisted the urge to pull out his phone and get a video, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “Tomorrow night, don't worry. I'm almost always a semi-reliable man of my word. I missed sleeping on top of you too much. Or with my little plush bed-mate.”
There was a lot that he’d missed while Irinaka was gone, he realized. He’d gotten over-used to having him by his side or on his shoulder or audible from a different wing of the house. It really wouldn’t do for him to get this invested - to feel this warm and lovely when Irinaka mumbled a sweetly sleepy good-night as he slipped out of his room. Hypocritical.
But all the same, the worry of the past days was draining away and refreshed with a warm glow of affection and amusement and he couldn’t bring himself to care so much about that now. It was late; all of his people were safe; his lover was chemically tongue-loosened and had thought he was so handsome he simply refused to believe that they were together. What setting could be more conducive to a successful seduction? Compress was a mere mortal man. He couldn't be blamed for slipping a little more into the inexorable grasp of love.
So he closed the door quietly, chuckling to himself, and made his way down the hallway with his thumbs hanging out of his belt-loops. He ought to go to bed too, since the sooner he woke up the sooner he could come back and join Irinaka again.
"Real looker, huh..." He was going to be holding this over him for the rest of their lives. He really should've taken a video.
And if he was this loopy for a few days more? Well, Compress could hardly be blamed for enjoying the baffled worshipful attention. He might not be too unhappy with that at all.