Work Text:
The washing machine had been overloaded twice. The plumbing had been ruined. The dishes had been broken. He’d made too much for dinner. Leftovers had been trashed. Desserts had gone to waste. Wood floors were scuffed. Locks were broken. Windows were shattered.
Clear’s first year as a member of the Seragaki family had been a rocky one.
Countless times, he’d been scolded. Countless times, he’d been at the receiving end of Tae’s feather duster or today’s paper. Countless times, he’d failed his new family, and his low self-esteem took yet another beating.
Countless times, he’d just picked up the pieces and tried again.
“I’m going to do the laundry now, Aoba-san.” They were simple and commonplace words, but from Clear, they were a warning for disaster. That hadn’t changed, and Aoba was sure he could tell. By the way he’d flinched, fingertips hovering over the holographic touch screen of his Coil, he seemed to be steeling himself for the worst. A glimpse at his strained expression confirmed his assumption, immediately weighing in his shoulders with guilt.
“Sure. Remember not to put the water level too high,” he spoke in a chiding tone, “and don’t use too much detergent. Remember what happened last time?”
Clear swallowed visibly, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yes, Aoba-san. It was, ah... It was little excessive.”
“A little?” Aoba had snorted and swiped at his screen. “If you put any more, we probably would have drowned in the laundry room.” As he watched the android’s expression tense with shame, a mild laugh left his own lips. “Don’t worry about it. Just— be careful, okay? Don’t overdo it.”
That seemed to put a spring in his step. “Yes! Of course, Aoba-san!” Oh, and what a cheese he was, saluting like that. He looked like a devoted little home soldier. Even around the people he loved most, he was so... rigid, so disciplined. “I will do my very best!”
He needs to loosen up, he’d thought. For some reason, he was unable to wipe the grin off of his face as he watched Clear disappear into the hallway, a jovial sway in his step.
He was proud of him.
“... and then he said into the phone, ‘Mochi Mochi’!”
Clear’s laughter, even over his Coil’s audio distortion, was like music to his ears. Even the little ones were just so melodic. Aoba hadn’t the heart to end his spiel, absorbing every last quirk of his work day, every last word. The range of strange patrons and funny stories came with the brutality, and he counted his lucky stars that he hadn’t been hurt today. He couldn’t begin to imagine how many times he’d gotten stabbed, punched, or otherwise harmed on the job. Every time, every single time, he’d only fretted more, fearing his safety day in and day out.
He’d never forget the night he clung to him, sobbing helplessly into his shoulder after dressing Clear’s nasty stomach wound. True, he’d praised him later — if he hadn’t done what he did, Koujaku would have been hurt instead — but in the moment, he couldn’t help crying. How could he not? He’d come home to him clutching at his abdomen and breathing raggedly, his face contorted in pain. He was white as a sheet as his body’s processes reverted to his injury, draining power from everywhere else. Why, he looked near ready to collapse in front of him.
He was hysterical. Even after Tae had finished working on him, even after he’d been allowed to bandage him as he would a human being, he was an absolute wreck. Rather than the contrary, Clear was the one comforting Aoba, rubbing soothing circles into his back with his palm, telling him over and over, “It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m here. It’s alright. I’m here, Aoba-san. I’m not going anywhere.”
It was no wonder why he was so paranoid, even when everything seemed to be fine.
“... but then — and you won’t believe this — Mizuki-san caught the punch in his hand and deflected it! He knocked the bad man out. It was so cool!” Clear absolutely gushing about his boss’ excellent fighting skills brought him back to attention. With the shake of his head, he looked as though he’d snapped out of some kind of stupor. Those memories... He couldn’t let those cloud his mind, not when everyone was happy and healthy, when Clear was happy and healthy.
“Aoba-san? Are you still there?”
“Huh? Oh! Yeah.” How silly of him to have gotten so lost in his thoughts, in thoughts of Clear, when he was talking to him right then and there. Lips curled fondly as he kicked his feet up idly on the coffee table. (Good thing Tae never found out about that one.) “Sorry, just wanted to make sure you were done. I mean, it sounds like you had a really busy day.”
“I did,” concurred Clear after a brief whisk of wind into the receiver. He was doing it again, traveling by rooftop. He should have figured. “Mizuki-san thought I did good today, though, so all is well!”
“Yeah... yeah.” Hearing his chipper voice made Aoba’s stomach flip. “I know you did good today, too. You always do.” He’d nearly continued on, but a loud sniffle from the other end of the line stopped him in his tracks.
“Aoba-saaaaan...!” Here we go again, thought he with an amused shake of his head. “You are so sweet! There will be extra hugs when I get home, I promise!” Weren’t there always? “I’m almost there, so I’ll see you in a moment, okay? I love you!” With a cute kissing sound into the speaker, he hung up, the bastard, before he could even respond. Sometimes, he had to wonder if he knew that would make him squirm by now. That had to be on purpose!
With a flustered groan, his palm met his face, thoroughly warmer thanks to his boyfriend’s usual antics. He was so giddy at all times, bursting at the seams with life. If anyone figured out that he wasn’t human, not in body, they surely wouldn’t have believed it. He was the most human person he knew.
"Clear...” He murmured softly, so he was not to be heard. “I’m so proud of you.”
They’d tired themselves out, every residual, carnal ounce of energy spent. In a heap of sweat and sticky limbs had they fallen flat onto the mattress, their bodies aching, the heat of their loins finally settled. Aoba needed only to take a single look at Clear to know that he, in all of his stamina and strength, was exhausted. Silvery wisps of hair clung to his face, damp skin shining in the moonlight that bounced off of his menagerie of glass bottles. His lids had nearly closed, lips parted slightly as he grasped for air, allowing himself time to recuperate. He smelled of musk and sex, of sea salt and heat and a hint of his lilac shampoo.
He was so beautiful.
“Aoba-san,” he panted out, as though he’d run a hundred miles. “Water?”
“Mm.” With a curt nod and a faint smile, he added a grateful, “Thanks.”
Clear was always so good at aftercare, as he should have been, given that he’d usually gotten rough under the sheets. He’d constantly ask if he was alright, he’d make sure he rehydrated, and he washed him in the shower after, given they had enough energy. The android did as he was then, cuddling him from behind while Aoba guzzled half a bottle of water, a whole new kind of thirsty after their little romps.
His arms were always so strong and warm.
“Clear,” croaked Aoba, his throat still a touch dry, yet improved with the drink. “You’re... fine, right? You’re satisfied?” A glance over his shoulder proved his inquiry right, for he was nuzzling so happily into his shoulder. He could have only imagined the smile brightening his face.
“Of course, Aoba-san. I always am.”
“Yeah... yeah, me too.” He paused, swirling his water inside of the bottle before speaking again. “You’re always doing a good job, you know?”
It seemed that Clear, as per usual, interpreted his words at face-value. “Well, Aoba-san has given me a lot of practice,” he kindly informed him with a giggle. As if his face needed to be any hotter than it already was.
“No, no, I mean— sheesh, it’s not just the sex,” he grumbled, resisting the temptation to hide himself in his palms. Night time be damned, he was positive that Clear could have seen the look on his face. “It’s just, you always do great things. You used to be kinda... clumsy, you know.” The nuzzling had stopped, so he had to assume that he was listening carefully. “You were always strict. You’d never loosen up with yourself. You just kind of always beat yourself up and tried too hard. You were so, I dunno—enthusiastic?— that you’d just overdo a lot of things and mess up. You’d always be afraid of living.”
“Aoba-san...”
“Even in bed, it’s different now. It’s not bad. Actually, it’s better because you’re not freaked about messing up anymore. You’ve integrated into human life. You’re more, I dunno... casual? Like, not being so paranoid, shedding your grandpa’s old clothes for your own, doing your own thing— You’re really a lot more human than you used to be.” With a chuckle, he clarified, “Not that you weren’t already really human. It’s just... you’re blossoming into a man who can support the Seragaki household and all, you know? It’s not about doing your work right or being perfect, but being able to enjoy what you do without worrying. You’re not just what society expects of you. You’re your own standard. And that,” he told him as he lifted a hand to his fluffy hair, “is what makes you a person.”
At first, there was silence. Clear must have been soaking it all in, he thought, or he’d perhaps said something wrong. He’d clear things up with him if it ever came to that, but he wasn’t too worried about that. Interpreting what people said was another thing he’d gotten better at over the past three years, and it always blew him away how much he’d grown.
It was then that he’d been snapped out of his reverie, a tearful cry of his name screeched into his ear as he’d been tackled to the bed. Eyes shot open and viewed the precious scene of Clear above him, pinning him down to the bed with a stricken smile, optics misty.
“That was all I ever wanted,” he brokenly spoke. He was obviously quite choked up. “All I ever wanted was to be as human as you. Even if I didn’t do everything perfect, Aoba-san, it’s— it’s not about perfection. I want to support everyone and live a good life. I want to spend all of my days with you as a person and not a machine. That’s all I ever wanted with you, so, just... for Aoba-san to say that...!”
A grunt left him as Clear smothered himself in his hair, the very faint sensation of active nerves tingling him to his scalp. “Woah, woah— Easy there, big guy—”
“Aoba-saaaan, I love yoooou!”
“Clear,” he told him in sweet response, his voice like honey, “I’m... really proud of you.”
And so, they basked in each other’s warmth like this, the sounds of their own heartbeats following them into the morning light. Tomorrow came again, the beginning of Spring, the start of further growth from Mother Nature’s fruit.
The beginning of a new year... with Clear.