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“Chuuya, let’s get married.”
His heartfelt marriage proposal is met with an unimpressed stare, followed by a heavy eyeroll. His slug then paces around their shared room, basically looking at everywhere except in his direction.
The overhead lights cast an amber glow to the room, an ambiance that layers cozy softness everywhere. There’s only one bed, of course. There are fresh flowers on a vase by the bedside table, but not even the freshest of blooms could rival the way Chuuya looks right now. Flushed, red, feisty as always. Curly hair drips wetness into his neck.
A sudden thirst grips his throat, makes his tongue heavy in his mouth.
He’s overcome with the desire to wrap Chuuya up in his embrace. A desire to metamorphose into a cocoon that could cradle this red butterfly inside his hold, let him rest in the solace of his presence.
He’s never been the sort to curb his desires, even if they’re the sort who’d get him kicked into the curb, courtesy of his dog. So, he walks forward and moves to brace the shorty against the nearest wall.
Chuuya, being a slick slug, slips away from him and continues pacing around the room. With a look that accuses him of being stupid, “Oi, what the fuck are you doing?”
“Giving you a chance to accept my proposal. I figured you were just being shy earlier, so you couldn’t answer,” he responds, sweeter than honey. He knows that such sweetness deadly against microorganisms that require to be seen through a microscope, and it’s not surprising that Chuuya gives him a withering glare in response, barriers breaking down in a sign of his explosiveness.
Sure enough, a few moments later and there’s a gust of, “HAAAAA?!”
“Or is it that you want me to repeat my words?” He tilts his head, a calculated angle where he knows he looks the best in this kind of lighting. After all, it’s no secret that his dog is weak to cute things. Breathily, “Chuuya, let’s get married.”
A middle finger is raised towards his throat, followed by a, “Yeah, it sounds more insane the second time.”
“Do you want a third, then?”
“I want you to shut the fuck up,” Chuuya tells him.
A considering hum. “I will, but after you agree to marry me.”
“You absolutely wouldn’t,” comes the quick rebuttal. “You like the sound of your voice too much to shut up for good.”
“Is this a roundabout way of you admitting that you like my voice?”
Full of bewilderment, “How did you even reach that kind of harebrained conclusion?”
“I’ll tell you,” he pauses to ramp up the suspense, before cheekily grinning, “if you agree to marry me.”
Another eyeroll, a click of the tongue. “You’re so full of shit. Can’t you say or do something more useful?”
“If you’re asking if I already have a plan for a honeymoon—”
“—I really am not.”
“—then the answer is to go anywhere our heart desires, throwing a dart into a spinning globe, and let your card handle all the spending.”
Chuuya rubs a hand to the back of his neck, before making a face. “I don’t have a dart right now, but I do have a dagger I want to send towards your spinning head.”
He perks up, clapping in excitement. “Oh, that’s so embarrassing, you’re saying that I’m your whole world, huh?”
“Now I’m worried,” is accompanied by a gusty sigh. It also brings his dog closer to him, raising a hand to check his forehead’s temperature. “Okay, your head is still as swollen with nonsense as ever, but you don’t have a fever. Did you get hit by an Ability or something earlier?”
He nods in understanding. “I know that you’re probably too floored that I even want to marry someone whose height is close to the floor.” He catches that warm hand before it moves to punch him. No gloves right now, and he could almost feel the other’s lifeline thrum against his hold. “But I really do want to marry you.”
“And you’re insisting on it right now, because…?”
“Are you trying to put a schedule on love, Chuuya?” He snickers upon receiving a kick to his shins—well, he receives the other’s body crashing against him, as he dodges the attack while pulling his slug closer to his chest. “Is it not enough to let a whirlwind romance bring us to the next chapter of our life? Do you not believe in seizing the moment?”
“I’m beginning to think that I’m having a seizure right now,” is the flat reply.
He prompts, “You still haven’t given me a proper response.”
Testy, “Stupid questions don’t deserve answers.”
“But you answer your subordinates when they ask you such simple questions that would make toddlers ashamed.” The whine in his voice isn’t even faked.
Instead of feeling pity for him and rushing to comfort him, Chuuya tries to kick him again. “Stop eavesdropping on my conversations with them!”
“Why? It’s not as if you’re discussing important top-secret matters!”
“We absolutely are!” Another kicking attempt. “Just because you scrubs at the Agency don’t discuss anything useful at work, doesn’t mean that the same goes for the Port Mafia!”
“Oh, okay, you’re worried that I’ll hear you confessing your feelings for me.” He wraps his arms tighter, swaying them together as if he’s a cradle for a feral butterfly that’s flapping his wings faster than a tiny hummingbird.
“They’re all death threats! Because I hate you so much!”
He considers it and presses his cheek against the other’s still-damp hair. “Well, the phrase ‘till death do us part’ is part of the western wedding vow.”
“You bastard… if only you’re this nimble physically too, instead of putting all that effort to mental gymnastics, urgh…”
“Oho?” He breathes in the other’s familiar scent. Chuuya is many things, but he’s really fascinating when he’s in the battlefield, surrounded by gunfire, red and thrumming with vitality like blood itself. “You want to be more flexible, hmm?”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“And you still haven’t responded to my wedding proposal,” he points out, rubbing his nose against the other’s hairline, licking several droplets of blood that’s sluggishly oozing out from a cut on his forehead.
Chuuya rolls his bolo tie into a shaking fist, bringing him closer. “You only want us to get married so that we’ll get a license and then our names will be entered into the database, and the organization chasing us can use that to hunt us down!”
As the vanguard force from Yokohama, they’re on foreign soil so they can preempt an attack from the Order of the Clock Tower. It’s a difficult mission, but nothing is too difficult for the infamous soukoku.
That said, it’s boring to have a perfect mission, so he’s more than happy to help introduce more headaches to his partner. Chuuya with windswept hair, scattered bruises and wounds from not being able to use gravity to deflect attacks since they’re close enough that the nullification is activated.
“I also want to have a chibi-wife who will pay for everything I want,” he adds, a shameless smirk on his face.
Chuuya stares at him, a wolf sizing up his prey whether he’d fit nicely into his mouth. After a few moments, sharp teeth close in on his jawline, giving him a possessive bite there. “I’m not going to marry someone who can’t even help me check this hotel room for bugs,” he says, before punching him in the stomach and stepping away from him.
The blow isn’t as bad as it could be, but he still feels the air leave his lungs when Chuuya—clothes dark from the blood of the fallen knights—turns on his heel and gives him a particular look. The light from the ensuite bathroom gives him quite the fairytale glow, the old type of fairytales that are grim and gritty, happy endings upon briars of violence.
A little fairy of black and red fire. Chuuya unbuttons the top half of his shirt, raises an eyebrow at him. “I’m also not marrying someone who can’t even arrange everything needed for us to return safely to Yokohama, as well as help me clean up properly.”
There’s no deliberate sashaying to his hips as he enters the bathroom, but it’s bewitching nevertheless.
To himself, “He really thinks that he can make me do all that work, just so I could marry a slug?” He sneers, but it takes a lot of effort. “This is why I hate you so much, Chuuya.”
With one hand on his phone, he makes all the necessary arrangements swiftly enough that it’s all taken care of, by the time he’s pressing a water-sluiced Chuuya against the shower tiles.
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