Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It just so happens that sitting in a McDonalds drive thru with a blatantly unenthusiastic employee all while slowly bleeding to death actually is not the most pleasant way to spent a Tuesday morning. “Morning” being 2 AM.

“I just want a coffee,” Aki grits through his teeth to the intercom, one arm leaning on the window of his car he was currently leaning out of, his other hand clasped tightly to a currently bleeding wound. 

“I already told you,” says the tired voice through the intercom, “I don’t feel like looking for the keys to unlock the window for the drive thru. So if you really, really, really want some battery acid coffee, just come into the restaurant.”

Aki groans. “Fine,” he resigns, “but you can’t ask any questions.”

The guy is quiet for a second, likely out of confusion. “Uh, okay? What is this, Men in Black?”

“You’ll see.” Without further ado, Aki takes his car out of park and drives it through the remainder of the drive thru to the parking lot. The wound was above his hip, and while it wasn’t fatal— at least, not glaringly— it wasn’t a paper cut, either. 

Sustaining injuries was typical for Aki. Working with public safety had its setbacks and dangers, and even in a world where demons and humans coexisted somewhat peacefully, bad people— and, in turn, bad devils— exist. Except, dealing with rogue humans was far easier than the latter.

As Aki fit his car between lines to park, he found his vision blurrier than usual. His limbs felt heavy, and so did his eyelids…

Blood loss aside, Aki needed to get caffeinated enough to make it back to his shoebox apartment and fish out that medical kit from under his bed and stitch himself up. No money wasted on ambulances, and no bills to pay from the Emergency Room. His plan was foolproof. (No it wasn’t.)

Aki pushes open the door of the McDonalds to see the employee whose voice had been grating his ears for the past few minutes. His mouth was a flat, unimpressed line and his eyes were just as apathetic with exhaustion. He was a devil with a glowing halo and a pair of wide, white wings. His hair was messy, wisps in his face and strands tossed over his shoulders.

“What the- what the fuck?” The employee, who somehow found the energy to bring himself from the intercom to the cash register, stares at him unblinkingly. While he looked generally disinterested, the last thing he was expecting was a man hobbling into a McDonalds with a white button down soiled in his own blood.

“No questions, remember?” Aki mutters, and drags himself to the register enough to slap a five dollar bill on the counter. “Black coffee. Large.”

Aki attempts to focus on the employee’s name tag, but his eyes are too tired and unable to process the name. He gathers the letters one by one and sees: Angel. This guy seemed anything but. 

Angel presses his palms on the register and leans enough to look around his customer. He groans.  “Ugh, seriously?” His hand motions to the drops of blood littering the linoleum tiles. “I’m gonna have to mop that up, you know.” 

Aki elects to ignore him and instead turns around to take his pick from the rows of empty booths. Angel sighs heavily. “Ohmigod, fine, I’ll help you. Just- don’t sit there or else I’ll have to clean that too.”

Aki, thoroughly irritated, turns back around. “I don’t want your help,” he seethes, “I just want a coffee.” Angel was clearly ignoring him, acting as if Aki clearly needed his help. He didn’t. Aki didn’t want any help. He wanted to drink his coffee, and go home, and-

There was a hand on his hip, warm through the fabric of his slacks. Angel weaves himself under Aki’s shoulder and pulls the arm to be around him. Aki tries to pull himself away, but Angel’s grip was surprisingly firm. “We have a first aid kit,” Angel says, and though Aki tries to resist, his body leans its weight onto Angel’s side more than he liked. Aki feared he’d crush the man given their height difference, but Angel seemed to be managing just fine. One of his wings rested against Aki’s side, supportive like another arm against his back.

Angel pushes open the door to the kitchen and points to the empty, metal counter. “Sit,” he orders, and Aki doesn’t find the energy to argue. He does as he’s told, head leaning against the wall behind him. “You better not pass out,” Angel complains, hastily sorting through the shelves. “That’d be a real pain.”

“It’s not that bad,” Aki retorts, but grimaces as he adjusts to apply more pressure to the wound. “I probably don’t even need stitches.” 

“Well, good, because I’m not giving you stitches. That’s gross.” Aki rolls his eyes. It’s as if peak laziness and peak apathy were lumped into the same being. “Alright, human, take off your shirt.” Aki gives him a look mixed between wow and seriously? “Come on, do it now. I need to see the wound.” Begrudgingly, Aki obeys once again, and peels the blood-soaked fabric up and over his head.  The air is cold against his chest, and he shivers. “Use the shirt to soak up the blood for now.” For a moment, Aki’s mind wanders to how calm Angel seemed to be throughout this entire procedure. While he didn’t seem pleased about the prospect of cleaning up, he wasn’t upset by the sight of the blood, or of the wound. 

Angel, once he finds the first aid kit, drops it onto the counter and rifles though until he finds alcohol wipes. “What caused the wound?” Angel asks. Aki opens his mouth, but Angel cuts him off, “no, I don’t care what you were doing, I care what made it in case it gets infected or something.”

“A switchblade,” Aki offers. 

“Hm,” Angel hums. He shoos Aki’s hands away from the wound and investigates it himself. He presses his lips together in concentrated effort, a strand of vermillion hair falling before his eyes. “Doesn’t seem infected yet, but I’d better clean it.” He looks up, “don’t move. This’ll hurt.” Despite the stinging pain of the antiseptic wipes, Aki does little more than flinch. Angel doesn’t look up, but he hums again. “You have a high pain tolerance,” he says offhandedly. “How interesting.”

“I said no questions,” Aki rasps.

“Geez, how do I have to spell it out? I don’t care.” Angel finishes with the antiseptic wipe and throws it out. Aki’s eyes follow the movement and settle on the sight of the injury. The cut was the length of his index finger and multiple centimeters deep. 

Wordlessly, Aki reaches for the first aid kit and tugs it closer to himself, taking out the stitching supplies. He would need two or three stitches as the blood didn’t seem to be stopping any time soon. Stitching his own wounds was something he had become used to; carefully, he attempts to steady his shaking hands as much as possible before piercing the skin with the needle, deep enough to thread the first stitch. He can’t help but grimace at the burn it leaves behind along with the beads of bright blood blossoming after each stitch. He is aware of the fact that Angel is watching him, but even more so of the fact that he in no way seemed willing or wanting to help. Somehow, Aki was grateful for the lack of fretting; it was part of the reason why he was so insistent on being secretive about his injuries. He couldn’t afford hospital bills, especially not with how much Denji and Power’s school tuition was costing him. He also couldn’t afford scaring the teens with his wounds, which was why he tried his best to stay out of the apartment when he was casually bleeding to death. Though, he was sure they heard him clambering around at four in the morning, muttering curses as he stitched up his own wounds.

Once the stitches were finished, Aki patches the wound and hops down from the counter. He gives Angel a glance. “Thanks for the medical supplies,” Aki says curtly. 

Angel shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s fine. Can you do me a favor, though?” Aki raises his brows as a response. “Can you, like, not come back at 2 in the morning again?” 

His brows furrow. “Isn’t this place open 24 hours?”

Angel looks irritated. “Well, yeah, but I usually close around 2:30 and call it good.” He says this as if it’s customary to ignore store hours. The real miracle was the fact that the man still had a job. 

Aki shakes his head. “Trust me, I have no desire to come back here.” He gathers his bearings and heads towards the door, eager to escape from these too-bright lights and the smell of old French fries to get home to his bed. He hangs the bloodied shirt over his shoulder and folds his arms across his chest for meager warmth. Angel calls after him, 

“Have a nice life!”

Aki glances over his shoulder and spares the devil one last remark, “you too.” 

For the entire drive home, Aki’s exhausted mind was racing with questions. How did Angel know how to clean knife wounds and, supposedly, how to stitch? And why did he seem so unfazed by the entire situation?

Aki didn’t believe in any of that fate or love-at-first-sight crap, but there was something unexplainable about the way his heart seemed lighter when he first met the eyes of Angel from across the greasy, blood-spattered McDonalds (it sounded more romantic in his head). 

But, his questions would have to remain forever unanswered, for he was certain that he would never see Angel again.

Then Aki realized something.

That asshole never gave him his coffee.

Chapter Text

Never, never did Aki think he would end up telling his adoptive younger sister that he would not take her to McDonalds at 11 PM on— god forbid— a school night. Seriously, how did Aki turn out like this?

“Absolutely not,” he says with finality, lips scarcely moving to accommodate the cigarette suspended between them. 

“Come on, human! You better take me or else-”

“Power,” Aki sighs, “what did we say about the threatening.”

She continues undeterred, “or else I’m gonna feed Meowy catnip and let him loose in your room again!” 

This is enough to make Aki press his foot harder on the car break than necessary when approaching a stop sign, enough that the car jolts slightly. Cigarette smoke wafts into the air as Aki turns his head away from his rolled-down car window to face Power, who looked nothing short of diabolically devious. 

It was a situation that brought the pair into Aki’s car in the first place; Power had pulled another one of her “pranks” which, this time, consisted of hair removal creme in Aki’s shampoo. If not for the rancid smell it emitted, Aki would now be a Mr. Clean duplicate. Aki, too astounded by the idiocy to be thoroughly angry, decided to take Power along with him on a night drive to talk some sense into her (but all that really was happening was that Power was making demands, as usual). 

Aki narrows his eyes. What a responsible adult would do is not reward bad behavior. But, Aki did not currently have the patience to be responsible. “You’re buying me new shampoo tomorrow,” he grumbles, and puts the car back in drive. 

Not attempting to keep up with Power’s sprint from the parked car into the McDonalds (he didn’t bother trying the drive thru this time), Aki stalled walking into the restaurant. Surely the likelihood of Angel working again at this hour was slim. Surely there was someone else who took the night shift.

…But of course not, because why would anything ever go Aki’s way? 

“-and I’ll have chicken nuggets, a burger, a McFlurry, and- Imbecile! Are you writing this down!”

Aki stops in his tracks once he opens the glass door, atmosphere heavy under the weight of Angel and Aki’s severe eye contact. The cigarette nearly drops from Aki’s lips. 

“Great,” Aki mutters.

“You,” Angel acknowledges, and he would seem indifferent if not for the twitch to his right eye. “Got any more stab wounds?”

Aki elects to ignore the question and instead tags a long, long drag on the cigarette as he takes a few strides closer to where Power was ordering most everything on the menu. Power, bewildered, was currently staring between the two of them.

“No smoking indoors,” Angel states monotonously. Aki exhales, and with it comes a puff of smoke. Angel gags dramatically. “Seriously, throw that out or else I’m not making this food.”

“You’re going to make the food?” Aki retorts, brows raising with feigned innocence, “how unexpected. I thought that’d be too much work. But you owe me a coffee, you know.”

Power comes back to life. “How do you two know each other? Is it because you come here so often?” Power looks legitimately betrayed. “Aki, you cretin, you never let Denji and I come here, but you’re a regular?” She smacks him across the arm. “Traitorous!”

“Oh, he’s not a regular,” Angel contributes as he sorts through the register, “he just likes to annoy me specifically.” Angel slaps a five dollar bill on the counter, and Aki stares at it, dumbfounded. 

“You couldn’t afford to pour coffee in a cup?” Aki asks as he removes the cigarette from his lips. 

“Nope,” Angel confirms. “And y’know, you’re right, it is too much work to make food.” He slides the register closed and looks up at Power innocently. “Sorry, but the kitchen is out of order. I’m unable to make anything.” He shrugs with such nonchalance it makes Aki want to throttle him. 

“What?! No! You fool!” Power shrieks, and instead of pointing her anger at the incompetent employee, she instead whirls on Aki. “You. You angered the McDonalds Man! You have to make the chicken nuggets now!”

Aki is actually stunned, so much so that he simply stares at Power blankly for a few moments. “The hell- how does that even-”

“Come on!” Power grabs hold of his elbow and tugs as if she were three. “Let’s go home and you can make us food!” Power turns to Angel and beckoningly adds, “you come too! You are amusing.”

Aki glances to Angel, expecting a visceral reaction to the prospect of spending more time with Aki. However, he instead looks intrigued and, with a devious look in Aki’s direction, peels off his apron. “I’ll never pass up free food,” Angel reconciles. “Besides, you owe me.” 

“How did this even happen,” Aki revels, mostly to himself as he officially resigned from trying to instill a single grain of logic into either of these two. Instead, he leads the way out of the restaurant and crushes his cigarette under his heel. 

“Because you were smoking inside of McDonalds,” Angel replies. 

“We both know that’s not true,” Aki refutes, and turns to see Power yelling “shotgun!” while Angel fiddled with a ring of keys to lock up the restaurant (despite the fact it was open 24 hours).

“Whatever, human, just take me to my free food,” Angel orders, sliding the key ring into his pocket and, brushing past Aki, claiming his seat in the car. 

_____

It turns out that Power and Angel got along very well.

They mostly bonded over how much they hated humankind and how devil domination was inevitable, blah blah blah, not seeming to pick up Aki’s incessant increase of the radio’s volume. Really, Aki was too exhausted to consider how ridiculous this entire situation was. A stranger— and an unpleasant one at that— was following him home so he could cook him a meal even though said stranger was a restaurant employee.

As Aki fumbles with the keys to the apartment until he pushes the door open, he is met with a chorus of sounds coming from down the hall: the squeak of a bed and a muffled yell. Even through the darkness, Aki is sure he and Power make eye contact all while thinking the same thing: Denji.

At this point, it was rote memory. Without bothering to waste time on taking off shoes, Aki flipped on the lights, dropped his keys on their hook by the door, and together he and Power rush to Denji and Power’s shared bedroom door. Aki is quick to push the door open and, surely enough, Denji’s silhouette can be seen through the darkness sitting upright in his bed. His body language is visibly panicked, tense and thrashing in his streets. He was muttering incomprehensibly, but once Power turns the lights on, the panic was clear on his face. 

“Denji,” Aki starts, voice soft. Firmly, he grasps Denji’s shoulders. “Hey, wake up.” He raises his voice slightly, his grip staying steady even as Denji thrashes. “Denji, you’re dreaming. Wake up.”

“Denji!” Power hollers. This is enough to startle the boy, and his eyes snap open. Aki’s hands remain on his shoulders, grounding while Denji gathers his surroundings. His chest rose and fell in time with his hyperventilation, and his eyes scan over the room frantically. 

“I was, there was, it- I have to get away, I have to-”

“It’s not real,” Aki reminds him, searching for his eyes. But Denji was too far gone, and his breathing only became more sporadic. It was as if he was gasping for air. “Denji,” he says firmly. “Look at me.” The boy manages to bring his eyes to Aki’s, his expression just as manic and fearful as before. “It’s not real,” he repeats. Something about the repetition, the grounding is enough for Denji’s breathing to slow, and for his eyelids to drift close for a long few seconds before drifting open again. He brings a hand to his chest, fingers clenching at the material of his shirt. He shakes off Aki’s hands. Though his expression is guarded, Denji won’t look in Aki’s eyes as he mutters, “sorry.”

Aki rises from where he had been sitting beside Denji on his bed. Truthfully, it saddened him how Denji’s nightmares became routine. It was even sadder to think that for many, many years, there was never anyone there to comfort him. 

He is surprised to find Angel lurking in the doorway. His eyes were wide, yet the look on his fact was not unkind. In fact, he looked… sympathetic. And, he was holding something. “I’ve been told this is comforting,” Angel starts, and offers what looked to be a glass of warm milk to Denji. 

Denji looks at it for a moment before promptly taking the mug from Angel’s hands, taking a long drink of it, and smacking his lips. 

“Huh. I mean, it isn’t bad.” Denji looks up and cocks his head. “Wait, who the fuck are you?”

“McDonalds Man!” Power announces. 

“I’m here for the food,” Angel deadpans. 

“He’s a leech,” Aki says, just as deadpan. Angel scowls, and he returns the favor.

“Oh,” Denji says, and sits up in bed. “I didn’t know that y’all were fucking.”

The room goes very silent.

Then, Power howls, Angel looks as plain as a slate (was he blushing?) and Aki throws his hands up in the air, “no, no, I am not having this conversation right now!” He is quick to exit the room (cleverly concealing the fact his face was heating up by the second) and instead busies himself with turning on the stove and ignoring Denji and Power’s howling from down the hall. 

Aki is definitely not angrily dicing tofu right now because the thought of him and Angel— mingling— was too ridiculous. Really, it was insane that Denji had the thought at all. Well, not really. The boy’s mind lived in the gutter.

Angel, likely sick of Denji and Power’s heckling, leans enters the kitchen and leans his elbows on the other side of the counter top. 

“ANGEL AND AKI SITTING IN A TREE,” Denji hollers.

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” they screech in unison. 

I’m putting them up for adoption, Aki thinks. “Can you shut their door?” Aki says to Angel. 

“You’re ordering me around?” Angel snips. 

“FIRST COMES LOVE, THEN COMES MARRIAGE, THEN COMES-”

Angel all but ran to shut the door. 

The rest of the night felt simple. Surprisingly, Angel’s presence hardly threw off Aki’s routine. Angel quietly watched Aki cook, now and then offering quips: “that’s a lot of pepper” or “wow, you gonna have some curry with your soy sauce?” only for Aki to say a mindless “shut up” without fail.

The four ate together around the dining table, Power and Denji’s conversations as animated as ever despite the late hour. And, as usually went with these late meals (they happened more often than you’d think), Power and Denji fell asleep on the floor. 

“Hm, who knew a grumpy cigarette-smoking tormented soul like you had such a lively home life,” Angel observes, motioning to the two teens splayed out, snoring ceaselessly. Aki shakes his head. 

“I’ll deal with that later,” he dismisses, picking up each of the dishes on the table and placing them in the sink. 

The drive back to McDonalds was silent but somehow comfortable. Angel stuck his arm out the window, hand making waves with the breeze as Aki drove along. And, at stop lights, Aki watched how the red light bathed across Angel’s face, and how the feathers of his wings fluttered with the wind. 

Just observations.

Once Aki pulls to a stop in front of the god forsaken and now-too-familiar restaurant, he turns to see Angel already unbuckling his seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride,” Angel supplies. Aki hums. “And the food,” he adds. 

“Sure,” Aki accepts. There’s silence before Angel slips from the car and, most likely subconsciously, bids farewell with,
“See you later.”

Aki turns to face him, one hand on the wheel, questioning look on his face. “Later?” he pries. Was that hope in his tone?

“Yeah? I mean, it’s only a matter of time before you badger me for more coffee and bleed all over my floor, right?” Angel scrunches his nose. “That really did take forever to mop.”

Aki rolls his eyes. “Alright, well, we’re even after I just made you dinner.”

“Whatever. See you.”

“See you later,” Aki replies, and gives Angel one last glimpse before pulling his car out of park and once again driving into the night.

It wasn’t like Aki liked him or anything, but he supposed that Angel was tolerable. Something about the way his instinct was to help Denji— even if the act was as simple as bringing a glass of milk— made Aki’s heart squeeze, though he wouldn’t admit it. And that look, that knowing look in his eyes when Denji thrashed and cried for help— it made Aki reconsider his simplistic judgements about Angel.

This time, Aki figured Angel was right: it was only a matter of time before they saw each other once again. 

Chapter Text

Aki never thought he would become a McDonalds regular. But, he was a sucker for a routine and before he knew it, he found himself a new one. 

He would get up, make breakfast. Drive Denji and Power to school. Work his shift at Public Safety. Come back, make dinner. Then, go on a drive with the excuse of having a smoke and he would find himself in the McDonalds parking lot. 

“You’re not really here for the coffee, are you,” Angel had asked one night, but said this more as a statement than an inquiry. His eyes settled on Aki in a way that revealed that Angel knew. He could see through whatever games Aki was playing. 

Though that was days ago, Aki can’t forget the chill that ran down his spine, can’t shake just how quickly his mind went blank. In that moment, he stared at Angel, dumbfounded. “No,” he had answered quietly. Then, they had moved on like nothing had happened, and Aki hated himself for it.

Since then, his mind has been racing— what did Angel mean? Was he flirting? Aki couldn’t flirt to save his life because he took everything too literally, and apparently that’s a mood killer. One time, when he was at a bar with Himeno, a woman approached him and said, “hey, you. What are you up to?” Which is— to everyone on the face of the planet except for Aki— clearly flirting. But, Aki only replied with a shrug and,

“Sitting?” as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Himeno never let him live it down.

Aki tosses his cigarette before entering the restaurant, and as the bell above the door announces his arrival, Angel looks up accordingly. 

“Oh hey,” he says, pulling himself from his bored daze and hopping up to sit on the counter of the cash register. “Let me guess, large black coffee?”

“No, actually,” Aki responds, “still have that medical kit?”

Angel fails to mask the worry on his face. “I mean yeah, but- what? Why?” 

Sighing slightly, Aki lifts his hand from where it was previously pressed to his hip. A small splotch of blood was visible through the fabric of his shirt. “My stitches from before ripped,” he explains, but does not explain the fact that they were not ripped but instead sliced during one of his devil extermination jobs. 

“Oh,” Angel says, and again, he tries to act nonchalant as usual but Aki can see the look in his eyes. “Well, come on.” Angel, turning his back, opens the swinging door to the kitchen, and though the door shuts behind him, Aki figures this is as good of an invitation as any. 

Aki finds his usual sitting place on the metal counter and waits for Angel to rifle through the cabinets and drawers for the first aid kit. Almost every night for the past week, Aki has found a place on this counter top; once, he cooked more food for Angel (ironic he was cooking for the McDonalds employee in the McDonalds kitchen…). The other night, Aki sat in a booth and read The Great Gatsby over a cup of coffee (that Angel actually made him this time). Angel silently slid into place beside him and read over his shoulder. 

Aki didn’t realize Angel was actually following along until he finished the chapter and slid the bookmark in place. “You better come back tomorrow,” Angel had said, and Aki looked over with raised brows. Angel waves a hand dismissively, “just so I can find out what happens.”

Without needing to be asked, Aki pulls his shirt over his head and inspects the wound. Despite his false story of the stitches being ripped rather than sliced, it was obvious his story was a lie; the cut now extended past the perimeter of the previous wound, and he grimaces at the sight. The wound was minor enough that Aki didn’t feel the affects of the blood loss, but it would still need a few stitches.

Before Aki can ask for the medical kit, Angel was already pulling supplies from it. “I’ll stitch it,” he states, “but you need to answer some of my questions.”

Aki opens his mouth, then closes it. His instinct was to turn down the help, but he recalled how difficult it is to stitch his own wounds while his hands tremble with the pain. Sheepishly, he looks at the ceiling. “Fine,” he resigns. 

Despite Angel’s previous claim of never wanting to stitch Aki’s wounds for him, he didn’t seem to mind first cleaning the cut with antiseptic and then threading the needle for the stitches. “Why don’t you go to the hospital?” Angel asks first, and Aki watches as Angel delicately brings the tip of the needle to his skin. He hesitates, then pierces it, a bead of red blood surfacing. Aki winces. 

“It’s too expensive,” he deflects. Angel doesn’t look up from where he was threading the string through the puncture, crossing it to the other side of the cut and tightening to make one perfect stitch. However, Aki could feel the suspicion radiating from Angel, and who knows what came over him but he found himself being a little more honest, “well… I could probably get my work to pay for it, but the hospital usually makes you stay overnight and-” He flinches as Angel starts the next stitch, “then I’d have to deal with figuring out who will watch Denji and Power.” From where Angel stood on the ground and Aki was perched on the counter, Angel looked up to meet his eyes. Crimson eyes, Aki noticed. Pretty eyes. Pretty eyes that had the softest glow from the halo that hovered above his head like a small spotlight. 

“Don’t you have any family to watch over them?” Angel asks, eyes darting back downward to continue the stitch. Aki tenses instinctually.

“I’m an orphan,” he answers quietly, “and so are they.”

Angel exhales slowly. “Sorry,” he murmurs. Aki shakes his head,

“Not your fault.”

Once Angel finishes the second stitch, he sets the needle aside and takes out a large square bandage. “Can I ask a second question?”

Aki sighs, “something tells me you’re going to ask anyway.”

A small smile comes across Angel’s lips. “You’re right.” Delicately, his hand presses on the center of the bandage to apply it to the wound, his fingers glazing over the surface. “How do you get these wounds?”

Before he can think twice, Aki answers, “I work with Public Safety.” 

Angel looks up at him once again. “Hm. That’s a dangerous job.”

“It’s important,” Aki replies. And that was the end of it. But, something was eating away at Aki’s curiosity, the question of how Angel was so calm, so daft when it came to repairing wounds. Aki wasn’t one to inquire, but suddenly, he found himself wanting to. Now that Angel was finished dressing the injury, Aki wraps his arms around his bare chest to combat the goosebumps trailing up and down his arms. “How are you so used to fixing wounds?”

Angel’s eyes widen slightly, taken aback by the question. “My ex girlfriend was an officer,” he responds calmly. For a second, his eyes looked far away, and Aki wondered what he was seeing. What he was remembering. He slides the first aid kit closed and replaces it in the cabinet before he rinses his hands in the sink. 

“Oh,” Aki responds, because he wasn’t sure what else to say, and all he can think about was how he misjudged Angel the first time they met. All he could see before was a lazy, complaining employee (and to be fair, he was still just that). But now, he could see the full picture. The careful touches. The empathetic looks. How quick Angel was to patch him up. 

Angel, turning back around, walks a few paces to stand in front of Aki once again. He takes a step closer, then another one. His hand is on his knee. His hand is on his knee. Aki has a hard time focusing on anything except for the thumb tracing along the skin right above his knee. Seriously, what was wrong with him? 

“You remind me of her, you know,” Angel says, voice quiet. And he gives him that look again, looking right up at him. 

Aki swallows the lump in his throat. It should be easy to glaze over that statement, but Aki was caught in Angel’s trap, because he innocently asks, “do I look like her?”

Angel’s grin is wry, “no, not at all.” 

Then, just like that, the pressure that was heavy in the atmosphere is gone, because Angel’s eyes are glancing over the bare skin of Aki’s chest, and he frowns. “You’re cold,” he observes.

“I’m fine,” Aki refutes, though his tensed arms braced around his middle tell a different story. Calling his bluff, Angel’s wings shrink slightly to accommodate how he took of his hoodie jacket. After slipping his arms out of it, he offers it to Aki,

“I’d be pretty annoying if you died of hypothermia after all of my hard work,” Angel deadpans, and though Aki pushes the extended hand away, Angel refuses to surrender. Exasperated, Aki takes the hoodie and, before he slips it on, notices two long holes along the back cut haphazardly with scissors in order to fit Angel’s wings. It takes everything in him not to laugh. “You’re welcome,” Angel says, shaking his head and muttering something about Aki being “damn ungrateful” yet with a smile on his face.

And Aki, being “damn ungrateful,” definitely does not notice that Angel’s hoodie was somewhat cropped on him. And it smelled like him. It took until this moment for Aki to realize that Angel had a scent, like citrus and that feeling on a rainy day. 

Aki then slides down from the counter. “Thanks for your help,” Aki says, and zips up the zipper. The sleeves are too short, too. “I’ll return this.”

“No problem,” Angel answers. “See you tomorrow?”

It was funny how that became a catchphrase between them now. See you tomorrow. “Yeah,” Aki confirms, “see you then.”

_____

It took almost no time for Denji and Power to notice Aki’s attire. It took them about five seconds after the apartment door to shut behind him for Denji to holler “the fuck are you wearing?” from where he was reading manga in the living room. 

Power, eager for the chance to ridicule her adoptive older brother, grins devilishly. “I did not know you liked cropped attire?”

Aki hopes on the off chance that if he didn’t look at the diabolical adoptive siblings of his, they would leave him alone. He was wrong. Wordlessly, he turns around to collect vegetables from the fridge to prepare a snack for the two, and immediately Denji is badgering him,

“Powy, look! Look at the holes! It’s Angel’s!”

If only Denji put this much thought into his school work. Aki continues ignoring the pair and instead places the vegetables on the cutting board and begins dicing.

Powy, roars with laughter, still splayed on the living room floor while Denji leaned over the kitchen counter and exclaims, “I can’t believe Aki got a boyfriend before I got a girlfriend!”

Aki pauses his dicing and whirls on Denji. He ignores the fact that his heart palpitates in his chest at the prospect of Angel being his boyfriend. “He is not my boyfriend,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

“Your face is bright red!” Denji roars, and, Aki didn’t have a single retort because dammit, he was right. So, he places the knife onto the cutting board with an angry clatter before, face pinched in irritation, he replies, 

“Fine, make your own food!”

Aki hardly makes it out of the kitchen before both Power and Denji are whining. “No, please!” Denji begs, “I’m hungry!”

Aki tuts. “You should’ve thought of that before.” Aki doesn’t even reach the hall by the time Power tried tackling him and Denji attempted a chokehold. But, alas, Aki had gone soft. It didn’t take much longer for him to resume his work in the kitchen along with Denji and Power on either of his sides, chiming back and forth with questions about Angel. 

Aki could pretend all he liked, but Denji and Power knew how he really felt: he wished they were right. He wished Angel was his boyfriend, whether he chose to admit it or not.

Chapter Text

“I couldn’t sleep all night; a fog-horn was groaning incessantly on the Sound, and I tossed half-sick between grotesque reality and savage, frightening dreams…” 

“What chapter are we on?” Angel calls from across the kitchen. He insisted that Aki read The Great Gatsby aloud to him as he finished dishes from his shift. He was up to his elbows in soap, and he stacked clean dish after clean dish, making sure to give Aki a seething glare after each accomplishment as Aki refused to help him. (“You need to learn to be a better employee,” Aki had scolded.)

“Chapter eight,” Aki answers. Angel turns the faucet off. Today marks their three-week anniversary of knowing each other. It was interesting how quickly time was flying, and with it, how much Aki was learning about the man. First and foremost, Angel was very, very touchy; Aki usually considered himself the opposite, but he found himself leaning into touches. He accepted the hand on his knee, the head on his shoulder. 

“Usually reading is too exhausting for me,” Angel comments, drying his hands on a near towel before crossing the kitchen to meet Aki at his usual perch on the counter, “but this is fun.”

Aki presses the bookmark to the page and slides it shut, leaving the novel beside him to give Angel his full attention. “It’s a good book,” he contributes. 

Angel leans forward, his folded elbows over Aki’s thighs, and rests his chin on the surface of his forearm. He blinks, and looks up at Aki. Aki gulps at the physical contact as, despite the gradual exposure therapy, he never could get used to it.

“I can’t believe we’re almost done with it,” Angel starts, his head rolling off of his arm and instead resting on Aki’s thigh. His hand unfolds from his arm, instead resting further up his leg, palm warm enough to be felt through the denim of his jeans. He fights back a shudder, but can’t hold back the way he tenses. Angel must feel the muscles of his thighs tense, for he meets Aki’s eyes innocently, “sorry… too much?”

No. Not enough. “Yeah,” Aki forces out, sheepish. Sheepish? This wasn’t like him. Angel had this tendency to make Aki dazed, flustered, sheepish. It was becoming ridiculous.

Angel retreats and instead stands a more appropriate length away from him, rocking on his heels. Next to Aki’s leg was the hoodie Angel lent him not long ago, and he finally “remembered” (Aki hardly took the thing off since it was given to him) to return it. Angel eyes the garment before sighing, “hm… I miss seeing my clothes on you.”

What. What. 

Aki stares at him blankly, and there may as well be a loading symbol where his brain is because seriously Angel could not keep saying these things. Saying Aki reminded him of his ex, and not in physical resemblance. Splaying himself on Aki’s lap. And now— this. This. 

Aki’s curiosity gets the better of him. “Can I ask you something?” he starts abruptly.

Angel, somewhat surprised, shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

Aki sucks in a breath. “Are… you flirting with me?” His heart suddenly feels like a brick in his chest, and he feels it squeeze as he watches Angel process the question. First, confusion. Then, shock. Then, something else… and the beginnings of regret sink deep under Aki’s skin. He was about to start kicking himself shortly before he found an exit out of this kitchen and begged for forgiveness. The shame was getting the better of him, along with the fear. What if Angel really was flirting with him? Then what? After only a century or two, Angel opens his mouth,

“God, Aki. I’ve been flirting with you this whole time.” His voice was low, low, and Aki has to pause. Was this really happening?

And it was, because the sight was too vivid to be imagined. Angel’s eyes, now hooded, glazed with intent and pure, unabashed want. His hands, now on the sides of either of his legs. All of it went straight to Aki’s racing heart. 

“Oh,” Aki whispers dumbly. And Angel laughs this pretty, quiet laugh as he was leaning up, up, as far as his tippy-toes would take him. He glides his hands down Aki’s legs until they reach his knees, and pull them apart so he can stand between them. Angel, noticing the predicament of their height difference, grabs Aki by the collar and all but yanks until their heights are more level. 

Aki finds himself staring at Angel’s lips, pink, and pulled into a small smirk. The need to kiss him was so sudden and overwhelming that Aki was certain he would die if he didn’t. And, once he pries his gaze away to meet Angel’s eyes, Aki knew he was thinking the same thoughts.

“Let me put this simply,” Angel murmurs, and Aki can feel his breath on his lips. “I want to kiss you. Very badly.”

Though that anxiety was still a pit in Aki's stomach, his thoughts dull to a distant buzz as all he can process was the way Angel looked down at his lips, slowly, before raking his eyes up the rest of his face. “Good,” Aki manages before finally he closes the space between them. 

He doesn’t have time to think about anything other than the kiss blooming between them. Aki was so flustered that, for a second, he forgot that hands existed. His own were lagging awkwardly, unsure of where to go or what to do. Angel, meanwhile, had grabbed either of his hips and yanked him closer. Aki then decides that slouching so viciously to accommodate Angel’s height was uncomfortable so he places his hands on Angel’s shoulders, pushing him back gently and breaking the kiss just barely so he can hop down from the counter. At first, Angel leans in instinctually, but Aki has different plans. Instead, he keeps his hands firm on his shoulders and whirls the two around, Angel’s back to the edge of the counter. Then, Aki crouches downward, hands bracing under the backs of Angel’s thighs in order to help him hop onto the counter. 

“Better?” Aki asks, and for once, he is the one to look up at Angel. If Aki didn’t have the burning desire to kiss him, he could look at him like this forever. His halo cast a yellow hue down on him like a ray of sunlight. One of his wings, likely subconsciously, bent enough to tickle at Aki’s arm. Angel gives him a warm, sincere smile that spoke for itself, but still he answers,

“Perfect.” Then, they’ve engulfed each other once again. Angel kisses with such passion that it bordered on hungry. Angel bit his lip, and Aki tangled his hands in the locks of Angel’s hair, fingers curling around the strands. Then, his hands travel until his palms press to the small of Angel’s back, and in return, Angel’s hands rest on the back of his head, tugging at Aki’s hair until it fell loose around his face. Angel tugs at the strands until Aki groans into his mouth and then Angel is grabbing him again by the collar and pulling him closer, closer, closer—

Suddenly, there is a loud clattering sound, and their lips separate as Angel hisses a loud and pained “shit!” Because Aki and Angel were a whirlwind, the two left a mess in their wake, and as Angel had been attempting to bring Aki as close as possible, he had swung his elbow and hit a tin tray of chicken nuggets sitting on the counter beside him with enough velocity that the nuggets flew from the tray and cascaded across the counter and onto Angel’s lap like a wave.

Aki untangles himself from Angel’s limbs to assess the damage, but it’s Angel’s reaction to exclaim, “no! The McNuggets!”

And for some reason, the fact that one second Aki felt he had been dropped into a romantic comedy and the very next the moment was rained on by chicken nuggets. This was enough to give him whiplash, much less the thing that Angel had shouted no! The McNuggets!

Who knows what comes over him— sleep deprivation, love sickness— but suddenly, a laugh scratches at his throat until it breaks free. It starts as a chuckle, timid, before it snowballs to something bigger and uncontrollable. 

It isn’t long before Angel snorts, either at the fact there were McNuggets on his lap or that Aki was laughing so hard, and the two chuckle, giggle, howl at the crime scene before them.

Finally, Aki wheezes for breath, his stomach burning from the gravity of his laughing. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the sight of Angel staring at him with pure wonder. His lips were bitten, pink and swollen, wet with saliva. His cheeks were still noticeably red, his hair even messier than usual. Aki feels a swell of pride bloom in his chest because he did that, and even more so when Angel cocks his head slightly.

He has this brazen, lovesick smile on his face as he observes, “I’ve never seen you laugh like that.”

Aki thinks for a moment, tries to remember the last time he laughed. Perhaps his childhood, or once or twice when he was drunk. Maybe Denji and Power’s antics pried a smile out of him now and then. But still, it was scarce enough to be unusual. “I can’t remember the last time I did,” Aki admits. 

Then, gathering themselves, the pair cleaned the tornado of McNuggets that stretched from the counter to all along the floor. Angel finishes the dishes he was supposed to complete earlier before he was just a little distracted thanks to Aki. And still, even though it had been minutes since the kiss, Aki’s brain still was fried. He felt uncharacteristically giddy, so much so that he could hardly focus on anything other than replaying the way Angel’s lips pressed into his again and again and again. He relishes in the snippets and moments, so much so that he feels like a teenager with a crush all over again.

Though Angel had been explicitly clear with his intentions, Aki’s mind was still filled to the brim with questions. Did Angel have feelings for him? Real feelings that were beyond physical attraction? Did he have any interest in being his boyfriend? Aki tried to get himself to slow down, to stay in the moment and enjoy it, but he couldn’t. He felt chained to his own anxieties, unable to proceed until they were either confirmed or denied.

Instead of stating these questions in a more intellectual manner, Aki blurts, “so uh, do you like me?”

Angel freezes from where he was straining to push a bowl onto the top shelf. Then he snorts, amusement radiating off of him. “Yes, Aki,” he chides, “I like you.” 

Aki’s lips pull themselves into a small smile, “okay, just making sure,” he mutters. Angel throws the dishtowel aside and stands beside him,

“I think it’s about time I close up,” Angel comments, and Aki’s eyes dart to where the microwave lists the time: 12:51 AM. Usually, Aki would chastise him, but he would have to make an exception this time. “Wanna get out of here?”

“Yes,” Aki agrees immediately, yet pauses as he adds, “I need to find my hair tie, it-” His mind traces back to how his scalp burned with Angel’s touch, and how his hair still hung loose in his face, “it fell off.” 

“This is my first time seeing you with your hair down,” Angel comments, eyes gazing over him. “You should wear it like this more often, you know. You look…” 

“Like a wet mop?” Aki offers, recalling how Denji called him that once when he got out of the shower with his hair down.

Angel snickers, but shakes his head, “no, no. You look… pretty.” 

With that, Aki made the decision to leave the hair tie behind, and off the two went.

_____

Call it cheesy, but Aki and Angel elected to go stargazing at the park.

Given the late hour, the two had limited options. Aki didn’t feel like sneaking Angel back into his apartment, and it was a nice night, anyway. So, they walk through the darkness of the park, feeling like the only two people alive as aside from flickering street lamps, the world was dark and quiet. There was peace in the silence, and neither of them penetrate it. Gradually, they find a clearing of grass where there is an unobstructed view of the night sky, littered with bright stars. Together, they sit, and when Aki outstretches his arm, Angel curls into his side, his cheek on Aki’s chest.

“You can’t see the stars,” Aki warns, but doesn’t stop himself from wrapping his arm tight around Angel’s shoulders, his forearm pressed against the soft feathers of his wings.

“I really don’t care,” Angel returns, voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. 

Then again, they fall into silence, creating a void that Aki’s badgering mind chooses to fill with a deep, ugly dread. This moment was so sweet, so domestic and so alien to Aki that he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Aki was used to prices to his happiness, and was used to his self-sacrificing tendencies to get what those around him needed. In a relationship, he didn’t need to do any of that. 

But still, for some reason, he felt uncomfortable with this new territory he was slipping into. He was tense in anticipation of the conversation, the do-you-want-to-be-my-boyfriend conversation. Still, Aki wanted Angel to be his boyfriend so badly, and yet, he was also horrified by the prospect.

“You’re quiet,” Angel claims, and he props his chin on Aki’s chest. “Well, more than usual, anyway.”

Aki gulps. The tensity, no matter how hard he tries to relax, is unrelenting. “I’m just looking at the sky,” he lies. 

Though Aki can’t see his face through the darkness, he can sense Angel’s suspicion. “Hey, we should probably talk about what happened.”

“I guess,” Aki says dully. What was going on? What was this barrier that was rising rapidly between himself and his own emotions?

“Is something wrong?” Angel asks, and though he tries to seem casual about the proposition, Aki could hear the deep hurt underlying his tone. It made the instinctual side of Aki want to sweep him closer and soothe his worries, and somehow that instinct made the conscious part of him close off even further. Angel’s fingertips sweep at a strand of hair that had slipped to catch on Aki’s eyelashes, but he flinches away from the touch. Dejected, Angel pulls his hand away.

“No, I just-” he tries to swallow the lump in his throat, but it won’t go away. “I’m just not sure about… if dating is a good idea.”

Angel tenses, and immediately, he’s pulling away. Angel, who loved his touch so much, was shriveling, curling in on himself to get away. “I’m sorry, are we moving too fast?” Angel poses. The grass rustles as Angel seats himself there. “We don’t have to label anything. We can wait as long as you need. You call the shots.”

But the dread wouldn’t dissipate. No matter how much Aki tried to cycle through the stress, he couldn’t pick out a concrete reason of why, why he was suddenly so distant. He didn’t feel rushed by Angel. He knew for a fact that this was what he had been yearning for. “It’s not that,” Aki dismisses. “I’m just not sure if us dating is a good idea.”

Now Angel is the one to be quiet. Usually, Angel was the one to pry the conversation out of Aki. And in this moment, he was reduced to a troubled silence. It’s enough to make Aki’s heart clench uncomfortably tight. “A good idea?” Angel tests, “what… do you mean?”

The words slip out before Aki can process them, as if they were coming straight from his unconsciousness as he states, “it’s dangerous.”

Oh. Aki understood now.

This was a defense mechanism. He was putting up walls too tall for anyone to scale. He was so terrified of the prospect of losing anyone else that he didn’t want anyone too close to him. Aki was so quick to protect everyone around him that sometimes he didn’t even realize he was isolating himself.

He couldn’t afford to lose someone. Not again. Not after Himeno—

No. He couldn’t think about that right now.

This time, when Angel doesn’t respond, it isn’t timidness, confusion. It’s anger. Sadness. Despair so vivid that it sends a chill down Aki’s spine. “Aki,” Angel whispers. “No. No, don’t do this. I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m being smart,” Aki deflects. “My work is dangerous, and you know that. What if you’re targeted or hurt?” 

“You’re scared,” Angel corrects. For reasons that escaped him, the observation was so astute that it made him angry. “I’m a devil, remember? I can protect myself. That’s not what you’re scared of.”

“We barely know each other,” Aki insists. “You barely know me.”

“Sure, I don’t know what your favorite color is or where you were born, but I know you.” Angel’s hand brushes against his, and for a second, Aki lets the fingertips press into his palms. “And I want to learn those things about you, Aki. I want to go on dates with you, and— we need to finish The Great Gatsby.” Angel’s fingers reach until his hand entwines with Aki’s fingers, squeezing gently. “You’re scared, and that’s okay. We can figure this out, but together.”

And there it was, Angel telling him all of the soothing things Aki was vying to hear. Angel posed a solution to each of the issues Aki presented. We don’t know each other: we can get to know each other. Being my boyfriend is dangerous: I can protect myself. I’m scared: so am I.

But now that dread was twisting, morphing into shame. Shame, because Aki was making him do this. He was forcing Angel into the soothing, caring position where he had to constantly console him. 

Aki didn’t deserve him. What Aki deserved was to stick to his responsibilities. Power and Denji needed him— how much longer could he go on sneaking away at night like some teenager? He didn’t have the money to spare on fancy candlelit dinners and didn’t have the time to spare. So, Aki does what’s easiest, what’s best and pulls his hand from Angel’s. His mind was already made up; this was the most mature, responsible decision for the both of them. Right person, wrong time.

Aki’s jaw clenches as he says, “sorry. I really just can’t.”

“Can’t.” Angel’s voice is flat. His patience is running thin, Aki could tell.

“I have responsibilities,” Aki grits, irritation gnawing at him. Seriously, Angel just wouldn’t back down. “I can’t afford to throw it all away and run off on dates.”

Angel exhales, exasperated. “But- Aki. This entire time I’ve known you, you’re so hard on yourself that you don’t even smile.” Aki opens his mouth, face pinched in annoyance as he tried to interject, but Angel wouldn’t let him. “And when you laughed earlier all I thought was how I want to see you laugh more. And you owe it to yourself, really.” Angel’s voice, righteous with his statements, settles to a softer tone as he adds, “because we’re happy together. I know you think so too.” He takes a breath, “so, tell me you don’t like me. Tell me that you’re not interested in me and I swear, I will never bother you again.”

And that was the voice of someone who knew Aki Hayakawa.

But his mind was chorusing not again, because Aki couldn’t, he just couldn’t lose someone. He couldn’t have another Himeno. Not again. And above all, he didn’t deserve this. 

“I’m-” Aki’s very body protests against him, his throat so tight he could scarcely breathe. But his decision was already set in stone, his mind made up. “I’m not interested in you.”

Angel’s silhouette physically deflates, his shoulders drooping and head bowed. Maybe Aki imagined it, but the glow of his halo appeared to dim, but still, Aki caught a glimpse of his eyes which now glistened over with unspilled tears. Aki’s heart leapt up to his throat, and the smarter, wiser part of his brain was crying take it back, take it back. But his heart was too tired of breaking, straining to keep itself alive. He didn’t have the strength to let another person close to him again.

Angel didn’t spare another word and instead, rises slowly to his feet. The regret sinks in immediately, and Aki scrambles to his feet, about to backtrack, re-examine his cluster of emotions, re-explain his situation but instead, Angel holds up a hand. His eyes still glistened, but if not for that, he would otherwise seem eerily calm. “Don’t bother,” he whispers shakily, “I’ll find my own way home.”

Angel walks away, further and further until Aki’s eyes could no longer follow the glow of his halo. Once Aki drags himself to his car, all he can do is rest his head on the leather of the steering wheel. He doesn’t cry, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t do anything except for wait. Wait for that dread to go away, because he solved the problem. He drove Angel away. Why did he still feel so terrible?

The dread never relented, not when Aki found the strength to pull the car out of park, not when he laid in bed and laid awake, not when he dragged himself to work the following morning. The anxiety dug its claws deep under his skin, unable to be shaken free.

Even Makima spared him what must be pity, her bottomless eyes taking in the sight before her as Aki entered her office that morning. “Everything alright, Aki? Did you not sleep well?”

“I slept fine, Ms. Makima.” He was tossing and turning for hours, waiting for his alarm to go off. “What is my assignment today?”

Work at Public Safety was monotonous today, but Aki considered this a blessing. Being as good as a zombie meant he would be slower than usual in combat, and thus more prone to injuries. More prone to hospital visits that he could not afford in either time or money.

Well, it was monotonous until it wasn’t.

After a report of a disturbance downtown, Aki was instructed to take himself and a rookie to the scene. “It shouldn’t be anything too difficult,” Makima assured Aki, “all you have to do is retain the perpetrators until the police show up.”

Aki nods in recognition. “Understood, Ms. Makima. We will be efficient.”

The perpetrator was listed to be male, and alone. Human. As he and Kobeni approached the scene, Aki saw this as more of a chore than a duty. His tired mind wandered to the dark places he didn’t like to wander to: was putting people in jail really seeking justice for his dead family? 

Before he can wander further, Aki and Kobeni halt at the start of an alleyway. 

“Please tell me we don’t have to go in that creepy dark alleyway,” Kobeni whines, voice trembling as she turns to Aki for comfort. He gives her a grim expression, and she whimpers, yet doesn’t back away. Aki leads the way, one hand on the hilt of his sword pressed to his back. The two ducked into shadows, smoothing their backs against the grimy bricks of the deserted alleyway. It didn’t stretch too far ahead and was empty aside from dumpsters and scuttling rodents. This was good. It was better to have a crime scene that was secluded from civilians. Aki eyes ahead and notices a corner, a small pocket within the brick wall that was a disadvantage. His hand clasps tighter onto his sword, ready to unsheathe it the second they rounded the corner.

Then, things happened too fast. The perpetrator immediately emerged from around the corner, gun pointed, finger over the trigger. His face was steely, not an ounce of hesitation present on his expression. It was a look Aki knew well: murderous intent. 

In the split second Aki had between when the man emerged and when he pulled the trigger, his first intent is to duck, unsheathe his sword, and easily decommission the man with the momentum of his sword.

Then he remembered Kobeni. If he ducked, the bullet could strike her. She was just a rookie. Just a kid. A picture of Himeno infiltrates his racing thoughts.

Just as the bullet releases from the gun, Aki turns his back against better judgement and roars, “get down!” He dives forward, tackling Kobeni down with him, yet suddenly, there’s pressure, heavy pressure in his side like all the hands in the universe were pushing him down. He hits the ground, hard. He can practically feel the adrenaline pumping in his veins with such gravity that his vision pulsated around the edges. 

His ears ring and he flinches, hoping to pull himself from his daze, yet his body won’t comply. Kobeni, whose eyes are wide with terror, wriggles out from under him. Aki manages to sit up, but immediately, his vision swims. What was going on? 

Kobeni tugs her own gun from its holster, flicks off the safety, aims, and shoots within the a second, and her previous whimpering mood vanishes as she had a perfect shot to the shoulder, then another aimed to the kneecap. The gunshots should be deafeningly loud, but Aki feels as though he’s underwater, looking at the world around him through waves.

Aki, attempting to pick up his sword from where it had fallen to the ground, first notices how his hands trembled violently. Baffled, he stares at his shaking fingers, and turns them over to notice how his palms were coated in crimson from top to bottom. Blood. He didn’t notice Kobeni was calling his name until she was shaking him by the shoulders, eyes still wide with horror despite the fact that the perpetrator was currently writhing on the ground surrounded in a pool of his own blood. 

“Aki!” she cries, “oh no, oh no oh no oh no-” 

“What?” he rasps, finding his throat to be dry. He wipes his hands on his pants— whose blood was this?

Then he feels how the material of his slacks was damp with blood. He eyes the trail of faded red from his thigh to upwards, until he pulls back his black suit jacket to find his white button-down soaked in bright, fresh blood. 

He’d been shot.

And that was the risk that came with working at Public Safety. Some days, you end your shift with a migraine and a scratch on your hip. Others, you end up in an ambulance. Every day was a gamble, and today, Aki lost.

The realization dawns on him all at once. The adrenaline was hitting him so hard that he hardly felt any pain aside from horrible pressure. His body was still trying to keep up with what was happening, and once he stares numbly at his own fatal wound, the pain arrives gradually. He can feel it in his back at the exit wound, harsh and stinging. He coughs an ugly cough, and forces himself to sit more upright. 

“Kobeni,” he strains, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. More blood. “Listen to me. You- you need to disarm the perpetrator.” He gathers enough strength to lift his arm and point to where the man was itching to reach for the gun that was just out of his reach. In a frenzy, Kobeni rushes upwards, steps over the body of the groaning, wailing man and snatches the gun from the ground, making sure to keep her own gun pointed in his direction. 

Gingerly, he presses pressure to his side, and his head falls to rest on the brick wall behind him. Kobeni hastily sits behind him, even as blood was beginning to pool around him. He pulls his radio from its sheath on his thigh, yet finds his hands were trembling too much to press to the buttons properly. Kobeni plucks the radio from his hand and, frantically, begins talking, “this is Division Four, Hayakawa, he was shot, he needs an ambulance right now!”

“Alright, Kobeni. Stay calm. We’re almost there.”

“Hurry!” she wails.

Aki’s head lulls to the side, and as he watches as his vision transitions from blurry and spotty to more of a kaleidoscope. Suddenly, he feels the urge to close his eyes and rest, and drift into a long sleep. 

“Stay with me, Aki,” Kobeni begs.

“Can you do me a favor?” Aki squeezes from his closing throat. He coughs again. “Tell… tell Denji to tell Angel that I’m sorry.” His words were slow, and his tongue felt too large in his mouth. He was shutting down. “Really… really sorry…” 

His eyelids were pulling themselves closed, and the last thing Aki hears is Kobeni frantically shouting his name before he fades away.

Chapter Text

Aki was pretty sure he wasn’t dead.

The clarity of his consciousness exponentially declined after he passed out in the alleyway. Snippets were all that followed. He remembered the shrillness of the ambulance siren, and the urgency in the paramedics’ tones. Scenes flooded back to him in images; the blinding light of the hospital hallway and the screech of stretcher wheels on the linoleum floor. As Aki was rushed down the hospital hallway to a surgery that would save his life, he took in as much as his shutting-down brain could grasp: the two women who ran with the nurses beside his bed, Kobeni, as anxious as ever and Makima, placidity laced with a grim expression. They were speaking to him, but he couldn't grasp what they were saying. His senses swirled together in a mush, sounds indistinguishable from the brightness of the overhead lights and the smell of sickness around him.

Suddenly, Aki wished more than anything that Angel was here. Angel and his cynical jokes and warm touches, his stupid sweatshirts with the holes cut out in the back—

If only Aki hadn’t pushed him away. Why did he do that anyway? There was something to be said about the fact that as Aki clung onto what was left of his life, all he could think about was the devil, and that look on his face when Aki broke his heart. 

This time, when the doctor urges "hold on," he hears it. Right then, Aki decided he would. He would hang on, and he did, because he had to. Not only for himself, but also for Angel.

Whatever follows that moment blended together. The beep of a heart monitor. The pinch of an IV penetrating his artery. A weight on the bed beside him, whispers of words he couldn’t grasp.

The last time Aki was in a hospital, it was following Himeno’s death.

If there was a circle of hell designed for him, it would be the scene of a hospital room. Never would he forget that feeling of waking up and realizing his partner was dead for his sake, that the only reason he breathed was because of her lost life. He remembered wishing he could trade his life for hers instead. Why? Why did you do it? he wished he could ask her. I don’t deserve it.

Then, Aki’s mind drags him back to that dark place. 

All over again, he watches as nothing more than a bystander to Himeno’s death. The way the light slowly faded from her eyes moments and became glassed over like a doll’s was an image that may as well be tattooed on the backs of Aki’s eyelids. He witnesses it again, and just as happens in every nightmare, every reenactment of this horror, his legs are too sluggish to move as if he were sinking in quicksand. He cries out for her, begs her to stop sacrificing herself. 

“Take me instead!” he screams to no one in particular. But now, the quicksand becomes very real as Aki finds himself being pulled underground, all glimpses of the dark sky vanishing as he is swallowed into an endless abyss. 

Your fault, comes a voice. Aki whirls around, but all he sees is darkness. He can’t see his hands in front of his face, nor the silhouette of his own body. Your fault, a voice choruses from behind him. Your fault, your fault. The voice ricochets left and right, multiplying with each sound until suddenly, the dark void was an echo chamber. 

Your fault, your fault, your fault.

Then, the voice gains in clarity, and Aki realizes: it was Himeno saying it. 

Aki is pried from his nightmare’s clutches once he finds himself upright in bed, eyes snapping open to take in the scene of the hospital room. Instead of being consoled by the fact that his dream of Himeno was nothing more than a dream, he was more aggravated by the sight around him. The grief from months ago hits him all over again as the deja vu was too intense to grapple with. The feeling of slowly opening his eyes to this exact sight with the fact that the only reason he was still alive was because Himeno wasn’t.

Aki needed to leave. Now. He needed to get out of here, get out as fast as he could— He needed a cigarette, he needed an escape, he needed to be unplugged from all of these machines and leave—

Aki didn’t realize he was hyperventilating until his throat burns with the lack of oxygen, and his hands fumble with the IV piercing flesh of the inside of his elbow. The walls felt as though they were approaching closer, shrinking and trapping him in until he would be crushed alive unless he escaped.

“Aki?” comes a tired voice from across the room. Aki, still dazed in his mania, spares a glance in the direction of the voice to see the faint glow of a halo, like a beacon. He watches as the silhouette rises from a seated position and instead crosses to sit beside him, the narrow bed dipping with weight. Aki feels tangled in the wires, and frantically he tries to wrench the probe from his finger. “Woah, hey, what are you doing?”

Aki, coming a little closer to sanity, recognizes Angel’s voice. “I need to get out of here,” he rasps, “I need- I need a cigarette, and I need to get out-”

“Slow down,” Angel urges, both of his hands grasping at Aki’s wrists, firm enough to prevent him from continuing to wrench the IV from his arm. 

“No, Angel, I can’t, I can’t, this-” he’s shaking now, and Angel must notice because his grip tightens. “I need to leave and— where are Denji and Power? What if something happened? What if-”

“I dropped them off at your apartment a few hours ago,” Angel soothes. “I’m going to check on them tomorrow morning, too.”

This is enough to take off an edge of Aki’s panic, but not enough to quell the horror that was deeply instilled in him at the very sight of the hospital around him. The memories were unable to be conquered, those horrible first moments of consciousness when he realized Himeno was dead—

“Aki!” Angel had been calling his name, but Aki was so lost within the folds of his own mental spiral that he didn’t even realize it. Instead, Angel had to grasp his shoulders in order to earn his attention. “Just talk to me. Tell me what’s going through your head.” 

Aki takes in a shaking breath, and it was if the flood gates opened as his thoughts poured out of his mouth like a streamline, “the last time I was in a hospital, it was right after Himeno was dead and, and I remember waking up in a bed just like this-” he shudders, and squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to look at the terrible scene around him, “it was my fault, Angel, all my fault and-” His hands were finding themselves in his own hair, gripping onto the strands until his scalp burns. “When I first adopted Denji and Power, I promised myself I would never leave them alone, not even for a night. They’re so- they’ve been through some terrible things and— I wish I could protect them from everything, from the bad dreams, but I can’t, look at where I am now-” his throat feels tight as if the guilt itself was suffocating him, “and now you’re here, even after everything I did-”

This is when Angel interjects. “No,” he murmurs, voice so soft even in the midst of Aki’s angry storm of panic. “Don’t do that to yourself. You were shot.” Angel’s hands slowly glide from where they rested on Aki’s shoulders to find Aki’s hands, still harshly embedded within his own hair. Gently, Angel untangles Aki’s fingers from the strands and takes both hands in his own, giving a squeeze. 

“But,” Aki starts, and the tightness replaces itself in his throat. “But I hurt you, Angel. I fucked up.” His voice drops to a whisper, because he’s afraid if he speaks any louder, he’ll break down even further. “I’m so sorry. I’m so- I’m so-”

Then, he’s ducking his head from Angel’s view because he can feel that lump in his throat squeezing until all that could escape was a sob, because apparently he was crying. He hadn’t even noticed, at least not until he felt the hot tears gathering at his chin and dripping down his neck. He wasn’t sure what he was crying over, but he was sure it was the collective result of reliving his trauma and enduring a panic attack that did the trick. 

“Oh, Aki,” Angel murmurs, nothing but warm compassion in his tone, “come here.”

Timid, Aki looks up through the sheet of his own hair, and though the world was blurry with tears, he could see the scene of Angel’s arms outspread, face illuminated with his halo’s glow. Aki obliges, slumping his weight forward until his forehead slumped against Angel’s collarbone. Angel’s arms wrap tight around Aki’s back, and he leans backwards until the two now lay horizontal on the bed. And Angel held him, both of his wings settling around them like a shield, their weight on Aki’s back like a security blanket. He feels himself relax, even though his limbs still shake with anxiety.

“We can talk about this tomorrow,” Angel urges, his hand stroking at the top of Aki’s head. Aki attempts to provide another warbled apology, but Angel shushes him. “I know I swore I’d stay away from you, but… I couldn’t help myself.” Aki can hear the grin in his voice. “Besides, I didn’t believe you.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Aki insists.

“Oh, I know.” Angel kisses the top of his head, and if Aki weren’t still feeling the aftershocks of a panic attack, the tenderness of the action would be enough to send him squealing into his pillow for the rest of his life. “But it’s time for you to rest now, okay?”

Slow but steady, Aki nods. “Okay,” he mumbles, and despite the fact that just seconds ago he was crazed by his own mind that had become a bottomless pit of panic, his brain now felt blank as Angel continued to hold him close, the only sounds in the room being the steady beat of the heart monitor and the gentle exhales of their breaths that, as time passed, morphed into the same interval. 

_____

Once Aki woke the following morning, his senses arrived to him slowly.

First, the exhaustion. Even opening his eyes was an arduous task. Then, the numbness of his entire midsection, but he figured this was for the best. 

When he had been awoken early that morning in order for the nurse to take vitals, it was explained how lucky he had been. No organs, bones, or arteries were punctured, miraculously, but the bullet tore through enough tissue and muscle that he would need plenty of time to recover. 

Aki blinks his eyes awake to see that Angel was already awake. He still had an arm tight around Aki’s back, the feathers of his wing tickling the stretch of skin above his waistband where his shirt had ridden up in his sleep. “Hey,” Aki greets, voice crackly and groggy. Immediately, Angel looks down from the morning paper. 

“Hey,” Angel replies, and he sets the paper aside to the bedside table. “How are you feeling?”

Aki blinks slowly, and doesn’t make an effort to lift his head from Angel’s chest. “Like I’ve been shot. Oh wait.”

Angel gives him an unimpressed, severe look, yet his lips pressed together tightly in a way that revealed his amusement. “Not funny,” he pouts. “Seriously, Aki. Don’t ever do that again.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” He takes a breath, slow, and within it catches that scent he recognized as Angel’s faint cologne. He closes his eyes. “About last night,” he starts. 

“If you’re about to apologize, there’s no need to,” Angel insists. Aki, defeated, keeps his lips sealed. “I talked to the nurses about how soon you can get out of here, and they said a few days.” 

Aki exhales sharply. Underneath the humiliation and shame of last night’s episode still remained the very same primal fear of being in this room, and Angel must sense it, for the hand on the back of his head is soothing. “But… do you wanna talk about it?”

First, Aki wonders which it he was referring to— the spectacle last night or the elephant in the room? Then Aki decided that now would be a good time to practice breaking down his emotional blockages. He sighs. “Yeah, I do. But you have to let me apologize first.”

Angel stays quiet, a sign for Aki to continue. “Really, Angel. I’m really sorry. I was… immature. No, a jackass. You’re smarter than me so you’ve probably already figured this out, but for some reason I thought that by turning you away I was being responsible. But really, I was just… scared.” Prying this information out of himself was like pulling teeth, but feeling the warmth of Angel’s body near his gave him the strength to continue, “I’m so scared of losing people since Himeno, and I’m even more scared of it being because of me.”

“I forgive you,” Angel replies, and Aki turns his head on Angel’s chest to look up at him. Aki looks skeptical, and Angel must sense it, “I mean it, I swear. I didn’t know the stuff about Himeno before, but in that moment, I had a general gist of what was going on.” Angel sits up so that his back was to the thin frame of the hospital bed, and Aki’s head slips down so that it rested in his lap. Angel absently pushes stray strands of bedhead from Aki’s face, fingers so delicate and cautious as if he were handling something precious. Maybe in Angel’s eyes, Aki is something precious. It’s enough to make Aki’s face feel warm. 

“I don’t mind initiating, but you need to let me.” Angel’s hand drifts to cup the side of his face, his thumb resting on Aki’s bottom lip, “you don’t have to worry about losing me.”

Aki adjusts his chin downwards enough to press a kiss to the middle of Angel’s palm, and looking up at him says, “good, because I wasn’t planning on letting go.”

There’s a pause before Angel takes a sharp intake of air, lamenting, “God, if you weren’t in a hospital bed, I would kiss you right now.”

Aki, chuckling, lets his cheek rest on Angel’s palm. “Yeah, if I weren’t about to pass out from exhaustion, I’d kiss you too.” Aki feels giddy as he once again looks upward to meet Angel’s eyes, and the bright expression is enough to confirm that the feeling was mutual. Before, Aki saw his own giddiness as weakness and immaturity, but in actuality, it was fun. Once he let himself go, he could now see the truth: there was a reason why love is the most common theme of art. It’s everywhere. And sure, that’s a cliche, but Aki believed it to be true.

“We have to continue what happened in the McDonalds kitchen, right?” Angel jokes (or was he), then narrows his eyes, “that is a sentence I never thought I’d say.”

As Aki laid there, grin forming on his face, the occasional laugh leaving his lips, the feeling of bliss pervades his senses. It was too bad that it took a kind-of breakup and a gunshot wound to realize this, but Aki knew that no matter what his future held, he wanted Angel to be in it.

_____

“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter — to-morrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther... . And one fine morning ——

“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

From where Angel sat on Aki’s kitchen counter, he sets their now-finished copy of The Great Gatsby beside him with a satisfied thump. 

“Wow,” Denji hollers from the living room, “thank God I don’t have to listen to that horse shit anymore!”

“Humans are entertained by such trivial matters,” Power yawns.

Aki stirs his sautéed vegetables enough that steam rose from them to the ceiling. He shrugs, “I thought it was pretty good.”

“Really? I thought it was pretty depressing. And honestly, most of those big metaphors and stuff went right over my head.” Aki hears Angel slide down from his perch, bare feet padding along the floor until he stood close enough to wrap both arms around Aki’s waist, though his grip was loose enough to accommodate his still-healing wound. “But I’m glad we could finish it,” Angel says against his back. 

Since Aki had been discharged from the hospital, Angel has practically lived at his apartment. Angel showed him that all of the promises of making it work could be kept. Often, when Aki would finish his shower and get ready to make dinner, he would find Angel, Denji, and Power sitting on the living room floor playing cards, or yelling at the TV. When Aki was busy with work matters, Denji and Power would miraculously make it back to the apartment. “Angel picked us up from school,” they would say.

Dating Angel was easy. He didn’t complain when date nights turned into babysitting Aki’s pesky younger siblings, and didn’t mind when the man fell asleep in the middle of movies due to his exhaustion that accompanied his tendency to overwork himself.

“Me too,” Aki murmurs and, setting down his wooden spoon, swivels around so that Angel’s chin now rested on his chest, and he looked up at him with those blinking, mesmerizing eyes. One hand on Angel’s cheek and the other on his shoulder, Aki leans down enough to press a kiss to the top of his head. (Who knew Aki was such a sap.) 

Denji makes dramatic retching noises from the living room. “You two are fucking disgusting!” 

“Shut up,” Aki and Angel snap with practiced unison. Shaking his head, Aki turns back around to continue working on dinner. Even as he walked from the stove to the counter, Angel shuffled along behind him to follow, his embrace never relenting. Though Aki would roll his eyes, it was obvious that he loved it. 

“Isn’t it funny how I’m always the one cooking?” Aki observes, “even though you’re the restaurant employee?”

“Hey now, sometimes I help you cut the vegetables.” Angel doesn’t have to see his face to tell that Aki was raising a brow, “I said sometimes.” There’s a pause as Aki hums, and Angel starts, “and about that…” he sucks in his breath, “let’s just say I am… no longer employed at McDonalds.”

Aki, in at the shift in conversation, pauses from where he was preparing the meal and turns around to face his boyfriend. “What?” He was sure he did a poor job masking his own lack of shock, yet Angel doesn’t appear offended as he instead looked on the verge of laughing.

While Aki responded to the information with sympathetic (though unsurprised) concern, Power instead howls with laughter. “Power,” Aki warns, tone accusatory. 

“Oh please,” Power roars, “the fool was a textbook terrible employee!”

“I don’t know about terrible,” Angel defends, yet for the first time in maybe a year, Aki’s apartment went dead silent. Groaning, Angel admits, “fine, I wasn’t employee of the month or anything, but I didn’t deserve to be fired.” Again, crickets. “Well, I already have another job anyway. I’m gonna work in retail or something.”

This is only fuel to Power’s howling. “Retail!” she exclaims. “He’s gonna work in retail! Aha!”

Pouting, Angel looks up at Aki for support. “Why don’t you help me with the rice?” Aki deflects before promptly turning around and returning to the stove.

“You asshole!” Angel cries, but he was laughing under the accusatory tone of his. 

(Later that night, after Angel had fallen asleep from where he sat between Aki’s legs, Denji whispers, “how long do you think he’s gonna last at that job?”

“Approximately three days,” Power guesses.

“Five bucks says he’ll get through four,” Denji asserts. The two look to their older brother, likely preparing for a scolding. Instead, Aki looks at them thoughtfully, considers for a moment before saying,

“I’ll give him a week.”

Angel lasted seven days. Aki was ten dollars richer.)

Though jobs were lost and time went by, Aki and Angel’s relationship only progressed and grew. Even if their meet-cute was Aki bleeding to death in a McDonalds drive through with enough irritation to wish nothing more than to strangle the blatantly lazy employee he learned to be Angel, Aki figured their story was better than the romcoms and Hallmark movies that Angel made him sit through. Because they were together, and they would figure their lives out together— all of the important stuff ranging from what the hell the green light in The Great Gatsby represents, or how to work past emotionally constipated tendencies. 

Through it all, Aki was grateful he had been bleeding to death at 2 AM on some Tuesday morning, and that some sleep-deprived employee was too much of an asshole to give him a coffee.