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Kouyou doesn’t know where exactly her home is and strangely enough, the thought isn’t as terrible as the wording suggests.
Of course, she has a house in the outskirts of the city; a traditional one, furnished exactly as she wanted to. Large, but not so large that she would feel lonely in it — Chuuya accompanied her there for a rather short period of time. Buying that property was one of her first objectives when she became an executive and could finally afford things that would be her own.
On the other hand, it stopped feeling like home a while ago. Because why would she return to the cold walls and floors, to the dark rooms save for the one she was currently spending time in, to the somehow empty space; why would she, if she had all she ever longed for on the highest floor of the Port Mafia building?
A file rapidly falling from the growing pile of papers on her desk cuts her thoughts quickly. The executive sighs; she allowed herself to become distracted once again. After the new year had begun, the mafia had to get to work quickly, which resulted in more and more tasks emerging day after day — and for the executives, that meant paperwork.
Kouyou isn’t particularly fond of paperwork, but the responsibility lying on her shoulders is inarguable, so there’s no use in denying the existence of all the documents that she needs to read, fill in and complete. On the other hand, it’s getting late — eleven in the evening is definitely too late for her tastes — and it’s a very particular day.
January may not be her favorite month of the year; it’s usually the coldest and tons of snow occupy the streets, making it impossible to walk or even drive anywhere. She enjoys winter a lot more when she has some days off and can sit back and relax in an armchair, in front of a fireplace. Perhaps with a nice book or some sewing that she needed to do long ago. With a particular companion in mind that she would have to drag along with her, because being in a relationship with a workaholic also required her to take care of him. Nothing she wasn’t already used to.
The mere thought is the reason she makes her decision, the papers are left alone on the desk in less than a minute, during which she takes a (borrowed, a little too long and loose around the shoulders) dark cloak from the clothing rack, ruffles through the drawers to finally find the keys to her office and in a couple swift steps, she is in the corridor of one of the highest floors of the main Port Mafia building. It’s mostly empty; Chuuya probably left his office earlier as he’s mainly doing field work and she wouldn’t expect Ace to ever be found in his. She’s alone, surrounded by closed, dark doors and her steps to the elevator echo loudly in the hall.
Barely anyone would go up to the boss’ office or the penthouse at this hour, therefore the woman also spends the short elevator ride in solitude. The soft jingle of the door is a sign to get out, so she does and steps forward, not bothering to knock before coming inside the office quietly.
“Good evening, boss,” she greets with a small smile. The man puts down his pen when he sees her, equally as immersed in work as she was earlier.
“Hey yourself,” Mori says in a hoarse voice, eyes visibly lighting up at her arrival. It’s one of the few good things about his appearance right now, because as Kouyou gets closer, she notices how tired he looks. It’s not a rare look on him either, but the overall impression has her a little worried.
“Finish up. Time for bed,” she commands, putting the cloak she borrowed on the back of his chair and rests her elbow against it, trying to shoot a quick glance at the papers he’s working on.
“All right, if you say so,” Mori turns to face her and closes the file, shoving it away with his right hand.
“You’re less persistent to work tonight. Is there any reason for this?” Kouyou frowns, because indeed, it usually takes way too much time to convince him to leave his precious papers. The man simply smirks in response; being this close, she can’t help but watch how his eyes are unhealthily glossy and feel the unusual warmth emanate from his body.
“No reason,” he shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “Perhaps I’m tired.”
“And sick,” she adds, putting a palm to his forehead. “Feverish.”
“That’s my line,” he complains with a small scowl forming on his face under the hand that’s still placed on his head. “I’m absolutely fine. There’s no need to fuss over a little fever.”
“Little fever?” Kouyou pulls her palm away and crosses her arms over her chest, frowning at him. “Are you sure it’s just a little fever?”
Mori shrugs and stares back at her, determined to prove that he is not sick; however, his attempt is unsuccessful because after a while of simply glaring at each other, he can’t suppress a heavy cough. The woman would definitely celebrate her dominance triumphantly, but the new symptoms manage to only extend her worry.
“Maybe not only the fever, but I promise it’s nothing serious,” he reassures, but her palm is already caressing his cheek tenderly and she grabs his wrist quickly to lead him to the actual apartment.
“Go take a shower,” Kouyou orders, lifting her hand to the back of his head to untie his hair in the meantime. “I’ll make us some tea. And get you some medicine.”
“I could do it myself,” he offers, but he is quickly silenced with a slender finger on his lips.
“The doctor is having his day off tonight. Let me take care of it for once,” she whispers pleadingly and a hint of a smile appears on his face.
“Well,” he seems like he wants to protest somehow, but her gaze silences him once again and the man just shrugs. “So be it.”
He places a gentle kiss on her temple before disappearing in the bathroom door and Kouyou simply stands in one place for longer, allowing herself to enjoy this little gesture of affection for a while. Expressing their allegiance to each other is not exactly uncommon when they're alone, but nevertheless, it's pleasurable to dwell on it for just a second. For the sake of her own conscience.
The sound of running water is soon audible from the bathroom, which is a clear sign that she should go to the tiny kitchen that's almost never used and prepare some tea. Mori always preferred coffee, so the one particular cupboard with her favorite drink was empty before she sort-of-moved in. Kouyou very enthusiastically decided that she would shape his tastes.
She carries two steaming cups of jasmine tea to the coffee table next to the couch in front of the giant window. Perhaps it would be better for him to go to bed already, but they might as well sit together for a while; they didn't have much time to spend together due to the growing list of responsibilities after New Year’s Eve.
The penthouse fortunately has a second bathroom in which Kouyou can shower quickly. Her sleeping gown is already in there, along with most of her clothes and cosmetics; it shows how much time she actually spends in the apartment instead of her own house, but she doesn't dwell on it right now, simply throwing her red, soft bathrobe over the gown and going out of the bathroom.
Mori is already sitting on the couch comfortably and apparently, he is also wearing his purple bathrobe over his pajamas. The man gives her a little, cheerful wave as she steps closer and notices the droplets of water dripping from his wet hair.
“You need to dry it properly,” she scolds him. “Otherwise you'll get even more sick.” With a sigh, she goes back to the bathroom and returns with a towel, approaching the man with a clear intent in her eyes.
“Be gentle…” he warns with a glare, but she simply rolls her eyes, smiling, and puts the towel on his head. “What tea is that?”
“Jasmine,” Kouyou replies, making sure that the excessive water is absorbed by the soft material, naturally with very slow, gentle and precise movements. “Not very original, I am aware.”
“There’s nothing wrong with jasmine tea,” Mori shrugs with a smile when she throws the wet towel over the back of a chair and his hair is just slightly damp. Kouyou finally sits next to him, sinking into the plush padding of the couch with a sigh.
“You’ve already taken the medicine?” she asks, seeing the empty space beside the cups where she put the pills earlier. The executive leans to the right a bit, her head almost colliding with his shoulder, but he manages to extend his arm and wrap it around her waist first.
They're close. She can feel his breath on her cheek.
“Yes,” Mori confirms and pulls her closer. It's a little unexpected, but pleasant nonetheless, so Kouyou allows herself to sink into his warm embrace – perhaps a bit feverishly warm. “Thank you,” he whispers into her ear and places a quick kiss just above it; something in Kouyou's chest flutters.
“You're being clingy,” she notices with a quiet chuckle and rests her head on his shoulder. A hot breath is a sign of another laugh from him.
“I'm simply expressing my gratitude.” His hand that's wrapped around her waist slowly wanders near her hip, caressing her body affectionately.
“Sure,” she lifts her head up a bit to kiss him lightly on the jaw. “By the way, you should take a day off tomorrow.”
“I will,” he taps her waist playfully, much to her surprise. Usually, it's very difficult to convince him to take some rest. “And you're staying with me.”
Once again, it is a bit unexpected, but understandable. Kouyou certainly does not have anything against taking a day off work. Staying with him instead is much more enjoyable.
“Is there any particular reason for this?” she asks out of curiosity.
Mori laughs quietly.
“Look at the clock,” he mutters softly, grinning at her, so she does exactly what he says. A big, old clock on the wall has a clear answer for her, as the hands are pointing to twelve. “Midnight, tenth of January.”
Tenth of January seems like a normal date for a couple of seconds, but with his smile, she finally realizes and raises her head from his shoulder, a little surprised.
“Happy birthday, Kouyou,” Mori whispers and leans forward to kiss the puzzled woman on the cheek. It takes a couple of seconds, during which she is sure she can feel the blush on her face grow.
“That's why you weren't as stubborn as usual,” she guesses with a laugh, but returns the gesture affectionately on his own, warm skin. “I'm pretty surprised that you remembered at all.”
“How could I not? Don't you believe in me?” Mori replies, caressing her cheek. “It's your day. If you wish for anything, simply tell me and I'll get it for you.”
“So you're going to spoil me just like Elise now?” Kouyou raises an eyebrow to his promise, still incredibly exhilarated. “And anything, you say?”
She expects him to deny his previous words in fear that she will wish for something inaccessible, but much to her surprise, it does not come. The man presses his lips to the crown of her head, ruffling her hair slightly.
“Anything,” he confirms, whispering into her ear.
“If I wished to take over the mafia, would you agree?” she asks teasingly. It’s nowhere near a realistic wish of hers; she would be the last person willing to accept the leadership in the mafia, but the urge to test him somehow is too strong.
“Hmm,” he hums into her hair. “But would you, really?” The sudden wave of warm air against her cheek signals that his lips quirk up in a smile, to which she can't resist one of her own. He knows her too well, definitely.
“Well,” she chuckles, shifting in her seat in the meantime to face him. “Maybe not exactly.”
She's practically on his lap and his arms are still wrapped around her waist securely. It's quite an extraordinary, comforting feeling to have him so close; almost if they were simply a normal couple with a regular life, not a mafia boss and his subordinate who have to hide their relationship from the whole organization.
Maybe at least on her birthday she could forget about it; pretend that her deepest desires are actually the truth.
“So?” Mori asks once again, slightly nudging her forehead with his. “What is your birthday wish? Or wishes?”
“I need to think about it first,” she sighs, tapping his shoulder as a reprimand. “I'm not sure,” she mutters, although somewhere in the back of her head, there is a silent voice that tells her to try.
Maybe a week would be too long, she wonders, uncertain whether it would be appropriate to ask him for so much of his time.
A week with him would be ideal. Preferably far from the city, somewhere in the mountains or in a quiet little village by the ocean. Away from the responsibilities, just him and her all by themselves, without the need to sneak around the quarters and keep themselves from expressing their feelings. It sounds like a dream.
But who is she, really, to expect such sacrifice from the boss of the Port Mafia?
She shifts in her seat once again, signaling for him to lay down at the same time. He obeys, albeit with a puzzled expression on his face, and after a moment of shuffling around, they’re laying on the couch with her head on his chest.
“What was that for?” he asks, embracing her with his arms once again.
“I’m still thinking,” Kouyou huffs, but the wish is actually at the tip of her tongue. All it takes is asking him about it; in this position, she can’t see his face right now, so it could definitely be less stressful.
She assesses the risk once, then twice. It’s hard to say that there is nothing to lose; moreover, it is hard to determine whether such a proposal would actually be appropriate.
“What does Chuuya usually get you?” Mori says again out of nowhere, maybe to help her a little, and slightly strokes her back.
“Flowers. A giant bouquet every year.” The answer comes in a second when she is reminded of the younger executive. He was always the first person to actually get her a gift and wish happy birthday; the first until now of course. “Wine or jewelry. It’s usually something fancy and expensive.”
“Then I shall give you something special, don’t you think so?” he prompts quietly.
It’s almost as if he’s implying that she should request this week-long trip of just the two of them, to be spent in solitude, a place where no one knows them. Where they could walk on the streets hand in hand, not fearing that they could be recognized; where she could uninterruptedly feel the warmth of his palm holding hers. Where they could go on a regular date, not dress up as a part of a mission.
On the other hand, she wonders what is the cause of this desire, of her need to spend time with him alone. It is pleasant to be held in his arms and have parts of her body caressed by his hands. The warmth spreading through her chest seems inexplicable, but it is caused by the familiar touch of the man next to her; and Kouyou longs for it.
The woman is not sure whether she can actually identify the sensation as love. It is longing, desire, affection. Maybe he has become more important to her than she would ever consider, maybe he's home to some extent, but does he view it like that as well?
In the end, she doesn't know. All she does is hold his hand tighter.
“It doesn’t have to be special,” she says in the end. The decision she has made causes the prickly feeling in her throat, chest and even eyes, although she blinks a few times to get rid of it and the embarrassment connected to the fact that such a thing could ever make her tear up. She props herself up on her elbows, causing him to groan because of the sudden change in position. “In fact, I don’t think I really want anything from you.”
“Sweet nothing, huh?” Mori frowns with the corner of his lips quirked up in a small smile. “Is that so?”
They’re facing each other, with him slightly propped up on the arm of the couch. Kouyou leans towards the man a bit, as far as she can go to make their foreheads touch for just a second. It takes just a moment of silence and a quick look into his eyes to signal what she is about to do.
Perhaps it's not exactly initiated by her, but they kiss — softly, but maybe a little clumsily, as their foreheads collide. Mori's arms are wrapped around her waist tightly, securing her in place.
“Maybe something small that would remind me of you,” she proposes after they break apart. “Like a necklace. Or something like that.”
“Hmm, wouldn't that be too little?” he wonders out loud.
“I'm not greedy, you know,” she chuckles. Her weight on his chest for such a long time seems like too much, so she finally lifts herself up, extending her arm if he wants to do so as well. “I'll be satisfied enough if we get to spend this day together, I think. I don't need any fancy gifts from anyone,” she finally confesses. It's not the same as asking for a whole week, but it will suffice. It has to.
“A day,” he ponders once again, wrapping his left arm around her waist. “Not a lot of time,” he sighs with a resigned expression. “What about a week?”
Her heart almost stops at that moment and she rapidly turns to face him. It’s as if he could read her thoughts perfectly and thoroughly, although she tried hard to hide her true intentions.
On second thought, it's not entirely impossible. She's perfectly aware that he is capable of reading her like an open book — and when she looks closely, one of his eyes flutters open and stares at her smugly.
It takes one, sharp move for Kouyou to grab the collar of his bathrobe and pull him in for a quick kiss. Mori gladly accepts the gesture, smiling when they break apart for just a second. Oh, he knows.
“That seems nice enough,” she asks, tilting her head a bit. “Any plans in particular?”
“I was thinking we could get away from the city,” he proposes with a smirk, as if he was directly reading from the thoughts engraved in her mind. “To a nice hotel in the mountains. With hot springs, naturally.”
“And the mafia? Do you think they'll manage without us somehow?”
“Chuuya can take over. He's competent enough,” he states, brushing some stray hairs out of her face. “So, what do you think?”
“I think,” she chooses her words carefully, because her heart jumps a few times and it takes a moment to make it noticeable, which right now would be too embarrassing. Her, giggling like a teenage girl with the prospect of spending a whole week with him? Utterly embarrassing. “That it would be a pleasure for me to do so.”
“Then it's settled,” he claims with a satisfied smile. “We can pack in the morning. Now it's definitely too late.”
“And I'll have to talk to Chuuya first,” she warns, but Mori gets up from the couch and extends his arm to her.
“Everything will be as you wish, but for now, let's get to bed, shall we?”
“Why are you so persistent all of a sudden?” she asks with an amused expression, but takes his palm and allows him to lead her to the bedroom.
“The faster we go to sleep, the faster we'll wake up,” he replies while taking his bathrobe off, as if it explains everything. Kouyou hangs her red gown on a nearby rack and crawls under the blanket waiting for him to join. “Aren't you excited for your birthday present?”
Kouyou shifts on the mattress to snugly fit between his arms and when she finally achieves her goal, she closes her eyes.
“I'm more excited to have you only for myself for a whole week,” she finally confesses, inhaling his scent. “It’s the nicest present I could ever get.”
Mori chuckles quietly, because she feels a warm breath on her forehead along with his arm, lazily swung over her waist. She expects him to comment on that, but he casually goes over the topic and places a kiss on the crown of her head.
“If you still feel sick in the morning, we’re not going anywhere,” the executive reminds sternly, before allowing herself to drift off to sleep.
“Goodnight.” Mori taps her hip under the covers, ignoring her words, but after a while of silence he kisses her on the forehead one last time and a couple of minutes later, his breath finally evens.
Kouyou can’t quite contain her feelings for the next few moments, so she simply lies down, surrounded by the warmth coming from his body and induced by the soft blanket. Fortunately, the man doesn’t seem so feverish now, which could only mean that the medicine helped and he’ll feel better in the morning.
It’s her birthday. She’s one year older once again, but perhaps the meaning of this changed over the years — because back then, when she was young, she could only think about this fact. There was no celebration; just her, left alone to wonder as always. About growing up, the effects that aging would soon have on her mind and body. It seemed quite scary.
When she became an executive, it changed significantly. Mori would be the first ever to ask about the date and when she hesitantly revealed it, he would make sure to at least wish her happy birthday. On her first birthday that he was fully aware of, he made an effort and gave her a katana — completely different from the one she usually used, therefore quite useless, but it was nice to at least see him try.
Then it was Dazai, although he himself didn’t care much. Only when Chuuya joined, the rivalry between the two appeared in their competition to prepare the best gift for her. Naturally, her protege always went out of his way to buy the most expensive present, unmatched in being the first one ever to run to her house in the early morning. Then she invited him for tea — it was quite an experience to watch him grow and mature over the years as well.
Despite all that, she never considered her birthday a particularly important day. There was no need to hold a huge celebration if she didn’t even care, right?
On the other hand, this time is pretty special.
As slowly and quietly as possible, she tilts her head up slightly and places a gentle kiss on the sleeping man’s lips. Fortunately, it’s not enough to wake him up; it only causes a small frown to appear on his face, but after a second he is completely relaxed again.
Kouyou is sure that she’ll be able to thank him many times during their following week together, but at least for now, this seems to be the perfect way to do so. She watches him for a couple more minutes, until she finally gives up and closes her eyes, nestled against his chest.