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"No."
As singular as the word may be, Aki Hayakawa embeds as much venom as possible into the word. Gone are times he'd willingly bend to fit the shape Makima would force him in, and now are the days where he forces himself to save the dignity he was forced to give up.
Frankly, Aki is frustrated. Frustrated that he let whatever game this was— cat and mouse, chasing and trapping— between him and Makima go on for so long, and without the hassle of complaining. As long as he's been working for the division, it was not his job to do anything but serve and kill devils as demanded.
Makima was pushing it by asking him to take in both Denji and Power; two of the most incompetent young adults he knows to this day. Both were wildly unkempt, broken instruments that played no melody but the lovely sound of screeching and hollow taps. For her to ask him again— that was too far. Aki has had it with just two.
The aforementioned woman tilts her head to the side, amber burning straight into his skin. She always was a fire meant to be kept at safe distance, but Aki never learned his lesson as a junior. Now, he wishes he never even had to step into the same room as her.
"I don't believe you have a choice," she muses, steepling her hands in front of her, a frown presented between lithe fingers. "No one else would take him in."
Aki scoffs, "Perhaps, madam, it might be due to the fact it isn't part of our jobs to take care of children— much less a devil, when we know the division's staff could easily attend to them instead of the employees," he leans forward, "I don't have intentions of tossing Denji and Power back up here, but I also don't intend to take in the Angel Devil. You know what he can do."
Makima's eyes glint underneath the last drops of light the sun was providing between the blinds of her office window, "I do know. I also know you work well together, Aki, which brings me to an inquiry I have…" She puts her hands down on the desk, tapping her nails, "Is his power the only reason you refuse my request?"
He blinks, "Of course it is. It'd require safety measures I'm not ready to establish with the kids yet."
Her answering smile is sickly sweet, "Lovely. Then how about… take in Beam, instead? He gets along just fine with Denji, doesn't he?"
๑
Upon a glance at the numbers that are an estimated sum of money Aki would pay for the daily property damage caused by Beam, he had to back down embarrassingly fast. A huff escapes his lips as he escapes the much too suffocating office, and an all too gleeful Makima.
Currently, his first task was to seek and find the Angel Devil, for starters, followed by a discussion about their new ordeal. He straightens his shoulders, already knowing his first move would be to search the benches outside the building.
It's not as if he exactly hates the man, in fact, it's as Makima had said: they get along fairly well. Angel was occasionally stubborn, and had no care for his safety, but besides the minor details, he wasn't too troublesome. The only real catch was the biohazard suits Aki would need to force the two he already has waiting at home.
The Angel Devil wasn't known for his chaos, or a long list of homicidal incidents. Rather, he was hardly known at all. Only that he must remain untouched, for his strength is pulling people's life spans with a graze of his finger. The longer that hand is on you, the less time you'll ever get to have ahead of you.
As he plants his feet in front of the doors, Aki sends a knowing glance towards the guard in front. His head only dips before gesturing, and the glass parts to let Aki through. With a mumbled thanks, he makes his way to the too familiar benches— and confirms his suspicions.
The Angel Devil is, as always, eating ice cream.
Aki's mouth parts with an audible click, a sigh following straight after, "Angel. What have I told you about consuming so much ice cream?"
"Hm?" Angel's gaze shifts from his cone to the devil hunter, eyebrows furrowed for a brief second. Upon seeing it was just Aki, his skin smooths over, "I wouldn't know. Nonsense bores me."
His jaw slacks, "It is not nonsense— a diet that consists of only dairy cannot possibly be healthy," he pulls the cone away from Angel, who only looks miserably at the stolen sweet. "Despite whatever durability you have, ice cream is not going to hold you up."
"Ugh," Angel's head rolls on his shoulder, "Can you at least get me some water?"
Aki shakes his head, disposing of the ice cream in a bin. He takes a seat beside the man, and his eyes narrow as he thinks of a way to format his words. "Makima has requested something of me," he starts.
The devil's head tilts in mild curiosity. "Okay," is all he says, "Get to work, then."
His nose wrinkles, "It involves you."
"I hate work," Angel says sadly, but stands up anyway. His wings fluff up behind him, twitching as they get used to being stretched out once more. The wingspan is oddly large, able to cover his whole figure, and hypnotizing all the same. "Where to?"
Aki swallows, "Home. Makima has… asked me to give you residency over at my place, for an undetermined amount of time."
Angel's face twists into something undecipherable, nose scrunching up in a way that has Aki pinching his wrist. After a beat of silence, the man replies, "Denji… the blood fiend… they live with you, also?"
"That is correct."
"What am I supposed to get out of this?"
"I don't assume you're getting anything," Aki gives a half shrug, "A place to sleep. Food other than ice cream. Television, if you're into that."
Pale pink hair is brushed behind an ear, Angel's hand coming up to scratch at his cheek, "Uh, okay. It's an order, right? Huh… interesting request."
"Tell me about it," Aki grumbles.
The sunset behind them reflects in the devil's curious eyes, mellowed out pink touching on a tinge of peach. Angel's hand falls from his cheek as he states, "You don't want me there."
"Not particularly."
"Hmm."
"If not you, I would have had to take Beam."
Angel nodded solemnly, before his halo brightened. It was only slight, but it did, "Why don't you want me?"
The question is phrased poorly, and Aki's tongue rests heavy with hesitance on his tongue. Not like that, not like that, he forces himself to think. He has to blink and reset his brain, answering with, "Your abilities are a hindership. The kids will probably forget you can drain lifespans like soup, should you wish."
"They're immortal," Angel says, "As am I. It only affects you, Aki," he bends down to meet Aki's gaze, eyes narrowing, "Why worry about them, instead of yourself?"
He's been asking himself the same since he requested to drop Denji and Power from the special division's mission— which of course, had failed anyway. Aki answers truthfully to Angel's question, "Don't know. Instinct, maybe, because I host them."
Angel stands up properly, though his eyes remain on Aki, "I hope you have a house tour properly planned. I'm terrible with directions."
๑
The walk home probably wasn't as awkward as it was meant to be. A blessing seemed to have cast itself over him, disguised as Angel fumbling to follow Aki and turn right instead of left when needed. Needless to say, it was wholeheartedly amusing instead of the dread he had pictured before telling Angel.
"Take your shoes off at the door," are his first words since the last turn they took for his place, "And don't mind the mess. I told Denji it was his turn, but he doesn't do anything unless I'm there watching."
Angel lets out a small sound Aki can only dub as laughter, and he smiles as he twists the key.
It clicks open easily, and he greets, "I'm home!"
The sound of padding feet and muffled growls is almost immediate, and Angel shoots him a concerned look. Aki waves a hand dismissively.
Denji and Power slid into the living room, instantly greeting Aki with, "What's for dinner?"
Not a how are you, or why are you home early— the kids he homes only think with their stomach. Aki sighs, and says, "Remember Angel?"
"Haah?" The blood fiend steps forward, sniffing the air, "I don't really feel like eating him…"
"Me neither," Denji deflates, "Can I have last night's leftovers instead?"
Aki almost wants to laugh. Instead, he only shakes his head, "He's going to be living with us, from now on. Don't let him touch you. Dinner will be soba."
"I want the biggest bowl!" Power immediately claims her dibs, but the blond seems to be thinking about something else, his expression fallen.
"I don't want to share a room with two other people," He complains, "Power already kicks me a lot."
Angels peeks behind Aki's shoulder, "I don't kick."
"Snore?"
"Nope."
"List countless ways on how to strangle me but then blame it on a coincidental dream?"
"I can't dream," Angel's tone is bemused.
Power proceeds to laugh, spinning Nyako in her arms, "Lame! I dreamt I ate everyone that worshiped me!"
"Lovely," Aki says dryly, and then looks at Denji, "He'll share a room with me, don't you worry."
"I will?"
"Uh huh," Aki begins to remove his blazer, folding it over an arm and the tie being loosened right after, "You heard Denji— three in one room isn't fair."
Angel's head tilts in consideration, following the devil hunter as he moves forward to hang his coat, and then step into the kitchen. Aki can practically feel as the devil's gaze sweeps around the place, observing the singular dish in the sink and spices that were left out.
"You can cook?" Angel picks up one of the seasonings, eyebrows knitting together as he stares at it. Aki glances back at him, shrugging.
"Someone has to," he replies, and removes his gloves, "Could you step back for a second?"
Angel wordlessly backs up, and the other runs his hands under the cool water from the tap. He dries them with a cloth before putting the gloves back on, turning towards the devil behind him, "Do you know anything about the basics of cooking?"
"Why did you— the gloves aren't coming off to cook?"
Aki looks down at the latex, "Uh, no?"
"Yet you washed your hands…"
"Force of habit," he explains.
Angel hums, lips pressed into a line, "I don't know anything about cooking. Are you going to teach me?"
It seems I have to, Aki sighs. He shakes out his hands as if he's preparing himself. "Ever cracked an egg before?" He queries, already reaching towards the fridge. Upon Angel's denial, gestured by a head shake, Aki pulls two eggs out of the carton. The fridge's chill is almost nice after walking in the warm night.
"Alright," he stands up properly, gazing down at Angel as he hands him an egg. The man takes it, eyes narrowing as he stares it down. "Just copy me."
Aki moves towards the stovetop, grabbing a small bowl, "Usually I just use the handle of a pot," he explains, "But anything works. What you want to do is crack the egg against an item, but not completely. You do the rest yourself," he demonstrates by lightly hitting it against the edge of the bowl, and then pulling the shell apart. The yolk drips out easily. "Now your turn."
He steps back to let Angel take the front. The devil glances at him, looking confused, but he quickly goes back to the task at hand.
Angel taps the egg against the counter lightly, and looks surprised when he can't do anything to the egg like that. The devil hunter behind him watches as he struggles to tap the egg a little harder, up until he ends up slamming it down on the counter.
Naturally, the yolk splatters around the kitchen.
Aki blinks as he feels bits of shell and slime on his cheek, frowning as his hand comes up to wipe at it, "Okay, you went a little too hard. Here, wait," he wipes his hand on the cloth nearby, tossing it to Angel before going back to get more eggs.
"This is hard," the devil whines, "Why won't it crack?"
"Too gentle," Aki replies, handing him another egg, "Try again, but don't break it completely. You only need a small crack."
The man frowns, sweeping his hair away from his face. His grip on the egg shifts as he raps it against a pot handle instead, eyebrow twitching. Aki observes the concentration on Angel's face, wholehearted amusement running deep in his veins. Cracking an egg shouldn't be so hard, but of course, Angel thinks it is.
"Okay, now you're not doing it right," Aki sighs after watching as Angel began to rub the egg on the handle. He goes behind him, and grabs Angel's hand.
The man goes rigid, Angel turning immediately to face him. Aki's hand doesn't move from where it was.
"Why are you touching me?"
Aki blinks, and angles his chin to point towards the egg, "I'm trying to help. Also, I'm wearing gloves," he lifts his hand to show off the stretchy latex.
The devil's face twists, a frown on his lips before turning back around. Aki goes back to what he was doing, and this time Angel only flinches slightly. He recovers quickly, though, and lets his hand go limp as Aki guides it.
"Focus on the amount of force I exert to crack it, and mimic me afterwards," Aki says, lowering his chin to make sure Angel can hear him. "Let's try the counter again," he moves the hand towards it, and raps the egg twice before cracking it enough to deem it well, "See? You can do it," his other hand raises to grab Angel's other hand, moving them over to the bowl, "And now, the yolk goes here."
Angel doesn't move as the taller male pours the egg yolk out, catching the clear parts with the shell, "You don't need to learn how to do this part yet, but it's easier than anything else. You'll get the hang of it," he presses against Angel's back to discard the eggshells, putting them to the side, "Watch your head. Microwave's up here."
The man's longer hair brushes against Aki's chin as he raises his gaze to look at where the devil hunter was, and he has to push Angel's head down, "Down, I said. You'll get hit," he opens the microwave door.
"Why is the microwave up there?"
"Power," Aki answers simply, and reaches for the bowl. He grunts as he stretches his arm for it, and sighs once it's in his hold. He puts them in the microwave. "She almost exploded a mug."
Angel's silence is momentary, "Are you… can you get off, now?" A flush rests high on his cheeks, eyebrows furrowed in some sort of confusion.
"Oh," Aki blinks, closing the door, "Sorry," he backs away. Angel shakes his head, side stepping away from the countertop, as if to say don't worry, but his eyes remain glued to the floor. Aki has the feeling he's somehow fucked up, on the first day of his residency.
He sighs. He has no one to blame but Makima.
๑
Summer nights in Japan are an all around tourist favorite — unsurprisingly so, due to the unfathomable amount of constellations that can be seen during this time, despite the contradiction that it is a polluted city. The starlight pokes through the thin curtains of Aki's room, casting shadows over his blankets.
Tonight, Aki watches Vega and Altair, hands in his pocket as he waits for Angel to come out of their now shared shower.
Perhaps the treatment he offers to the devil is much more luxurious than the kind he gives Denji and Power, but there is also the fact that he couldn't share his shower with the kids. Absolutely not. They could share the one next to their own room.
It's partly also due to how he would trust that Angel knows how to shower himself, and knows the reasonable amount of shampoo and conditioner to use. Denji was still learning, and Power used too much of the shower products.
Aki's gaze focuses on the two brightening stars in the sky, overcome with the need to enjoy in silence. The story behind it was that they only saw each other once a year, every seventh of the seventh month. Seven, as it is, was sacred here.
"Aki?" The voice that calls his name is painfully quiet, and the man in question has to drag his eyes away to zero in on the Angel Devil. His hands are gripping on the towel he has around him. Aki stares for an amount of time that he's embarrassed to say before Angel speaks again, "I didn't bring any clothes."
His eyebrows furrow, "Ah," he says. "We'll have to get them sometime this week… for now, you can wear whatever I have."
Angel's halo brightens, and it's only then that Aki sees the warm glow he casts over their room. He watches as the devil crouches down in front of his drawer, and silently searches. He can hear as the man chooses between shirts too big and pants too long.
"These are barely going to fit," he huffs, and Aki laughs, his gaze returning to the starry sky in order to give Angel some semblance of privacy. He can hear as the man drops the towel, and it's to the rhythm of his stomach turning over in itself. The devil hunter swallows.
When he had told Makima that the Angel Devil's powers would be a hindrance, he wasn't lying. While he appreciated Angel's presence at times, he himself was terrified of acting with his stomach, with the weak knees he can't explain the reason behind. To reach out and touch, bare, was an inexplicable problem.
Aki had gotten a taste of what it was like, and was left a starving man. He seemed to love being hungry, ergo, the feeling of wanting things until he's had his fill.
To get his fill meant death.
"Uh… do you mind if I...?"
The devil hunter frowns, "Do you have anything on?"
"Boxers," Angel replies.
Aki glances at him, "What's the problem?" Angel is holding up a shirt, his eyes narrowed down at it. At the question, the devil makes a snipping action with his fingers, gesturing at the back of the shirt.
"My wings need space."
"Oh, alright. Go ahead." Aki pats himself down, frowning. His gaze shifts, and he walks to and from the table after finding the scissors. He hands them to Angel, "Do you need any help?"
Angel nods, "Pull my wings from the holes in the shirt— doing it alone always takes too much time," he refers to his division uniform. Aki nods sympathetically, and decides he's grateful he doesn't have wings. He watches as the man stares down at the shirt in concentration, cutting two straight lines in the back.
When he's done, the devil puts the scissors to the side and puts his hands through the arms of Aki's shirt. He tries to avoid staring at the pale skin, and the small mole right above his belly, though he's unsure if he succeeds.
"Do you have your gloves?" Angel glances at him.
"Oh, uh— hold on," Aki frowns, walking over to the small coffee table in the room. He had left them there after he decided he would shower. The gloves remain waiting, and he slips them on before going back. Angel's back turns to him, and he can see how the wings twitched, almost reflexively.
He's hesitant to do anything at first, but Angel encourages him, "Just be gentle. They're sort of sensitive."
Aki decides not to think too much about what that means, and focuses on taking the tips of the wings that poke out beneath the shirt's holes. He coaxes out the left one first, pulling it out with care. Angel makes a small sound that sounds like relief, like they had been aching.
"Does that hurt you?" He can't help but ask. Angel hums, shaking his head.
"It feels nice."
The man thinks he's going to kick himself in the shin before he says something else like I could touch them more, if you want, but that would probably get attention brought to himself. So he resorts to just biting his tongue as hard as he can without ripping it off.
He lingers a little with the second wing, finger grazing against the edge of the feather. It fluffs up in response, like it wants to jerk away. Aki lets it go, though, and pats Angel when he's done.
"Mm," Angel flutters them once, "Thank you."
"Of course," Aki's voice cracks, but he covers it up with a cough, "Are you going to sleep already?"
The pale haired glances down at the bed next to them, lips parting, "Are we sharing a bed?"
That was not what he expected to hear. Aki's mouth is so unbelievably dry right now, and in response he coughs, "I wasn't notified I'd have to house you until today, so—"
"Aren't you scared?" Angel's gaze snaps towards him, his eyes darkening the way the sky seemed to with every passing second, as if to leave them both in private, "One touch, Aki. It's all it takes."
"I trust you," Aki says.
"You shouldn't," Angel says, "You really shouldn't."
They go quiet, but Aki is first to speak again, "Do you want me to sleep on the ground?"
His partner hesitates, "No," he says, but it sounds unsure. "The thing is," he says, when Aki begins to say something, "I don't need sleep. I'll be fine. You'll be fine."
"Then why—?" His question can't be finished. Aki doesn't know what he's asking. Angel presses his lips together in thoughtful silence. He was often quiet. Aki liked it, but not like this. Like it was loud regardless if Angel spoke or not.
"What if I want to?" Angel asks, and his voice quietens the way a sinner confesses to a priest, "I could touch you, and you wouldn't know until it was too late. What if I can't control what I want?"
"What do you want?" The devil hunter asks.
"I want to know what you feel like, again," Angel confesses, "I haven't been willingly touched before you."
Aki feels his throat closing, "I can't," he says, "I really— Angel, if I could—"
"I know," Angel closes his eyes, "And that's what I mean by the fact all devils are selfish. I am an example of all that I hate, Aki."
The man sits on the bed, then. Turning the words over in his mind, the words beneath the surface of each little syllable that fell from Angel's mouth. The man seeked touch, and seemed as though he enjoyed it, despite the curse everyone labels as a power. More specifically, Angel, for whatever reason, liked when Aki touched him.
His world is set on a different axis than everybody else's already, what with the two years he has left. An odd one out, never fitting. This only places him further from the social norm standard scale.
Aki finds that he can't find it in himself to care.
His words come out jumbled, too hurried to really be understood. "If it's through cloth, I can still touch you, can't I? Would that be just as fine with you?"
Angel's wings flutter, and the man nods as if he's ashamed, "I suppose I'm not in position to ask for more… oh, Aki?"
"Huh?"
A wing is presented in front of him, resting against his chest almost like a hand. Aki's hand comes to rest over it, index finger lining the structure of the wing. Angel's eyes droop shut, sighing.
He doesn't know how long they stand there, nor does he care. All he can think about is the fact he's being allowed to touch Angel without consequence, even through cloth. Aki's hand goes over the small shapes between the wings, eager and content to hear all the little sounds Angel blesses him with.
Though of course, it has to come to an end when Aki glances over Angel and at the clock behind him. It was past his usual bedtime, and with a frown, he reluctantly pulled his hand away. Angel's eyes meet his.
"Bedtime," he whispers, hand raising to conceal a yawn. Angel looks disappointed, but doesn't mind as Aki walks to the other side of the bed, tucking himself beneath the blanket. A glance to his left allows him to see the final moments between Altair and Vega, slowly fading away into the night, not to be seen again until next year.
Angel follows his actions, a sharp knee brushing against the devil hunter's sweatpants. Aki doesn't mind it, humming as he turns over to face the devil. The halo only brightens once more, and Aki takes it as an okay sign to reach out for the offered wing.
It was only a shame Aki couldn't truly feel the softness of the wings, or the care he knew Angel put into them. For now he settles with the glove between them, and takes advantage of it.
His partner's eyes look a little lively, and Aki smiles in response. Angel snorts, eyes closing. Pretending to be asleep, Aki observes, smile only getting wider.
"Goodnight, Aki."
"G'night, Angel. Rest well."
Perhaps they wouldn't need another bed— they're fine with or without one, and something tells him Angel wouldn't make much use of it anyway.