Work Text:
Contrary to the one in the office, the floor of the adjacent apartment is made of hardwood; it creaks under Mori’s feet whenever he walks in.
The decision to come back to the bedroom wasn’t easy — in fact, he still isn’t sure whether he can actually manage to do that, but every attempt to take care of some of his paperwork met with little success. His eyelids immediately felt too heavy the moment he picked up his pen.
What is surprising is that when he approaches the bed, Kouyou is sound asleep, or at least she seems to be. With how many nights they spent together, he is perfectly aware that she is a light sleeper and doesn’t usually let him slip from under the blanket without noticing it somehow. There had been nights when she followed him back into the office and sat there, helped him with paperwork and dragged back to bed in no time.
To see her like that, completely unbothered and relaxed, is indeed strange in such a situation.
Despite the action itself having a bit of an icky sensation to it, watching her in particular succumb to a peaceful sleep is quite enjoyable. Kouyou herself is quite a sight to admire and now, the moonlight seeping into the room accentuates her features in such a way that Mori truly can't take his eyes off her; how her bright, red hair is sprawled on the white pillow, standing out significantly, how her lips are slightly parted and she lets out small, even breaths, signaling the definite serenity.
He sits on the edge of the mattress carefully, trying not to wake her up by accident. Fortunately, it doesn’t happen; their bed is quite large and Kouyou likes to sleep curled up in the middle, so his slight movement doesn’t even reach her.
The purple bathrobe, lazily thrown on his pajamas, feels foreign in this position, which can be a sign that he actually should crawl back under the covers and pretend that he never even got out of it. Maybe he should try to fall asleep again, or even use some of the pills that he still has in his stash, despite not taking them out too often.
Something tells him that it won’t be that easy, so Mori sits still for a good while, just watching the woman without letting any more profound thoughts run through his head. She usually takes or attempts to take the whole blanket for herself, but this time, the upper part of her body, dressed in a silky, maroon nightgown, is uncovered, allowing him to observe how her chest rises and falls with each quiet breath. Kouyou has a habit of clinging to him tightly when she sleeps too; it must be interesting to be able to see it from his perspective right now, even if it’s impossible.
A minute passes, then the next one. The executive scrunches her face and mutters something inaudible. Mori gently moves to sit closer to her and brush the stray hairs out of her face, using the chance to drag his fingers along the smooth skin of her cheek.
Unexpectedly, Kouyou isn’t so deep in her sleep, as he presumed at first, because just as his cold hand touches her warm face, she opens her eyes.
“What is it?” she murmurs in a hoarse voice, lifting her head up the moment she sees him sitting on the bed. “Did something happen?”
Mori curses himself silently for waking her up.
“No,” he says, trying to come off as fully relaxed and unbothered. “You can go back to sleep.”
Kouyou looks at him with clear suspicion in her clouded gaze and that way, he knows that he’s not very convincing.
“Why are you awake, then?” she asks again, sitting up to face him. “Were you doing paperwork again?”
Of course she would say that. Normally, no subordinate of his would ever dare to speak to him with such a tone, but Kouyou has become way more than just a subordinate a long time ago already, and he was way more than simply her boss too.
With that in mind, he leans forward and places a gentle kiss on her lips to humor her a little bit, perhaps foolishly believing that this strategy will be effective. Kouyou, of course, accepts this gesture eagerly, but when they break away, he is met with a frown that signals that he was undoubtedly wrong.
“So, what is it?” Her words are a barely audible whisper, but with the way concern flashes through her expression, Mori would understand what she means in less than a second.
It’s not like he is that willing to tell her about it. The atrocities that he once committed and the shame it brought to him now, along with the trauma from the war itself, weren’t really things that Kouyou should know about.
On the other hand, if she somehow managed to love and accept him as he was now, would she push him away because of the confession?
(The thought of Kouyou loving him still seems strange in his head. It causes the foreign, prickly feeling in his chest that he can’t quite identify, but supposes that it’s connected to the lack of experience he has in the field.)
“I tried to do paperwork,” he admits, resting his back against the headboard of their bed. The woman follows soon and curls up to nuzzle up to him; the physical contact that he usually despises is pretty comforting, so Mori automatically wraps his arm around her waist. “I couldn’t sleep, but I couldn’t work either.”
She doesn’t say anything, but waits for him to let it all out.
“Nightmares,” he chokes out quickly, summing it up in one word, because it suddenly feels embarrassing. He’s a grown man, and the boss of the Port Mafia. He shouldn’t be suffering from insomnia, because of some idiotic projections of the past created by his subconsciousness when he’s asleep. It was many years ago. Everything that happened, belonged in that distant past.
Kouyou understands — because she is well-versed in the topic too; he had the chance to witness it many times — and for a while, he only listens to her calm, even breathing when she possibly wonders what to say to him.
They had been in a similar situation, but at that time, he had been the one to hold her in his arms tightly when she sobbed. He stroked her back with gentle, slow movements, trying to calm her down when she was telling him about her nightmares involving her former lover and the previous boss.
“Do you want to talk about them?” She proposes softly, not moving an inch and Mori’s heart stops, because he simply doesn’t know. He can’t recognize whether he’s scared to do so, scared that she’ll push him away once she gets to know about it, or because of others, completely different and abstract reasons. “I can listen. As much as you want to.”
“It's nothing,” he tries to dismiss, but a hand lands on his own, the one around her waist. Kouyou's hands are warm, pleasantly warm. “I'm used to it already. I don't know what happened to me tonight.”
“Doesn't seem like nothing to me,” the woman muses, resting her head on his shoulder. “You're all stiff and you're shaking.”
Of course, he failed with hiding that. Miserably, if Kouyou managed to notice despite having woken up a couple minutes ago, or she is simply too perceptive. She knows him.
Mori lets out a quiet sigh.
“It's the war,” he says slowly, mentally preparing himself for the next words. Maybe it'd be better to tell her. To be honest.
(When did he ever decide that being honest was better than lying, even if lying wouldn't possibly cause her to hate him? Why was he suddenly valuing honesty so much? Because it was her?)
“There are some things,” he continues hesitantly. It's better to be more general at the beginning. “That I don't exactly regret doing, but they make me feel… bad.” It sounds childish. Feel bad. This feeling bad are the continuous nightmares of dead faces, the screams of soldiers, their bodies convulsing in agony. A terrified expression on the face of an innocent child. “I did those things to all those people, in the name of peace. They come back from time to time.”
Ultimately, he realizes that he unintentionally kept it general for the whole confession. There's more to it, but he isn't sure whether he wants Kouyou to hear it all. It sounds horrible even in his own thoughts.
“You know,” she starts softly. It’s the first time she speaks after his confession and Mori is sure that Kouyou can feel that his whole body went stiff. Of course she does; her fingers slowly start to stroke the back of his hand in a soothing manner. “I am always here to listen to whatever you need to tell me. Whenever you wish, I’ll always be there.”
The reassurance, combined with her gentle tone and the warmth coming from her body, is truly all that he needs.
“I can do whatever you want, too,” she continues, closing her eyes and resting her cheek against his shoulder. “If you have a nightmare and you need to talk about it, wake me up and I’ll be there. Always,” she finally affirms, lifting her head up to look him in the eyes.
They’re a bit clouded; she’s definitely still sleepy, but the determination and tenderness somehow manages to shine through. The feeling in his chest is back, stronger, and it’s not the unpleasant kind — it’s an indescribable, strange sense of longing, the need to have her close to him. Perhaps to understand why exactly she chose him of all people. Kouyou is a truly beautiful woman with an intricate, but caring, unexpectedly soft and gentle personality. She wouldn’t have a problem with finding someone who would treat her just as she deserves to be treated. So why, why him?
Mori has no idea if she feels as loved and cared for as he does; he doesn’t even know how to show her how much she means to him. Of course, he kisses her, he holds her in his arms whenever she wants to, he lets her cling to him when she sleeps, they have sex, they live together, he wakes her up with a kiss every morning, he remembers how she does her hair in the morning and which tea she prefers to drink, they have baths together, he always takes care of her wounds after her missions, he takes her out to fancy restaurants and buys her gifts without a particular occasion. But is that really enough?
“Why me?” he whispers, barely audible, but they’re so close that she might as well have read it from his mouth. Kouyou is facing him; he can feel her breath on his face, even so when she leans forward. For a moment, Mori thinks that he might stop breathing himself because of the tangle of emotions rampaging through his chest and stomach. “Why?” he chokes out again, but Kouyou only puts her palm over his hand.
“I don’t know,” she shakes her head, but her reply is sincere. A light smile appears on her lips. “I don’t know why it’s you, but I want to be there for you.”
It’s enough; the strange urge in his chest pushes him forward, causing their lips to collide. It’s such a mundane way to express the emotions rushing through his body, but it’s sufficient and understandable for all. It’s like a universal language of love, but with all the things Mori wants to convey, it seems incredibly flat. Even the words I love you don’t seem enough.
“Let’s go to sleep,” he proposes in a hushed tone, because there’s nothing else to say. She nods, waits for him to take his bathrobe off, then slips under the warm blanket. Usually, she sleeps curled up to him with her head against his chest, but this time, her hand wanders higher, to his head, gently brushing through his hair with her fingers.
It’s soothing. Mori can feel his body relax with each of her touches.
“If you need me, wake me up,” she says sincerely. He presses a kiss to the crown of her head, eliciting a small giggle.
(Being loved is quite a strange sensation indeed; it significantly helps with nightmares.)