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A cup of tea, the first tendrils of morning light and the fresh breeze of a new spring. Tranquillity.
Fukuzawa laughs a little as he watches Ranpo argue with the duck that’s pecking at his hand every time he tries to snatch the stick he insists he saw from it before it can pile it onto the nest that it’s building behind one of the cherry blossom trees nearby.
Absent-mindedly, he picks at the grate of the engawa, tracing the serene wooden patterns engraved onto it.
“Yukichiiii…”
He ignores the call, shutting his eyes and inhaling deeply. The air smells like new rain and the ever present sweetness of cherry blossoms. He smiles a little, taking a sip of his tea.
“Yukichiii…”
“Sorry, I’m trying not to pick up the habit of communicating with raging alcoholics.” He hums without turning his head and instead flits his eyes back to where Ranpo seems almost ready to fist fight the duck.
“You came all this… fuck-” For a moment, there’s a noise that sounds like shuffling before Fukuchi speaks again. “You came all this way to my house…and aren’t even gonna fucking…look at me, huh? That’s rich.”
“We came all this way to make sure you didn’t drink yourself into the grave.” He snaps back, finally looking back inside the house where he’s met with the view of the pattern of scars across Fukuchi’s back. His head, however, is covered with the blanket Fukuzawa draped over him when he was still asleep. “Your influence is bad for Ranpo as it is. Be grateful I came here at all.”
“Trust me, Mr. Agency Owner, I’ll be bowing at your high and mighty feet once I can tolerate the fucking sun again.”
“Language.” He snaps darkly. This time Fukuchi looks back to glare at him, but his eyes are still shut.
“You’re boring now, ya know that?” He snarls, wrapping the blanket around his face like a headscarf. “Remember when we used to fuck?” He says it with childish emphasis. “Yeah, remember that? We were this thing called “in love” before you adopted a whole ass kid and left me to die.”
“I’m in your house nursing you back to health from a hangover, what more do you want?” Fukuzawa asks incredulously.
Fukuchi pouts- the grown ass man who’s fought in a fucking war pouts- and folds the blanket over his head even tighter, squishing his cheeks effectively.
“I want a kiss.”
“You’re a child.”
“I’m a human!” Fukuchi shouts and then immediately winces, covering his face on the blanket again. “And I’ll thank you to give me the attention I deserve.”
“Your tea is ready.” He deadpans, standing up and walking over Fukuchi’s nearly dead body. He whines like a child, half-heartedly making a nab for Fukuchi’s leg as he walks away.
Fukuzawa rolls his eyes as he makes his way to the stuffy kitchen of Fukuchi’s house. It’s not as big as the one in his and Ranpo’s home and a lot less supplied.
Truthfully, as much as he’d like to dismiss his concern, Fukuzawa is more worried than anything. He never finds any proper foods to eat. He never finds any cleaning supplies. Some days, the sheets of Fukuchi’s bed aren’t even set- simply thrown over the mattress messily.
Today was the final straw.
When they arrived, his lover was unconscious, curled into himself on the bathroom floor and dressed in a shirt that looked like he spent the night throwing up all over it.
Fukuzawa rushed a concerned Ranpo to the store while he tried to wake him up, quietly praying to the Gods that they wouldn’t take this man away from him. Not yet.
When Fukuchi awoke, Fukuzawa finally let himself breathe, immediately switching to tough love and firmly pushing him to take a bath while he did his laundry.
Now, while he’s making tea from the supplies that Ranpo retrieved (sighing as he spots a chocolate bar in the plastic bag), he feels arms wrap around him from behind and a chin on his shoulder.
“You’re being so mean, Yukichi.” Fukuchi whispers into the column of his neck as Fukuzawa pours him a cup of the tea. It’s packed with herbs that should have his stomach and mind back in shape in a couple of minutes.
“You’re being an idiot, Genichirou.” He hisses, pursing his lips when his lover insistently nuzzles into his neck. “You said you’d call me whenever you went drinking.”
“Well, that was before you had a kid!” Fukuchi mumbles defensively as he’s taken back to where they set up a makeshift shikibuton. Outside, Ranpo and the duck have seemed to become best friends and are sharing a piece of bread. That child is a wonder.
Fukuzawa sets him down, propping the pillows against the wall so he’s sitting up as he hands him his tea. Fukuchi sighs, raising the clay cup to his lips gently.
“Where’d you put my sword?” He asks, blowing the steam away.
“Over your cupboard. Once you stop limping, you’ll be able to reach it.” He explains, snuggling close into his side when he lifts an arm, inviting him in and draping the blanket over both of them. “I’m worried about you.”
Fukuchi chuckles. “Yeah I can tell.”
His free hand tangles itself into Fukuzawa’s hair and he presses his lips to his now exposed forehead.
“You’re not gonna tell me why you’ve been acting this way?” Fukuzawa adjustis his scarf, watching Ranpo outside. He refuses to hang out with any kids his age but has no problem getting along with animals.
“Listen…m’just…” Fukuchi sighs, taking a sip of his tea nod exhaling in relief. Fukuzawa watches the steam push past his lips. “I’ve been really tired lately, that's all.”
“You could’ve come to my place. Ranpo doesn’t mind having you around.” Fukuzawa shuts his eyes, pressing his cheek to Fukuchi’s scarred chest. His heartbeat is a comforting rhythm. He would call it his favourite song if it was one.
“I know he doesn’t…but I can’t just intrude on your peace every night, ‘Kichi.” Fukuchi laughs as he watches Ranpo and the duck waddle around outside. “I know you’d take me in…and I miss you so fucking much when you’re not around…”
“But…?”
“But, I just-” Fukuchi stops, huffing irritably. “I just feel so dumb…”
“This is why I rejected you when you proposed.” Fukuzawa deadpans. Yukichi sputters on his tea, spilling it over the blanket.
“I’m sorry?”
“You heard me.” He hums, eyes still shut. “Why would I want a husband who throws up all over himself and expects me to clean it, hm? You can’t even take care of yourself, how am I supposed to expect you to be ready to legally take responsibility of Ranpo?”
“I could…hand him a knife…”
“See, this is the part where I would file for divorce.”
“Shut up, okay?” Fukuchi sits up and so does Fukuzawa, watching him as he stares down at his cup remorsefully. “I get it. I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. I’m a mess, I’m disgusting and I can’t even get the love of my life to want to marry me.”
“I want to marry you.” Fukuzawa picks at his nails idly.
Fukuchi snorts. “Clearly.”
“Genichirou, I want to marry you.” He leans forward, tilting his face so Fukuchi’s forced to look at him. “I want to marry the strong soldier who once fought in a war. I want to marry the kind, brave boy I used to spar with every night. I don’t want to marry the bad tempered alcoholic that you’ve become.”
He kisses Fukuchi’s cheek gently. “I love you more than my desire to keep living on this earth. But you can’t expect me to marry you when you act like a child on drugs.”
“Yukichi…” Fukuchi whines, wrapping his arms around him, the teacup now by his legs. Fukuzawa laughs as he buries his head in his shoulder. “You're so annoying when you’re right.”
“I can tell.” He deadpans, unlatching Fukuchi from himself and cupping his cheeks. His thumbs caress the scarred face he loves so much and he smiles. “Move in with us? That way I’ll be able to keep an eye on you.”
“I don’t know…” Fukuchi presses smaller kisses to the corner of his lips as he speaks. “What am I gonna do with this place, hm?”
“Keep it. We can come here every weekend to get away from things.” Fukuzawa presses a kiss to the tip of Fukuchi’s nose, hands cupping his cheeks still. “Maybe when we’re a little older, we can retire to this place…”
“God, you’re so fucking cute when you’re planning our future together.” Fukuchi chuckles, pulling him onto his lap and smothering Fukuzawa’s neck in kisses. He laughs, half-heartedly attempting to push him away, but giving up and letting himself get lost in the feeling. “And you’re so pretty too. M’gonna put a ring on those pretty fingers one of these days, I tell ya.”
“I’ll reject you if you don’t repent, you love sick fool.” Fukuzawa snaps between a laugh. “Stop drinking and I’ll consider taking you in.”
“Deal. But we gotta get married in this forest, m’kay?” Fukuchi finally settles on his lips, rougher one’s settling on his own so gently, treating the former assassin like a precious diamond in the way he holds him close. “God, you’re gonna look so pretty with those flowers in your hair. My pretty, perfect Yukichi.”
“You’re a sap.”
“Only ever for you, my blossom.” Fukuchi whispers, kissing every inch of his face.
“You still haven’t told me if you're moving in or not.”
“Yes. I’ll move in with you.”
“Well that’s a fucking relief.” They whip their heads towards the engawa, where Ranpo is glaring down at them, arms folded and the duck nowhere to be seen. “Because I’m hungry. Where’s my chocolate bar?”
“In the kitchen and please mind your language, Ranpo.” Fukuzawa sighs, sitting up with Fukuchi’s arms still around him.
“Why? Fukuchi-san doesn’t.”
Fukuzawa slowly turns his head, glaring at his lover who’s suddenly very interested in his tea. He sighs, shaking his head as Ranpo walks back inside.
When he returns, the little boy sits in front of him, legs folded underneath him.
“Are you ready for tomorrow’s case, Ranpo?” Fukuzawa asks, breaking . “If I remember correctly, the American boy called it “the battle of wits”, didn’t he?”
Ranpo blushes at that, looking away angrily. “…yeah, it’s…whatever.”
“Whoa, whoa, slow down.” Fukuchi looks between the pair of them, eyes wide. “How long have you had a crush on this boy, squirt?”
“What?” Ranpo scowls unconvincingly, cheeks ablaze. “I don’t. I just think his accent is cute. And he has a raccoon! That’s cool too!”
“Uh huh, what colour are his eyes?” Fukuchi teases, smiling a little.
“Violet. But they’re grey when we’re indoors and look super pretty, even if he tries to cover them.” Silence. “But I don’t like him! Fukuzawa-san! Tell this old man to shut up!”
Fukuchi cackles wildly when Ranpo hurls a piece of chocolate at him, catching it with his teeth and chewing as he speaks. “Trust me, kid, I know what it’s like to have a lil crush on your rival.”
“It’s not a crush! I don’t like him like that!”
“Sure, sure.” Fukuchi chews at the chocolate in his mouth. “Just invite me to your wedding, m’kay?”
“Shut uuuppp…” Ranpo falls back with a groan. “I hate you. Don’t marry this man, Fukuzawa-san. He’s a bully.”
“And you’re a coward, unless you ask that boy out.”
“Nuh uh-”
“Will you two stop arguing?” Fukuzawa finally snaps, shaking his head. “Ranpo. Go get Genichirou another cup of tea. It’s been made, just pour it into a cup.” Ranpo groans, dragging himself out of the room. “You. Get up. Now. Go change your clothes. We’re going out for dinner.”
“Ugh…fine.” Fukuchi pecks his cheek irritably. “Curry?”
“Of course.” Fukuzawa smiles. “And pork buns. Ranpo likes them.”
“M’kay…” Another kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”