Work Text:
Shiba remembered the smell of war through paper money and papercuts. He had a lot of money he never spent, and he decided he would stop working for the Kumanabi after he was up late filling out a report and he received a papercut on the edge of their fancy, Bristol paper. The iron stench, no matter how little, took him back to injured soldiers, corpses, and a massacre he couldn’t end but could smell as he fled.
He was already going to quit, anyways. That just sealed it, even with the loyalty he felt towards Azami that made him feel guilt. He knew that he’d seem him even less if he quit. They hadn’t seen each other outside of work or Kunishige’s place for a while. He wasn’t sure when the distance started, and he always wondered if he did or said something that made him matter less.
Sure, after Kunishige’s wife died, he started spending more time with the Rokuhiras and Azami got promoted again and became busier at work. They were fine as friends in a friend group and uncles to Chihiro. But still, he didn’t think they’d grow so far apart as… whatever they were.
Shiba wrapped his finger in a band-aid he found in his desk and then went home to his apartment. He didn’t mind driving through the traffic. He was used to it, and he got time to think. Stupidly enough, all he could think was about how Azami would only try and get him to stay. They had almost been there for a full decade. He had enough of being a servant leader, a pawn for a government that even after risking his life in the war and getting injured on the job, would never fully promote him to the top.
Stuck up, jerks.
He arrived home and walked straight to his fridge to grab a beer. He tried not to indulge in habits like alcohol or cigarettes when he could work out instead and tire his body out. He never wanted to become reliant on them, and he’s done a lot better than other people he knows who were at war with him. But sometimes he didn’t have the energy to drain his body and mind into numbness, and alcohol could lull him to sleep without a fight. It came with the small risk of nightmares, but he took it anyways.
With a light buzz, he stripped out of his work uniform and got into pajama pants before crawling into bed. It wouldn’t take a second beer to knock him out, but he wondered if the second beer would’ve prevented him from waking up screaming.
The pull. There was this pull at the front half of his chest whenever he dreamt that he was in the battlefield again and that time he died or one of his friends got split in half by an attack he couldn’t block. In that dream, it was Azami. Shiba tried to run towards him. Poor Azami standing inconspicuously in the field in his two set pajama piece Shiba gave him for Christmas. Shiba couldn’t move his legs. He was paralyzed with the petrifying fear of losing Azami for good. No enemies were paying attention to them and then all at once, they all charged towards an Azami who was only shouting at Shiba for help. He didn’t save him. He never did.
Shiba’s breathing made his chest crash up and down as he pulled his hair and tried to get himself together. He rolled over on his knees, his hands gripping the sheets. He regretted so many things every time he was dealing with those nightmares alone. He regretted so many things leading back to Azami and still, he couldn’t stand him. He couldn’t stand that one person could make him feel everything out of what was probably nothing.
He curled himself into the mattress, breathing softer as minutes went by. He had one more bad habit to lean on, and he let himself feel the familiar sense of shame and maybe embarrassment as he called Azami’s phone. It was one in the morning, and he slept early. Still, he knew he’d answer.
Azami’s voice sounded groggy on the other line, “Shiba? You alright?”
Why lie? “No. Can you come over? Or can I go over?” There was immediate comfort in hearing his voice. Shiba could hear Azami’s sheets move around.
“You shouldn’t drive right now.” Azami knew what it was about. He had similar dreams, and he always called Shiba right after or showed up at his apartment using his copy of the key and crawled into his bed. Shiba would discover him sleeping soundly next to him in the morning and realize that that was why he had slept so comfortably. They hadn’t done that in a while and still, when Shiba missed him, he hoped he’d wake up next to his body. “I’ll be there soon.”
“I can just teleport and grab you,” Shiba suggested to him. He wasn’t sure how long he could stand to be alone. He got out of bed and turned on the light in his bedroom and in his bathroom.
“You shouldn’t,” Azami warned him.
“If it’s just me, I’ll just stay at your place,” Shiba said. He regretted not getting a plant for his bedroom like Azami had suggested. It all felt so dark even in the light.
Azami said, “I’m not in my apartment. I’m at my sister’s place.”
“Oh.” Shiba felt worse for calling him. Azami valued his family deeply, just as he had valued friendship. And the government. “You should stay.”
“I was leaving in the morning anyways. I’ll leave her a note. She won’t care,” Azami explained to him. He could hear more movement. Shiba decided not to fight against Azami’s insistence. He was on his way. Shiba wouldn’t be alone soon. He hated that it was Azami that could ground him. He had always been so selfless, so forgiving, so willing to look the other way if it meant the people he cared about were happy.
“Okay. See you soon.”
“See you soon.” They hung up, and Shiba walked out to his kitchen, turning on every big light and lamp in the apartment on his way to make tea.
Azami didn’t teleport, but he always showed up on time, anyways. Early, too. He walked through the front door, not surprised to see Shiba sipping on his hot drink with all the lights on. Neither of them said anything.
Azami was in his own pajamas, and he took off his shoes at the entrance before walking over to Shiba who was leaning on his kitchen counter. He had made Azami tea as well, and he took the mug and started drinking from it. This was the second part of their process, after showing up. Quiet.
As loud as Azami could sometimes be, and as talkative as Shiba was, they found it better to be silent together. Talking about the nightmares got boring after the first few years. You died, and I couldn’t stop it. And the eventual response of But I’m alive, and you’re here with me. Maybe it got too lovey dovey sounding, and they lost hope in the bliss of what it once gave.
The third part of their process was going back to bed. Azami washed their mugs for them as Shiba stood next to him, letting their hips touch. Shiba wasn’t ashamed to be clingy then or to give off the idea that he needed Azami. Azami knew he needed him. That’s why he was there. Shiba hated the idea of it, but it was his reality and when he was living it and not aching through Azami’s absence, there was a sense of peace. Maybe even a sense of optimism.
When they mugs were placed next to each other on the drying rack, Shiba walked straight to the bedroom, Azami staying behind to turn off all the lights and lamps. Azami made his way to the bedroom eventually and closed the door, waiting for Shiba to get back into the bed. Shiba was the type to change his mattress every few years while Azami had the same mattress since they first returned from the war.
That meant that when Shiba laid down, he sunk right into the plush mattress. Azami turned off the bedroom light but left the bathroom light on, leaving the bathroom door slightly cracked open. He crawled into his old spot next to Shiba.
The fourth part of the night was talking because they knew they wouldn’t be able to fall asleep right away. They never tried it anymore.
“Are you alright?” Azami asked. His cheek was on his usual pillow, staring at Shiba who was looking up at the ceiling with his hands on his stomach. There was a small distance between them. It wouldn’t last long.
“Yeah. Thanks,” Shiba said in a small voice he rarely used. He did feel small. The war was so long ago and still, it was big, dark, and looming over him, laughing like a poltergeist whose noise echoed through his brain and body. “Your sister won’t mind?”
“No. She’s not Kunishige.” Shiba managed to smile. Azami did that to him- get him to grin despite it all.
“I still don’t think he’s over it.” It had been a while back, but it gave them both a laugh. Shiba had been sleeping over at the Rokuhira’s when Azami called him. He had had a nightmare, and Shiba teleported over without saying goodbye. Kunishige was very upset about being ditched when he had a big breakfast planned and said Chihiro was disappointed. Shiba knew for a fact that Chihiro didn’t care. Azami said he probably got in a better mood when he realized he was gone.
Shiba turned over to Azami to stare at him through the dimness. He didn’t know why he was suddenly so embarassed to initiate any type of touch. They had been doing this for so long. It was a song and dance they practiced over and over. Maybe it got too monotonous without ever changing a note, changing a move. Maybe that was why they were stuck in an odd place that tasted like a bit like bitterness.
Shiba didn’t have to make the move because Azami scooted closer to him and extended his arm out, letting Shiba shift to rest his head by Azami’s shoulder, putting his weight on Azami’s arm. Shiba kicked a leg over Azami’s waist for good measure, keeping him in place as Azami placed his hand on his back. They had many ways to slot together, and this was the one they resorted to when Shiba was the one who needed to feel secure, as shaky as their relationship was.
Shiba brushed Azami’s bangs out of his eyes, wanting to see his full face. Azami asked, “Did you cut your finger?”
“Yeah, I was doing paperwork.” Shiba didn’t tell anyone about the smell thing. He thought there were some parts he should keep to himself. He already felt like a drag being affected by the war, even if it didn’t hold him back as bad as other people. Still, he was envious of those who weren’t touched in the head because of it all. Why did their brains protect them from that trauma better? Why did their brains erase all the horrors, and why did his brain present them to him in fresh scenarios?
Azami chuckled. “You and paperwork. It’s going to be the death of you.”
“Not the actual dangerous job I have?” That he planned on quitting. He’d tell him later.
“You’re too strong. You’ve always been,” Azami said. Shiba’s eyes moved away from his face, but it was hard to look anywhere else when Azam was wrapped into his body.
“I think you’re on my level now,” Shiba said. He could compliment Azami. It was just very rare those days. Azami’s lips tightened into a smile. He was surprised to hear it.
“You should fight me,” he said, surprising Shiba enough that he looked at him again. Occasionally, Azami had a fire in his eyes that reminded Shiba of their early days together. Shiba clicked his tongue.
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“Scared you’d lose?” Azami grinned. Here was the man that risked his life for Shiba multiple times, asking him to fight him.
“I wouldn’t lose. I’m scared of what the government would do if I laid a hand on their precious little captain.” Shiba let go of Azami’s hair, letting it fall back into his face. “They’d make a spit roast out of me.”
“They don’t hate you, y’know?” Azami said to him. He always tried to reassure him, and despite all the abhorrence Shiba held for his job, it worked. Shiba allowed to find himself the good in it just a little longer. It’s why Shiba stayed for so long.
“I know,” Shiba lied. Their indifference to him was the one thing that he’d never believe. At least the government gave him the pleasantry of no longer stalking him. How kind of them.
Azami asked, “Was the paperwork important?”
“No,” Shiba said. “None of it is.” It was a joke, but Azami didn’t think it was funny.
“Shiba.” Azami rolled his eyes, although Shiba could only see one eye. “You should take it more seriously because then they always send it to me to decipher, and I already have enough tas-,” Azami’s spew got interrupted by Shiba kissing him.
It was a soft kiss and still, it was dizzying. It was the first one in so long that Shiba almost wondered if he was doing it right. Azami kissed him back for only a moment before Shiba pulled back, watching his face blush. Azami’s body temperature always shot up so high, and Shiba liked to test it.
Azami took a few seconds to collect himself, trying to tell him, “You can’t just kiss me to get me to stop talking abou-,” before he got cut off again by a stronger kiss. “Mppphh.” Azami made a complaining noise through his lips, but he didn’t let Shiba pull away this time, putting his hand on the back of his head, lighting grabbing onto his hair. When he did pull away, all he said was, “You’re unbearable.”
“You’re worse than I am, and you hate it.” Shiba smiled before slipping his tongue in his mouth.
This was part five of their process. Shit talking and sex. It had been just sex before, but as the years went by, they got on each other’s nerves more. Still, they couldn’t get away from each other.
Plus, Shiba loved him.
It was ammunition Azami had that he didn’t know he could use. Shiba didn’t know if Azami loved him, but he suspected it long before their time together started dwindling. But for war heroes, they were cowards. Shiba would never tell him, and Azami hadn’t said it. They could let nights like those do all the talking. Because the truth was: if Azami didn’t love him, he wouldn’t be there taking their clothes off and asking Shiba to give himself away for the night. And Shiba hoped that Azami at least figured the same thing applied to him.
Shiba didn’t realize how much he was missing Azami sleeping with him until he heard soft snores come from his body resting on top of his. Azami always fell asleep first unless Shiba was absolutely spent. His weight put a lot of pressure on Shiba’s chest in a way that was calming, and he ran a finger up and down his spine, feeling for scars that were years old and a new one he didn’t recognize near his neck.
He watched Azami until he dosed off himself, wondering when the last time he called him handsome was. He was annoyingly good looking, and he only looked better as the years went by. Shiba knew it would be so easy to lose him to someone else that would treat him better, and still, he tried not to let the fear get to him. If he’d never look at anyone else, why should Azami? They didn’t have the time to. Right?
Shiba was a light sleeper, so any time Azami moved during the night, he woke up for a few seconds, registered where he was, and then fell back asleep. He ended up at Shiba’s side, his face hiding in his neck with his long leg kicked over. Shiba only fixed the blanket higher on them before falling asleep. Azami moved a few more times, and Shiba awoke each time, never minding because he got to see a look of complete peace on Azami’s face. That made it worth it.
When the morning sun was finally breaking through Shiba’s bedroom window, he woke up to find Azami staring at him. He looked a little serious, but he still gave Shiba a smile when Shiba reached out to move his hair out of his face, allowing him to him fully in the light. Azami’s bottom lip was slightly bruised, and he’d give Shiba shit for it later when he noticed.
“Morning,” Shiba finally said. He wanted to kiss him, but it was harder to do it in the mornings. Years ago, when they started seeing each other again after the war, it was so easy. It was so simple because they spent their free time together, and Shiba knew he could kiss Azami whenever he had the urge which was all of the time. The want remained the same, but the ability to satisfy it lessened.
“Good morning,” he replied. Shiba let go of his hair and watched it fall into his face in a silky movement. “How did you sleep?”
“Fine. Thank you for coming over.” Azami nodded, continuously staring at him as if he had something he had to get out of his chest. Shiba knew him well enough. They never pried things out of each other, though. It was hard to talk about certain things sometimes, and it ended up leaking into their personal relationship. Shiba wondered if they’d ever grow out of it. Grow up, maybe.
Azami seemed to test something. He was careful as he reached over and put his hand on Shiba’s bare hip. Shiba didn’t recoil, even if he was a little surprised. It felt pleasant to maybe have him back. “I’ve always told you. I’ll be here whenever you need me.”
What if I need you more often? All the time? But Shiba would never say that.
Instead Shiba said, “I know,” and kissed him what despite all he felt, became goodbye.
Shiba got paid one last time, six months after Azami stayed the morning at his apartment. He replaced the bandage for Shiba even if he didn’t need it. It no longer smelled like blood, and while staring at Azami’s concentrated face, Azami who was so focused on taking care of him, Shiba thought I can do this for a little bit longer.
But a little bit longer ran out of time, and Shiba deposited a stack of paper money in his bank account. He quit without telling Azami, and he only managed to do it because he knew he’d be out of the office on a hard job. It felt like he was sneaking up on an enemy soldier when they were already injured, but he tried to not let the analogy get to his head. Azami wasn’t his enemy. He was his… friend.
Shiba smoked a single cigarette by his open apartment window, looking out to the city. It was late afternoon, and he’d be getting out of work at the time. If the Kamunabi onboarding process was horrible, he expected the next few weeks of swearing compliancy and loyalty to the government that no longer employed him was going to come. He considered leaving the city for a few weeks to avoid promising multiple times that he wouldn’t reveal secret information, but it would only make them suspicious. He’d do them the honor of complying one last time before he finally got to do whatever he wanted.
There was a heavy knock on his door. Shiba held the cigarette tight between his fingers before putting it out on his windowsill and closing it. He walked over, wondering why the Kamunabi was visiting already. Then he knew who’d be visiting already.
Shiba’s shoulders fell when he opened the door as he saw Azami’s chest heaving with anger. It was rare to see him fuming. It was difficult to process that Azami was that upset with him, his visible eyebrow furrowed, and his mouth slouched into a deep frown. He was still in his Kamunabi uniform which meant he went straight there after work. Someone must’ve told him.
Azami walked in silently, pacing back and forth in Shiba’s entryway. Shiba closed the door and leaned his back on it, watching Azami nearly stumble over his own long legs. He caught himself and stood still for a second before pacing again.
Shiba broke the silence, “What happened?”
Azami’s arms went up, flared with disappointment. “Why didn’t you tell me you were quitting?” He tried to make his face fall flat, but he failed. He was so hurt by the secrecy. Shiba felt bad for everything ever all at once.
All Shiba could do was be honest. “I knew you weren’t going to let me.” It would only take one ‘no’ from Azami and maybe a kiss to get him to stay for another few months.
“Well,” Azami crossed his arms. Hot air left his mouth and nose as he spoke, “What are you going to do for work?”
“You know me. I have things lined up.” Azami pursed his lips, looking down at the floor. He couldn’t even look at Shiba anymore. It made the guilt worsen. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was going to after I quit, but I got embarassed.” Shiba sighed because all the air in his lungs felt useless at times like those. “I know we don’t see each other a lot anymore, but you’re still on my mind and I care about what you think.”
Azami blurted out, “I think I have to go.” Shiba’s felt like his heart got casted. He wanted to protest, but he didn’t. It was not always all about him, and he knew because he wished it was always all about Azami.
All Shiba could do was move out of the way and open the door for him, gesturing out to the empty hallway. He waited for Azami to storm through, but he didn’t. He kept his shaking glare on Shiba, and Shiba knew they both wanted to stay together.
“Did you ever love me?”
Shiba felt his mouth fall slack. No word could describe the ache the question put him through. The near decade of longing to tell him what he felt was surmounted in that horrible moment. It’s what he owed Azami, at the very least.
“Of course, I did.” Shiba let the door slam shut behind me as he approached Azami and held his face between his hands. He watched his skin turn red before he kissed him hard, inhaling the scent of his day of work. “I’ve loved you always. I love you now.” He kept Azami in his grip, able to see both of his eyes that were wide. If it was fear, Shiba wasn’t sure that he recognized it.
“Then why is this relationship so messed up?” He sounded so sad.
Shiba lessened his grip on Azami but still held him as he himself started to tremble from the emotion. “Because we’re messed up. And I might not be sure of anything ever, but I do love you. I do.” Shiba kissed his mouth. “I do.” Shiba kissed his jaw and started moving down, Azami leaning into him. “Azami, I love you.” Shiba bit his neck, hoping to get any words, those words, out of him. He only inhaled, and Shiba starts to remove his work robes, kissing his bare shoulder as it became exposed. “I love you so much that it might be the only thing that can kill me.”
“I believe you,” Azami murmured softly.
For good measure, “I love you.” How did he go so long without saying it? Why did he feel like he’d never be brave enough to say it again?
“Then have me.”
It was not until they were both under the bedsheets, spent and sweaty that Azami was able to whisper with his eyes half shut, “I love you, too. I wish it was all so different.”
Which meant that it wouldn’t be. All they could do was blindly hope for the next few years.