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When Chihiro was almost three years old, he liked to move Azami’s bangs to see the other half of his face. He studied him as if he were a different person and then let the bangs fall back into place, patting it and then going back to play or hide behind his mom’s legs. Chihiro didn’t like to be held by Azami or Shiba too often, so with Kunishige, they watched in amazement as Chihiro approached Azami himself to do that. It happened enough that Azami expected it when Chihiro approached him with his arms raised up, and Shiba was jealous and vocal about that feeling.
“No fair. I’ve known him longer than you,” Shiba would say. He met Chihiro only a few weeks before Azami did, so his point was redundant. He just wanted to complain. And maybe it did hurt his feelings a little that Chihiro let Azami hold him, even if it was just for a few seconds before he kicked himself off.
Kunishige laughed at Shiba who was huffing out hot air, “He’s just curious. He’s going to be really smart, watch.”
It wasn’t until several weeks later that Azami realized Chihiro kept doing that to him because he saw Shiba do it first. He was washing dishes when he remembered that at the Rokuhira’s front screen door, Shiba had moved his hair out of his face to look at him. Shiba wasn’t affectionate outside of their apartments, so it took Azami by surprise. He almost thought Shiba was going to kiss him, but he let his hair fall down and fixed it back in place for him.
Chihiro must’ve seen from the other side of the screen door. Even if he didn’t approach Shiba, he was always watching him closely. In a way, maybe he did care more for Shiba than Azami. Azami decided to keep that in the back of his pocket for a while.
Azami was going to wait up on Shiba to arrive at his apartment from a mission, but it was nearly midnight when he decided he was too tired to stay up. He got ready for bed a slipped under his sheets. Shiba would teleport back when he was finally free, and Azami didn’t worry about him- at least for the night.
Azami awoke to an empty bed and found it odd. Shiba always showed up on Friday nights and stayed the weekend. It was their time together. Not that they were together together, but Azami felt a little hurt by not getting an explanation. But Shiba wasn’t like that. He would’ve given him a heads up. Right?
Azami checked his phone and found it void of any excuse. He would’ve taken anything at the time. He sent a text message to Shiba.
Azami: Are you okay?
He wanted Shiba to reply right away, but he didn’t. Azami went through his Saturday morning, checking his empty phone or jumping at a notification that wasn’t Shiba. He barely ate breakfast, and his lunch was small. He was used to cooking for two on the weekends, and he didn’t want to make all the food he had set aside for the meals. They were still hiding their friendship from the Kamunabi, so they avoided going out together. On very rare occasions, Shiba would surprise Azami with a reservation somewhere discreet, and it was sweet.
Okay, maybe Azami was worried about the loudmouth. Didn’t Shiba know how much he genuinely cared? Annoying dog of a man.
Azami was horrible at keeping himself distracted on the weekends. He depended on Shiba’s endless conversations to keep him entertained, and they could spend all day talking by his window and looking out at the city. To be without Shiba was to feel cold. Azami hated it, and he knew he had to tire himself out or succumb to his anxiety.
He left his apartment and went to the gym to run and hit things, breaking a sweat, and trying to remind himself that Shiba survived a war. He could survive a work task. He disappointed himself by expecting Shiba to have answered him by the time he was done, but an hour later, there was still no text from him. Azami got back to his place, and he looked for his shoes at the doorway, but they weren’t there. He sent another text.
Azami: Just tell me you’re alive.
He felt slightly pathetic sending it, but he accepted the consequence. Maybe he was the real dog, following Shiba loyally when they didn’t communicate anything true through words, just barks, bites, and licks. He’d be a real loser when he reached out to Kunishige, but he’d wait 48 hours for that. Kunishige would risk being spotted in public in order to look for Shiba, and once Shiba showed up completely unharmed, which he would, he’d make fun of Azami for worrying so much.
Azami showered and again, went straight to his phone to find it empty. He wanted to turn it off, but if Shiba called for any reason, maybe to ask for help, he didn’t want to miss it.
He hated it. He hated how tied together they were while simultaneously not being together at all. He hated that he probably cared more about Shiba than Shiba ever would about him. Sometimes he missed the reckless devotion they had for one another during the war. They could die at any moment, so every minute together was gold.
Despite pushing his limits with his workouts, Azami didn’t feel tired. He just felt alert as he waited for any sign that Shiba’s body wasn’t left mutilated somewhere. He wished he at least knew where his mission was, so he could start looking for him. Shiba would get mad at him for going, but Azami wouldn’t care as long as he found him alive.
To distract himself, Azami started preparing dinner for two. Shiba had to show. There was no other option because it was not going to end already. Not after they lived through a bloodbath and had a… decent thing going.
He cut the vegetables into thinner slices, spacing out and wanting the end to wait. He hadn’t been that worried about Shiba in years, and he knew he could handle himself. He had only gotten stronger over the last few years, and he came back from most missions without a scratch. He was that good.
Azami heard a noise in his bedroom, and he rushed over, slamming his door open. He found a bloody Shiba sitting at the end of his bed, smiling with red stained teeth and holding a bloody rag to chest. Most of his clothes were torn in different places, his face was full of dirt. Azami was sure one side of his hair was matted with blood.
Shiba said with forced grit, “I’m alive.”
“God, Shiba!” Azami ran over to him. Shiba let him look under the rag. It was a thin slash across his chest, nothing deep and nothing Azami couldn’t stitch up himself. “Why didn’t you go to a hospital?” He still looked incredibly beat up. They had done a number on him.
“I wanted you to be my nurse,” Shiba said weakly, holding onto one of Azami’s fingers. Azami would smack him if he wasn’t already in pain.
“Who did this?” Azami was running through notes in his head on how to heal an injury. He wasn’t the best healer, but he had some practice. Shiba having faith in him did shake him up a little.
“Some nobodies that turned out to be somebodies. I got them, though. I just had to rest in an alley for a little while before I could teleport here.” Shiba’s voice was quiet. He was not one to be a baby about pain- that was Azami. But Shiba rarely got injured. He didn’t know how to handle it. “I’m going to pass out now.”
“Shiba, no,” Azami tried to get him to stay sitting up, but he failed. Shiba fell back on the bed, leaving Azami to stitch him up without his company.
Shiba, for the most part fully healed, laid in only his underwear on top of Azami’s bed. Azami patched him up with care where he had gotten hurt. His head was fine despite the hit, and he closed it up as well. He didn’t want him under his sheets, full of grime and leftover blood. He used his nice towels to clean him off as best as he could, but he was still in need of a good shower.
Azami was too stunned to sleep, to eat, to do anything but watch Shiba. The ingredients he was going to put together for dinner were still laid out on the counter where he left them. His laundry basket was full of bloody towels that he hoped didn’t stain his work uniform underneath. And Shiba laid there snoring, as obnoxious as if he were awake.
Azami laid next to him, his body dipping into the mattress. He reached over and held Shiba’s hand that shifted lightly in his when he felt Azami’s fingers palm at him. Shiba stirred, Azami watching him slowly wake up. His eyes had dark bags under them, and he still seemed pale.
“It’s cold,” Shiba whispered, squeezing Azami’s warm hand.
“I’ll prepare you a bath,” Azami told him. Just when he decided to lay down. “Your muscles need to relax.”
Shiba smirked, weakly at that, “Are you thinking about my muscles.” Azami flicked off his hand in feigned disgust.
“You need to pick better times to be a flirt.” Azami got up from his bed and made his way to the bathroom.
He could hear Shiba say behind him, “Would it make you feel better if I said I only flirt with you?” Azami didn’t answer him, but he did feel better.
As the water ran, he could hear Shiba get up and shuffle around the room, looking for his phone probably. Useless piece of metal in Azami’s opinion. The bath was nearly full when Azami called him over.
Shiba walked in, fully naked, and stood next to Azami who wasn’t fazed by the nudity. “Am I going to sit in a tub of my own blood?”
“You’re not bleeding anymore, and I wiped you down the best I could. The point isn’t to get clean right now, just relax. You’ll rinse afterwards.”
“Whatever you say, doctor,” Shiba said and stepped in. So much for being a nurse. He made a hissing noise. “This is really hot.” He directed a whiny face towards Azami that he ignored.
“You’re fine. You’ll get used to it.” Azami expected a bit more complaining, but he wasn’t met with any. Shiba sank all the way down into the tub until the water covered his chest where a thin scar would be expected to fade within the next few weeks. “I was really worried, you know? And I had reason to be worried apparently. I don’t know why you have a phone if you’re not going to answer.”
Shiba’s lips pressed tightly together, eyes down at the water that was steaming and already turning the color of wet blood. Azami sat at the edge of the tub near Shiba’s head, where Shiba looked up to stare at him. He carried a look of near defeat that Azami didn’t recognize, and he wondered if Shiba thought that for a moment, he wasn’t going to return home.
Azami ran his fingers through the front piece of Shiba’s hair, tucking it behind his ear. It was sticky, and felt tangled and still, Azami was happy to be touching him, hearing a small sigh escape his lips. This might be another thing they don’t talk about and another thing they just touch each other through. Azami already healed Shiba’s body with his own two hands. Wasn’t that the pinnacle of silent worship?
Shiba said to him, “You should get in here with me.”
“You should focus on healing.” Azami rolled his eyes. His face turned red which was ultimately Shiba’s goal. He knew he wouldn’t climb in that murky water with him. “And you should also call off work. I’ll step in if they give you any problems.” Shiba wasn’t his usual talkative self because he just nodded, leaning into Azami’s hand.
Shiba whispered, Azami barely able to hear him, “I’m sorry for not texting back. I knew you’d come to find me, and I wasn’t positive that I got all of them. And I didn’t want to lie, either.” Shiba closed his eyes, letting Azami stroke the outline of his jaw with his thumb. Azami was starting to sweat from the steam rising and sticking to his face. Shiba’s skin was flushing pink from the temperature.
“It’s fine.” Azami leaned over and planted a kiss on Shiba’s temple. It was one of the rare occasions where he allowed himself to be extra tender with Shiba, knowing he wouldn’t reject him or push back against too much affection. He was less inclined to accept Azami after the war and still, Azami would cling onto little moments like those that made him go: this has to be love, right? Nobody else would be his nurse/doctor and wipe down his body with freshly washed towels. Nobody else would fear the death of a human weapon.
Who else if not him?
“This water is becoming really gross,” Shiba muttered.
“Just let it be. You’ll shower in a bit.” Shiba doesn’t argue. Maybe if he had more energy, he’d be doing whatever he wanted, but he did as Azami told him. He let Azami brush through the tangled parts of his hair with his fingers and on occasion, let his gaze linger on Azami’s lips until he’d get the hint and kiss him soft and with patience. Azami had so much patience.
Dawn was breaking through the window when Shiba and Azami finally went into bed. Shiba laid on top of Azami, hiding his face down in his neck. It was also rare for Shiba to let Azami hold him in that manner, so Azami indulged in it despite the circumstances. He ran his hand up and down his bare back, the weight of him and the warmth of him, both making him finally relax. He lived and that’s all the mattered.
“Next time,” Azami told him. “You’re calling me and telling me where you are.” Shiba just let out a noise of agreement before falling asleep.
-
Shiba didn’t go to work for a week, his body covered in bruises that took a few days to start fading. Azami made him stay at his apartment for the week, which was something he wasn’t used to. He’d come home to dinner and a warm bath that on one occasion, he shared with Shiba when he was back to his shameless loud self.
They would sit by Azami’s window on stools and watch the people down on the street, talking. It was Sunday night when Shiba moved Azami’s hair out of his face. He was freshly showered, and his hair was still wet. Shiba leaned over a pressed a kiss on the newly exposed cheek before dropping the hair back down and going back to his beer.
The week together made Azami feel complete. Maybe he always desired a slice of domesticity despite the violent life he lived. Shiba understood it and that was one of the reasons why they understood each other. Being with Shiba in whatever way they were together was as hard as it was easy. It felt simple when it boiled down to them drinking together and Shiba kissing his cheek.
“I like you being here,” Azami told Shiba. Once the idea was in his head, he couldn’t stop himself from saying it. “I think you should move in.”
“No.” With a single word, Shiba managed to crush Azami. They both took another drink from their beers, and the space between them grew awkward. Azami waited for an explanation, a logical reason with a thesis statement, literally anything that would confirm why it was a terrible idea and that Shiba would like to, but he couldn’t. They remained silent.
When they got to the bottom of their bottles, Shiba stood up and collected their empties. He reached over and planted a chaste kiss on Azami’s lips. Shiba’s wet hair tickled his skin. Shiba had a thin smile on his lips, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to smile then. Azami returned the expression, and then it was fine again.
“Do you want another one?” Shiba asked.
“Yeah.” It was going to be a lonely night.
Azami had developed the skill of ignoring Shiba at work, but every once in a while, they would sneak off to the side or exchange casualties in front of other people as if they were nothing but co-workers. During the following week, Azami didn’t turn to look his way in the hall. He made sure to be busy with field work, so there was no down time, no chance to run into Shiba. He kept himself so busy that he didn’t have enough time to dwell on how hurt he felt and when he got home with his body worn out, he crashed for the night.
His Friday to go over to Shiba came, and he didn’t feel up to it. He had a long week, and his body was past its limit. It was his fault, but he could blame Shiba for it inside his head. Dealing with Shiba was another job in itself.
Azami: I’m not going over this weekend. I’m too tired.
Shiba called him, but he just stared at the ringing phone until the call fell. He called him two more times, and Azami left his phone on his counter before going to take a bath and get into his bed. It was still early, but he was at the point of his career where going to bed at 8PM on a Friday sounded good.
He got under his bed sheets and closed his eyes, a frown growing on his face when he heard that distinct noise. Shiba teleporting to his bed, his weight dipping them both down.
“Why are you angry with me?” Shiba was sitting on his knees on top of the blanket, Azami glaring at him from under his sheets. He sat up to meet Shiba’s furrowed eyebrows and lips that were twitching at the corner.
“I’m not,” Azami lied. He was a good liar, but Shiba knew him through and through. “And can you not wear your outside clothes on my bed? Once this month was enough.” Shiba started unbuttoning his dress shirt, and Azami covered his face with his hand. What a dog.
“Yes, you are,” Shiba said as he worked the buttons on his shirt. “You’ve been avoiding me all week.”
“That’s what we do at work. We’re not exactly supposed to be best friends in case anything with Kunishige goes wrong.” Shiba gets the shirt off and throws it off the side of the bed. Azami can hear the familiar sound of his belt buckle being undone. He keeps his face and eyes covered.
“You didn’t come over today.”
“I didn’t want to. And I told you, too.” The belt falls to the ground with a click.
“Are you still mad that I didn’t text you last time? You need to let things go.” Maybe Azami did hold onto grudges, but he thought it was his right to. He lived through a war, god forbid he’s a little bitter sometimes.
“It’s not that.” Shiba’s pants got unbuttoned and removed, joining the rest of the pile on the floor.
Shiba’s voice spoke softer, “Is it because I won’t move in? Azami. Look at me.” Azami’s face turned red. He was acting like a child. He should’ve known he couldn’t have him. Not in that way. Not in that life. “You know why we can’t live together. You know.”
Azami lowered his hands, looking at Shiba who is now only in his briefs staring at him with a face that called for a cigarette. Azami told him, “I do know.” Shiba let out a heavy sigh, running his hand through the front of his hair.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think it’d affect you that much. It’s what’s always been true.” Nothing involving them ever affected Shiba the way it affected Azami. Shiba was harder by nature, Azami was the weak one.
“I’ll let it go,” Azami said, looking away from him. “I’m sorry, too.”
There was a brief silence before Shiba asked, “Can I go under the blankets now?” Azami let Shiba crawl in next to him and under the heat of the blankets. They both laid down, Shiba’s frame spooning Azami. He forgot how tall they both were until they were in an innocent tangle of limbs.
Shiba whispered into his ear, “You can’t be mad at me. Sunday is Chihiro’s birthday party, and we’re the only guests. It’d be weird if we were fighting.”
Azami turned his body to look at Shiba, Shiba’s hands moving under his sleep shirt to rest his hands on his hips. Azami always wore full pajama sets to bed, and Shiba would sleep naked when possible. It sometimes annoyed Shiba to have to be careful with his clothes. “I don’t think Chihiro would care,” Azami replied.
Shiba shook his head. “I swear, by next year, he’d going to love me way more than you.” Azami smiled. Shiba swore up and down he was bad with children, but he was great with them. Chihiro was his own special case but even then, he liked him.
“It’s you that he watches, you know?”
Shiba rose an eyebrow. “What do you mean? He only lets you hold him.”
“Never mind.” Azami yawned, trying to close his eyes to sleep.
“No, tell me.” Shiba poked his eyelid, and Azami clicked his tongue. He heard him laugh under his breath.
“Just tug on my earring when he’s looking and watch.” He was hoping Shiba would let him sleep after that, but he was dumb to forget how much Shiba liked to talk.
“Kunishige is going to figure out something is going on between us.” Azami laughed, and Shiba joined in. “Yeah, yeah. He’s not that dense.” Kunishige had known since the war if they were being realistic. Apparently Shiba wasn’t the type to just befriend anybody and there he was, sneaking off to see Azami in his guard tower.
“You two are at the same level.”
“So, I miss a few signals every once in a while. I’m still good at reading your mind.”
Azami leaned forward and put his face in Shiba’s chest where he could hear his heartbeat, “I wish you weren’t.”
“You don’t wish that at all.”
Kunishige was helping his wife in the kitchen, leaving Shiba and Azami with Chihiro who was playing with a wooden sword and swatting at a stuffed bear. Shiba, obedient in his own way, tugged on Azami’s earring when Chihiro was pretending not to look at them. He thought he was sly, but the two men knew him pretty well.
Nothing happened immediately. Kunishige set something on fire in the kitchen, so they took a bit longer to come out. Chihiro wasn’t running to hide behind his mom, though. When he grew bored of the sword, he played with a wooden car on the floor. He was wearing a birthday hat that he didn’t seem to like very much, but his mom put it on him, so he left it on. Azami and Shiba were wearing one, too. It was Kunishige’s idea, clearly.
“He’s not running out of the room,” Shiba noted. “That’s good, I guess.”
Azami said, “He only starts treating us like strangers when we skip a few weekends in a row.”
“He knows like four people, I don’t know why he acts different every visit,” Shiba rolled his eyes. All Azami could do was laugh quietly under his breath. Chihiro didn’t like it when they were too noisy. You’d think that by having Kunishige as a father, he’d get used to it.
Then it did happen. Chihiro eventually grew bored of his toy car and went up to the couch where Azami was sitting. Shiba glared at them as Chihiro extended his arms up for Azami to hold him. Azami picked him up and like he expected, Chihiro reached for Azami’s earring the same way Shiba had. From the corner of his eyes, Azami could see a huge smile appear on Shiba’s mouth.
“Pull off his earring,” Shiba suggested, getting a sideways look from both of them. Chihiro, no longer interested, kicked himself off Azami and went back to his sword. “Aww man.” Shiba frowned. “I spoke too soon.”
“Only he’s allowed to approach us. We’re not allowed to communicate with him, yet.” Azami smiled, watching Chihiro swing his sword around in toddler like movements.
“We’re going to be his only friends, he better get used to us,” Shiba murmured. He might’ve been grouchy that Chihiro left so soon, but Azami knew that he was in a much better mood knowing Chihiro imitated him.
“You need to be a better example for him,” Azami said. Shiba nudged him in the ribs, eliciting a laugh out of him.
Shiba snarked, “I work for the government. I’m basically a saint.” Azami pushed his hand into Shiba’s face, pushing him away. He could feel the vibrations from his sudden, very loud laugh. It made him feel whole.
With one last glare, Chihiro ran out of the room to look for his parents. Shiba snuck in a kiss only then.