Work Text:
Kenji was smacking his keyboard again.
Atsushi did his best not to look since he knew that just made Kenji feel bad, but it was hard to tear his gaze away from the constant thumping.
And it’s not that Atsushi was annoyed (okay, maybe he was just a little bit, but that wasn’t Kenji’s fault), no, he was just… concerned. He was used to hearing sounds from Kenji—chirping, clicking, random bursts of short screams… they all blended into the background and became normal to him.
The smacking was new, though.
It started a week ago, Atsushi thought. He remembered spinning around to see if anyone was hurt, only to see Kenji’s normally happy eyes glaring at his hands.
“Kenji-kun, are you okay?” he asked, looking over Kenji for injuries. “I heard a loud thump like something fell.”
That made Kenji laugh, though it sounded kind of strained. “Oh, I’m fine, Atsushi-san!” he assured, smiling. “It’s just a new tic. Sorry if it’s bothering you!”
“Oh! I’m so sorry! I wouldn’t have said anything if I knew and—”
“Don’t worry! It’s not a big deal!”
The unspoken I’m used to it floated weakly in the air.
They went back to work after that, but Atsushi kept an eye on Kenji, curious to see what exactly the tic was. He didn’t have to wait long to see it. It wasn’t even a minute later before Kenji’s fingers twitched and he shoved his thumb into the touchpad of his laptop.
Atsushi winced in symapthy. That didn’t look fun.
The thumping soon became a regular sound in the office—a very frequent sound, actually. After a couple days, Atsushi was half-tempted to ask Yosano if there was anything she could do, but he figured Kenji would say something if it became a problem.
So, everyone just let him be. No one pointed it out, and no one asked questions once they knew where the thumping came from.
But something seemed different today.
Most everyone was out working on cases or skipping work, so it was just Atsushi and Kenji alone in the office. Sometimes, the thumps would get louder than usual, they sounded more aggressive.
After a particularly loud and long thump, Atsushi couldn’t let it drift to the background anymore. That had to have hurt.
He looked up from his work and saw Kenji sitting in front of a closed laptop. His hands were clenched in his lap, and it looked like they were vibrating.
Kenji’s shoulders rose up and down, up and down, and although Atsushi couldn’t see his face, he could guess that he was grimacing if his increasingly deep, borderline frantic, breaths were anything to go by.
And Atsushi knew he couldn’t just sit idly by at the moment. Sure, he was told that the best thing to do was ignore Kenji’s tics because pointing them out tended to make them worse, but Kenji was clearly in some kind of pain and distress and Atsushi couldn’t live with himself if he just pretended everything was fine.
So, he stood up and slowly made his way towards Kenji.
“Hey, Kenji-kun, are you—”
He never got to finish his sentence. Kenji flinched so violently at the sound of his voice, neck craning back so far Atsushi could see his wide eyes, and made a variety of different gasp-like sounds.
Then, Kenji spun around with an eerily happy grin. “Hi, Atsushi-san! Did you need something?”
Atsushi noticed that Kenji’s legs started shaking. Actually, they shook so hard the table above them rattled.
“Kenji-kun… are you okay?”
Kenji cocked his head to the side (and blinked five times and unclenched a fist to smack his thigh and twitched and—). “Oh, I’m fine! Just— clickclickclick —my tics acting up today, I guess!” He laughed futily, glossy eyes shining with something that almost looked like a plea for help.
Like he was trapped and wanted out.
And he was, wasn’t he? Trapped in his own body, unable to control his movements.
Atsushi was about to respond when Kenji’s unclenched fist suddenly spread out and he slammed his fingers into the desk. Hard.
His nails bent a bit on impact.
Kenji’s lips wobbled as he dug his fingers deeper and deeper into the table, so forcefully that Atsushi was worried Kenji would break either the table or his nails. He let out something like a pant or a whimper.
When his fingers finally let up, they curled around each other so tightly his skin turned white, piercing his skin with his nails.
Atsushi didn’t know what to do. He’d been around Kenji enough to see him tic, but it had never been this bad before. And it sucked, just standing there, helpless, because Kenji said touch made it worse. His fingers itched to reach out, to do something. But he forced himself to just stand still.
Kenji’s fingers were released after a minute or so. He gasped loudly when they were free, biting his lip.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“What? Why are you sorry?”
Kenji shrugged. “I’m sorry you had to—to—gah!” His neck jolted to the side, and Atsushi winced in sympathy. “Sorry you had to see that. I know it’s… weird and more violent than my other ones.”
Atsushi shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Kenji was apologizing because his tics were… weird to look at? “Hey, no, don’t be sorry,” he said instantly, kneeling beside Kenji. “I know you can’t help it. I’m just… a little worried. That looked like it really hurt.”
Kenji sniffed, nodding. “Yeah,” he said, clucking. “This new tic is really painful. I’m having trouble using my laptop and phone. I keep jamming my fingers into the touchpad or between the keys. And then my fingers start wrapping around each other and—”
It sucked that talking about tics made them happen. His fingers came to life as soon as he mentioned them wrapping, and Atsushi hissed as they contorted to hug one another.
“Yeah, like that.”
“Do you think Yosano-sensei could help?” Atsushi asked. He knew she couldn’t just magically get rid of the pain or his Tourette’s, but maybe she had some kind of cream or bandage that could ease the pain…
Kenji shrugged. “I don’t think so. Kunikida-san gave me a couple different things to try like stress balls and fidget toys, and we tried wrapping bandaids around my fingers but that didn’t really do anything.” Kenji’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. He smacked his thighs. “It hurts so much and I’m trying not to let it bother me, but I haven’t gotten any work done in two days because I can’t type or even hold a pen right now. I don’t want to add to Kunikida-san’s workload…”
A few tears slid down Kenji’s cheeks, which burned red whether from frustration or embarrassment, Atsushi didn’t know.
And his heart ached because he’d never seen Kenji cry before. Never. He’d seen Kenji get shot by a barrage of bullets without blinking, take a metal pole to the head without making a sound. Hell, he once watched as Kenji’s hand got slammed in a door, and he didn’t even flinch.
Kenji had a freakishly high pain tolerance, probably thanks to his ability, so the fact that he was crying now? That meant he was suffering.
“Oh, Kenji-kun…” he whispered, fighting the urge to wrap him in a hug.
“I feel so ridiculous,” Kenji mumbled, trying desperately to wipe the tears away. “I’ve had worse tics. But I need to use my hands so much and I can’t even do that without feeling like something bad will happen if I don’t slam my fingers into something.”
Atsushi knew the feeling. Not exactly in the same way as Kenji, but he knew what it was like to have hands that didn’t work the way they were supposed to. Years of rulers and burning metal to his palms and knuckles made it hard to function some days. Sometimes, he’d give his report verbally to Kyouka or Jun’ichiro so they could write it down for him. Sometimes, he found it hard to hold his gun.
Honestly, he was just thankful that Ranpo realized he had chronic pain and got him compression gloves when he first joined the agency—
Atsushi jumped to his feet, almost toppling over with how quickly he stood. “Gloves!” he cried, frantically trying to pry his compression gloves off his hands. “I mean, compression gloves! Have you ever—have you ever tried using those?”
He then remembered that his gloves were velcroed on, and undid the straps. Once they were off, he shoved them into Kenji’s chest.
“Huh?” Kenji blinked at him, head tilted in confusion as he carefully grabbed the gloves. “What are compression gloves?”
Ah, yeah. He shouldn’t have assumed Kenji knew what they were—they probably didn’t have them back in Itahov.
“Oh! Um, compression gloves are a kind of gloves that are used specifically to ease pain and reduce swelling and stuff. A lot of people with arthritis use them. Or, people like me who have chronic hand pain.” He chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “They don’t get rid of the pain entirely, but they help out a lot. You, uh, you wanna try using mine today?”
There was silence for a minute or two as Kenji stared at the gloves in his hands, mouth slightly open.
Sweat gathered on Atsushi’s forehead every second without a response. Was he being overdramatic? Maybe. He did that sometimes. Or was it weird to shove his gloves at Kenji? Probably. He shouldn’t assume that Kenji would even want to try them! Oh shoot—did Kenji think he was making fun of him? No, no. Kenji’s probably just confused, that’s all.
But Atsushi was never good at handling silence. “Um, sorry!” he cried, waving frantically. “You don’t have to use them if you don’t want to! I didn’t mean to force them on you or anyth—”
“Do you mean it?” Kenji interrupted softly, still staring at the gloves amidst his blinking and jerking.
“Mean what?”
“That I could try them?”
“Of course!” Atsushi replied. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.”
Kenji bit his lip and swallowed. “Are you sure you don’t— blrrr, blrrr, blrrr —you don’t need them? ‘Cause I don’t want your hands to hurt.”
“It’s fine! The pain isn’t bad today, so I don’t really need them to type. Besides, I have a second pair at my apartment, so if I end up needing them, I can just get those.”
“Okay.” Kenji slowly slipped the gloves onto his shaking hands. Atsushi made sure they were on correctly, then tugged the velcro strap until it was secure.
Kenji’s eyes instantly lit up. “Atsushi-san!” he cried, shooting to his feet and jumping up and down. “Atsushi-san! This is amazing!” He thrust his gloved hands in Atsushi’s face, wiggling his fingers.
Atsushi smiled, reaching out to ruffle Kenji’s hair. “I know right? I couldn’t believe how good it felt the first time I used them!”
“The city is so cool! It always finds new ways to surprise me!”
Kenji’s hands started flapping, almost like he was shaking them out. Atsushi used to worry when Kenji did that—it looked so aggressive and he was concerned that Kenji would break his wrists or something. But, no, Jun’ichirou told him it was a happy stim rather than a tic. He didn’t worry about it anymore. It was more enduring than anything, and seeing it now allowed Atsushi to release a relieved breath of air.
“You can keep them for today, Kenji-kun, alright? They won’t fix everything, but hopefully they’ll help! I know how hard it is to work when your hands hurt. I’ve learned some tricks to help over the years, so let me know if I can do anything, okay?”
And suddenly, Atsushi was wrapped up in the biggest hug in the world.
Kenji held him close, his cheeks nuzzling Atsushi’s neck as he lifted him off his feet. “You’re so kind, Atsushi-san!” he mumbled, squeezing tightly. “You’re like the big brother I never had!”
It was a well-known fact that Kenji gave the best hugs in the agency, so Atsushi savoured the moment until he couldn’t breathe.
He gave Kenji’s back a couple of pats, a wordless way to say that he needed air.
“Make sure you let us know when you’re struggling, alright? I know we can’t make it stop or anything, but we want to help out however we can!”
“Thank you, Atsushi-san!” Kenji held his hands out and wiggled his fingers, giggling. “Wow! This really does feel so much better! I can get so much work done now!”
“Ah-ah, you need to relax your hands first.” Atsushi loosely placed a hand on Kenji’s shoulder. “The gloves won’t do much if you don’t take a break.”
“Oh. Yeah, you’re right.” Kenji pouted, glancing back at his desk. “Kunikida-san doesn’t like when people slack off at work. Is there anything I can do without my hands?”
It was as if Dazai miraculously appeared behind him, whispering in his ear. “Nah, Kunikida-san’s not here right now! Besides, it’s almost lunch. How about you take me to that market you always talk about? We can get food there, if you want!”
A bright smile instantly lit up Kenji’s face. “Oh! It’s really good! You’ll love Sumire-san! She makes really good beef bowls and ochazuke!”
“Well, then we have to go there! Lead the way?”
Kenji’s glove-covered hand grasped his and that was the only warning he had before he was yanked out of the office.
As much as Atsushi would love to give Kenji his gloves or buy him a pair, he couldn’t. He needed the gloves, and he needed the extra set. There were still days were his hands trembled so forcefully he couldn’t type or hold objects.
He also was still relatively broke, especially with how much tofu he bought for Kyouka, and compression gloves were unfairly expensive.
But Kenji also seemed to need gloves just as much as he did.
So, the next day, Atsushi did the next best thing, which was also the scariest thing.
“Hey, Kunikida-san?”
Kunikida looked up from his work, brows pinched in mild annoyance. “What do you need, Atsushi?”
“Um, I was wondering if you could use your ability and make something for Kenji-kun?” Atsushi blurted out, closing his eyes and flinching as he awaited the impending explosion.
He learned from watching Dazai that Kunikida did not like to be used for his ability (but he still made whatever Dazai asked for anyway), but this seemed like a good enough reason to at least try asking.
But the shouting never came. When Atsushi cracked his eyes open, he noticed that Kunikida looked more intrigued and concerned than anything.
“Is Kenji okay?”
Atsushi made a so-so gesture. “Mostly. I just… earlier today, he kind of broke down about his new tic—” Kunikida winced in sympathy, “—and it’s causing him a lot of pain. So, I was wondering if you could make him some compression gloves? Like the kind that Ranpo-san got me? I let him use mine for the rest of the day because my hands felt fine, but I also need the gloves and can’t just give them to him so—”
“Atsushi.”
Atsushi squeaked, mouth clamping shut. “Yes?”
“Of course I’ll make gloves for Kenji. I don’t mind making things at your request if it’s purpose is to help.”
All the tension in his shoulders miraculously vanished. “You’re the best, Kunikida-san!” Atsushi threw his arms around Kunikida and trapped him in a tight hug. “Thank you.”
“Atsushi.”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t make the gloves if you’re squeezing me to death.”
“Oh, right. Sorry!”
Kenji returned Atsushi’s gloves the next day at work. “Thank you so much for letting me use them!” he said, bowing his head.
“Of course, did they help at all?”
“Yeah!” Kenji nodded. “They still hurt, but I felt like I could actually do things! City magic is so cool!”
“It really is!” Atsushi couldn’t help but nod along. The orphanage was on the outskirts of the city, but it wasn’t like anyone bothered to take them there. Hand pain was a constant—he couldn’t remember a time when his hands didn’t hurt. It was just… normal, something he assumed everyone had.
It wasn’t until he joined the agency that he realized it wasn’t.
Compression gloves were an invention beyond his comprehension. When Ranpo handed him the gloves, it seemed like magic to him, too.
He debated giving Kenji the gloves now, but Dazai was poking Kunikida across from him and Naomi and Kyouka were looking over paperwork together on the other side of the room. Atsushi didn’t want to make it a big deal or embarrass Kenji, so he ultimately decided to wait until lunch.
Thankfully, Kenji’s new tic seemed to give him somewhat of a break. The aggressive tapping was still audible in the background, but it wasn’t as consistent or loud as it was the day prior. It still must really hurt, though.
By some stroke of luck (which probably meant that Dazai or Ranpo picked up on his nerves and got everyone out of the room), Kenji and Atsushi were the last to leave for lunch.
“Alright! I should probably get lunch now!” Kenji chirped, jumping to his feet. “You should, too, Atsushi-san!”
“Wait! Kenji-kun!” Atsushi cried, nearly falling out of his chair. “Before you go! I, uh, I have something for you!”
Kenji perked up. He chirped. “Ooo! What is it?”
Atsushi laughed, holding the gloves behind his back. “I know your hands are still hurting and that the compression gloves helped, so I asked Kunikida-san if he could make you some! And, well, tada!” He brought them forward with a pathetic flourish and plopped them in Kenji’s hands.
There was silence as Kenji stared at the gift, just like there was yesterday. It was a thick, heavy silence that made Atsushi squirm.
“You… you got Kunikida-san to make these for me?”
Kenji’s voice cracked. He blinked rapidly.
“Yup! He made them a little smaller than mine so they’d fit better! They might be a little snug, but—”
Velcro tearing apart interrupted him, and when he blinked, the gloves were on Kenji’s hands.
Kenji let out a sigh of relief. He took a second to stretch his fingers, wiggle them, bend and twist them. “They feel so nice,” he muttered. “I…” Kenji trailed off, the awe and wonderment from the day prior seemed to have consumed him once more. His eyes kept flitting from the gloves to Atsushi and then back to the gloves. “This is… one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me…”
And seconds later, Atsushi was lifted off his feet into another bone-crushing hug.
“You’re so nice,” whispered Kenji. “I’m really glad I moved to the city and met you. Thank you.”
Sincerity seeped through his words, soft and oozing with so much love that Atsushi worried Kenji’s heart would burst.
His happiness was, admittedly, contagious.
“I’m glad you did, too.” Atsushi struggled a bit to wrap his arms around Kenji in return. Once he did, he brought the tiger arms out for the heck of it and squeezed back just as tightly.
Kenji laughed as if Atsushi’s strength was nothing to him, then squeezed him even harder.
They went on like that for a bit, strengthening their grip to see who can hug the tightest, until it became more like a wrestling match. Eventually, they tipped over and landed with tangled limbs on the floor.
They laid there, panting and laughing breathlessly.
Atsushi wasn’t sure who won their unofficial hugging match, but that didn’t matter. What did matter was that Kenji was smiling—that Kenji’s infectious laughter was still ringing in his ears.
A brotherly pride crept up behind him, slowly, at first, and then all-consuming. It wasn’t as overwhelming as the first time he felt it, back when he saved Kyouka on that train, but it was present and loud.
And right then and there he decided to do whatever he had to in order to make Kenji happy.
“Thank you, Atsushi-san,” Kenji repeated once he regained his breath. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t gotten me these.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I’m always here for you—we all are. Let us know the next time it gets bad, okay?” Atsushi patted Kenji’s thigh, pushing himself up to his elbows. “You’re a really good kid, Kenji-kun.”
Kenji blinked at him then sat up, too. He grabbed Atsushi by the face, holding his cheeks with an astounding amount of gentleness and care from the strongest person Atsushi's ever met. “You let us know, too, okay?” He gazed into Atsushi’s eyes, lips curled in a serious frown. “You always help me whenever I need it. You’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. Someday, I wanna help people as much as you do.”
And—oh, wow—what was Atsushi supposed to say to that?
Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes, and Kenji’s frown instantly became concerned and his hands dropped.
“Are you okay? Did I say something to upset you?”
Atsushi shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. He lazily swiped a hand across his wet cheeks. “No, you didn’t. I’m just… really happy.”
Kenji cocked his head to the side, but shrugged and grinned right back at him. “I’m glad you’re happy, Atsushi-san!”
“Come on,” he sniffed, pushing himself to his feet, “let’s get some lunch, okay?”