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Chisaki is not at all considered a member of the newly branded Paranormal Liberation Front, but it's not unusual for Atsuhiro to bring him along from place to place. Chisaki doesn't have much to do outside of following him around anyway; even if he wanted to reunite with the Hassaikai, they're all behind bars and Chisaki is a quirkless fugitive. How would he manage to break them out, or even visit them at all without getting caught? His only choice is to get into the league's good graces and stay there long enough to get what he wants.
Well, Atsuhiro is just about completely certain he'd personally die if Chronostasis ever saw him again, so he'd rather not assist in breaking him out at any point. Chisaki wouldn't be able to talk him down from his fury in time, if he'd bother at all. Luckily, he isn't worried about that right now.
What he's worried about is the fact that the league has been ambushed and Chisaki has had the misfortune of getting involved. An explosion quirk of some kind has robbed him of the prosthetics Atsuhiro so kindly provided for him, and now he's running behind cover with him.
"Give me your arm," Chisaki has the gall to ask; Atsuhiro thinks for a split-second that he means to ask for assistance, but then he realizes he's being literal.
"... Excuse me?! It's one thing to ask for my help, but my arm?!"
Chisaki just glares at him like his annoyance is unwarranted.
"Stop overreacting. It's just a prosthetic," he states flatly.
"You say that because you're not the one who has to pay for them!"
"The league has big name backers now, doesn't it? Prosthetics should be covered by the company in exchange for the work you do for them. It's the natural order. Am I wrong?"
"Well, mine are, but..."
"Then it's not an issue. Give me your arm already."
"Augh, fine! You're lucky I amputated yours at the same point you took mine from."
And what a comment to be able to make. Somehow, saying it aloud tickles a sick fondness in Atsuhiro's skull, and it dampens his annoyance at Chisaki's bratty attitude.
The question of whether the prosthetic will even fit him remains for a moment longer, quickly replaced with whether he'll actually be able to do anything with it even once it's haphazardly attached. Chisaki briefly flexes the metal fingers to check that they work, and then he's peeking out from behind their cover to see where the enemy has run off to. At least he has some illusion of being able to defend himself like this, though it's unlikely he'd be able to do much with one false, quirkless arm he isn't even used to.
But what were the odds it would fit him? Atsuhiro did some good work when he took Chisaki's arm. While they're still within this moment of calm, Atsuhiro stares at him, at the mangled mess of cloth, metal, and wires hanging from his right bicep. If Atsuhiro had two prosthetics, he's sure Chisaki would have demanded them both.
"Ah. The noises are distant now," Chisaki observes, turning back around towards Atsuhiro. "We should flee while we can."
"If you'd like to give me my arm back, I'd much rather rejoin the fight," Atsuhiro tells him.
"You're my guide home," Chisaki says, eyes unimpressed. "I'm not getting involved in any unnecessary fighting. If you want me in one piece, which I know you do, you'll escort me home. Unless you'd rather gamble on letting me find my way back with an unknown number of enemies after us while I'm barely able to defend myself. On the other hand, if I do give you your arm back and just stay close to you for protection, how on Earth do you plan to close any distance between yourself and the enemy with me holding you back?"
He's so annoying. He does realize Atsuhiro could just compress him and keep him in his pocket? He ought to rip that mask right off of him and shut him up properly. In fact... if they're alone right now, why can't he?
His remaining hand lifts up to Chisaki's face, fingers slipping under the straps of his mask before pulling it off his ear.
"What the hell was that for?" he asks, his borrowed prosthetic reaching up to fix it, but Atsuhiro grabs it by the wrist.
"Ah, but now my own mask is in the way," Atsuhiro sighs in realization. "What a predicament."
He really shouldn't have bothered giving Chisaki his arm.
"This is hardly the time or place to kiss me. What made you think that would be appropriate?"
"You thought I could view such a thing neutrally? You're wearing a part of me right now. I could put you in my coat, too," he adds, glancing down at where it lies in a crumpled pile on the ground, half-forgotten from when he was detaching his arm.
Chisaki sneers, glaring at the article down his nose like it's beneath him in more than just a literal sense.
"You do see that it's on the ground? Don't put that filthy thing on me," he bites, trying to pull away.
"I'll acquiesce for a kiss."
He briefly glances between Atsuhiro and the coat, and then the prosthetic goes limp in his hand.
"Fine," he allows, and Atsuhiro lets him pull back this time, his borrowed arm waiting patiently at his side. Atsuhiro pulls his own mask off, letting Chisaki see the fondness in his eyes for himself.
"You always act like you hate this," he says, leaning in slow and ever so close, "up until I actually do it."
And he always has an excuse ready. This time, the kiss is in exchange for not having to wear Atsuhiro's coat. He'll say as much if Atsuhiro tries to point out his eagerness, he knows. That logic is never quite sound, though, not when he fights through his hives to lean up for more each and every time, if his body even bothers punishing him with them anymore.
Now is no different. Their lips barely touch before Chisaki initiates the kiss himself, his borrowed arm coming up around Atsuhiro's neck to keep him close. He gasps but doesn't flinch when Atsuhiro licks at his mouth, always denied entry until this very moment, when they part so slightly that Atsuhiro nearly thinks he imagined it until Chisaki lets him in, even lets him push his back against the dilapidated wall behind him without protest, just a little noise that gets swallowed down.
"See? You like this," Atsuhiro points out with a satisfied smirk. "You like me."
"Shut up," Chisaki murmurs, eyes still closed expectantly. His arm doesn't move, either.
"Or maybe you just like feeling violated," Atsuhiro tells him, and the little shake in Chisaki's knees just confirms it. He lets Atsuhiro kiss him again, even clumsily tightens his arm against his neck. When they break away, Chisaki actually has something nice to say for once.
"I'll wear your coat once it's clean," he mildly offers like it's a stray thought. Immediately, Atsuhiro pulls away and places his mask back on his face. He imagines Chisaki hastily does the same.
"I suppose we'd better head home, then," he says, quick to pick the coat up and start walking.
"It's not difficult to motivate you, is it? I'll keep that in mind," he hears Chisaki half-mutter, probably not caring if Atsuhiro hears him or not.
"I'm just a tad obsessed with you is all. If you're offering to wear my clothing, of course I'd like to see that. But would you wear more than just the coat? Maybe some other time?"
Chisaki sighs, following along behind him and managing to act like he's not pleased in the slightest.
"I'm sure I'll end up trying on your whole wardrobe eventually. If it doesn't get old to you, I'll never run out of bribes."
He most certainly won't. If only home weren't so damn far...