Work Text:
He dreaded returning to work. He had been ill for five days, four of them spent in the warm, firm caress of a colleague, sharing secrets, whispering first names like marriage vows. Kissing hands, feet, lips and necks. Soothing pains, rubbing turmeric oil on knees and hands and sipping collagen.
Face flushed, mouth dry and brain scattered. Those four days had been the most gentle reprieve. The fifth, a preparation
And yet now he sat in his car, in a barren parking lot, watching as the sun rose. His phone dinged incessantly. Report after report pouring in. Requests, demands. His hands itched to shut his phone down.
Until a familiar name popped up on his screen. The soft buzz of a phone call echoed around his car. He felt himself smile, giddy, but his heart thumped with fear.
Beep!
He pressed the answer button and put the phone on speaker. “Good Morning, Nanami-san. Is everything alright?” He greeted, clammy hands coming to rub at his still scratching throat.
The soft huff of a laugh reverberated throughout the car, echoing inaudibly. “Still so formal, Kiyotaka-kun.” The voice whispered, sweet and tender, spoken like a kiss.
He bit his lip. “I'm currently at work, Nanami-san.” He said defensively, his voice slipping into a murmur, just as it had done in his bed. He could hear Kento’s smile through the phone line, teeth bared and eyes crinkled.
“Yes, of course, you are… remember, Ijichi-kun-“ He felt himself blush. “You’re driving me to a mission today. Don't be late.” He said, in his usual professional tone, but there was an edge that sounded familiar. The sort of tone Gojo-san took on when he teased him.
He preferred it when it was Kento though.
“Of course. I'll see you at 11?” He said, hands gripping the steering wheel as if he was not asking for a simple time for a job, but rather a date.
It seemed Kento could read minds. “It's a date.”
Beep!
His eyes widened. “Oh.”
Ijichi had been a live wire all day. He was sure a certain someone had noticed. Throwing glances his way, face immediately softening slightly like the weight of the world suddenly wasn't such a burden.
His hands shook as he cradled an empty coffee cup, thinking about those four days, and what had been.
More than once today, Ijichi had caught himself staring at his colleague. Visually tracing those tired hazel eyes, those sharp, sunken cheeks and those thin lips. Those lips that had so gently caressed him.
Those lips that had whispered the softest of confessions. Admitting that all they wanted was to leave. Go to Malaysia, and build a house. Read all those books piled up in the corner. Nanami looked at him so softly when he said that. The most vulnerable of stares as he smiled and said:
“Perhaps you can come with me.”
These words were all he had been thinking of, all he knew. The piles of reports shunned in favour of sweet fantasies where the sun kissed his sweat-slicked neck, water sloshing around his ankles. Finally free from tight, thick suits, piles of paperwork, and cold dead eyes…
All Ijichi could hope for is that Kento would not die, and instead leave forever. If he could not follow along, he could accept that.
He felt like a ghost as he wandered the school’s corridors, the warm wind tousling his hair as he stepped into the parking lot. His hands shook for a different reason now, thoughts spiralling deeper and deeper.
It was a dangerous job. What if Ijichi drove him to his doom? Drove him back in a body bag?
He heard footsteps behind him. His mind snapped back to reality. How long had he been standing in front of his car? How long had his cheeks been damp? How long…
“Kiyotaka-kun?” Kento called, his hand coming to smooth over his shoulder from behind. He turned to face his colleague, eyes red and puffy.
He was prepared to be scolded for not bringing the car up. Prepared to be ignored. Prepared for everything but the pained look on Kento’s face as he caught sight of his tears.
“You've been crying.” He muttered, slipping Ijichi’s glasses off, wiping his tears away with the calloused pads of his fingers, tickling against his cheeks. “Why have you been crying? Did Gojo say something stupid?” He said in a harsh but contained tone. Like he was angry, but wanted to hide it.
“No, no. Nothing like that.” He rasped, hands coming up nervously to fiddle with his tie and collar. “I just… thought about something you said. A few days ago.” He cleared his throat, knuckles blanched as he gripped his tie.
“About Malaysia?” Kento asked, with a soft smile. “What about it? Why has that upset you?” His glasses were slipped back on, Kento’s hand moving upwards to stroke his downy hair.
“What if you die before we get there?” He blurted out. “I mean… before you. Get there.” He corrected, voice lowering from his shame. He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the rough hand in his hair and his own hands gripping his polyester tie.
“Kiyotaka.” His eyes opened and flickered up, breath catching in his throat.
Kento looked down at him, brows furrowed and mouth twisted into a frown. He looked angry. Like Ijichi had somehow gravely offended him. He held his breath.
“Don't you think I meant it, when I said you can come with me?” He said, reflecting that teasing undertone from earlier. He felt himself sigh, turning around to face the car door, and digging in his pockets for his keys.
“You said ‘Perhaps’.”
A pregnant pause. A soft huff. A little chuckle.
“I did.”
Ijichi looked over his shoulder to find Kento with a smile on his face. “Kiyotaka, I said ‘Perhaps’ because I didn't know if you wanted to come with me. But that's beside the point. If I do die, because I can't say I won't…” He slowly paced around the car, to the passenger side door, locking eyes over the car roof.
“Take me with you anyway. I'm going to be cremated, so take me with you like that. And don't wait either. Take me and go.” He said firmly. He felt himself nod, eyes welling up.
“Do you promise, Kiyo?”
He felt himself sob.
“Promise.” He whispered.
He opened the door and sat in the driver's seat, Kento following suit.
He felt strong arms wrap around him, rocking side to side, Kento’s face buried in his shirt collar, the fabric dampening. He slid his arms around his waist, hands framing his shoulder blades, and buried his face into his collarbone.
They breathed in tandem for a while. Could've been a minute, could've been an hour.
“I'll leave as soon as I can. Maybe sooner than expected. I only needed to stay a few more months to save up the last few bits. But if you don't mind chipping in..?” Kento said into his neck, breath ghosting against his arteries and tendons and his heart beat faster.
“I would love to,” Ijichi said, almost too fast.
“Well… after this mission, let me take you to dinner. If I'm shipping you off to another country with me, let me at least wine and dine you first.” He smiled, pulling away.
“It's a date then.” Ijichi nodded.