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“Why are you here?”
Genichirou rolls his eyes. Across the couch from him, Ranpo is sulking.
“I was asked to keep an eye on you.”
One side of Ranpo’s face twitches irritably. “I don’t need looking after. I’m an adult.”
“You hardly act Iike one.”
Ranpo says nothing in reply, quiet for once. His t-shirt, too big for him-- possibly Fukuzawa’s, now that Genichirou thinks about it-- is slipping off one shoulder. Genichirou’s never seen him in casual clothes before, but then again, Genichirou’s never been in the apartment Ranpo and the boy’s mentor share. Fukuzawa’s away for almost a week, and he’d asked Genichirou to check in on him, to Genichirou’s amusement.
Of course, Ranpo hadn’t made it easy, protesting annoyingly until Genichirou had worked his way into the apartment. He doesn’t doubt Ranpo’s eaten nothing but sweets the whole time he’s been alone, and will continue to do so the moment Genichirou’s gone.
“Well, now you’ve seen everything is fine,” Ranpo says, snippy, “So you can leave now, thanks.”
Genichirou snorts. “Alright.”
He doesn’t move to get up.
“…Go on, then, go.”
”I think I’ll take a nap here, actually,” Genichirou muses, leaning back against the cushions, head tipped up towards the ceiling.
Ranpo makes a loud, frustrated noise beside him. There’s a bit of shuffling, and then Ranpo’s tugging on Geichioru’s arm, trying and failing to pull him off the couch. Ranpo may be all grown up now, but he’s still tiny, and Genichirou’s got at least a hundred and fifty pounds on him. He doesn’t budge, even as Ranpo grunts with effort.
Showily, he makes himself comfortable and mimics a loud snore. Ranpo digs his nails into Genichirou’s forearm and whines. “Get up , you big oaf.”
“That’s not a kind way to address your elder. Show some respect.”
“ Show some respect,” Ranpo repeats mockingly, trying to pitch his voice low and failing. It makes Genichirou snort again, shaking the boy off his arm.
Ranpo doesn’t give up though, clambering closer, shoving at his side. Genichirou rolls his head towards him, prepared to snap at him again— he’s having fun , an old man like him, imagine that— but stops short when he finds Ranpo closer than expected. He’s on his knees on the couch to get level with Genichirou’s face, trying and failing to push Genichirou to his feet.
“Stupid old man,” He mutters, breath puffing over Genichirou’s cheek. He’s looking down at Genichirou’s shoulder, two hands pressing at it lazily now, giving up, and when he turns his head towards Genichirou’s, his nose brushes over the man’s cheek. “Oh…”
And then he does something Genichirou’s never seen him do: he shies away, eyes averting, face recoiling. A fond laugh starts in Genichirou’s chest, rumbling up through his throat.
Embarrassed, Ranpo slaps his shoulder.
“Shy?” Genichirou says, grinning. “I would think a little brat like you would be more shameless.”
”Pfft,” Ranpo says, ducking his chin. His hands fumble in his lap. Genichirou’s never seen him so subdued, the usual obnoxious attitude gone now.
Lifting a hand, he tucks two fingers under the boy’s chin, tipping his head up. His cheeks glow crimson. His chin is small in Genichirou’s hand.
“What, are you a prude?”
Ranpo’s face screws up into a sour expression. “ No ,” He says sulkily, crossing his arms over his chest, defiantly not pulling his chin away, even as his lip trembles.
Still grinning, Genichirou closes in on him. His skin is warm under Genichirou’s fingers. ”Is that mentor ,” —this with contempt he can’t disguise— “Of yours keeping you sheltered? That’s just like him.”
Again, Ranpo’s face twists, defensively now, and then he wrenches his jaw away from Genichirou’s grip. “He’s got nothing to do with it. And he’s not even here.”
There’s that brattiness Genichirou’s come to expect. It’s almost a relief. He’s already beginning to formulate a response when Ranpo tips forward, diving headfirst and clumsily towards Genichirou’s mouth. His lips clash against Genichirou’s messily, and he nearly bites the man’s lip in his haste before pulling away and turning his head sharply so Genichirou can’t see his expression. “See? Not a prude.” He slips down from his knees so he’s sitting beside Genichirou on the couch again, facing forward.
“Is that supposed to prove anything?” Genichirou asks, licking his lips. By all accounts, the kiss was a disaster: his lip hurts from the dramatic forcefulness, and his thigh hurts where Ranpo had kneed him by accident, climbing forward like that. Still, his cheeks hurt from a pleased smile.
“You should get rid of that mustache,” Ranpo informs him, voice stilted with a forced playfulness. “It itches.” His ears are tipped red. Genichirou shakes his head.
”Not happening.”
”Gross old man.”
Genichirou tips his head back against the couch cushions again, closing his eyes. “I’m going to take that nap now.”
Ranpo grunts and smacks him in the side. “Get out of my house! ”