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It was raining, fat droplets of water hitting the pavement and spraying up over the sidewalk as cars sped by. The water splashed Shishido’s ankles, where they peeked out from under the hem of his pants. He pulled his hood tighter over his head, but it poofed awkwardly around his wild hair, causing water to dampen it around the edges and assist the cold creeping in. The gentle hush of the falling rain filled his ears, dampening the sharp city chatter.
The lion picked his way through the dwindling crowd, forcing himself to slow down and resist the temptation to barrel through everyone and get out of the rain as quickly as possible. It was a slow pace, but there was something about ‘running through the rain getting you wetter than walking’ in a familiar voice that plucked at the back of Shishido’s mind and kept him off the edge of insanity when stuck behind an elderly woman for the third time.
He arrived at an old wooden door with intricate stained glass creating a mosaic on the main panel. He gripped the wrought iron knob and turned it, shouldering inside. A warm gust of air greeted him kindly, encouraging him to pull off his hood and take a calming breath.
The cafe was modest, with large windows in the front to allow natural lighting to brighten up the space, tables scattered throughout, and two bars: one by the register and one by the window. There weren’t many customers lingering inside on the rainy day, presumably because no one wanted to brave the rain for a hot cup of coffee.
Shishido didn’t blame them; it had been difficult to pull himself from bed and tug on his jacket, but he forced himself to go through the motions and leave his apartment.
After all, it was Thursday.
The lion approached the counter, eyes scanning the menu as he walked closer.
“Don’t pretend you’re getting something different,” the barista behind the register joked. They were a reddish lizard heteromorph with excessive amounts of chain necklaces and spiked cuffs, beaming a smile straight at Shishido. “We all know what you’ll order.”
“Somebody’s smug today,” Shishido teased back as the barista began tapping the order into the computer.
“Is he coming too?” they asked without taking the bait.
“Yeah, he should be here in a bit.”
“I’ll bring your lattes out when they’re ready.” The barista smirked, turning to go back to the bar.
“Thanks, Kumi,” he called. They flipped him off over their shoulder without turning around. Shishido laughed before turning away and walking to the bar by the window. The light cast in through the window was a muted blue from the rain clouds covering the city. It cast an almost underwater-like serenity over the cafe.
Shishido settled onto a stool in the middle of the bar in an effort to deter others from sitting near him. He was picky about personal space, especially after a long morning followed by an afternoon dreary enough to make him curl up in an alley and take a catnap. The cafe patrons were pretty sparse, but he’d rather not take his chances.
The lion scanned the street out the window, watching as the streetlights flickered on as the storm clouds grew darker overhead. Most of the passerbys were well prepared for the weather, boasting umbrellas and water-resistant jackets, but there were a few stragglers holding their blazers over their heads as they rushed past. Shishido chuckled, picking a few people to mull over and guess where they were going to pass the time.
There was a small jingle as the door creaked open, welcoming the steady sound of the downpour inside for just a moment. It overwhelmed the hushed conversation and brought a serene white noise to the lion’s ears. Shishido kept his eyes trained out the window, watching. Footsteps grew closer, and the lion fought back a smirk.
The stool next to him made a light scraping sound as it was pulled away just enough for a hulking form to take a seat on Shishido’s right.
“Long day at school?” Shishido asked, still not looking over at his companion.
“Every day spent around teenagers is a long day,” Kuugo countered.
“I don’t know why you took up teaching,” Shishido scoffed.
Kuugo hummed in response, “Why does anyone do anything?”
“Because they want to, shrimp brain,” the lion scoffed.
“There’s nobility to be found in teaching the younger generation to–”
“Don’t give me that ‘greater purpose’ bullshit,” Shishido groaned. “I hear it enough from the stuffy heroes I’m teamed up with.”
There was a light shuffle of footsteps approaching that caused Shishido to turn around. Kumi arrived with two drinks in their hand and a bright smile on their face.
“One hot hazelnut latte for the lion,” they said cheerily, passing the cup to Shishido with a knowing glance that prompted the lion to swipe it with a snarl, before continuing, “And one iced lavender latte for you.” They handed Kuugo the other cup, and the orca took it kindly. “I’d ask if you needed anything else, but…” they trailed off.
“Thanks, Kumi. We’ll let you know,” Kuugo replied with a smile. Kumi returned the smile, bowed, and rushed back to the counter. The orca and lion turned back to the window and took a sip of their lattes. It was still raining quite heavily outside, thick sheets coming down and occasionally wrapping against the glass. It obscured most of their vision and made the street look like an impressionistic painting. Kuugo leaned closer to Shishido.
“How was patrol?” he asked.
“Too fucking early,” Shishido griped. “I hate taking the morning shift, but one of my sidekicks – Bejeweled – had a family emergency, and no one else could cover for her,” he explained. “Spent the better part of my shift stopping petty thefts and helping old ladies cross the street.”
“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration.”
“No, I’m being dead serious. The third woman I helped refused to take my arm because I reminded her of her ex-husband, who was also a lion heteromorph,” Shishido complained. “I had to ask another civilian to help so we could get her off the road.” Shishido threw his hands up. “It was ridiculous and a complete waste of my skills.”
“Being a hero isn’t always about kicking ass,” Kuugo reminded him. “The little things matter just as much. Sometimes more.” The orca sipped his coffee and turned to Shishido with a conspiratory gleam in his eye. Shishido let out a long exhale.
“Okay, what the fuck are you thinking? Because I know that look, and it always leads to me suffering at my own expense,” the lion groaned.
“If you want something action-packed… You should do a guest lesson about fight training for my class,” Kuugo suggested. “They’re skilled at rescue, that’s clear to see, but they’re still pulling their punches.”
“You want me to beat up kids?” Shishido deadpanned. Kuugo’s head fell back as he laughed deep from his gut in a way that made warmth blossom in Shishido’s chest.
“No,” Kuugo replied, “I want you to demonstrate your fighting abilities to help them learn new techniques.”
“… Can I beat up a few kids?”
“We can do a few sparring rounds, but I fear they aren’t ready to face you at your full power,” Kuugo suggested. “Few can.”
Shishido smirked and added, “Says you.” He bumped Kuugo with his shoulder and took a sip of his coffee, letting the liquid warm him further. He turned his gaze back to the window and the light fog that had begun to settle over the street. He could still make out the silhouettes of the civilians dodging under awnings and stepping around puddles.
The afternoon sky looked dark enough to be mid-evening, and the fading sky combined with steady rainfall cast tiredness deep into Shishido’s bones. He took another sip of his latte, savoring the warmth that lulled his senses.
“So,” he started slowly, “When would I come in for this guest teaching exercise? ” He put special emphasis on the last few words sarcastically.
“We usually do hero training at the end of the day, so any afternoon you feel like skipping patrol,” Kuugo offered. “I’d prefer next week, if that works for you.”
“Sounds peachy,” the lion mumbled, dropping his head into his hands and letting his eyes drift shut. He let the low conversations of the cafe lull his mind further, choosing not to pick up any of the words but let the sounds drift in and out of his ears peacefully. Kuugo nudged Shishido’s knee with his own and left it resting against the lion’s leg. It was a comforting press that eased the tension in Shishido’s muscles.
Kuugo sipped his latte only to hear the sucking sound amplify as he reached the bottom of the cup. He sighed and set it back down. Shishido slid his latte over to Kuugo without opening his eyes.
“Thanks,” Kuugo said. He popped the lids off of both cups and poured the now room-temperature liquid over his ice. He set the empty paper cup back down between them, secured the lid on his plastic cup, and swirled it around before taking the first sip. He let out a contented sigh and passed it back to the lion, who peeked his eyes open and finagled the straw into his mouth without changing positions.
“I can walk you home, if you’re ready to go?” Kuugo asked.
Shishido hummed and made no effort to move.
Kuugo smiled and stood up, scooting the barstool back and causing the low scraping noise to echo in the room. He snatched up the empty cup and walked over to the trash can. Kumi was straightening up the sugars and syrups nearby when he approached.
“Leaving already?” they piped up as he tossed the cup into the bin.
“Yeah, rain doth make a sleepy cat,” he joked, gesturing behind him. Kumi glanced over his shoulder, chuckled with a smile, and passed Kuugo a small pastry bag.
“Have a nice night, Mr. Sakamata,” they bid him goodbye.
“What’s this?” Kuugo asked, reluctantly accepting the bag.
“I’ve heard cats like fish,” they joked, peeking around Kuugo again to see if the lion had picked up on their comment. “Thought it might cheer him up.”
“I appreciate the gesture, even if he would probably cuss you out for it,” Kuugo said with humor. He bowed slightly and added, “Have a wonderful evening, Kumi.”
Kuugo left Kumi to continue wiping down the station and returned to Shishido. He hadn’t moved an inch. Kuugo put a hand on his shoulder, fingers sinking into the plush mane and rubbing a strand softly.
“Time to go, Shishi,” Kuugo said firmly. The lion grunted and shoved himself up.
“Carry me,” he asked miserably.
“If your sidekicks found out, they’d never let you hear the end of it,” Kuugo pointed out. Shishido groaned and pushed his stool under the bar, then turned and faceplanted in Kuugo’s chest.
“I’m going to get wet, and my pants will get soaked,” he griped, voice muffled by Kuugo’s sweater.
“I brought you an umbrella,” Kuugo told him, reaching under the bar and pulling a sakura-patterned umbrella from where it had been stealthily hidden.
“If you carry me, I can hold it over both of us,” Shishido tried to reason.
“You’re the only one who minds the rain,” Kuugo tutted.
“Not all of us can be fish people,” Shishido retorted. “Some of us have fur that takes forever to dry.”
“You do know calling us ‘fish people’ is a bit offensive, right?”
“Just call me something shitty back and we’re even.”
“That’s not how that works at all.”
“Can we just fucking go already?”
Kuugo laughed, put the pastry bag in his pocket, and slipped his hand into Shishido’s, tugging the lion along as he walked to the door. He passed Shishido the umbrella and opened the door, letting in a small gust of rain that whistled lightly through the opening.
They stepped out, and Shishido hastily opened the umbrella, pulling his hood up to further shield his mane. They walked hand in hand down the street, Kuugo slowing his wide steps to match the lion’s tired pace. The crowd had dwindled to only a handful of strangers sliding past them, with long stretches of silence where the only two hearts beating in the downpour were the lion’s and the orca’s. Kuugo found it comforting and adjusted his grip to hold Shishido’s hand with more assurance. The lion gave him a light squeeze.
They arrived at the metro station, and Shishido closed the umbrella, tucking it under his arm so he could pull off his hood and shake out his mane. Some droplets scattered on Kuugo’s sweater, but he didn’t mind, as he was fairly soaked through. They waited for the train next to a pillar so Shishido could lean against it with his eyes closed. As the buzzing of tracks became louder, he pulled away and stepped up next to Kuugo, hand in hand.
They waited as it came to a stop, and the other passengers filed off. Kuugo led the lion aboard and brought him to a seat, where he plopped down and crossed his arms, settling in for the ride. Kuugo remained standing, finding the seats often too small for his frame, and gripped one of the bars abovehead. He shielded Shishido from the other passengers, easing the lion’s mind as he sat comfortably in Kuugo’s shadow.
The train began moving, ricketing along the tracks as it plundered underneath the city. Kuugo didn’t bother checking over the other passengers in the train; they had all looked quite plain and set off no alarm bells at a quick glance, and instead focused his attention on the sleeping lion. The rise and fall of his chest was noticeable as his jacket shifted with each breath. His nostrils seemed to puff smoke on each exhale, and his ears twitched lightly at every small squeak of shoes on the rubbery floor.
After four stops, Kuugo pulled Shishido up and led him out of the metro station. Shishido flipped his hood up but was too lazy to open the umbrella, so Kuugo snatched it and held it over the lion for him. Shishido pulled the orca closer and wrapped his arms around the thick forearm, laid his head on the soft bicep, and only slightly cringed at the dampness of the sweater.
They walked a few blocks before arriving at a small apartment complex. Shishido buzzed them in, and Kuugo closed the umbrella as they stepped under the concrete overhang. They trekked up to the fourth floor and walked down the exterior hall until they arrived at Shishido’s door, which had a doormat that looked like a can of sardines. Shishido rifled around in his pockets for his keys, then promptly dropped them, which caused him to let out a frustrated huff as he bent down and snatched them back up. He unlocked the door, flung it open, and turned to Kuugo with an eyebrow raised.
“You know you’re coming in too, right?” Shishido said in a tone that left no room for argument. Kuugo’s face grew warm, and he ducked his head.
“I don’t want to intrude–”
Shishido pulled him inside and locked the door behind them.
“Bedroom. Now.” Shishido demanded as he slipped off his shoes and jacket, placing them in the shoe rack and on a hook, respectively. He didn’t bother to flip on the lights, knowing both he and Kuugo had excellent vision in low to dark lighting because of their quirks. Lions and orcas had a lot more in common than either of them had ever thought possible.
Shishido grabbed Kuugo by the front of his sweater just as the orca had finished taking off his shoes, and pulled him down the hall and into the bedroom. He shut the door behind them, then turned back to Kuugo and began pulling his sweater up and over his head.
“Wait, what are you doing–” Kuugo asked as he felt his whole body growing warm from the intimacy of the action.
“You’re soaking fucking wet,” Shishido deadpanned as he successfully unhooked the collar from Kuugo’s fin and got the offending garment over his head. “Strip.”
“But, I have homework to grade,” Kuugo tried to argue as Shishido’s hands slipped down to his belt and began unbuckling the clasp. “O-okay! I can do it myself!” he cried indignantly.
“Then fucking hurry up!” the lion growled as he removed his hands and pulled his own shirt over his head. He wrestled to get his damp pants off, rolling around on the floor for a moment while huffing angrily. By the time he was finished, Kuugo was left in just his boxers, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room holding the pastry bag.
“What’s that?” Shishido asked, also in his boxers.
“It’s from Kumi, I’m not actually sure. They didn’t tell me much.”
“Why didn’t you just open it?”
“It’s for you,” Kuugo replied, tossing it over. Shishido reached inside and pulled out a taiyaki. He smiled and popped it into his mouth.
“I should really thank that lizard,” he commented around his mouthful of pastry. He placed the bag with three more small pastries inside it on his desk and turned back around to find Kuugo still standing in the same spot.
“The bed is right there,” Shishido pointed out. He scratched absentmindedly at the scars trailing from the center of his ribs out and under his armpits. They still itched more frequently during the colder months, and the weather had just begun to turn, but a little itching was a hell of a lot better than dysphoria.
Kuugo couldn’t look away, eyes soaking up every inch of the lion from fluffy mane to almost clawed toes. He stayed rooted in his spot as Shishido walked around the room, lighting some floral incense and flicking on a lamp next to the bed. He sat on the edge of his mattress and fiddled with his phone until soft classical music began filtering through the speakers. He looked back up at Kuugo, who was still watching him, eyes tracing every line of movement and lingering much too long. Shishido warmed under his gaze, and pink splotches began forming on his cheeks.
“I thought I said the bed is right here ,” he huffed, slamming a hand on the mattress. Kuugo jumped slightly, then stepped up to the mattress, still awkwardly standing a little too far away. “Jesus fucking christ,” Shishido moaned, lunging forward and grabbing Kuugo’s arm, then dragging him into bed. Kuugo fell ungracefully on top of him, and Shishido flipped them over so Kuugo was lying with his back against the mattress and head on a large pillow.
“That’s one way to do it,” Kuugo said, nearly out of breath.
“Shut the fuck up and put your arms around me,” the lion demanded. Kuugo’s chest rumbled with a deep laugh, shaking Shishido lightly. He tucked his head under the orca’s chin with no care for his mane being shoved in Kuugo’s face. Kuugo, much accustomed to that maneuver, tucked some of the soft hair under his chin, parting it to breathe easier and use as a cushion. He wound his arms around Shishido, pulling the lion onto his chest and holding him close. Their legs were tangled together, warmth shared through their proximity. Shishido pulled up the quilt that had been bunched up behind him and blanketed it over them, tucking the edge under his chin.
“Comfy?” Kuugo asked softly.
“Mmmm,” came the sleepy reply.
“I can’t stay all night, I really do have homework left to grade,” Kuugo reminded him. Shishido’s claws dug in slightly as his grip tightened. “But… I suppose a few hours wouldn’t hurt…”