Work Text:
Yugamu is alone in the shared space of their apartment when he hears a door creak open somewhere down the hall.
He glances up at the clock on the wall, it’s just past 2 p.m. Now that Yugamu has started working as an intern nurse at the hospital, his hours are even more all over the place than before. He takes the night shifts when he can get them, prefers it that way. It's a habit he can’t quite shake: he always feels a bit sharper, his instincts clearer, in the dead of the night.
Because of this, he rarely sees his roommates for long on his workdays. By the time he comes home, Takumi and Tsubasa are already off to their own jobs, and Darumi fast asleep. She’s as much of a night owl, if not more, than him, but she has the advantage of working from home and regulates her own strange schedule.
That’s why Yugamu chooses this time of the day to take over their living room for himself, the only moment where there’s little chance that he’s going to get disturbed or distracted.
Hence why he gets surprised by the door opening, and the footsteps coming closer. He recognizes who this is instantly. Even from down the hall, he can pinpoint whose walk it is. Takumi. Must be his day off.
Yugamu doesn’t look up as the footsteps make their way to the threshold of the room, but he can imagine Takumi’s expression by the way he stops abruptly in his tracks, and the sharp breath intake that he hears.
“Jesus,” he starts, “What happened to you?”
It’s almost sweet, Yugamu thinks, that even after all these months of living together, he still get worried over things like it.
But he guesses that the reaction makes sense. After all, he must look like quite a sight right now: shirtless on their couch, reclined at an odd angle, his left arm extended in front of him so that he can rest it on a towel. His skin is split wide open, from wrist to elbow, held apart with surgical tape and staples. He keeps calmly working on it with his other hand.
From Takumi’s position in the doorway, Yugamu is sure that he can see straight into his arm. The flesh, the muscles, the tendons, everything. The thought makes his heartbeat go faster. There’s something so thrilling and deeply intimate about being seen like this, so exposed. He wants to open the wound more, further, bigger, to let Takumi truly look and see him.
A smile creeps on his face at this thought, though his hand remains steady, focused on his task.
“Hello to you too, dear Takumi,” he greets lightly.
And it’s funny the way Takumi seems to immediately relax the moment Yugamu speaks. They’ve all gotten so used to his eccentricities by now; if he sounds calm, then everything must be fine. Or at least fine by the "Yugamu standards". This is routine. Normal. Anyone else would be freaked out for sure, but not his friends. Sometimes he marvels at how lucky he got.
Still, Takumi doesn’t move closer from where he’s standing, so Yugamu offers an explanation. “I’m practicing. I’m going to be shadowing a general surgeon next week, figured I could get some extra training in, just in case.”
Yugamu loves his job, loves the intimacy of it all. The way it allows him to work with the human body, manipulate it, understand it better. Heal it. It’s a total shift from what he used to do, who he used to be. Assassin to nurse. He still has a lifetime of old habits to relearn, but he can’t help but feel like this path suits him more.
“I see,” Takumi says, like this explanation makes total sense. “Don’t they give you, like, dummies or fake arms for this kind of thing?”
Yugamu chuckles, sliding the scalpel a little deeper in his arm with ease. “Nothing beats the real thing. Fake skin doesn’t cut the same, the feel is too different.”
Takumi doesn’t answer right away. He just keeps staring at Yugamu’s arm, his brows furrowing a bit. Yugamu loves it – that look. It makes him want to say yes, this is me. Please keep looking, keep this image burnt in your mind. Please crawl inside my skin and stay there. Witness everything that I am.
“I’m doing a simple procedure, don’t worry,” He ends up saying to reassure him. “Almost done.”
With practiced hands, he sets his tools aside and begins removing the staples holding the wound open, like pulling clothes back over bare skin. Before he removes the last one, he reaches into the injury one more time, just a little deeper. Just for the thrill of it.
Takumi has started shifting closer while he was doing this, now standing over him, hands fidgeting a bit by his side. “That gotta hurt.”
“Oh, it sure does. That’s the fun part,” Yugamu says cheerfully. Then, all the more happy, “Maybe you’d like to try sometime? I can think of a few things that would give you scars that would suit your body beautifully… Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”
Takumi snorts but doesn’t step back. “No thanks. I’d like to keep my body as it is now,” The Takumi for last year would’ve flinched before Yugamu even finished his sentence. His voice would’ve trembled, maybe he would’ve even left the room. They’ve both changed.
“You’re no fun,” He teases and falls back into silence as he starts stitching himself up with smooth, precise motions. He’s nothing if not a professional. “I’d make you feel good, for your first time.”
He says it half because it’s easy to rile up Takumi this way, and half because he means it. The flush that rises on Takumi’s face is exactly what Yugamu hoped for. He’s so easy to read, it never gets less cute.
Ever since they moved into this apartment, with Tsubasa and Darumi by their sides, they’ve gotten so much closer. Something has grown deeper, past what you could call friendship. Takumi answers back to his usual clinginess. They get affectionate more easily with one another. They don’t put a name on it, not yet, but Yugamu knows what it is. His heart sings when he imagines himself killing Takumi, so it has to be love.
Still, they take things slow. He knows Takumi wants to cherish the new chance at life they’ve worked so hard to get, that he wants to take his time with him, and his relationship with Tsubasa. So they make it work. Takumi makes it easy.
As he thinks more about all of this in a quiet part of his mind, he finishes the final stitch and ties it off with a small nod to himself. Another scar added to the map of his body, but he followed all the right steps, with ease if he might add, so it should heal well.
Rising from the couch, he flexes his arm a bit, testing. It’s a little sore, but still functional. He gathers his tools and heads toward the bathroom.
“Couch’s all yours, I’m done for the day,” he calls back casually.
He hears a little hum in response as he turns the faucet on and starts cleaning the instruments, blood swirling down the drain. He watches it, with a morbid sort of satisfaction. His own blood goes down, a reminder that he’s breathing. Feeling. Alive.
He’s such a romantic, really.
*******
When Yugamu is finally done sterilizing the last of his tools, he lays them out carefully to dry before heading back to his room to grab a shirt. The fabric clings slightly to the fresh stitches as he pulls it on, but he pays it no mind. Then, he makes his way back to the living room.
As he expected, Takumi has indeed taken the couch. He’s sitting straight, and holding one of the little pill bottles Yugamu left out on the coffee table, scrutinizing it.
“Do you need to take all of this?” he asks, gesturing toward the little pharmacy that took over their table. Bottles, vials, syringes… You name it, Yugamu probably has it.
And this is why Yugamu usually does these things when he’s sure that the others are either out or deeply asleep. It’s not shame exactly, but more like… exposure. A sort of vulnerability. It’s not that he minds letting his friends know that he does, indeed, need to take all of this, but he doesn’t like it. His body runs on custom chemical cocktails designed by the Omokages, the kind of things most people shouldn’t even put near their bloodstream. It keeps the modifications his body had to go through due to experiments from collapsing his system entirely. Without this, his body would shut down.
He remembers having to track Nigou down when he first got to Second-to-Last Defense Academy, when he realized he was missing some chemicals in the bio lab. It led to quite the frantic exploration mission.
But yes, he doesn’t like putting this information out there, how fragile it sounds. Doesn’t like the way it makes him feel like he’s potentially giving people leverage that could be used against him. Assassin instincts die hard.
But this is Takumi. And he trusts him.
“Yeah,” he ends up answering, his tone light. “All the stuff to keep my poor body running.” He drops onto the couch beside Takumi and shifts close, close enough to rest his head on Takumi’s shoulder. They both look at the bottle which is still in his hands.
“I don’t usually leave this mess out, but I wasn’t sure I’d have the strength to get it all ready after my little medical adventure. Must look like some sort of junkie.” Without glancing more at the label, Yugamu takes the bottle from Takumi, pops the cap open, and dry-swallows two pills like it’s nothing. Practiced. Like someone who has to have to done this a million times before.
Takumi’s gaze falls on his throat, following the movement, and it makes his skin feel hot. He feels seen, but it’s not the same feeling he had when Takumi peered inside his arm. This feels different, more uncomfortable.
Takumi seems to realize he’s staring because he quickly looks away, his cheeks tinged with pink. “Do you want… I mean, would it help if I, huh, helped? With the syringes and stuff, I mean.” He gestures vaguely at the small array of neatly lined needles on the table. His voice is a little hesitant, but clearly sincere. “I know you know how to deal with this, obviously, but… It can’t be easy to do this stuff by yourself.”
He looks embarrassed, and it’s endearing. Like somehow, he should be the one feeling shame at the situation, at having to handle Yugamu’s weird, partially functional body. But the way Takumi looks flustered puts him back on familiar ground. He can work with that.
“Oh? Offering to be my nurse?” he purrs, wrapping his arms loosely around Takumi’s waist from behind, a sort of awkward little hug. “That’s like… half of my jerk-off fantasies.”
He can’t see Takumi’s face from this angle, but he knows he must be rolling his eyes. “Only half?”
God, Yugamu adores him. Keeping up with him, playing along even when the back of his neck look like it’s on fire.
“You’ll have to find out the rest on your own,” Yugamu says, his head leaning closer to Takumi’s ear, “Unless you want me to go into great details, one by one. You pervert.”
“Don’t be gross right now,” Takumi mumbles, which only makes Yugamu grin harder.
He leans back then, satisfied with the banter, relinquishing his hold on the other. “Sure, then. Help me out, Doctor Sumino.”
*******
He hands out the syringes one by one, explaining each in his usual half-proud, half-scientific tone. They’re custom-made concoctions, developed by his family over years of fine-tuning a body that no longer follows ordinary human biology. Most of these aren’t replicable in any ordinary lab, and none of them are mass produced. He would consider them work of art.
All these potions, and then next to them is his T-shot. It stands out in this weird lineup, the only standard, quite ordinary thing. It’s comforting, in its own way.
Yugamu speaks and Takumi listens, eyes focused, head tilted. He explains the dosages, the timing, the injection points. He delves a bit into how each is made, because that’s the part he loves about this all. The chemistry, the tinkering with different elements to make the end result as efficient as possible.
As much as he enjoys being a nurse, it’s not exactly part of the job. So, he indulges in this little hobby in the calmness of the study they have in their apartment, shared mostly with Tsubasa and her machines. The shelves here are stacked with mechanicals parts and tools, next to his vials and surgical equipment. Two wildly different crafts, but they make it work, and made it an habit over time to share how their little projects are going with one another. Mechanic versus organic. It’s oddly poetic that Takumi has taken a liking to both of them.
When it’s finally time to begin the injections, Yugamu shrugs his shirt off again and turns to face the other. They settle into a mirrored kind of closeness, their knees brushing. Takumi picks up the first syringe with care. His expression turns even more serious, like a surgeon on the edge of a high-stakes procedure. It’s sweet, and a little silly.
And then he presses the needle into Yugamu’s right arm, right where he was told to. It slides in, and Yugamu almost groans on the spot. Takumi is the one with control right now, pumping chemicals into his body, altering him bit by bit. The thought is intoxicating.
But he keeps his reactions to himself. Barely.
They continue like that, one syringe at a time. Takumi handles each with gentle precision: he takes the needle, finds the correct spot, pushes it in, then lays the used tool back on the table. He dabs away the pinprick of blood each time with a bit of cotton. Rinse. Repeat.
Yugamu watches him work silently, cataloguing every brush of the other's skin against his.
*******
After the last one, Takumi pauses. He lingers with the little cotton still in his hands, and leans down to press a small, chaste kiss to the spot where he just injected him.
“Well. All done,” he says. His hand stays on Yugamu’s shoulder, warm.
He can’t help but smile wide at this. This, as awkward and shy as it is, is so Takumi. Sweet to the core. He wants nothing more than for the other to keep pressing into him, with kisses or needles or anything else. But this is good for now.
“Thanks,” he murmurs, moving to reach for his shirt again, until Takumi stops him.
“Wait. Wait – I meant to ask. Are those new?” Takumi blurts, eyes frozen somewhere below Yugamu’s face. He doesn’t have to think long to understand what Takumi is referring to.
Takumi is, quite shamelessly, staring at his chest. Or, well, at the jewelry on it, more likely.
“Oh, Takumi,” Yugamu gasps, lifting his hands to cover himself in a dramatic mockery of modesty. “Have you no shame? Ogling another man like that? You really are a pervert.”
His hands come to rest right over the piercings in question. They’re still new enough to sting faintly under pressure. And judging by the way Takumi’s face is rapidly approaching critical levels of red, his teasing hit the mark.
“Shut up! I just… I don’t remember seeing them before. That’s all. Just curious.”
Yugamu doesn’t go shirtless in the house often (anymore, after multiple complaints), so it makes sense. But he can’t help being happy that Takumi paid enough attention to remember whether or not he already had piercings here.
“I got them last week,” he says to answer Takumi’s question. “I figured, why not? Never pierced anyone there before. Like it?” He smirks at the other. The response is written all over his face.
Takumi brings his hand to his cheek in this little gesture he does when he gets shy. “I mean… it looks good. It suits you?” He phrases it more like a question, tentative, but Yugamu drinks the praise all the same. He’s a bit flustered, too, but being flustered because of Takumi feels good.
“Thanks.” His gaze drifts down to his own chest. The steel of the piercings glimmers against his pale skin, highlighting the area and the scars that sit underneath. It does look good, he thinks. And then a thought passes his mind,
“I could pierce you, too, if you’d like.” A casual offer. “Wherever you want it. A tongue piercing could be fun. Or maybe down below…”
Takumi snaps out of his embarrassment with a full-body recoil. “No. Nope. I’m fine, thanks. Maybe just… One of my ears? Someday. Not today.”
Yugamu lets out a low hum, pleased. “It’ll suit you well. I’m looking forward to it.” And he really does. He wants to be the one Takumi trusts with his first body alteration. He wants to be able to say, I did that. He let me leave a beautiful, permanent little mark on his skin. Isn’t that such a lovely thought?
He reaches out, then, taking one of Takumi’s hand in his own. “Want to touch? See how it feels?” Takumi lets out a little startled noise at the suggestion, but doesn’t pull away. Yugamu takes that as permission.
He guides Takumi’s hand to his chest, gently pressing his fingers against one of the metal bars.
“It’s cold,” he says, after a moment, and Yugamu laughs under his breath.
“Any other great observation?”
He means it playfully, but his head is spinning a bit from the contact, from the heat of Takumi’s body so close to his, from the almost reverent way with which he’s touching him, appreciating his handiwork. His thoughts are getting more delirious by the second, and the very analytical, medical part of him wonders if his own chest can flush just like his face does.
“Shut up,” Takumi mutters again, but doesn’t let go. This is lewd, Yugamu’s mind supplies very helpfully. I wish he would pull on it. But instead, Takumi just asks, “Did it hurt when you got them?”
It takes Yugamu a second to focus, get his head back in the game and answer. “Not more than slicing your own arm open to practice surgery.”
He knows it’s not the right answer by the way Takumi’s expression sours a bit at the reminder. His hand slides away from Yugamu’s chest to come to rest in his lap instead. No, please. More. Longer. “You should really stop doing things like that,” he says softly. He’s looking down, not meeting Yugamu’s gaze.
Yugamu doesn’t look at him either. “I’ll try,” he replies, and he knows as much as Takumi does that this is a losing battle. It’ll happen again, and Takumi will react the same. This is who he is, for better or worse, and he doesn't expect Takumi to understand it fully. As long as he lets him be, just like today, it's enough.
But he doesn’t want to leave the air heavy right now. So he shifts again, forward, closing the space between their faces. “Thanks for helping me,” he says, voice low. “You’d make a pretty decent nurse. You have my seal of approval.”
And with that, he leans in and kisses Takumi. Just a soft peck, a ‘thank you’ with all the affection he feels with it. Normally, just like earlier, his mind would scream for more; faster, louder, deeper. But at this moment, it feels just right.
He starts to pull back, but Takumi follows. His hands come up to cup Yugamu’s face, holding him in place and giving him a kiss of his own. This one is longer. Still chaste, but more sure.
“A high honor,” Takumi whispers against his lips. “Maybe I’ll consider a career change.” And then he presses just one more kiss to the corner of Yugamu’s mouth, before leaning back with a small smile.
Just as the silence between them starts to settle, a shrill voice cuts through their peace from the other side of the apartment.
“WEE-WOO-WEE-WOO!! This is your only warning, if I walk into the living room right now and see something gross, I WILL throw up ON THE SPOT!!!” and it is indeed the only warning they get before Darumi comes barging into the room, arms swinging.
She looks like she just rolled out of bed, her hair a mess, her eyebags worse than usual, if that’s even possible. Yugamu takes a look at the clock.
It’s nearly 5 p.m. Did they really spend this much time here? Before he can think more about it, Darumi’s voice rings out again.
“Ew, dude, my virgin eyes!” she squawks, dramatically shielding her face from Yugamu’s shirtless state. “Oh, wait. Are those new?”
She drops the act as soon as it came, and strides closer to look at the piercings. Her expression mirrors Takumi’s one from earlier, but their energy is wildly different. Takumi was all shyness and awe, whereas Darumi is all chaos and objective curiosity. The contrast makes him chuckle.
“Sure are. Homemade, too,” he says, gesturing lazily at his chest before finally tugging his shirt back on.
“How are you doing, Darumi?” he hears Takumi ask, regaining composure, while he gets his head through the shirt.
“Deaaaaad tired!” she groans, flopping against the back of the couch. “I woke up early to greet Mistress Tsubasa when she gets home. You two lovebirds up to anything freaky? Ugh, wait, don’t tell me. Or do! It’d make for great writing material.”
“Oh, you know it” Yugamu jokes at the same time as Takumi squeaks out an alarmed “Nothing at all!” in a pitch several octaves too high. He’s sure they look like a very trustworthy, innocent pair right now.
Darumi stares at them for a beat. There’s no way she’s convinced, but she looks entertained. “Right. Okay! I’m off to get breakfast. You can go back to whatever secret activity we were definitely not doing. Toodle-oo!”
And then, as fast as she came in, she bounces away toward the kitchen, humming something off-key.
Takumi sighs. “We really need to stop her from calling it breakfast when it’s evening.”
“I fear there’s nothing we can do,” Yugamu replies, pushing himself off the couch.
Takumi’s eyes flick up at the movement, questioning. “Where are you going?” He looks like a sad animal on the verge of being abandoned. Like Yugamu is about to sprint down the hall and leave him here forever. It never gets old how easy he is to read.
“My shift doesn’t start until eight. Thought I’d take a nap before then. Want to join me?” Yugamu stretches, then offers a grin. “I promise I won’t get freaky, as Darumi so charmingly puts it. I really do need sleep.”
Takumi watches him for a second, before he stands up too. “Yeah, sure. I could go for a nap too.”
The way they fumble around each other, like a pair of young teenagers too shy to hold hands in public, makes Yugamu want to laugh. No wonder Darumi never stops teasing them.
His family would surely laugh at him, too, if they saw him like this. Soft. Clingy. Desperate for affection. Nothing like the sharp-edged prodigy they once tried to mold. His siblings would howl.
It should make his heart sink a bit to be reminded that he is truly the black sheep of the Omokage family. It used to sting. But now? He can’t be anything but thrilled that this is how things ended up. With love surrounding him, with so much of it to give and receive.
He reaches out and threads his fingers through Takumi’s.
“Great, I’ll lead the way.”
And as they make their way to his room, as they get ready for bed, as he clings to Takumi in a way he would have never imagined he’d be allowed to experience and as Takumi clings back, he thinks his heart has never felt so full.
In a few hours, he’ll wake up, head out for his shift. And then he’ll come back to their little apartment, his home, this little space full of misfits that someone found one another.
And the world will keep on spinning.