Work Text:
Golden Hour Writing Challenge of July: Day 10
Prompt: You don’t have to say anything
Ship: Fukumori
more dysphoria projection
yippeeeeee
. . . . . . . .
The first time Fukuzawa saw Mori, it was a less than ideal situation. One that he definitely regretted, in hindsight, because now they had been dating for almost two years and his past idiocy decided to haunt him every night. But that aside, their first conversation was… less than desirable for anyone who wanted a fairy tail love.
Fukuzawa had very recently started working security at a lab that mainly specialized in sedatives and anesthetics, something that confused him vastly, to say he could barely even read the scribbled cursive of the instruction paper he was given. Not to say he was stupid, Fukuzawa was a very smart man, but who writes in literal squiggles?
The note that stood out the most was the demand that nobody with a clearance level lower than Cytotechnologist into the analytical lab, and unfortunately, Fukuzawa had no idea who was who. Which led to a grave misunderstanding with a very important pathologist.
‘Excuse me, I have somewhere to be, so if you could so kindly step aside for a moment, Mr….?’
‘Yukichi Fukuzawa. And no.’
‘… Rintarou Mori. And I’m not asking.’
‘I’m not suggesting, sir. I have a job to do.’
Mori wouldn’t lie, the way the grey haired man called him “sir” made his stomach do several backflips in a row, but with tests to run and documents to be made, that little bit of euphoria, as nice as it was; could. it be further from his current priorities.
The two had gone back and forth over Mori needing to get into the lab and Fukuzawa vehemently refusing over, and over, and over again. About ten minutes later, Mori was running one hand through his hair while the other clenched in a fist at his side.
‘Look, I need to be in there! I have a job, and I intend to it—‘
‘You cut me off earlier before i could tell you that I need to see your ID and credentials.’
‘. . . You have got to be kidding me.’
‘…’
‘Oh my god, You’re fucking serious? ’
Fukuzawa nodded quietly, arching an eyebrow at the incredulously shocked look on the shorter man’s face. In his opinion, it was a deli ticket simple request, and everybody he’d spoken to so far had done so without missing a beat. But Mori wasn’t exactly everybody, that much was clear already.
‘Fine. There.’
Mori huffed, dropping his black and red striped lanyard in Fukuzawa’s hand, seemingly distressed for a reason the other man wouldn’t come to realize until much, much later. The person in the photo looked different than Mori, to some degree. it was blurry, probably due to the fact that even in such an advanced place, it was only 2005, and cameras were still pretty shitty.
The photo was of a person with longer hair and a bright smile, a softer jawline and sparkling eyes. Which were all vastly different from the man in front of him, who had chin length hair tied in a half up bun, and growing rather pointedly at him, no doubt supremely annoyed by now.
But there were also the similarities. The same high cheek bones, the faint freckles barely visible in the picture, and the same sharp nose. He could brush off a different appearance, it was probably taken over two years ago. What really threw him for a loop was the fact that instead of M next to the gender label, there a slightly scratched out F, obviously marked by fingernails.
‘Sir, would you care to explain this? My apologies for interrupting your schedule, but i require up to date information.’
‘It was a misprint is all, haven’t gotten a new one since ‘99. Can I go in now?’
Mori muttered, cheeks tinging pink with embarrassment, and something else the tall man couldn’t quite put his finger on. Nevertheless, he wasn’t one to question proper clearance, so after a few more apologies, a stepped aside, allowed Mori to swipe his card, and that was that. He saw the man occasionally in hallway, and of course, when he needed to be in the lab, but the two never officially spoke, not until 3 years later in 2008.
And then they started to talk. And work together. And see each other on the streets, and have lunch, and then the kissing started, and now they were a couple, and it was 2010, and unbeknownst to them in the moment, 3 short months in the future they were going to have the biggest fight of their lives.
But all of that was pushed aside because Fukuzawa was home early. And Mori had just gotten out of the shower, and while he was already wearing pants, his chest was very much exposed. And Mori looked absolutely horrified, hands flying to cover himself because apparently, as they would both later talk about, Mori wasn’t only self conscious about his chest, it was also about the scars.
Of course, Mori had a military past, so there was no doubt that he’d have at least a few. And while the hundreds of tiny white lint running across his stomach, and shoulders, and pretty much everywhere else were a bit concerning, the real shock was the slits running right underneath his chest that told Fukuzawa all he needed to know.
And suddenly Mori was darting back into the bathroom and locking the door, and even from where the blue eyed man stood in the entrance to the apartment, absolutely shell shocked, he could hear the other man crying. Neither of them had ever really talked about, well, that , even when their relationship was considered official, so Fukuzawa always assumed Mori was either asexual or simply not interested.
At least he knew the reason now.
‘…Rintarou? May I come in?’
‘ N-no, I’m — hic — sorry, I can’t — hic — I’m disgusting—‘
‘You’re not disgusting, Rintarou. You’re my boyfriend.’
He could hear the hitch in Mori’s breath from the other side, because after about five minutes of trying to process what was happening, he slumped down against the door and slipped a small granola bar under the gap, which seemed to do the trick to at least give his partner a moment to calm down while he ate.
‘I don’t care if you’re trans, you know. You’re still my boyfriend.’
‘… I-I’m s-so sorry I didn’t t-tell — hic — you, I was just s-scared, and—‘
‘You didn’t have to tell me if you didn’t want to. I wouldn’t have reacted any differently, love.’
‘… I’m sorry.’
‘You don’t need to apologize. You don’t need to say anything at all.’