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Nothing changes after the day where Ukyo briefly goes ballistic.
It's fine. It’s all fine. People listen when he asks them to stop being so loud past lights out, and the beeswax works wonders when he doesn't feel like talking to anyone.
And he never sleeps as well as he did with Ryusui beside him.
Motherfucker.
He sleeps well, far better than he used to, but nothing compares to that hazy morning tenderness he'd known once. Ryusui's hair was downy-soft against his neck, and his palms were kind against his skin. It was supposed to be a fluke, but now even a solid night's rest isn't enough. Maybe Ryusui's greed is contagious?
Worst of all, he can swear that Ryusui knows. The days go by, and suddenly Ryusui is in his room for any reason he can scrounge up, like he's challenging Ukyo. Waiting for him to cave and take the bait.
“I thought I left my hat in here!” he cheers the day after the initial incident. It's been on his head since the morning.
“Senku needed me to give this to you,” he explains, offering a late breakfast when Ukyo one day skips it.
“I got lost?” he tries in the deep of the night. Ukyo is softened with sleep, and can't quite put together how weak Ryusui's reasons have become. It's dark, after all. He must've gotten turned around. Ignore the fact he lives and breathes for the Perseus and knows her every nook, ignore it, Ukyo.
He politely hears him out every time. Nothing but the best behavior from Ukyo, not since his outburst. He points out his hat, accepts his gift, lends his lantern for Ryusui to find his room with: anything to get those burning eyes away from him before he does something stupid.
But at some point, a man reaches his limit. Ukyo decides it won't be so bad if he just…flirts back? It's normal. And he's very normal.
Ryusui passes a hand across his shoulders as he passes him by in the galley, so Ukyo hooks his chin over his shoulder to look at a map later in the day.
He's being casual. If all his touches are casual, then so are Ryusui's, and he can finally stop thinking about then so much.
—
“Francois!”
They're beside Ryusui in an instant.
“I'm freaking the fuck out, whats happening to me?” he yowls, groaning against his own mattress. He doesn't want his own mattress. He wants Ukyo.
Francois sits with their legs folded up elegantly, and reaches out to finger comb his hair. Ryusui has always loved physical touch, and little can get him to melt like his hair being pet. It's a statistical benefit, Francois defends. Absolutely necessary.
“This is about your pursued advances on Ukyo, yes?” they ask, to make certain. Ryusui's longing sigh is answer enough, but he speaks anyway.
“The mixed signals are killing me! I figured he wasn't interested and was happy to keep it friendly for now, but he's suddenly hanging off me and it's driving me insane!”
Francois hums. “Perhaps Ukyo has decided to pursue you after all, then. I don't believe this happens often. It is more often the reverse, is it not?”
He fights against the brain melting warmth of manicured nails against his scalp to think that through. He is usually the one chasing, not being chased. It makes him feel oddly like prey, being hunted by glistening trails of turquoise.
To a sane man, that would be a turn-off.
“Being pursued instead of pursuing…huh. I like that!” He grins.
Francois indulges him with a softening of their own face into their equivalent of a smile. It is a smile of victory, of greed, of triumph over limitations. It is his very favorite.
well, Ukyo landed a bullseye across the ship with one eye shut, and smiled so wide it creased his eyes closed. Maybe Francois’ is his second favorite smile. He'll apologize with some new ingredient later.
“Let him come to you, Master Ryusui,” Francois advises on their way out. Ryusui is alight with contentment for the rest of the day.
The fleeting little touches and words continue from then on. Ukyo's eyes find him in a room first. His smile flashes bright, leaving Ryusui stumbling to catch up.
Ryusui is so patient. He's great at this thing. He waits calmly with his hand outstretched as though Ukyo is a timid stray.
And…Ukyo doesn't make a move. His honey-sweet voice never dips from debatably flirtatious to undoubtedly romantic. Those electrifying brushes against him never progress. The days pass.
Ryusui finds himself lamenting to Francois as he lounges in bed yet again.
“Surely he knows I desire him!” he complains to his pillow. Francois nods with their arm wrist-deep in a bowl of dough. Dinner waits for no one.
“Perhaps he is scared, Master Ryusui,” they offer.
This makes him all the more distraught. “I'm not scary! I'm a glowing green arrow screaming ‘kiss me please’!” Ryusui whines.
Francois hums, thinking. “Ukyo is a very cautious person. Even when plans are certain, he hesitates before making brash moves. Is that not one of the things you most admire about him?”
Ryusui swoons. Almost any train of thought about Ukyo does that to him. “Correct! But mean!”
With a swing of their legs, Francois stands and makes to leave. “I must get this in the oven now, Master Ryusui. Dough will not become pastry without an outside force coaxing a change,” says a very sly butler, clicking the door shut behind them.
Ha. He doesn't need instincts to know Francois isn't talking about dinner.
Right, then.
“Asagiri Gen! I desire the location of Ukyo!” he calls, as Gen is closest to their sonarman.
Offering gossip to Gen is like plunging a bloody hand into shark-ridden waters. “My, dear Ryusui, what do you want with him?”
Ryusui grins until his canines poke at his bottom lip.
“I have a declaration for him.”
Gen swishes his sleeves as he resumes walking, turning over his shoulder to fulfill Ryusui's wish. “He's with the sonar system, of course. You hardly needed me to tell you that. Oh, but Ryusui?”
Gen's voice and face are barer than usual. The man of infinite masks is peeking out through the layers.
“What is it, Gen?”
“Do remember we're less than a week from America now. Crew morale is incredibly important when we don't know what awaits us, yes?”
How cryptic.
“I certainly don't plan on hurting any of my crew with what I'm going to do, Gen.”
“Good. You better not,” he says, and sashays away.
Ah well. It's only natural Gen would be protective, but he really has nothing to worry about.
When Ryusui bursts into the bridge, he's more than pleased to find Ukyo alone occupying it. Either Francois or the gods are on his side, and some days Ryusui doesn't know which is more powerful.
“You're plucking a petal from a four leaf clover, Ukyo. Why won't you just take what you want?”
Ukyo gapes at him. His pretty eyes are wide, darting everywhere but at Ryusui's face.
“What on Earth are you talking about, Ryusui?” he laughs, trying desperately not to think of how red he must be. His division had never had a shortage of ways to make fun of him with his baby face and easily-flushed cheeks.
Ryusui doesn't laugh with him. “I mean what I say, you know that. You're far too cautious. Won't you learn a little greed from me?”
Something snaps in Ukyo. “You want me to take what I really want right now?” he mumbles. His eyes are heavy-lidded.
Ryusui nods to encourage him, maybe a bit too excited.
Ukyo stands. “I want to show you my petrification scars,” he smiles, and lifts toyingly at the hem of his shirt.
With just a moment's hesitation, Ryusui continues to nod. Maybe he was replaced with a bobble-head when Ukyo looked away.
“I haven't shown anyone, and I guess I feel kind of…different? Every other survivor has their marks on display, but I don't," he muses, still fiddling with his shirt fabric. Ryusui is dying.
“Haha! A simple solution,” Ryusui starts with a rakishly handsome grin, “start going shirtless!”
Ukyo drops down the lifted fabric and glowers.
“Hey, no! Show me, Ukyo. please?” Ryusui begs, putting on his most innocent look. Bastard.
“You're lucky I promised myself I wouldn't chicken out,” Ukyo grumbles, and shucks off his shirt in one smooth motion.
There, on the planes of his shockingly muscled chest, rings encircle his sternum. A bullseye, they form. How wonderfully fitting.
Ryusui drinks in the sight of him like fresh air and cool water, both his skin and the marks upon it.
“Captain?”
He's startled to find his own hands hovering just above the buzzing warmth of Ukyo’s ribs. Whoops. Well, he had indeed come here to outline his desire.
Might as well.
His palms settle, and Ukyo jumps but doesn't pull back. Hell fuckin’ yeah, Ryusui thinks.
“As delighted as I am to be shown your marks, you must know by now who I am,” he whispers, leaning closer.
“Hm, not sure. I think I see you around sometimes on this ship. You've got a hat, right?” Ukyo grins teasingly, watching Ryusui deflate.
When he thinks Ryusui might really start whining like a dog, Ukyo relents. “You're Nanami Ryusui, the greediest man in the world,” he proudly says.
He presses onto his platforms to reach even height with Ryusui. “And I'm your desire, aren't I?"
“Yes,” Ryusui gasps against his lips.
People can call Ryusui spoiled all they like. Getting what he wants absolutely rocks.