Work Text:
The house was dark and quiet when he opened the door.
Stepping over the threshold to reach the light switch, his foot clipped something flimsy that went skittering off to the side with hollow, metallic rings. Wetness sloshed over his pant leg, cold and tacky against his skin.
The cacophony pressing against his back mellowed as the can went skittering into the dark apartment. It bounced against the wooden floorboards that had popped up from moisture years ago, and came to a stop by his aged countertop.
“Senpai, did you leave your beer on the floor again?” came an exasperated voice by his shoulder.
Letting out a nervous laugh, Kafka flicked the lights on to get a better look at the damage. “Cut me some slack Ichikawa, I was celebrating.”
A private celebration for one, after the actual big to-do. Just himself and his small apartment, sharing some old memories and a couple lukewarm beers - he never did get around to buying a new mini-fridge after his old one kicked it. A last hurrah, before he left the quaint little place that had been his home for over a decade.
“I still think you’re an idiot for accepting,” Kikoru huffed as they all made their way inside. She brushed past Soshiro with a haughty flick of her hair and stepped to the front of the group.
Kafka brought a hand up to his chest, self-consciously fiddling with the silver band that he wore around his neck. The kids - Kikoru and Reno - weren’t fully supportive of his decision, but he didn’t regret it in the slightest. The proposal had come as a shock, and a little out of nowhere in his opinion, but it had made him the happiest man on earth. Months later, and he was still riding that high.
A firm hand came to rest against his back, coaxing him inside, and he stepped over the threshold. Kicking off his shoes, he joined his former squadmates who had ducked past him and into his home. They were all spread out, but the apartment was already tiny when it was just Kafka alone. With his family crammed in every empty bit of floor, the space was bordering claustrophobic. Good thing he was moving out soon. There would be more room for everyone when they dropped by to visit.
“I’ve got the boxes,” Haruichi called out as he turned the unassembled cardboard slabs sideways and fit them through the narrow doorway. Aoi took them from him wordlessly and began handing them out.
They were all there to help him pack for the move. When his fiancé proposed, he had offered a place in his home. At the time, Kafka had refused. It was too much, too soon. And he was embarrassed to admit it even to himself, but it also hurt his pride a little. His fiancé’s place was much larger, with multiple rooms, a proper kitchen, a proper bathroom - a proper home. It stung a little that he couldn’t be the one to provide that. Now that the lease on his apartment was up, he finally felt ready to accept the change.
“You have a very cosy house, Hibino-san,” Minase remarked as she helped him take his shirts off the sagging pole on the wall. Upgraded from a hook half a decade ago. It was a small change, but one he had been very proud of. Removing them from their hangers, she folded them neatly and put them aside.
Kafka laughed and swept a few empty cans into a little plastic bin, trying to tidy up now that he had guests. “You don’t have to be so nice, Minase, it’s kinda a dump.”
“That’s not true!” she started on his pants next. “It’s very you.”
“Ouch, that hurts,” he said half-jokingly. Some days, he still felt like his apartment looked. Small and old and cheap. But those moments had become few and far between since finding his place with the Defence Force. With his fiancé. At work and at home, the man always made Kafka feel like he was worth something.
Minase dropped the pair of cargo shorts she was folding and waved her hands frantically, trying to clear her remark away like bad air, “Sorry, I meant it as a compliment!”
“I know, I’m just pulling your leg,” Kafka shot her a reassuring grin. “Don’t worry about it.”
Minase sagged with relief and offered him a bright smile in return, before picking up where she left off.
“Hey, can I eat these?” Igarashi emerged from beneath the counter he kept his instant noodles on. The cabinet doors were thrown wide open, and her arms were filled with his entire snack stash. Her thumbs were already pressing into the box of Pocky in her hands, ready to rip open the lid.
“Knock yourself out,” he told her, reaching down to pick up one of the boxes and start assembling it. Tearing cardboard and hearty crunching filled the air as she wasted no time digging into the food.
“Igarashi, stop eating the snacks,” Aoi chastised, walking past with a box full of books. The gravure idol calendar Toku gave him as a gag gift was laid out shamefully on top. Cheeks burning, he whipped his gaze away, only to dive right out of the frying pan into the fire. Soshiro’s piercing red eyes stared back at him, a fanged smile curving beneath them, too wide to mean anything good. He had seen the calendar. Kafka shuddered and grinned nervously in the face of that sharp scrutiny. That was going to be a doozy to explain.
Then, the loud chewing stopped.
“‘M helpin’ lighten th’ load,” Igarashi mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate biscuit. She swallowed. “If I eat it all, there’ll be less to pack!”
“How about just helping pack?” Haruichi commented as he squared away a stack of plastic plates, rescuing them from the clutter by the sink. Most of the dishes were stained from years of use, or from being left unattended too long before Kafka finally worked up the energy to wash them.
Setting the snacks down on an empty patch of countertop, Igarashi fed herself another bundle of Pocky with one hand and swept Kafka’s tower of instant noodles into an empty box on the floor with the other. “Don’t worry, I can do both!”
“That’s even more worrying,” Haruichi sighed, resting a hand on the edge of his box as he watched biscuit crumbs pepper the floor.
“Here, use this,” Kafka pulled his handheld vacuum from beneath the TV console and stepped around Iharu to place it next to the snacks.
“Will do!” came the garbled reply.
“Igarashi, the chocolate’s staining the floor.”
“Haha, oops.”
As Kafka wove around the jumble on the floor to get back to his box, an arm slid around his waist. A familiar firm grip settled against his hip. Before he could turn to fully face the culprit, a pair of lips planted themselves at the corner of his mouth in a chaste kiss. “Got yer intimates packed up.”
“Pervert,” Kikoru scoffed from the opposite end of the room, arms crossed and a sealed box at her feet. “Of course you would go right for his underwear.”
Soshiro made a non-committal sound in the back of his throat, shifted the box in his grip to brace it against his hip, and suddenly Kafka was pulled into another kiss. Full on the lips this time, soft and slow and loving. A buzzing rush of blood filled his ears, drowning out the groans of his former squad mates and an emphatic “Gross!” courtesy of Kikoru. A few months ago he would have felt embarrassed, but Soshiro ambushed him with kisses so often that the disgusted griping at their PDA was just tradition at that point.
When Soshiro finally pulled away, scarlet eyes hooded and lips glossy with saliva, Kafka was a mushy mess. Legs quivering, mind blank, and embarrassingly half-hard.
“Does my darlin’ fiancé have any objections?”
God, that fox-like smile was going to kill him someday. The extreme heart palpitations they gave him were no joke at his age.
“No, uh,” Kafka struggled to piece his thoughts together. “You can have my underwear.”
Soshiro’s expression went carefully neutral for all of a second before he burst out laughing, slowly sinking to the floor around a box of Kafka’s unmentionables. “Have yer underwear?! Haha!” his fiancé barked, clutching the cardboard for dear life with tears in his eyes.
Kafka looked around at the others for help but they just shook their heads and moved on with the packing. Meanwhile, his fiancé was still curled up, slapping the floor and struggling to breathe through his laughter. Knowing that Soshiro thought he was the funniest man alive was endearing, and a bit of an ego boost sometimes, but his fiancé’s sense of humour was baffling.
Meeting Kikoru’s gaze, she made a show of rolling her eyes and stating again pointedly, “Pervert.” Then she picked up her box with a huff and stalked out of the apartment.
Her comment was puzzling, until Soshiro recovered and a possessive hand squeezed the nape of his neck, “I’ll take ya up on that offer tonight.” The scratch of calluses, and the velvet purr of his fiancé’s voice right by his ear had Kafka’s thighs turning to jelly again. A warm flush exploded up his neck.
With a flash of fangs, satisfied like the cat that got the cream, Soshiro was out the door, leaving Kafka stunned while the others bustled around him. Shaking himself out of his stupor, Kafka ran to the door and yelled down the hallway after his cackling fiancé, “Hey! No dirty talk in front of the kids!”
“Hm? I’m not the one announcin’ our business,” Soshiro threw over his shoulder, his placid expression a mask of false innocence. “Maybe ya should be more careful.”
Heat crept up Kafka’s neck and scorched his face all the way up to his hairline. The eyes on his back were like lasers, and he was sure the neighbours had heard too. Digging his fingers against his scalp, he mussed his hair in frustration, “Dammit!”
Why was he marrying this man again?
“He really pulled one over on ya huh, old man?” Iharu poked his head out from the tiny attached bathroom, a large plastic caddy dangling from one hand.
“Gah, don’t remind me,” Kafka skulked his way back over to his freshly assembled box and dragged it over to the cabinets by his balcony. Pulling open the creaky wooden doors, he reached inside and pulled out a line of books.
“I’ll help you, Senpai,” another pair of hands joined him as he squatted down to deposit the heavy stack in his box.
“Thanks, Ichikawa.”
Packing went a lot faster with the both of them, Reno handing him the books while he sat on the floor to arrange them.
“You have a lot of books, Senpai,” Reno observed, passing down a stack of worn notebooks.
Kafka hummed in acknowledgement, flipping open one of the notebooks. Teenage scribbles and immature diagrams hit him with nostalgia. “Yeah, I wanted to be ready for when I joined the Defence Force.” He tapped the spine of the notebook to the side of his head, “Had to know everything about kaiju if I wanted to be the best at neutralising them.”
To be the best and coolest Captain. But that had never happened. Looking down at his past self’s notes, it was hard to ignore. The shape of his dream had changed so much. Where he was now… wasn’t at all what he had envisioned for himself as a kid.
Snapping the book shut, he tossed it onto the growing pile inside his box. Reno leaned down and slotted it neatly into an empty space.
“I think you’re very cool, Senpai.”
The weight around his heart lifted.
“Thanks, Ichikawa.”
Packing all his stuff and moving out took the entire day, even with the help. Kafka had thought that the whole process would have been quick, with how small his apartment was, but he had accumulated a surprising number of things over the years. Pieces of the life he had lived, that he wasn’t willing to let go of just yet. Despite their early morning start, they weren’t finished until late at night.
“Man, I’m kinda hungry after all that,” Iharu said, stretching the stiffness out of his body.
“Something to eat would be nice,” Haruichi chimed in.
Kafka locked the door to his eerily empty apartment and slipped it into his pocket. “Why don’t we grab a bite? My treat, for helping me out.”
His wallet wept in his back pocket as his former squad mates cheered. Kafka slapped a hand to it to brace himself. Even if his thrifty heart was screaming, they were worth it. Besides, he was hungry too.
That late at night, there weren’t many eateries still open in the nearby shopping street. They settled on an izakaya with a reasonable seating fee - payday was a few days out and Kafka couldn’t afford to break the bank, no matter how grateful he was.
“Captain Ashiro just finished up in the office,” Soshiro told him as they were seated, phone in hand. “Tellin’ her where we are so she can join us.”
Noticing Kafka’s discomfited shifting, his fiancé lowered his voice and leaned in, “If ya need, I can cover her.”
Kafka considered taking him up on it for a split second before waving away his fiancé’s concern. “Nah, I can handle it.”
A fond smile spread across Soshiro’s lips, “Then I’m countin’ on ya.” He gave Kafka’s knee a firm, reassuring squeeze before swiping the suspiciously sticky menus piled up at the side of their table.
“Let’s keep it simple! One drink each an’ three sharing dishes,” Soshiro began handing out the menus. There was a round of half-hearted protests.
“If ya overdo it yer responsible fer yer own hangovers an’ upset stomachs tomorrow!”
The reminder was enough to get them to quiet down, and they began studying the menu in earnest. Eventually, they settled on beers, karaage, and assorted skewers. Reno and Kikoru, the only ones below drinking age, got sodas.
Mina arrived just as the drinks were being served, smile raising her beauty marks when she spotted Kafka waving her over. “Sorry I couldn’t help with the move,” she started out.
“That’s ok, you were busy,” Kafka slid her a beer and moved to make space for her. Mina’s smile inched a tad wider and she slipped into the spot beside him easily.
They chatted about the move, taking small sips of their drinks until the food arrived. Piping hot and steaming and perfectly crisp. The smell coming off the dishes was mouthwatering.
“Before we get started, how about a toast?” Mina proposed, lifting her drink. Everyone around the table followed her lead, raising their glasses.
“To Kafka, and his new phase of life,” she said simply. “Cheers.”
“Cheers!” they echoed, clinking their glasses together. Laughing when their drinks sloshed over the side.
Soshiro set his glass down and picked up his chopsticks. Settling himself flush against Kafka, he slung an arm around meaty shoulders and tucked his cheek against a squishy pec. “As the man of the hour, why don’t ya have the first bite?” Then he picked up a piece of karaage with skillful ease. The delectable crackle as Soshiro’s chopsticks closed around the piece of fried chicken triggered a wash of saliva.
Humouring his fiancé, Kafka let the man feed him a piece. The burning heat of freshly fried chicken scorched his mouth and he puffed air around it to cool it down, bobbling it around with his tongue while he chewed.
“That’s hot!” he yelled after he’d gotten it down his gullet. Once his attention finally shifted away from his mouth on fire, laughter and congratulations were all he could hear. The warm presence of his family at his back was all he could feel.
Looking to his fiancé, he found the man with his chin in his palm, staring up at him. Wine red eyes unwaveringly on him, a genuine smile sweeping usually mischievous lips. Still holding his gaze, Soshiro released Kafka’s shoulders from his hold and reached out instead, gently grasping his bearded chin. As if in a trance, Kafka let himself be guided into a kiss. This one indulgent, as if they had all the time in the world. When they finally broke apart, leaving their little bubble, it was to a captive audience.
“What are ya lookin’ at?” Soshiro challenged with a fanged smile. “The longer ya stare, the colder the food’s gonna get.”
As if on cue, Kafka’s former squad mates began tucking into the food. Delicious golden nuggets and perfectly grilled skewers disappeared from their platters at a breakneck pace.
Kafka took a second to soak in the moment. The bright lights of the izakaya, the lively chatter of his family, the love of his life leaning contentedly against him. A far cry from a few years ago when he was all alone in his dingy apartment, struggling to make sense of his life. The path to where he was had been a long and winding one, and there were plenty of times when he had given up on himself and his dreams.
It still wasn’t quite what he had envisioned for himself as a kid. It wasn’t even what adult-Kafka saw himself doing, when he was rapidly approaching thirty with few prospects. Despite all that, he was certain that he had ended up exactly where he needed to be.
He’d figured it out in the end.