Work Text:
Bloviate
/ˈblōvēˌāt/
verb
talk at length, especially in an inflated or empty way.
"when so many people are bloviating, it's easy to dismiss all discourse as chatter"
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There were many things Atsushi would have questioned about Akutagawa, had the circumstances of their meetings been different. Unfortunately, in their first few encounters, his being a mafioso trying to kill Atsushi usually distracted him from such thoughts.
At least, enough to keep his mouth shut. Most of the time.
Akutagawa seemed to have a rather convoluted way of speaking. He often went on rambly tangents, even when in the middle of a fight. Atsushi found it rather odd – almost off putting. Acts if violence were so normal for the man that he was able to converse in situations others would often find distressing, times that they needed to focus all their attention on staying alive.
His language was sometimes outdated, something Atsushi noticed the first time he referred to himself. Again, though, his mind was preoccupied with other things. He had briefly mentioned it once, during their fight on the cargo ship.
“You’re quite the talker today.” He called down, Rashoumon piercing his skin, holding him in the air. It truly confused him. Why talk so much when the ground around you was burning slowly?
“Slow torture is not one of my hobbies.” Akutagawa had said – and it baffled Atsushi. For some reason, the idea that the other man might take pleasure in such actions had been a given in his mind. But he really did not seem to enjoy such methods, if his excitement when fighting someone of equal strength said anything. When he was facing a weaker opponent, someone who had no way of really defending themselves, he just talked.
“I don’t recall ever identifying myself as a mute.” Why had he assumed such things? What made him think Akutagawa would be a silent fighter? Even if he hadn’t assumed such things, he never would have thought he would talk the way he did.
It was a sense of detachment that followed him. By the way he was talked about, he expected Akutagawa to be a blood thirsty hound, constantly itching for his next kill. But his actions and words – even his ability – they all put a distance between himself and his target.
He didn’t need to be close to kill. He didn’t even need to acknowledge that that was what he was doing.
But such thoughts were trivial, if not funny to think about when Akutagawa annoyed him. Everything else about the man was so distracting, though, that he didn’t think about it too often.
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As they had grown closer, Atsushi began to notice it more. Before it had been something in the back of his mind, occasionally creeping to the surface after a particularly bloviated speech. It wasn’t to say that Akutagawa’s words weren’t interesting or meaningful, just that the words he chose would never even occur to Atsushi.
What caught his attention most was the man’s choice of personal pronoun. It was outdated (Atsushi wondered how he even picked it up – how he picked up any of his patterns of speech; they weren’t particularly appropriate for someone in the slums) and uncharacteristically humbling. That’s what Atsushi had thought at first, at least, though as he came to understand his partner more, he realized the man’s ego was nowhere near as large as he had once thought. No, what concerned him now was how derogatory the term was.
Their missions were far simpler now. Everything seemed simpler, when compared to the shit they had gone through with Fyodor. The city was still in disrepair, and would be for quite some time. This gave rising organizations a large advantage – at least, that’s what they thought.
Atsushi silently thought that it wasn’t all bad. He was able to work with Akutagawa on a consistent basis – something that he complained about verbally, but was internally grateful for. He knew the other man did the same. It was just how they were; outside of life-or-death situations, vulnerability did not come easily.
One of the men they were facing now was quite the talker. He was an ability user, though not a strong one. What gave him power in the underworld was not his strength, but his money. When dealing with smuggling and trafficking, a bit of hush money would bring you a long way. Akutagawa seemed slightly annoyed, and Atsushi jokingly wondered if it was because it left less room for his own speeches. Still, he managed to get his word count.
“Such low-lifes as yourself disgust me.” He said, having pierced the man’s shoulder with Rashoumon. He squirmed uncomfortably, but was unable to break free. Atsushi was focused on the man’s associate. It was an easy fight, and Atsushi was beginning to wonder why they were both sent. One of them would have easily gotten the job done. “You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, yet you chose to grab aimlessly for the rusting knife. Your actions are a mockery to those with no other options. A shameless imitation of worthless trash, of those who must earn their right to live.” There it was again.
It was less common now, to hear Akutagawa talk down about himself, and far more subtle. Still, Atsushi picked up on it from time to time. He threw his own opponent to the ground, hitting his head hard enough that he passed out. All the time, his eyes were trained on Akutagawa, questions that should have formed long ago finally pushing their way to the surface. It bothered him, hearing the man speak of himself in such a way. It always had, though his reasoning was different now.
Before, it had just served to confuse him. Just one more thing about the man he did not understand. Now, though, it was just upsetting. Akutagawa was someone he (begrudgingly) cared about, and someone he admired, in a way. His strength and intelligence were often questioned, though Atsushi did not always understand why.
Perhaps it was because he was blunt. Talkative. Any observation was stated aloud, even the ones he knew were obvious. To others, it seemed unintelligent. Why would he point such things out? Everyone noticed them. Atsushi wasn’t sure why either, but he didn’t think it mattered. Akutagawa had shown his intelligence in other ways, often through his fighting ability. He had such precise control over his ability – an ability that sometimes seemed to have a mind of its own – and Atsushi knew it could not be easy.
“I do not know why you jumped from your golden bridge with your sights set on a dark, deadly, path, but I will ensure that you never walk it again.” With that, Rashoumon knocked the man out. He was someone else’s problem now.
The two were alone, and they would be until the police arrived. It’d probably be around ten minutes, so they had to kill the time. After all, they couldn’t just leave the bodies unsupervised.
So, Atsushi decided to just ask. One thing he enjoyed about his relationship with Akutagawa was that he didn’t feel the need to beat around the bush with him. Not with serious topics, at least. He had always found it difficult to praise his partner out loud, something that had only grown worse as their connection had deepened. It was a mixture of disgust and embarrassment that were often paired with feelings like love.
Initially it had bothered him – their bluntness had come from a lack of respect. Now it was the opposite, a sign of trust. Trust that despite their aversion to vulnerability, they could be fully honest with one another.
“Is something on your mind, Jinko?” Akutagawa asked, sitting next to Atsushi. It was another change, one that had happened without him noticing. Before, they had avoided each other as much as they could after a mission. Now he was able to bask in the comfort of having another person by his side, even when the only fear he felt was that of being alone, rather than an immediate threat.
His whole body was aching and exhausted, and he had to resist the urge to rest his head on the other man’s shoulder. For some reason, it would feel like an admission – even though he had no problems doing it with other people he was close with.
“Why do you talk like that?” The question was short and blunt, and left room for interpretation. Why do you choose the words you do? Why does your voice shift slightly depending on who you’re talking to? Why do you talk about yourself in such a derogatory way?
It was open ended on purpose, because Atsushi still worried slightly for the safety of his limbs. At least this way, Akutagawa could choose whatever interpretation offended him the least. Unfortunately, he wasn’t in the mood for such vague questions.
“Excuse me?” There was a hint of annoyance in his tone, and Atsushi began to wish he had never asked at all. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific, Jinko.”
“I– Well, it’s just-” Atsushi fumbled with his words for a moment, trying to decide if he wanted to just drop the subject altogether. “The way you talk is just really… formal?” Outdated.
“What exactly do I say that gives you that impression?” The annoyance was still there, though it sounded like it was masking something. He shifted away from Atsushi.
“Like that! Why do you refer to yourself that way?” He waited a moment, but received no reply.
He should just drop it.
But… it was a genuine concern. He cared for the man, and hated hearing the way he spoke about himself.
“It’s derogatory.” He said finally, making an effort to look at Akutagawa even if he wouldn’t look back. “The way you talk about yourself in general is so diminishing, and sometimes…”
He trailed off, realizing now what he had heard in Akutagawa’s voice. Hurt.
Did he think Atsushi was making fun of him!?
“I’m not trying to judge you or anything!” Atsushi said quickly, wanting to rectify the situation as fast as possible. “I just get worried.”
Akutagawa seemed surprised by this, but he turned his gaze back towards Atsushi.
“There is no need for such concerns. Really, I don’t understand why you worry so much about something as simple as my patterns of speech.”
“Because I hate hearing you talk about yourself that way!” He snapped, “You still talk like you’re unworthy, or weak, but you’re not! I see it every time we fight, and every time you manage to put yourself down. You’re so strong, and hearing that you think otherwise hurts.”
“Jinko, you think too highly of me–” The tips of his ears were red, but Atsushi wouldn’t have that.
“No, I don’t. From the moment I met you, I knew you were strong. And trust me, I definitely wasn’t looking for reasons to praise you then. It was just true.” He said firmly, finally giving in to the urge to rest his head. Akutagawa stiffened, but he did not push Atsushi away.
They were silent for a few minutes until Atsushi spoke up once more. He wasn’t done with his questions.
“I still don’t understand how you can talk so much during our battles. Especially with the words you choose – your way of speaking is poetic.” He said, his voice much quieter than before. He stared at Akutagawa’s hand, suddenly overcome with a want to trace the lines on his palms. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing either! Just something I’ve noticed.”
Akutagawa hummed in acknowledgement.
“I do not enjoy causing others pain.” His voice was softer than usual, and Atsushi was briefly reminded of his words on the cargo ship. “However, it has been something required of me for as long as I’ve lived.”
And what a horrible existence that must have been. Atsushi wished there was something more he could do, but he only had so much power. His hand twitched slightly, and he took Akutagawa’s own into his grasp.
He couldn’t do much, but he could at least show he was there. Akutagawa said nothing of the change, though his breathing stuttered. Glancing upwards, Atsushi saw a faint blush on the man’s face – something he was sure was reflected in his own.
Akutagawa cleared his throat before continuing. “Oftentimes… I find it easier if I can talk. Before, I would just kill them. Their deaths would be quick, and I would not have to prolong their suffering. When I am unable to do that, though – which is the case for every opponent I face now – I often find myself talking. With you, it was different.” His hand subconsciously squeezed the weretiger’s, and a small smile formed on Atsushi’s face.
“Part of me has always been confused by you, Jinko. I suppose I wanted to understand you; and in turn, I believe I wanted…” His voice tightened towards the end of the sentence, as if it was an admission he could not bring himself to make. Atsushi began tracing every line and crack he could see in the man’s hand – a show of vulnerability in exchange for Akutagawa’s own. “...I wanted you to understand me in return.”
For once, it was a simple confession. There were no drawn out sentences, filled with words meant to distract others from their true meaning.
“I hope that I’ve succeeded in that.” Atsushi said quietly, lifting his head up to look at Akutagawa properly.
“Yes… I believe you have.” Akutagawa’s gaze was focused on their hands now
Atsushi hadn’t noticed it before, but the man was trembling slightly.
“Are you alright, Akutagawa?” Was he injured? If so, why had he not said anything? Atsushi began scanning his body for injuries at the same time as Akutagawa's head snapped up.
“I’m fine, Jinko.” He said, and he sounded sincere. Atsushi was finally able to make eye contact, to study his face. There was a red flush covering Akutagawa’s face, making him look far healthier than usual. Atsushi found himself wishing he could see it more often.
He had a look in his eyes, and it wasn’t one he saw often.
Want.
Such an emotion was something Akutagawa generally denied himself, and Atsushi questioned if he was misunderstanding the look.
“Yes… I believe you have.”
The words rang clear in Atsushi’s head as he leaned forward slightly, allowing the other man every chance to pull away.
Instead, he closed the gap, shifting his and Atsushi’s hands so that their fingers were intertwined.
Trust, vulnerability, and complete understanding were all felt in that moment – a touch far gentler than either had ever expected. It was soft, and warm, and neither man had ever felt so much love with so little words.