Work Text:
Saihara sat hunched over his work desk, files stacked up in a comically thick pile on one side and an ashtray with 3 stumped out cigarettes on the other. There was also his favorite mug, fifth of the way full with black coffee, in his left hand. He placed the cup down on the desk and picked up a new cigarette.
It had a small angry face “>:(“ drawn near the orange bit, Saihara smiled fondly before, slightly sheepishly, flicking his lighter to life and lighting the tip.
He took a deep puff, letting the smoke cloud his sight as he leaned back on his chair. He stared at the ceiling for a moment before waving his hand at the cloudy gas to direct it faster towards the open window. The full moon shone brightly in the black sky, reminding Saihara of the late hour.
A case file rested in his hands, his calloused fingers flipping the familiar pages over and over again in a desperate attempt to find something new he could pry at, something he could use as a breakthrough. But there was nothing, no matter how many times he reread it, the information - much to his dismay - didn’t change.
There were the same suspects, the same theories and the same murder weapon. He had video surveillance, call logs, crime scene photos, yet Saihara’s head remained blank. He had put himself in the killer’s head so many times he felt he could almost understand a version of him.
He had deduced the gender from leftover clues, handwriting and his general actions.
So, playing out the full murder in their perspective didn’t help. They could have been inebriated? Saihara was confident in his abilities to psychoanalyze criminals… At least semi-sober ones.
But if he was really being honest, his motives seemed twisted and fuzzy from the beginning, implying someone with mental instability. That made it much harder to visualize. An already messy state of mind combined with some sort of intoxication was near impossible to properly predict.
Usually he would always be able to find some small piece of information that would change everything in moments like these, it flooded him with memories of standing in his podium on class trials, nit picking every clue like his life depended on it. Because it did. And the stress from it never truly went away.
He could feel the familiar rush of his brain scrambling for clues, but this time accompanied with fog. His body was tense as stone, Saihara could feel his muscles beginning to tighten.
…Why wouldn’t it go away? He wished the decade that had passed would properly heal the wounds. While it may have closed them, they would open back up far too easily.
It always made sure to make itself apparent while Saihara was working late, while he was alone with his thoughts and too many words on white backgrounds. Nothing could make him forget the weight on his shoulders that seemed to only increase as he became more notorious at his job.
More lives on the line, more responsibility shoved onto him. It felt suffocating. The thrill he felt for mystery and crime solving was long replaced by numbness. It was an awful thing to get used to.
Saihara felt disgusting for feeling the wicked out flame in his heart burning occasionally during interesting, gruesome cases. And it wasn’t like this one particularly piqued his interest any.
It only served to frustrate him.
He stared down at his hands, ink stains on his thumb and middle finger and a fancy silver band with a purple gem resting on his ring finger. Saihara rubbed in gently, smiling softly at it.
He rescinded on the memory of him seeking out the ultimate metal worker to design the rings he proposed with. It was pricey, and so so worth it.
His life may have gone a lonely route, but he had his beloved.
Saihara had long lost touch with most of his former classmates, the bond between him and the survivors didn’t even last long before they too wanted to move on with their lives.
But he still had the occasional meeting with Akamatsu, after her concerts or charity galas usually.
She was doing well, and Saihara was happy for her. She was the person he could speak with the most easily from his past friends, he had come to feel the least amount of pressure with her.
…When was the last time he even spoke with Momota and Harukawa? It had to have been at least a few months, even then it was mostly just phone calls. He was the best man at their wedding 4 years ago, they started falling out soon after that.
It made him feel bittersweet. He wasn’t angry at them, of course not. They were newlyweds at the time, but after that phase passed neither of them felt the urge to continue close contact.
Then came Ouma.
They met again 5 years after the killing game had ended, Saihara was tired of relying on legal means of obtaining information and hired an informant to stalk the suspect and figure out if a theory of his held any value.
To not incriminate himself, he requested for them to meet him in person and hand over the photos and files then, rather than online where it could’ve been easily tracked.
No words could’ve expressed how he felt in that moment seeing Ouma waiting for him in that alleyway. Holding a small folder and staring back at him with wide eyes.
Saihara wasn’t even sure during then if he was alive or not. But one thing he did know without a shadow of a doubt was that in the end, he was so happy that Ouma survived.
The moment they met, Saihara felt something click in place in his mess of a mind. He requested Ouma’s services often during cases, obviously not from necessity.
And Ouma knew that, he felt the exact same. He kept coming back.
That turned into them spending time together more often outside of business, if you could’ve even called it that. Ouma would sneak into Saihara’s office and idle by while he worked, sit on the free couch, peek over his shoulder, discuss the case with Shuichi and etcetera.
Afterwards they would go get dinner together or have a drink. But in some totally mysterious way, Ouma would always end up at Saihara’s place.
The pull both of them felt towards one another was palpable, they couldn’t stay away for long.
It was feverish need.
And the love between them bloomed again, stronger than ever.
A smile lingered on his face as he daydreamed before he snapped himself out of his thoughts, how many times was he going to zone out?! The cigarette between his lips got crushed between his teeth out of frustration. He took the last puff from it and stubbed it out beside its brothers on the ashtray.
While he was focused back on his notes, he failed to notice the hallway light’s brightness seeping from the door crack and the footsteps along with it.
Saihara heard the door open, and a body rest against its frame.
“How many times will I be left alone in our bed like a one night stand, hm~?”
Ouma’s voice snapped him out of his trance, he turned his chair around to look at him.
He was wearing the checkered silk robe Saihara had gotten him as a gift. His hair was messy and long, but still held its signature curled style.
His collarbone piercing reflected the minimal light in the room.
Under the robe he knew Ouma was wearing nothing but boxers. Seeing him so bare and naked was truly a privilege.
Beautiful.
Saihara gave him an apologetic look.
“Sorry, doll.. I couldn’t stop thinking about the case.”
Ouma sighed, closing the door and walking over to Saihara’s desk, moving aside some files and sitting on it. Now directly in front of Shuichi, he rested his feet on one side of the free space on his chair.
“Even while next to me! Where has my beloved pervert gone off to, huh? Am I not enough to keep you anchored?”
Saihara cracked a small smile at that. He looked at Ouma lovingly before resting his head on his lap.
Ouma was long used to the action. He threaded his fingers through his hair.
“You seriously work too much, Shu.” He sighed, “Eww, and you reek of tobacco!”
Though he did find Saihara pretty sexy when smoking, he didn’t like the smell or taste of it if it wasn’t on his lips.
He received a hum in response, Saihara only nuzzled closer into the skin of his thighs. He enjoyed the skin to skin contact. He laid gentle kisses where his lips could reach, each one a small apology towards Ouma. Who couldn’t supress a small giggle in response.
“Whatever could I do to atone for my sins?” he smiled, looking up at his love.
Ouma couldn’t help mimicking that smile.
“Come back to bed.”
He laughed at the pout that spread across his beloved’s face.
“Come on, I can read you like a book by now. There aren’t any new clues, are there?”
“Don’t rub it in..”
“It’s like opening the fridge over and over again hoping for food you want to miraculously appear!”
The teasing made Saihara groan, he buried his face back in the plush muscles.
“Oh fine~, what are you dying over this time?”
Saihara really had the best luck having him as his husband. The thought still hasn’t lost the giddy effect it had on him.
He stopped caring about protocol as much as the years of working went by.
Should’ve been obvious to him ever since he started hiring and theorizing on said information frequently to Ouma.
He tended to let Ouma peek at even his most classified cases for his opinion. His intellect was on par to Saihara’s, so why not?
A soft sigh escaped his lips before he muttered, “I can’t get into the head of the culprit, he has to have some kind of mental illness and on top of that, intoxication! It makes his motives and train of thought so messy…”
Ouma hummed in thought, toying with Shuichi’s ahoge. It looked pretty sad, as if mimicking its owner’s emotions. “Why do you think he’s intoxicated?”
“His state seems to resemble religious psychosis, so it should follow a consistent code. But half of his actions go against most religious books’ sayings right now… And some of his crimes completely contradict others motive wise!”
“So he makes his beliefs fit more with his urges, huh?”
Saihara thought about it momentarily and nodded against his skin, almost feeling his brain ache from over exhaustion.
”That’s a better way to word it, yeah. It’s just.. ugh.”
Saihara’s voice dripped with frustration, making Ouma frown. He gently cupped his beloved’s jaw and raised his head to make eye contact.
“Baby.. Let’s go back to sleep. I’ll wake you up early so the alarm doesn’t agitate you further, ‘kay?”
Ouma was looking down at him with pretty, half-lidded eyes. Some remnants of shimmer still sparkled on his eyelids and cheekbones from having worn makeup the evening prior. His hair rested against his open chest, a lock pooling at his collarbone.
A small mole rested on the upper half of his neck, one that Saihara has kissed countless times now. More downward he could see some bruising left behind from his love marks.
“You can check me out later! Answer me.”
Saihara’s gaze drifted back to his eyes and he blinked before relenting.
“...Okay. Let’s sleep.”
That made Ouma smile immediately. He shut Saihara’s laptop and moved his head off of his legs - which Saihara pouted at - and pushed himself up from the desk to intertwine his beloved’s hand in his. Dragging him back to bed.
Saihara went along with no resistance, not minding being led by Ouma. He was probably a bit too indulgent towards him, but he found himself really not caring.
He tossed his pants aside and climbed into bed with Ouma, arms wrapped around his waist, snuck under his robe.
Ouma then tugged at Saihara’s shirt and gave him an impatient glare, he didn’t need more to take his shirt off as well. Ouma happily wrapped his arms around his bare shoulders.
They both preferred sleeping skin to skin.
Saihara took that moment to fully admire his husband, he moved one hand to caress his jaw gently. Then he used it to move Ouma’s head upwards, giving him more room to kiss and nuzzle at his neck.
His everything grinned in response, pulling him closer. Saihara felt around each individual vertebrae of his neck with his fingers and lips, afterwards planting a final kiss on the Adam's Apple.
“Well at least I can say the pervert hasn’t left you.”
Saihara smiled contently and connected their lips momentarily.
“I love feeling you like this, it really makes me realize how you’re truly next to me and not just in my fantasy.”
Ouma laughed, unable to hide his amusement. “So you admit I’m in your every fantasy then?”
“You’ve always been, you know that.”
“I do, huh?” He grinned tugging him back for another kiss, this time a more tender and lengthy one.
Saihara returned it, he maneuvered Ouma to sit on his lap as they interlocked their tongues. His beloved fell into the position easily. It really did feel like his designated spot, his rightful throne.
One hand drifted to his hip, rubbing it gently as their mouths met again and again. But before it could arouse him fully, Ouma pulled away with a teasing grin.
“Not tonight, zombieboy!”
Saihara let out a half whine half chuckle. He was expecting to be stopped, but that didn’t make him any less desperate.
”You can be so cruel, leading me on like this…”
Ouma laughed before his grin turned more smug. He pushed their kiss swollen lips together one more time before lying back down next to Saihara.
Saihara nuzzled into his neck and closed his eyes, feeling the most content he had in days. Ouma kissed the top of his hair and wrapped an arm around him as well.
They fell asleep soundly that night. And when morning came, Saihara wasn’t surprised at all that Ouma let him sleep in.