Work Text:
“Did you know you’re really attractive?”
Miyoshi slams the counter top.
“Excuse me?”
Sakuma doesn’t look away, eyes still fixed intently on Tazaki’s face.
“Really attractive.” He repeats, voice slurring slightly.
“Thank you, Sakuma-san.” Tazaki replies calmly before reaching over to pry the sake bottle out of Sakuma’s grip. Miyoshi glares at the contact. “But I believe you’ve had enough for one night.”
Sakuma, thankfully, doesn’t resist and lets the bottle be taken away docilely. He squints at Tazaki sleepily and plays with the glass in his hand quietly. The remaining sake sloshes about.
“I think it is your voice,” He speaks up suddenly. “It is very… very…”
Sakuma struggles for a second, a confused look passing over his face momentarily before he snaps his finger. “It is very soothing.” He proclaims, nodding to himself. “Very nice, and smooth, and calming.”
Tazaki smiles back serenely. “That is nice to know.”
He tilts his head to the side and eyes Tazaki for a while more. “You have a pleasant attitude. Always patiently teaching me, even if I ask too many questions. How lovely.”
Sakuma doesn’t stop there. He waves an unsteady hand vaguely at Tazaki’s face. “Your eyes are nice too. Sharp and intelligent, I like that. Maybe I like your frame. Very slender, just like someone I know and love.”
Behind him, Miyoshi looks positively livid.
This whole debacle began only because Miyoshi had goaded the lieutenant into drinking with the D-Agency spies. He bribed Sakuma with high quality sake and watched as the lieutenant got more and more drunk. It had only been three cups.
“Honestly, Miyoshi,” Kaminaga speaks up at last. “It is your fault. Getting Sakuma-san inebriate for your own guilty pleasure. How shameless can you get?”
Hatano sniggers. “Don’t blame Tazaki just cause your narcissist can’t accept the fact that someone is prettier than you.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Miyoshi hisses back. He sweeps he hair back neatly for good measure before continuing. “Besides, he never used the word pretty.”
“Don’t kid yourself. As if there’s much difference between ‘attractive’ and ‘pretty’. He might as well have used it. And you know it.” Hatano drawls, tipping his chair onto its back legs.
“I hope you fall off your seat.” Miyoshi snaps, sourly. Hatano grins in response.
Fukumoto, who had walked over to the table to retrieve the sake bottle from Tazaki was now leaning over Sakuma with mild concern. “Do you think he will have a hangover I can prepare a soup for him to drink tomorrow.”
“No okaa-san,” Sakuma answers patiently, unaware of the laughter that he managed to evoke with his innocent reply. “I feel quite fine thank you. But I love soup with extra green onions.”
Fukumoto straightens up and blinks passively before nodding. Kaminaga drops to the floor clutching his stomach. His laughter comes out in wheezes.
“Fuku-chan is our okaa-san!” Hatano exclaims, delighted.
Fukumoto stares at him.
“Don’t call me Fuku-chan.”
“Understood, Fuku-kaa-san.”
“… Don’t call me that either.”
While majority of the spies are now watching Kaminaga roll on the floor with hidden amusement, Sakuma looks troubled. He rises out of his chair and crouches down next to Kaminaga, pressing a palm against his shoulder to hold him in place.
“Are you alright?” Sakuma asks dubiously, “You sound like a dying seal. I mean you always sounded like one. But this doesn’t look good.”
Kaminaga takes a deep breath and opens his mouth, clearly to give an answer but all that comes out is choked laughter. A startled Sakuma gently pats his back.
Jitsui shuts his book (that he’s only pretended to be reading) and walks over quietly. He had been watching the situation unfold and decided that this was the best time to pull some information from the unsuspecting lieutenant. Hatano, quick to catch on to any scheme, jumps to his feet and follows suit.
With an angelic smile, Jitsui squats behind to Sakuma and taps his shoulder to get his attention. Sakuma swivels around and jolts at the sight of the demon pair grinning at him. He nearly steps on Kaminaga.
“Hey! You did that on purpose! You wanted him to step on me.”
“Oh hush. Let Jitsui do his job.”
“Sakuma-san, what do you think of me?"
The reply is immediate.
“You look like an angel.” Sakuma says quickly, unconsciously wary of Jitsui even in his intoxicated state. “Like you’re made of porcelain, very fragile and pale. But I know you’re not. Not fragile not an angel. I still have the bruise from the time you pushed me down the stairs just because I was blocking your way.”
"He did what?”
“Don’t fret, Amari, it was just a few steps. The lieutenant got up immediately.”
“I bet if you have long hair,” Sakuma nods confidently, “you will look like a girl. A really sweet girl that wears traditional clothes and has men chasing after her all the time. You would break so many hearts.”
Jitsui looks pleased. He was already forming plans at the back of his mind. Most included cross-dressing. He wonders how much a kimono costs and if Yuuki-san would let him use the agency’s funds to buy one.
“And me, lieutenant? What do you think about me?” Hatano asks, leaning forward eagerly.
Sakuma considers him for a moment before speaking. “You’re a trouble maker. A cute and cunning troublemaker. I bet you make people lower their guard with your face, then as soon as they turn around you pull their pants down and run off.”
Delighted, Hatano throws back his head and laughs.
“Where did you get that idea from, Sakuma-san?”
In an instant, Sakuma turns solemn.
“You will never believe that things I’ve seen while training in the military.” He tells them with a shudder.
Hatano snickered. He was about to ask for more tales when Kaminaga, who Tazaki had pulled onto a chair, interrupts.
“Say, lieutenant. Who is cuter? Jitsui or Tazaki?”
"What about me? Kaminaga, you should know better than to exclude me.” Miyoshi grumbles. Fukumoto frowns at him.
“I thought you said you were pretty, not cute.”
“I am pretty. Just because I’m pretty doesn’t mean I can’t be cute.”
“Of course, Miyoshi.”
“You keep quiet, mister attractive.”
"Jealousy is not a good look."
The previously mentioned two lean towards each other, pressing their faces side bye side and giving Sakuma an expectant expression. Sakuma looks torn. He stares at Jitsui for a minute before looking at Hatano with equal amount of uncertainty. He wasn’t sure which choice would lead to more dire consequences, so his eyes continued to flicker between the two until he felt dizzy. Amari must have taken pity on him.
“Now, now, let’s not disturb the lieutenant any longer.” He chides, nudging Jitsui’s and Hatano’s with his knees. Hatano scrambles to his feet and scowls at Amari.
“We weren’t disturbing him,” Hatano pouts, dusting his knees before helping Jitsui to his feet. Amari shakes his head fondly and looks like he wanted to say something but was interrupted by a sharp intake of breath.
“Oh my.”
Sakuma, who was still kneeling on the ground, was craning his head up to look at Amari. He rises to his feet slowly and sways unsteadily on the spot for a second, never taking his eyes off Amari. He scans the older spy from head to toe. Raising one arm, he brings his hand to the top of Amari’s head then brings it down to his own, comparing their height. He repeats this motion a few times before giggling.
“Aren’t you tall.” Sakuma comments appreciatively. Amari looks unsettled.
“I bet you will be a great father. You are very paternal, a steady warmth that cares for everyone. Sometimes I feel like I am looking at an old man sometimes from the way you speak.” Sakuma starts swaying again. “Kids must looooove you. All you need is a good wife.”
He rocks on his feet thoughtfully before pointing decisively Fukumoto behind the kitchen counter. “He can be your wife. He is very motherly. And a good cook.”
Once again, the dining room is filled with delirious laughter. Amari shoots Fukumoto a pleading look before grasping Sakuma by the arm. He steadies the tipsy man and directs him back into his seat.
“Maybe you should sit down and rest."
For a moment, Sakuma looks confused, clearly wondering how he ended up back at the table before he notices Tazaki sitting across from him. He smiles.
“Did anyone every tell you that you’re attractive?”
Tazaki looks amused.
“Yes lieutenant. You were so kind to say so.”
“It must be your…”
They don’t get to hear what else was so attractive about Tazaki because the shattering of a mug catches their attention instead.
Miyoshi leans against the front of the counter with well-concealed jealousy gripping a cup handle. The mug lies in sorry pieces at his feet. Luckily, there wasn’t any liquid inside when it was brutally snapped.
“That’s enough,” Miyoshi snaps at Sakuma. He curls his lip distastefully at the shattered porcelain pieces and an ugly expression crossed his beautiful features for a second. But Miyoshi being Miyoshi schooled his face back into its usual expression, one of utter boredom. But it was just a mask that hid the storm broiling beneath.
“Ah, I see now.”
All six spies turn to look at Sakuma. The lieutenant is openly ogling at the spy. He trails his eyes up Miyoshi’s body, lingering on his waist longer than necessary. When he looks up, he meets Miyoshi’s eyes, which are narrowed in annoyance.
It was comical how quickly he blushed and looked away. But Sakuma clearly can’t help himself because he realises that he was Miyoshi’s sulking frame from the corner of his eye.
With a sigh he turns and lowers his head to Tazaki apologetically.
“You may be attractive but you can never compare.”
Tazaki raises a brow in faux puzzlement. “Can’t compare to what? Or should I say whom?”
As though to answer him, Sakuma lifts himself from his seat and wobbles over to where Miyoshi is standing, carefully avoiding the glass pieces. Miyoshi watches his movement carefully before placing the mug handle on the counter and crossing his arms expectantly. With a great deal of apprehension, Sakuma grips his shoulders firmly; leaning closer and closer until their nose were almost touching.
All six pairs of eyes are fixed on them.
“Nothing can compare to you,” Sakuma tells Miyoshi hoarsely. “You’re too… pretty…”
Miyoshi looks thrilled.
“No not pretty…”
Miyoshi frowns, evidently peeved.
“You’re beautiful.” Sakuma amends. He smiles at Miyoshi almost shyly before continuing. “You look so perfect, all the time, even when you look like you want to slap me. I can’t bring myself to look t you sometimes, because I’m scared I’ll go blind from how radiant you are.”
There is a collective intake of breath when Sakuma lifts one hand and rests it on Miyoshi’s head. Because no one touches Miyoshi’s hair. No one. Not unless they wanted to be sucker punched in the gut.
But Miyoshi doesn’t do anything to reject the gesture. Instead, he remains stoic. He fears that if he shoved Sakuma now, he would never get to hear exactly what made him so perfect to the lieutenant.
“Your hair is so soft, so silky. You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to do this.” Sakuma strokes Miyoshi’s head gently, earnestly confessing greatest deepest darkest secrets.
Then to everyone’s horror, he cards his hand through the brown locks, effectively messing up the neat hairstyle Miyoshi painstakingly styles every morning.
He starts muttering to himself, but his drunken mumbling is loud enough for everyone to hear. “Still too pretty… maybe if I do it this way…” He flips Miyoshi’s to the other side. “Noooo…. Maybe if I did this…” He pushes the hair back. “Or maybe…” Sakuma tousles Miyoshi hair with both hands before sighing loudly.
“You’re too pretty!” He declares, somewhat defeated. “Why don’t you ugly up a bit? Stop styling your hair and looking so good. So I will stop feeling the urge to slam you against the wall every time you smile at me.”
Miyoshi clicks his tongue. How dare this man mess up his hair and tell him to ugly up.
“If it bothers you so much, you can always look away.” He says snippily, but he still doesn’t push Sakuma away. If anything, he wished the man would pull him closer.
Sakuma shakes his head frantically and pulls back to give Miyoshi an incredulous look.
“Look away? How can you expect me to look away from you?” his hands move from Miyoshi’s head down to his temples before brushing his thumbs lightly across Miyoshi’s lids. Miyoshi shuts his eyes.
“I can’t look away. Not when your eyes are calling me. They are so… captivating. I drown in them everyday.”
The fleeting touch is gone. Miyoshi opens his eyes and finds Sakuma gazing tenderly at him. The raw emotion reflected within makes his heart stutter and he mentally slaps himself. With a smirk, he tugs on Sakuma’s tie (which hangs loosely around his neck) and coos suggestively into his ear.
“Well Sakuma-san, you can look into my eyes all you-”
Miyoshi is abruptly cut off when Sakuma presses a finger against his lips.
“Don’t talk,” Sakuma hushes him. “Please don’t talk. Your lips are tempting enough. I just want to sink my teeth into them. But when you talk… Your voice does things to me that I can’t explain.” His eyes darken and the finger drags across his lip. “I just want to shut you up.”
Miyoshi blinks at him owlishly. It takes all of his willpower to not bite that offending digit, or worse, suck on it. So he opts for ignorance instead.
“And how do you plan on doing that, Sakuma-san?”
Sliding a hand to the back of his head, Sakuma grips Miyoshi’s neck and caress his cheek with the other.
“Like this.” Without further ado, Sakuma smashes his mouth onto Miyoshi’s.
Up to this point, there had been some murmuring from the other spies. Now silence rings loudly in the dining room.
Sakuma’s lips are soft but insistent against his lips. Miyoshi doesn’t hesitate to kiss back. The firm hand holding his head and the gentle stroking of his cheek is a delightful combination of sensations. He grips Sakuma’s waist tightly and pulls him close, slipping tongue out to taste Sakuma’s lips. But before Miyoshi could take things further, Sakuma pushes him back with a loud gasp for air.
Miyoshi refrains from huffing his disappointment.
Sakuma sways on the spot for a moment. Miyoshi sways in his hold. Then, with a disgustingly happy smile, he crumbles into Miyoshi’s arms.
Miyoshi is left to savour the lingering taste of sake.
Sakuma is feeling, with the lack of better words to use, like utter crap.
Firstly, he woke up with the world’s worst hangover. He is never going to drink again.
Secondly, all of the spies he walked past and made eye contact with had given him a knowing look. Some of them even sniggered, no doubt on purpose, the moment he looked away.
Right now he is staring at the bowl of miso soup, topped with extra green onions, Fukumoto had slid over to him when he sat down.
With a heavy sigh, Sakuma decides to face his worst fears. Partially because he was too out of it to deal with another cryptic looks and partially because Fukumoto was less likely to give him hell for whatever he had done.
“Please tell me what happened last night. My memory is still quite fuzzy.” He pleads.
“Ah. If you mean the soup, you told me that you liked it with extra green onions. So I added more green onions.” Fukumoto’s thoughtful reply is less than helpful but Sakuma decides against pressing for more details. Maybe this was why the spies were all amused by him.
Or so he hoped.
“Oh! Fuku-kaa-san really did make the lightweight lieutenant soup with extra green onions!”
Hatano’s gleeful crow causes Sakuma to choke on the mouthful he had just taken. The rest of the spies were starting to trail in.
“Fuku what?”
Hatano beams at him innocently and plops into the seat across the table. “Last night you called Fuku-chan okaa-san and told him you liked soup with extra green onions.”
Fukumoto gives him an unimpressed look.
“I told you to stop calling me that.”
“What? Fuku-chan or Fuku-kaa-san?”
“Don’t call me either.”
Sakuma ignores them, dread settling in. For some reason he knows Hatano isn’t lying and at the back of his mind he can even remember saying such a thing. A soft tap on his shoulder distracts him momentarily.
Jitsui smiles at him. “You called me an angel and a very pretty girl.”
Sakuma gasps at him wordlessly. He said that? To Jitsui?
Yes, his subconscious tells him, you did.
Hatano is grinning at him again. “You said I was the kind that pulled down people’s pants and run off. And you told Kaminaga he sounded like a dying seal.”
“That was mean,” Kaminaga pipes up. “The funny part was you insulting me while showing concern for my well being.”
I am never drinking ever again, Sakuma swears to himself, eyes now as wide as saucers.
“He said that Amari was a dad as well.” Jitsui reminds them.
Sakuma whirls around to face the taller man, hoping against all odds that it was not true. As expected, Amari shoots him an apologetic smile.
“It is true, lieutenant. To be fair, you said that I would be a great father if I found a good wife.”
Please tell me I didn’t say what I think I did.
“You said Fukumoto would be a good wife.”
I did. I really did.
Fukumoto nods passively. “It is nice to have someone appreciate my cooking once in a while.”
Sakuma feels like screaming. In one night alone, he not only revealed that he was a lightweight, but also all the secret opinions he had of the spies.
With a long-suffering sigh, he cautiously broaches, “Did I say anything good at all last night?”
“Why yes, you did,” Tazaki replies, winking at him from the armchair he had settled in. “You told me I was very attractive. It was extremely flattering.”
He looks thoughtful for a moment before his eyes rest on something to Sakuma’s left “What you said about Miyoshi made what you told me seem menial.”
I am not surprised. I am not surprised anymore.
“Sakuma-san.”
With a groan, Sakuma drops his head into his hands with a muttered “I don’t have time for this now” before turning to his left to grimace at Miyoshi.
To his (pleasant, not that he will ever admit it) surprise, Miyoshi’s hair is unstyled. It lies on his head in it’s natural waves and droops over one eye. It is messy and innocent yet equally as seductive. Sakuma hears himself gulp.
“Can I help you, Miyoshi?”
With a feral grin, Miyoshi leans forwards, placing his left hand on Sakuma’s right, which rested on the table. He trails his other hand up Sakuma’s arm, squeezing his bicep slightly. Sakuma watches him with wide alert eyes. Miyoshi grabs his chin tightly and pulls him closer, smirking wider when Sakuma lets out a startled noise.
“I’m going to be talking a lot today,” he purrs, tongue darting across his lips sensually. “So feel free to shut me up anytime.”
Unconsciously, Sakuma’s eyes drop to Miyoshi’s lips, wet and slick with saliva.
I really want to bite them.
“And I would prefer if you don’t end it so quickly like you did last night. I have lots of time.”
The choked noise of agreement he gets from Sakuma is all Miyoshi needs to hear.