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It was Frank's first day on the job. He was eager with bright blue eyes and the bushiest of tails. It may have taken a solid year of working his way up through the smaller gangs, but today he crossed the elusive threshold into the consecrated territory of the Port Mafia. And things? Well, things were finally going his way.
His trainer, Sammy Jr., had walked him through the hallowed halls, through the security checks, and into the elusive back offices. He'd given him a good overview of the place, what to expect, how to square your shoulders and keep your chin held high. Frank had already spent the past few days going over the rap sheet anyways. He knew who to avoid looking in the eye, knew which offices to walk by extra quietly.
Knew to stay far away from Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.
Overall he couldn’t have asked for a better first day. He’d met some people at lunch, and they laughed at his jokes. He didn’t make an ass of himself, didn’t get in any petty fights. Someone mentioned how well tailored his suite was, and the front desk receptionist was real impressed with his long list of past convictions. He had to stop himself from giving everyone the finger guns, his ego inflated by all the positive feedback.
But finger guns would have ruined whatever credit to his name he had scraped together so far, so he kept his cool and dutifully followed Sammy to the surveillance department. Just a brief stint there and then he’d be heading home to celebrate.
As Sammy was giving him the final low down on the who, what, when and where, one of the operators frantically waved him over. With a curt nod he was gone, leaving Frank alone in the records room until the matter was handled. Seems in the Port Mafia things were handled swiftly, efficiently, and with barely any words spoken.
As he was waiting for his trainer to return, he gazed at the massive wall of files lining the entire back wall. Apparently, he had access to pretty much all of it, that’s what Sammy had mentioned. Whatever information was needed on whatever target they were after could be found in these meticulously alphabetized files.
One in particular, bright blue and absolutely busting, caught his eye.
Once he laid it out on the table, Frank was blown away by the sheer volume of photos, reports and even personal hand written notes held in this poor, abused folder. Grabbing one of the smaller pictures, he held it up to the light, completely entranced by its subject. He read the words written on the back out loud, voice dripping with reverence, just as Sammy made his back.
"Yokohama's Weretiger."
He looked like he’d been shot in cold blood once he saw what Frank had done. Once he heard what Frank said.
“No! Not that file! YOU CAN’T TOUCH THAT FILE!”
Frank yelped in shock as Sammy rushed over to hastily stuff everything back inside and slam it shut before stuffing the folder back on the shelf. Other members had huddled around now, all with worried eyes and terrified, shivering bodies. Sammy hissed out a desperate plea to the crowd, eyes darting around, vigilantly checking for any signs of danger.
"He's not here, is he?"
A small voice pipped up from the back.
"All clear!"
"Oh thank god. Hey listen, Frankie, don't let anybody catch ya saying the word were anywhere near the word tiger alright? At least three words, better if its five, between them. Got it? And most importantly, don't let him know you came anywhere near this file.”
“File? Sammy, this looks like an encyclopedia!”
Shhhhhh!!! Do you want to live?! Do you want to survive working here?”
"Uh, yeah?”
“Then remember these words. Remember them well. You better stay far away from anything that has to do with Akutagawa’s tiger.”
XOXOXO
Atsushi was sitting outside on his new balcony; well I guess it was technically their balcony. New to him, old to his partner. The night air was perfectly chilled; his coffee was perfectly sweetened. He wasn’t fully convinced it was the expensive machine that deserved the credit for making such an expertly roasted cup, despite what his boyfriend said. No, he decided it was a much more magical reason than just that. As he wrapped himself in his enormous cashmere blanket, taking in the breathtaking view and indulging in another sip, he decided the real reason everything felt so good was because of one thing and one thing only:
Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.
Feet tucked into the softest, plushiest slippers, he headed back inside with a satisfied sigh. God the apartment was beautiful. So clean, so polished, and accented with interesting little antiques. If he had known Akutagawa’s apartment had been this wonderful from the beginning, he might have tried to end their rivalry just a little sooner. Killing or no killing. Nothing about it was sparse, everything about it was elegant. And now that he’d moved in, there were also little pops of color and sparks of life. And most importantly? The fridge was always full. Not just stocked, but full. His long, hectic workdays didn’t seem so bad when he was able to come home to this much serenity. He smiled, surveying their home like a proud king.
It was certainly a wonderful night.
It took barely anytime for him to make dinner, and he happily made sure an expertly portioned extra plate was wrapped up and waiting for when Akutagawa got home. He double checked the hot water dispenser was topped up, made sure to refold all the blankets that had been strewn all over the couch. He dimmed the lights, cracked the window open just an inch, and set the stereo to fill the space with relaxing instrumentals.
He enjoyed these moments, he loved taking the time to do a few thoughtful things for his partner, but fatigue was starting to tug at his muscles and eyelids regardless. With a satisfied yawn, he stretched his arms over his head, abs peeking out just a little as his blue shirt was lifted up. He scratched his stomach, humming with contentment. A bed, a perfect bed, with a just-right mattress and luxurious cotton sheets was calling to him.
It only took seconds before Atsushi was sliding into that perfect bed, their perfect bed. It was new to both of them but had already become something so treasured, something well broken in. Akutagawa’s scent was all over it, mixing in pleasantly with Atsushi’s own. He snuggled right in, tugging a pillow tight to his chest, and flicked the television on. The mafioso wouldn’t be home for another hour or so, and he needed something to wrap his arms around until then.
XOXOXO
Lightning struck, thunder boomed in the sky, the wind whooshed through the alleyways. The rain was pummeling towards the ground like it was trying drill its way to the center of the earth, and the temperature had dropped low enough to sting cheeks. And for the entirety of his work hours Akutagawa had been at the mercy of all of it. Finally finished with his duties, he stormed through his office, ire boiling his insides despite how chilled the weather was outside.
Not only had his mission taken longer than he’d expected, but he’d just found out someone had touched Atsushi’s file. He knew they had because the pictures were out of order, and it had been put back at a different angle. He growled as he threw his possessions in his bag, more than ready to be done with today and burn his workplace to the ground. The perpetrator would be hunted down tomorrow; he had someplace else to be now.
A hired car was parked out front and waiting as he stomped to the exit, the entire Port Mafia had already been alerted to his volatile mood. Code Red. Currently the main objective for every lackey within 10 metres was to get him the hell out of here and home on the double.
Which is how 10 minutes later, despite Headquarters being 30 minutes away, Akutagawa found himself at his apartment. Just being away from work, out of the rain, knowing that he was moments away from his exalted private sanctuary, was enough to quiet his rage and ease the tension in his jaw. His eyes, previously narrowed and tight with intensity, now softened at the corners. Grey irises started to sparkle as he made his way up the elevator.
Upon entering, it felt like the gods had given him permission to finally take a true deep breath. He begrudgingly loved that the kitchen still had the scent of homecooked food. He would be a liar if seeing a ratty pair of boots at the entry way didn’t pinch his heart with gratitude. He hated how seeing the colorful blankets, the terrible DVDs, and strands of Atsushi’s stupid silver hair on his couch made his whole heart swell with affection. But oh the things he would do if any of this painstakingly acquired domesticity was ever threatened.
It took mere seconds for all his warm and fuzzy feelings to get whipped up into a firm sense of protectiveness. He was not entirely sure how he’d manage to find himself tangled up with a silver ray of sunshine, how he had ever managed to seduce a ferocious tiger god into a relationship. But somehow, they had fallen down together into something deeply wonderful. And Akutagawa would make sure than no one, absolutely no one, would get anywhere near his partner. And if anyone, anyone, tried to come between them, well…
Rashomon.
Despite being hungry, wanting tea, and surely needing a shower, Akutagawa wanted to see Atsushi first. And so he stalked through the bedroom door, work bag still slung over his shoulder, gaze trained to the ground as he greeted his boyfriend, the one he had so dearly missed all day.
“Jinko, I have returned.”
“Welcome home!”
Akutagawa’s eyes slowly rose to take in the sight of Nakajima Atsushi resting in their bed. Their bed. With his moonlight hair and his sunset eyes, mouth in that perfect soft smile. He will never not be blown away by how the weretiger looks in these moments, these intimate moments just for them. His face was just starting to twist and contort into the smile only Atsushi ever got to see, his legs were just starting to step closer to the bed.
But then he saw the pillow.
The accursed pillow. The unimpressive pillow. The cheap, repulsive, arrogant pillow that had absolutely no right being wrapped up in Atsushi’s strong arms and held against his impressive chest. That was Akutagawa’s spot. His mind stilled, calculating, appraising the situation to come up with the optimal next step.
That pillow needed to be destroyed.
He didn’t need to call on Rashomon, the pillow was the weakest of adversaries. He merely grabbed it by its paltry, thin cover and wretched it out of the weretiger’s arms and flung it towards the wall.
Crack!
The physics of how a wall ended up dented and cracked from being hit by a pillow could only be explained by the intensity of Akutagawa’s love.
Atsushi didn’t even blink an eye; just opened his arms wide as Akutagawa collapsed into them. He’d pick up more pillows tomorrow, there was leftover plaster already in the supply closet, and he would fix the wall later. He may have known better than to be in that particular position when the mafioso got home, but there was something so tantalizing about Akutagawa’s jealous outburst. It was like catching an exploding firework in his arms and feeling the sparks smoulder against his chest, spreading a reassuring warmth through his whole body. He was wanted; he was badly wanted. And Atsushi had never thought he would ever be wanted like that. And so he would never not catch Akutagawa in his arms; he would never not hold him.
No matter how many pillows and walls he destroyed.
And so he did hold him, lovingly and tightly, until his volcano of a boyfriend stopped erupting and the mafioso’s breathing steadied. They could eat later, shower later, do whatever they needed to do later. For now Atsushi just smiled, feeling Akutagawa bury his face deeper in the crook of his neck.
It was certainly a wonderful night.
XOXOXO
Frank’s next day at work did not go as well as the first.