Work Text:
It was unnerving to be back in the office, seated at his desk as if the whole fiasco at the airport had somehow never happened. It’s been months of mundaneness, his life as calm as it was ever going to be working at the Detective Agency and being surrounded by actually insane ability users. It all felt strange, like Atsushi had gone back in time. And while everything more or less seemed the same, something felt just the tiniest bit off.
Even though Dazai was still sprawled over his reports, even though Kunikida was still annoyed. Even though overall the entire agency looked just as he’d left it before the Decay of Angels tried to burn in to the ground. But still it all felt just the smallest bit wrong.
Washed out. Desaturated. A weird sepia filter had been placed over top of his once vivid, high contrast world. Even Atsushi’s heightened senses couldn’t make anything feel intense.
Everything felt grey. Tepid. Dull.
But he persevered onwards, smiling as he always did as Kenji dropped mail on his desk. He caught sight of the Port Mafia stationary, reaching over to shuffle it towards Dazai’s growing pile of death threat (love letters) from Chuuya. His hand froze though when he saw it wasn’t addressed to Dazai at all.
It was addressed to him.
He snatched it close, opening the regal envelope that had been sealed with wax, pulling out the impressive statement written on real legal paper. It looked for official. And once he started reading what it said the saturated colors finally reappeared in the world.
It was from Akutagawa.
A request for a duel.
Seems their deal was not abandoned after all. He turned to his stern, blond co-worker, eyes set with determination.
“Kunikida, we’ve got work to do.”
XOXOXO
The alleyways and shadows were currently being haunted by a certain mafioso with a certain sense of assuredness. The city was back to its regular status quo, and he was back to his regular patrol and duties. The only thing that seemed to have changed was that his burning desire to destroy the weretiger, to be underneath him…
Wait…no, that…that was not what he meant. Akutagawa shook his head, trying to clear the dust from his mind. Akutagawa felt his head grow hot and he tried to piece together the right words in his head, feeling a little dizzy from the sudden disorientation. His body having a strange reaction to the idea of being underneath him. He pushed that down, focusing instead on his vocabulary.
Overcome.
To overcome him, yes that was more appropriate. Akutagawa’s burning desire to destroy the weretiger, to overcome him, was increasing exponentially after all the incidences that had happened over the past year. Their begrudging partnership had left a scalding hot slash across his chest, and he knew deep down the only relief for such an injury was the weretiger’s utter destruction. And he would do it; he would destroy the beast.
But right now he was working, and the small beep from his phone reminded him of that, along with encouraging him to change directions and intercept his target at the docks. And leaving the darkness to cut through the park up ahead would be the most efficient way to do that.
Swiftly he absconded from the shadows, boots clicking against the pavement, singular focus on getting to the other side when…
Whoosh!
“Sorry!”
Akutagawa whipped around as he scoffed, eyes quickly darting behind him to briefly glance at the jogger who had the audacity to nearly tackle him to the ground in their senseless pursuit of fitness. But his head did a double take once he caught a few distinct, signature details of this menacing health concerned individual. Stupid bangs, stupid smile.
Seems he would never be free of this idiot, not until their final duel. He let his eyes track him down in the park, and upon finding the stupid silver spark, was suddenly at a loss for insulting words. And oxygen.
Was the weretiger…shirtless?
What…what was the weretiger doing shirtless?
In public?! On a Saturday! Where…where so many people could see him? Shirtless!
Akutagawa felt his blood completely boil. He was never one to abandon a mission, but he needed to figure out exactly what was going on right now. They were set to battle in a little under 3 months, just what exactly did the weretiger think he was doing? Running around shirtless.
How indecent.
There may have been no alleys or shadows to hide in, but Akutagawa was skillfully able to hide behind groups of teens and smiling families. He was able to duck around trees and hide behind various coffee carts and foods stalls. The weretiger had no idea he was being followed, he continued to jog along, not a care in the world.
Shirtless.
Muscles…rippling.
Skin…glistening.
When…when had he acquired such muscular aptitude? How indecent.
Akutagawa did have to give the fool some credit. He seemed dedicated to his training. Eyes focused, muscles tense as he continued to propel himself forward at a speed Akutagawa was having trouble keeping up with. He must have been eating better, hopefully sleeping more as well. It was a shame Akutagawa would have to kill him in three months. Based on what he could see from the weretiger’s improved physicality, he would have made an exceptional partner.
Oh well. A promise is a promise.
And so Akutagawa resigned himself to looming behind a rather impressive Japanese maple tree, head barely peeking out around the side as he watched the weretiger jog over to one of his insipid mentors. Seems he had roped in a professional to assist with his preparation. Akutagawa resigned himself to stay hidden, wide eyes cemented on Nakajima Atsushi as he proceeded to complete various strength training and calisthenic exercises. Push ups, high knees, jumping jacks, squats and…sit ups. Akutagawa was now watching Atsushi lay on his back, hands behind his head as he huffed out forceful bursts of air, stomach clenching as he raised and lowered himself over and over and over again.
Shirtless.
Muscles…rippling.
Skin…glistening.
It was entirely too indecent.
Akutagawa lost track of how long he spent peering at the weretiger from behind a tree, like a rather disturbing Victorian ghost. He ended up being quite late in intercepting his target and completing the mission. But once he found him, there was enough pent up frustration and discomfort coursing like wildfire through his muscles that the target was eliminated. Swiftly. His adversary truly stood no chance, their strength embarrassing compared to that of the weretiger. But he was grateful for the chance to alleviate some of the twisting, gnawing pressure in his lower extremities.
XOXOXO
Akutagawa rarely dreams, even more rarely are they good dreams. And never has he ever had any strange dreams.
Until last night.
When Akutagawa woke this morning, hair stuck to his forehead from sweat, lungs gasping for air, deeply uncomfortable sensation in his lower stomach, he was both terrified and confused. The dream he’d had the night before had been just that: strange. Too strange. And vivid. Too vivid!
For last night Akutagawa Ryuunosuke had a dream, a dream where he was seated comfortably on a mat, thighs resting comfortably on his heels, while the weretiger was laid out flat on his back.
And he was shirtless. Indecently shirtless. Sprawled out in from of him, served up like a platter. With a soft smile on his face Akutagawa dipped an expensive calligraphy brush, made of horsehair, in obsidian ink, before dragging the brush across Atsushi’s impressive stomach. He painted three long lines one way, then three long ones to cross. Eventually the two of them engaged in the strangest, oddest game of tic tac toe Akutagawa could have ever dreamed of. X’s and O’s draw on shining, glistening skin while Atsushi laid there and smiled. The weretiger had just won the game before Akutagawa finally woke up.
Luckily, he was well aware that dreams were absurd, unreliable and utter nonsense. Sigmund Freud could take his theories and abscond away with them to the far off land of trite and thoughtless. Which is why despite the horrific experience he was able to go on about his day. He pushed the thoughts of soft bristles, dripping with ink, brushing over the weretiger’s toned, hard, stomach muscles deep in the recesses of his mind.
Until that night, when he fell back into slumber.
This time Atsushi was standing in front of him, shirtless, abs marked and painted to look like a cellphone keypad. And this time there was no brush between Akutagawa and the glistening, rock hard abdominals. No, no brush at all, he could feel the sensation of skin under the pad of his fingers as he pressed into the weretiger’s body. He dialed the numbers: 4-5683-968.
Akutagawa had no idea who he was dialing, but it didn’t seem to matter as his hand stayed pressed on the dial pad stomach of his greatest adversary anyway. Eventually his eyes reluctantly left his abs and slowly rose to face Atsushi head on. His own smile was soft, Atsushi’s was blinding. He had the strangest sensation that there actually was a call and he needed to answer. His hand gently stroked the weretiger’s stomach, moving up his chest to rest behind his neck. Their heads inched just that little bit closer and…
Akutagawa woke up with a rather undignified yelp. This time he was practically paralyzed with fear and completely resigned to the fact that he had in fact gone clinically insane.
XOXOXO
Over the next few days Akutagawa avoided the park, avoided the cake and tea shop they would sometimes frequent. He jumped over many building to avoid getting anywhere near the soba restaurant. The library where they sometimes ran into each other was off limits, as was the stall that sold steamed pork buns.
He thought he was safe from being haunted by a sultry, stacked spectre. But the universe had always had a sick sense of humour when it came to him and his sanity. For on that day, as he passed by a group of lackeys, huddled around a desk as they perused a few files, two words caught his attention and stopped him dead in his tracks.
“Nakajima Atsushi.”
Rashomon started to pulse from his jacket, a strange sense of protectiveness rippled across his back. He turned, boots clicking as he stalked towards the group. He was upper level after all, in charge of the Black Lizard, he was certainly allowed to intrude. And he was curious just exactly what these plebians were doing.
“Akutagawa sir, how can we assist you.”
“Just what exactly are you doing with the weretiger’s file?”
“Uh, just preparing to process the weekly photos and intel per your request. Frank should be by any minute with them.”
“I see.”
A cackling, whistling, overly cheery voice was coming in from the halls.
“Oh boys, you are not going to believe what kind of photos we got this week. Thirsty Thursdays am I right?”
Akutagawa raised an eyebrow, the other members suddenly sweating and tugging at their collars. A few wise ones had somehow managed to scamper away to the back of the office under the guise of needing coffee and “having no idea what Frank was talking about, I’ve never heard of Thirsty Thursdays”.
“Oh you are not going to believe what we got this week! I don’t know what’s in the water at that agency, but Tiger Boy is looking fine! And he’s shirtless in pretty much all the photos!”
Akutagawa was so elegant, so lithe, that sometimes it was hard to pull him out of a sea of black. This is unfortunately the case for the unsuspecting subordinate trapsing into the meeting room, flashing another stack of high resolution photos.
“His abs are so defined now, reminds me of a calculator. I’d like to do math on those muscles if you know what I mean.”
Poor Frank, his brain was so flooded with lewd Atsushi photos, mind too excited to comb over them with the other lustful mafia members, he did not see the harsh pair of glowing red eyes. He had not yet picked up on the haunting cough, the rustling of black tendrils, the terrified eyes of his coworkers. He simply marched into the room, slapped the absurd about of photos on the table and began smiling.
For three seconds.
Then there was only destruction, only chaos, only darkness. Shrieking. Haunting, horrifying wailing, desperate please for mercy. But none would come. There would be no mercy.
That was the day Akutagawa put an end for the request of surveillance on the weretiger. For security reasons any and all information, photographs, and documentation regarding Nakajima Atsushi was moved to his private home.
For security reasons.
XOXOXO
Akutagawa woke up the next morning groaning and seriously considering shredding that stupid file that was now burning a hole in the hidden cupboard of his private desk. He lamented his foolish choice to read said file, analyze said photographs into the wee hours of the night. He condemned Frank as well, for his stupid statement which must have put treacherous thoughts in his head. Truly last night’s reverie must have been all that imbecile’s fault.
In said most recent dream Akutagawa had found himself in a classroom, dressed in a smart private school uniform, tugging out his hair while he grappled with a math test. But how wonderful was it that his ever helpful classmate, a fool with stupid bangs and silver hair and a smile that shouldn’t be legal, was willing to help.
By taking off his shirt.
And letting him use his abdominal muscles as a calculator.
He was grateful some of today would be spent deciding upon a suitable punishment for Frank.
XOXOXO
Luckily with his expert stealth skills and efficient abolishment of Frank and the weretiger’s previous surveillance, Akutagawa had been able to have a full three days of peace where he only thought about Atsushi the normal amount. It was back to thoughts of destruction, of being underneath him.
Overcoming him! Of overcoming him.
But again the universe was cruel in her humor, and as fate would have it, they would be spending the morning and possibly a bit of the afternoon together depending on just how well the fool’s training had been going.
Akutagawa could avoid Atsushi generally, but he could not avoid missions. No, sadly that he could not do. He had just sneaked by with being late on his last assignment, but there would be no grace given to him if he did not show up for this very special bid for Shin Soukoku’s unique brand of skill and strength.
Which is how hours after the request was sent, and the foe destroyed, Akutagawa found himself laying on the ground, next to the damn weretiger, who was somehow shirtless again! He didn’t turn his head. He would not turn his head. He would not. He closed his eyes, crossing his hands over his chest while he focused on his breathing. He needed his body to calm after all the adrenaline from the fight. Which of course was the only reason his heart was trying to make a break for it, banging on the ribs of his chest with an empty mug, tired of being caged. He pressed his eyes even tighter together in frustration when a certain chipper, awful voice attempted to rouse him.
“Akutagawa? Are you okay.”
“Fine.”
Atsushi grunted, shifting up to seated position to rub his head and smile down at his sulking partner.
“You look like a vampire.”
“Shut up.”
“Here.”
Akutagawa would have been better off staring directly into the sun, better he burns his corneas so he could never see again than catch sight of that stupid, adonis of a man standing above him with an outstretched hand and that stupid, stupid smile. Just when exactly had this fool decided to chisel himself out of marble?! He had no right to be this…this…toned. It was indecent! Akutagawa should have kept his eyes shut, for now he was subjected to a flood of incredulous frustration, unable to hold back his bitter accusations.
“Just what exactly have you been eating weretiger?”
“Huh?”
“You…seem…more…muscular.”
“Oh, uh, thanks? I haven’t been eating that different, just training more I guess. You know, for our duel.”
“I see.”
Akutagawa did not accept his hand, just dragged his own body back to a vertical position without the usual grace or composure. He hadn’t been sleeping well, and while the weretiger was glowing like some beastly version of Apollo, Akutagawa was a brooding ghost, just wanting to hide in the shadowy underworld. He would not stay here and be subject to this fool’s…physique any longer.
He glared, glared at the stupid shirtless indecent idiot and stormed off to bury himself in a report, or a book, or a anything that would take his mind off of transverse abdominal muscles.
XOXOXO
That night Akutagawa dreamt of tumbling into the weretiger’s apartment, clawing his way up the side of the Agency dorms and throwing himself through the window and into the small abode. He had spent all night fighting, Rashomon was covered in dirt and grime, his limbs aching and sore. So he came here, to where Atsushi lived.
He was given the warmest, welcoming smile. A gentle kiss on the forehead, a steaming cup of tea. All the irritation of the day being banished away like mosquitos, all of it repelled by the desire on Atsushi’s face flickering like a lit citronella candle. He eased off his coat and the two of them walked towards the bathroom.
Hot water running, fogged mirrors, beads of condensation running down the tile. Akutagawa felt his breathing become shallow, faster, cheeks turning pink. Atsushi looked resplendent. Drops of water on his skin, somehow shirtless already. The mafioso was starting to suspect his breathing pattern had nothing to do with the steam from the shower, and everything to do with how every outline of every stupid stomach muscle of the damned weretiger was glaringly defined despite the hazy atmosphere. Did he think himself an anatomy textbook?! How dare he. The indecency!
None of these petulant, ire thoughts seemed to stop his dream counterpart however from drooling over the younger man as he climbed into the bathtub, water splashing against his skin. Waves of it licking against his stomach. And the thoughts were also useless at stopping Akutagawa from dunking his coat in the suds and soap and using the weretigers well defined midsection as a literal washboard to scrub the dirt off Rashomon. Up and down, up and down, he dragged his coat across the weretiger’s body for what felt like an eternity.
When Akutagawa finally he woke, he instantly considered asking Mori for a lobotomy. This could not go on any longer, inches of his sanity were being shaved off each day he woke up from one of these…nightmares.
He thought perhaps he should do a bit more research into dreams and their meaning, perhaps some exposure therapy. Yes, that seemed a perfectly reasonable strategy. He rushed to his desk, tearing out the file from its secret hiding place and pulling up a chair. He would overdose himself on photos of the insufferable, buff idiot. He would stare at the photos so long, analyze his impressive chest and washboard abs until they seemed mundane, insignificant. It was the perfect plan. His subconscious would then be so sick of abs and weretiger and abs and weretiger and abs that it couldn’t possibly conjure up yet another dream about either of those topics.
Akutagawa was a genius.
XOXOXO
So of course it was no surprise that later that night, Akutagawa fell victim to yet another dream. He may have done some additional research, may have read that perhaps some dreams are often expression of the subconscious. And whether he wanted to admit it or not, he had spent a lot of time over the past week shoving down images of a shirtless Atsushi deep, deep into the core of his soul. And now he’d just overloaded the system with even more images, all while consuming an absurd amount of Hershey’s cookies and cream chocolate bars until the late hours of the night.
So of course, of course, he would have a dream where he was sitting on his bed, happily reading, not a care in the world when suddenly…a knock on the door. Gin’s voice, coming from the beyond. His birthday present had arrived, and would it be okay for him to come inside?
For him to come inside?
The door creaked open, Akutagawa’s heart beat increased. It was a him that was entering his bedroom now, not an it. But oh my he certainly was a present.
A weretiger, an Atsushi. Not shirtless this time. No, no he was not shirtless. He was wrapped. Wrapped in a crinkly, shiny paper letting Akutagawa know what was underneath that packaging was a going to be absolutely delicious. Here he was, dressed in cozy sweatpants and an oversized sweater, sitting on his bed. Here he was, facing a smirking, teasing Atsushi.
Dressed like a Hershey’s cookies and cream chocolate bar. Just waiting for Akutagawa to tear into.
Logically it made sense, his musculature was so well defined it looked like a bar of chocolate. Akutagawa had thought that last night, as he devoured bar after bar, completely consumed by the thought of Atsushi and his abs.
Abs and weretiger abs and weretiger and abs. Playing in his head like a loop. Dream Akutagawa was at its mercy, slowly rising from the bed to make his way to his gift.
When Akutagawa woke up this time, he realized he had reached his limit. He had run out of strategies; he had run out of options. There was only one person he could call now, only one person who could possibly help him.
He opened his phone.
And he dialed.
And then proceeded to blush and hate himself for remembering the previous dream where he was using the weretiger’s abs like a cellphone until his call was answered.
XOXOXO
Pfffffffff!!!!!!
Chuuya did not like wasting alcohol, but how else was he supposed to respond to what Akutagawa had just said?! He wiped his mouth, the bartender quickly rushing over to attend to the spill. Akutagawa remained unfazed despite witnessing firsthand a red wine geyser.
Had he even heard him right?
“Sorry what the hell did you just ask me?”
“I said how have you been able to combat the special seduction technique Dazai regularly employs on you.”
“The what?”
Akutagawa rolled his eyes.
“Chuuya, do not assume just because I have recognized a method Dazai uses to disarm you indicates that I consider you any less powerful.”
“I…what…Dazai does not…Akutagawa where the hell is this coming from?”
Akutagawa narrowed his eyes, dropping his tone and the speed of his voice as if talking to a child. Had anyone else tried that Chuuya would have knocked him out of the restaurant.
“There are certain times, when Dazai behaves a certain way, that your cheeks flush and your heart race increases. You become more irate yet gravitate towards him. Your precision and tact drop slightly. I am experiencing similar symptoms now around the weretiger. I believe he is being trained with this skill to defeat me in our duel.”
“Hold on, hold on, hold on. First of all, I get that way around Dazai because I hate him.”
“But then why does he end up at your apartm…”
“HEY! Just…look nevermind what happens between me and Dazai, is something going on with you and Tiger boy?”
“I…”
Chuuya took another sip, steadying his breathing, waiting.
“I…feel unwell around him. Weaker. It feels as if I would rather not even kill him. So it must be some technique. All this madness started when I watched him train a few weeks ago.”
“You…watched him train.”
“Yes. And he was shirtless. Disgusting.”
Oh. Chuuya was starting to clue in what might be happening. Oh.
“How long did you watch him train.”
“The full hour.”
“Mhm.”
“From behind a tree.”
“Yep, yep. Okay.”
“And now I am plagued by this awful heat right here.”
Chuuya didn’t need to see where Akutagawa was pointing, he had a real solid guess.
“Along with headaches, and circulation issues, unease in my chest. I am consumed by thoughts of him now not just for the entirety of the day but during the night as well! In my dreams Chuuya. The only logical explanation is it must some type of cruel new method of torture Dazai is schooling him in.”
Oh this poor kid, this poor, poor kid. Chuuya didn’t want to do this to him, but he had a feeling there wasn’t really another option.
“Ahhh, you uh…you know what. How about I tell ya why Dazai’s technique works on me then.”’
“That is what I have been asking you.”
“It works because I think he’s hot.”
Akutagawa froze, his entire spine locked straight, his eyes as wide as Chuuya has ever seen them.
“Then…that means…if that’s the…but then…no. It…it can’t…no.”
Chuuya patted the kid on the back as he continued to stare forward like the world had truly ended. The sentence died on his lips, evaporated into the abyss along with the thick miasma made up of his denial and his dignity. Akutagawa knew what Chuuya had just implied with that statement. The horrific truth of the situation.
The real reason he kept dreaming of a sparkling, shirtless Atsushi.
He groaned, head collapsing on the bar. Chuuya figured he better get the kid something stronger than tea.
“Hey Mack! You got any chocolate back there? Any more of those Hershey’s cookies and…”
“No chocolate bars!”
XOXOXO
Atsushi had just come back from a jog, wiping the perspiration off the back as his neck before he slid a light t-shirt over his bare torso. He didn’t want to have it soaked with sweat for the entirety of the workday, and the sun had felt nice against his skin.
He had to admit he was enjoying how he’d been feeling the past few weeks, preparing for this duel. He’d been utilizing Yosano’s nutrition plan, following Kunikida’s workout plan, ignoring Dazai’s offer to teach him seduction techniques.
Overall he was feeling great, and for some reason his heart would start to thrum with excitement the more he thought about standing across from Akutagawa, eyes staring him down and raking over every inch of his body. That tension building and then the eventual first hit.
He started guzzling down the rest of his water, desperately trying to cool down a little, before making his way back into the office. He smiled when he saw that familiar Port Mafia stationary, his eyes picking up on the unique seal. This death threat (love letter) was for him.
He gently peeled it open, curious and keen about the potential update. But the world came crashing down on his now well defined back muscles once he finally read through the words.
The request for a duel has been canceled.
XOXOXO
The world was back to feeling grey, but at least it was raining. At least he could blame it on the rain, instead of the fact that for some reason Akutagawa calling off their duel had sucked all the colour of the universe again. It really was the dumbest thing, why his mood would drop so significantly just because there was no longer an active threat on his life. He decided to shift his mind over to more positive thoughts.
Like the fact that he now had concrete evidence that Ranpo could in fact be very wrong and his deductions could absolutely be way off. Because when he’d asked the master detective about his sullen mood and aching heart, he got the most ridiculous, outlandish just…just wrong answer! The answer was wrong!
You miss him.
Ranpo’s ability wasn’t even freaking real what did he know.
He was huffing through the streets, not even bothered by his lack of umbrella. The cold wind felt nice, the raindrops felt nice. It chilled his skin, down to his bones, and made him feel just a little bit more alive. He rolled his eyes once his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. If this was Dazai again he would throw either him or the phone in the river.
He yelped when he saw the name, hands fumbling to answer the call with too must zest and absolutely no finesse.
“Gin?”
“Atsushi, can you find my brother.”
“What?! Has he been kidnapped? Is that why the duel is off? Did something happen, where was he last, Gin!”
“Hey! Atsushi calm down! He’s fine! He left the house 15 minutes ago, but he forgot his coat.”
“He forgot his coat?! What…I mean, his coat? He went somewhere without his coat. That…that’s not…are you sure he’s okay?”
Panic was building in his chest as he listened to her sigh on the other end of the phone.
“Look he hasn’t been sleeping much and has been a little out of it. Can you just find him, I think he was heading towards the peer to stare out at the sea longingly like a widowed lighthouse keeper.”
“What?”
“Can…can you just go find him and get him to come home please?”
“Why me?”
He heard a rather rude scoff coming from the other end of the phone. Huh, guess they really were sibling.
“He respects you.”
Atsushi didn’t know why hearing that made it suddenly very hard to swallow. But regardless, he’d been given a task by someone he deeply respected about someone he deeply…
Well whatever he would figure that out later.
He had a…rival to find.
XOXOXO
It didn’t take long to find a moping, soaking wet mafia member haunting the ledge of the boardwalk just like…well Gin actually hadn’t been that far off. He looked like the ghost of a widowed lighthouse keeper. When had Akutagawa gotten so pale? Atsushi shook his head, deactivating his ability that had let him streak through the city as he tracked Akutagawa’s scent.
As he walked closer to him, concern and relief fighting for dominance like the gold and purple in his eyes, he was suddenly knocked completely flat on his back by the sight of him. His white shirt was completely soaked through from the battering rain. It clung to his lithe frame, showing every beautiful line of his body. You could see the color of his skin through the now translucent fabric. It was so…
Hot.
Atsushi felt his ability to swallow try to abandon him yet again but kept walking over anyways. Now wasn’t the time for any of his perfectly reasonable fantasies that would sometimes play in his head like a movie, he could think about Akutagawa’s alluring form later. He was here to…what was he here to do again? Oh! He was here to take him home! Right.
“Akutagawa!”
The mafioso turned to look at him, all the fire and life appeared to have left his usually stormy grey eyes.
“Hey…shit, are you…are you okay?”
“I…”
Akutagawa sighed, wrapping his arms tight around his chest, gaze falling to the ground before he attempted to speak again. Atsushi heart shattered into a million pieces. He wasn’t, there was no way…his lungs had healed, hadn’t they?
“I…no, weretiger I am no okay.”
“A-Akutagawa. Wait are you, are you sick?”
“I am indeed, I am very sick.”
“Wait what?! You sister didn’t…I don’t…wait if you’re sick we need to get you home and out of this rain. I mean…really? I…I thought your lungs were healed.”
Akutagawa coughed.
“My lungs are fine. It is my heart.”
“Your heart!? Akutagawa what’s wrong with your heart!”
“It has failed me.”
“It’s failing you? Wait…is there…no there’s got to be…there has to be some way, something we can…”
“There is nothing that can be done.”
When Akutagawa raised his head, face schooled into a vision of dignified resignment, the very model of one who has bravely accepted his fate, he was shocked to see Atsushi was crying.
“Why are you crying you fool?”
“Why…why am I crying?! Akutagawa you’re dying!”
Akutagawa coughed.
“I am not dying.”
Atsushi wanted to punch him in the face. He wanted to punch him in the face…so badly. This whole two days had been an absolute roller coaster. First no duel, then he was subjected to seeing his rival with a white silk shirt sticking to his wet skin, then he was tricked into thinking he might be dying. Oh his tiger was roaring inside of him to pounce and devour something, he was going to absolutely loose his mind.
“WHAT! What the…then what the hell are you talking about?! What is going on!”
“My heart has failed me. It had given into the most baseless of human experiences. And it is entirely your fault, you idiot.”
Atsushi felt like he’d been ridden hard and put away wet.
“What did I do?”
“You…you acquired those!”
Akutagawa frantically waved his hand up and down in front of the weretiger’s excessively enticing middle region.
“Why are you gesturing at my clothes? I always wear these clothes.”
“No you absolute moron, your abdominal muscles.”
“I mean…I’m pretty sure I’ve always had those too.”
“Well they never looked like that before!”
Atsushi narrowed his eyes, the gears in his brain working overtime to try and figure just what the hell was going on. Akutagawa sounded angry, insulted. All because Atsushi had…abs?
“Are you jealous of my abs?”
“No! I am not jealous I am…no, it does not matter. Just forget it. Leave me be.”
“No Akutagawa stop! You need to tell me what the hell is going on. You canceled our duel, your sister said you’re not sleeping…and what do my abs have to do with your heart problem?”
Akutagawa turned away before storming off, his body shivered from the cold and the embarrassment. But Atsushi was still biting at his heels. The mafioso growled.
“Go away.”
“No, Akutagawa stop…”
“Leave.”
“No!”
Akutagawa swirled around, and even without his dramatic black coat he looked entirely too intimidating. It made Atsushi’s own heart stop, before its speed quickened to an inhumane pace. He felt like they were at the precipice of something. This felt like their usual fights, but something was just the tiniest bit off. He let his racing heart shoot heat through his limbs, biting his lower lip while he waited for his partner’s response. Akutagawa hurled it towards him.
“I am attracted to you, you flea bitten feral beast!”
“Wait…you’re what?”
“Attracted to you! Which means it is now unbearable to be around you, and impossible to fight you! And I cannot sleep because I am then forced to dream about you.”
“You….you’re attracted to me? You’re dreaming about me!”
Akutagawa attempted to glare his confession out of existence, but it was too late. Atsushi already sunk his fangs into it.
“Have I not made myself perfectly clear already? Yes, I am attracted to you, you absolute moron. And I was perfectly fine to never acknowledge that fact, but then you had to go and get those.”
“My…abs?”
“Shut up.”
“Wait so…does that mean…”
Akutagawa felt the flush on his cheeks come back, that heat pooling in his lower stomach. Atsushi noticed the sun was starting to shine, and all the color seemed to be bleeding back into the world. Almost as if a talented artist, someone like the legendary Tea, had decided to fully render this moment. His smile came back full force; the rollercoaster had now safely come to a screeching halt. And for once Atsushi new exactly what to do.
He walked the couple steps he needed to stand directly in front of his rival, his partner, his better (worse) half. Gently he snaked one arm around Akutagawa waist, pulling him flush against his now legendary abs. He let his other hand cradle the back of Akutagawa’s head, because there was still a decent chance he would try and escape. He let himself drown in those grey eyes, now sparked back to life, and hoped Ryuunosuke could see everything he wanted to say in his.
He gave him the softest smile, the gold and purple in his eyes begging for permission. Akutagawa nodded, letting their heads lean closer together. He felt Atsushi’s nose gently brush against his, took one last small breath in, and suddenly his entire body was overtaken by warmth when the stupid, slow moving idiot finally kissed him.
The mafioso’s arms wrapped around his neck on instinct, wanting to press as close to Atsushi as humanely possible. It felt like a dream, but it wasn’t, his dreams never got this far. But it still felt surreal, felt magical. But the actual sensation, the real sensation of being able to lean against Atsushi’s body, to be held in his arms, it knocked every fantasy right out of the water.
He could run his hands over his abs whenever he wanted, he could see them in real life whenever he wanted, he could find himself underneath them…whenever he wanted. And that realization was more satisfying than any victory had ever been. Would ever be.
And Atsushi tasted better than any chocolate bar he’d ever had. Even Hershey’s cookies and cream.