Work Text:
It was cold. It was cold…and it was wet. It was cold and it was wet and it was early. And all of this normally wouldn’t have caused Atsushi’s regular sunshine smile and sunshinier mood to shift, but today? Well today had also started with a too loud alarm and a window left open all night. It was clothes he forgot to put in the dryer and an empty box of tea. It was stubbing his toe on the way out the door and then forgetting his umbrella. And then it was too cold and too wet and too early and just…
Today was a bad day.
He felt like he had fallen into an alternate universe, where everything was so close to being the same except the level of general discomfort he was forced to experience was just higher. For no good reason! Limbs too tired, mind too hazy, chest too tight with frustration. Everything was making his skin feel itchy and his ears feel hot and his tongue feel too thick in his mouth. Atsushi hated when he found he had accidentally landed in one of these days, when he couldn’t put on that chipper smile and boundless optimism. Both wonderful masks left at his house like his stupid forgotten umbrella. And while normally if deep grief or the creeping fingers of self-loathing tried to claw their way up his chest he’d just run full charge into the accepting arms of any member of his found family. But this was different, this feeling was different. When he was like this, he didn’t want to be around anybody. There wasn’t an anybody in the world that should see Atsushi when he was in this mood. Not when he was like this. When he felt utterly, unexplainably broken. Utterly, unexplainable angry.
He really just wanted to pounce on something. Claw at something. Bite someone.
Something! Bite something! His heart started beating in his chest, the feral something that was trying to creep its way back out was quickly shoved all the way back down to the pit of his soul. There was definitely not any one someone in particular that he was itching to bite.
No. That would be crazy.
It was the saddest sigh in the history of the world that now joined the sound of the rain hitting the pavement and the awnings. Atsushi was tired, so tired. And cold…and wet! And not in the mood to battle his brain or his body right now, resigned to simply growl and gnaw at his bottom lip with his tiny fang in frustration. He didn’t want to see anybody, ruin anybody’s mood. So he would sit here and grumble and do what he could to keep his green sweater dry before shuffling back to his tiny little apartment to fall into a bitter sleep.
Until suddenly flint scratched steel somewhere in his lower stomach and his soul greedily caught the ensuing slight spark. All because his heightened senses caught someone’s scent, heard someone’s breathing, felt someone’s presence. And not just anybody’s…
“Jinko.”
Pounce. Claw. Bite. It rolled around in his head as the mafioso emerged from the shadows.
“Akutagawa.”
Atushi narrowed his eyes, pupils slit like a cat. If it had been anybody else, he would have fallen all the way to the bottom of his reserves to fish out that one last drop of joy, all so he could plaster a small, stunning smile on his face. So he could laugh brightly; nod agreeably. The last thing he ever wanted to do was ruin someone’s day with his own irritation.
But this wasn’t anybody else. This was Akutagawa. Sharp, relentless…strong. And here the bastard was standing across from him, arms crossed while Rashomon was alighted elegantly behind him carrying bags and bags of groceries.
“You have the appearance of a stray cat left in the rain.”
Atsushi’s forehead throbbed and he felt that flint start to hit the steel vigorously a few more times, his soul catching the multitude of sparks. His body started to warm despite the fact that he’d done a really bad job of keeping his green sweater dry. He glared; face twisted into a snarl.
“Shut up.”
“Oh? The Agency’s favourite pet tiger has a bit of a biting tongue today?”
He felt the growl in his chest escape before he had the chance.
“I’m not in the mood Akutagawa, back off.”
Something bright and blinking sprang from those usually solid grey eyes, that condescending smirk appeared on his elegant features so quick Atsushi was struggling to remember if it hadn’t been there the whole time.
“Well now, what seems to have your tail in a twist today?”
And wasn’t it like this, wasn’t it always like this that somehow those ribbons of black didn’t just cut through his body but down to the very insides of his being. That with one stupid, not even funny, he’s kidding if he thinks he’s witty, remark Akutagawa bashed his way through the one sad wall Atsushi was trying to keep up. He’d stabbed a big, stupid hole into a barrel already ready to burst and now everything Atsushi had been trying to hold in with taut muscles and clenched jaw came gushing out.
“What’s got my tail in a twist today? Seriously?! I don’t know Akutagawa, what do you think?! It’s cold! It’s cold and it’s wet and I’m hungry. And I’m tired! My body hurts, my brain is mad at light for some stupid reason and it’s cold! I ran out of tea this morning, everyone’s voice sounds annoying and, and….and it’s fucking cold!”
Atsushi was panting by the end of it, all that explosive heat now prickly embers of embarrassment. If it had been anybody else, he would have crawled into a cave, been swallowed up by the shame. But then again, this wasn’t just anybody.
Akutagawa coughed, so familiar with Atsushi he knew to damper his smirk just enough to not anger him further. The whole time his gaze held onto the swirling gold and purple eyes across from him, as agitated as the rest of the body they were attached to. He knew exactly what was happening with his annoyingly positive partner and had enough finesse to navigate around it. Though it was hard for him to repress a slightly bigger smile, seeing Atsushi angry and raw like this always made it feel like he was suddenly granted access to a secret part of the castle. But he repressed it nonetheless, kept his face as neutral as could be, and waited for Atsushi’s breathing to even out before offering a salve to his discomfort.
“Jinko. Come with me.”
XOXOXO
Atsushi grumbled the entire time they walked, despite now holding a big black umbrella as well as a few bags of Akutagawa’s groceries. The mafioso simple listened and nodded, coughing every once in a while, and every so often dropped in a snide little comment that made the weretiger huff.
When they finally reached their destination Atsushi noticed his muscles were starting to relax and sounds weren’t as grating. Was he also breathing easier? Maybe. But it was probably just because of how exciting it always was to be invited to Akutagawa’s apartment. And maybe the fresh air had gently brushed and softened his frizzy thoughts. Now he was just left with some mild curiosity.
“Hey so why am I here?”
“You agreed to come to my apartment without even knowing the reason? You truly are a fool.”
Atsushi rolled his eyes and for the first time today felt like he wanted to laugh. He slunk into the space with too much familiarity, already bringing his allotted bags to the counter and began unpacking.
“What? You finally going to kill me after all this time?”
He threw a container of yogurt at Akutagawa, which was easily intercepted by Rashomon to be placed in the fridge.
“Why would I kill you when you are still so useful? That would be waste.”
“So what do you want then?”
Atsushi huffed when a large gourd was flung towards him, hitting him in the stomach before he was able to catch it in his hands. He peered down at the firm, formidable thing. A glinting silver cleaver was soon presented to him by a silken black tendril, pulsing with rich red energy. Atsushi felt his lip twitch up at the corner as Akutagawa’s voice sliced right through the very fabric of space and time.
“Cut the yam.”
XOXOXO
Whack!
The knife slammed down on the wooden cutting board with all the drama of a guillotine, eviscerating the defenceless sweet potato into the exact one inch cubes Akutagawa had requested. Were Atsushi’s eyes a little crazed? Maybe. Was he smiling a bit more? Maybe. Did Rashomon have to slither over to his side of the kitchen to gently push his mug out of the way because Atsushi was having a little too much fun?
Yes. Absolutely.
The steam was still rising and billowing out of said blue mug, the one that had unofficially become just his. The smell of the chai spices in the air was strong enough though to remind him the drink was there, and every once in a while, he would take another grateful swallow while it was still that perfect temperature. All the irritation trapped in his muscles was finally starting to flow though his body, each sip of tea that traveled down his throat pulling with it more and more of the frustration. Even whack and slice of the blade let a little bit of pressure off his brain.
And suddenly he was feeling a lot better.
He took a step back for a second, eyes sparkling and soft smile gently landing on his lips again like a butterfly, no extra effort needed. There was a pile of cut yam next to him, and a mini mountain of other vegetables on the other side. Across the large island dividing the kitchen in half, Akutagawa was busying himself with the stove. Broth was simmering, fish was being shoved in the oven, vegetables were being added to a rolling, boiling pot before expertly dropped into a giant glass bowl of ice water. It finally struck him that the mafioso was making what amounted to a tiny feast.
“Why are we making so much food?”
Now that Akutagawa could sense this shift in Atsushi’s mood, he was more than happy to up the frequency of the banter, turn the volume up on his snark.
“Is this not just your normal daily intake?”
“Ha, ha very funny…no, seriously why are you making so much?”
“Efficiency. Though I suppose someone such as yourself would be very unfamiliar with that concept.”
Akutagawa let his eyes flick over Atsushi’s form, with just enough condescension in those steel grey eyes to bring a slight flush back to the younger man’s face.
“Hey!”
“Akutagawa turned towards him, leaning back against the counter now that the final batch of spinach was floating in the ice bath next to the stove, flicking off the burner like a seasoned chef.
“Creating enough meals in one afternoon for the entirety of the week is an efficient way to organize your time.”
Atsushi finally registered the stack of expensive, fancy bento containers in the corner. He watched Akutagawa’s elegant long fingers glance over the pages and checklist he had nestled by the fridge. Slowly his mind put together the various dished Akutagawa would be putting together. A protein, a vegetable, a few different sides. There was sauce bottles still stacked on the counter and some fancy pickles he was probably going to dress it up with as well. He took another sip of his tea, smile bright and genuine now. Akutagawa quickly pressed the button on the kettle down so it would boil another batch, already aware that Atsushi’s mug was almost empty.
Spinning on the balls of his feet, Atsushi swirled back around with the grace of a dancer and felt ready to attack the mountain of vegetables with renewed vitality. Whatever grey cloud he had carried in with him seems to have left the apartment through the cracked open window, carried outside by the fragrant steam of the herbal broth bubbling on the stove.
They cut and bickered. Atsushi was slowly allowed to take on more “responsibility” in the kitchen after he “proved himself.” Through the little jabs about his feral paws, Atsushi’s comments about Akutagawa’s upturned nose and over seasoned rice, and a tiny little food fight involving slices of lemon and little octopus sausages, they somehow managed to make a substantial number of meals. Enough to last Akutagawa a whole seven days.
Atsushi felt something start to tug at his heart as he loaded the bentos into the fridge, that little gnawing voice letting him know that his usefulness was cashed in and he probably had to go soon. He hated that he didn’t want to, definitely not wanting to admit that out loud. His ears perked up thought, once he heard the unexpected ring of the doorbell. His nose wrinkled, it was picking up the rich smell of his favourite Chinese takeout spot.
“Uh? Akutagawa?”
“Hmm?”
“Did you order food?”
“Obviously.”
“But…I mean we just…”
“Idiot. These meals or for the upcoming days, what nonsense to assume we would eat them this evening.”
Atsushi was slowly coming to realize he didn’t understand meal prep at all.
“Oh, uh okay…I guess, I mean I should…wait did you say we? Like I can stay for dinner?”
The sigh he heard coming from Akutagawa’s side of the kitchen made him chuckle, Akutagawa for some reason became even more dramatic when it was just the two of them. The man sighed like he was auditioning for a play, and it made Atsushi want pounce, claw, bite. He finished his sigh with a roll of his eyes that one would see from the very back row of a theatre and a few sharp words.
“You really are just a spectacular idiot.”
Atsushi smiled, heading to the door to retrieve the delivery, his limbs light and competent. Once he bounced back inside with the insane number of boxes, he got to work setting it all up on the counter exactly the way Akutagawa likes. The lids were eased off not ripped off and placed gently underneath its corresponding bottom. He needs the right serving utensils from the drawer, the plates he prefers for takeout, and Atsushi’s favourite chili sauce that is now a staple condiment in this mafia members apartment. For some reason.
And then suddenly he noticed all the knots in his neck are now somehow gone. Atsushi rolled one of his shoulders to test. Huh. How strange.
They eat at the dining table; gentle words exchanged in between the sound of Atsushi blowing on the hot soup and Akutagawa chiding his table manners. It all felt too easy, like telling someone they were having a meal together was the same as announcing that water was wet. The younger man was already on his third plate, trying to antagonize his stoic partner into an eating contest. He wanted to see him eat more, see more color on his cheeks. He now laughed many times now throughout this dinner and as he stuffed another dumpling in his mouth, Atsushi rubbed his arms. Huh. His bones didn’t feel as cold anymore. His stomach was also starting to feel full and satiated in a way that felt like it didn’t have as much to do with the food as Atsushi would have liked. Akutagawa’s voice, solid like cement, landed between them, pulling his focus back to the looming shadow of a man seated across the table.
“Are you feeling better?”
“Huh, oh I mean…”
He normally would have softened the truth, mashed it down into a paste like he did with the ginger and garlic earlier, he would had it been anybody else. Anybody else would have heard an I actually wasn’t feeling that bad! Or an Oh I’m completely fine don’t worry! But this wasn’t anybody else.
Atsushi took a minute to look across the table. At those eyes and those stupid features carved from marble and that absolutely irritating smirk. Pounce. Claw. Bite.
“Yeah. I am. A lot better. Thank…thanks Akutagawa.”
XOXOXO
He didn’t want to leave; he didn’t want to leave at all. And especially now that his skin didn’t feel itchy and all the ire had been exorcised from every muscle fiber! None of his limbs wanted to leave either, they were completely ready to protest any movement towards that door, that door that led back out into the cold and the wet. Atsushi was pretty much helpless against the resolve of his arms and legs and torso. And so he resigned, he knew when he was up against a foe he couldn’t defeat.
Which is how he found himself flopped on top of his annoyingly perceptive partner, pressing Akutagawa’s lithe body into the plush couch. He refused to call this cuddling, despite how heavy and held his head felt against the mafioso’s chest. Despite how wrapped his arms were around his middle, how tangles their legs were. And he definitely wasn’t purring.
He wasn’t.
Tigers don’t purr.
Akutagawa seemed entirely unbothered to being trapped under his own personal tiger themed heated blanket. As it turns out Atsushi hadn’t been the only one who was cold, and the mafioso’s own body enjoyed both the pressure and the warmth radiating off of his partner’s soft skin. He enjoyed it enough to let this nonsense continue late into the night, through more than one episode of some silly tv show neither were paying that much attention to.
Atsushi eventually started to bury his head into the crook of his neck, trying to nuzzle further into a sense of comfort. His whole body melted once Akutagawa started to run his hands through his moonlight hair, gently scraping against his scalp. With Atsushi’s eyes now closed, head heavy on Akutagawa’s pointy shoulders, the mafioso let his own soft smile escape as he listened to the younger man's breathing even out. Their heartbeats slowed to ba-dump! in tandem as they both sunk into a magical pool of peace. It seemed Atsushi’s chest pressed firm against his was the key needed to enter this charmed place of sanctuary.
Not that Akutagawa was complaining.
Not that Akutagwa would ever admit that he was not complaining.
His own mind started to slip into a blissful, restful unconsciousness, Atsushi’s sleepy little grumbles and purrs that were too close to his ears more effective than any useless sleep machine. He could not wait to mock him profusely about the purring tomorrow.
But his eyes shot back open when suddenly a sharp pressure and slight sting on his shoulder appeared to be stopping his descent into sleep, as if he hadn’t paid the proper toll. He tried to crane his neck to look down, but Atsushi’s tiny fangs had latched on in such a way to make that impossible. This ridiculous fool…he was biting him!
“Jinko.”
The purring turned into an irritated growl, the release from the fangs lasted only a second before they had latched down on another patch of skin a few inches over. Akutagawa huffed.
“Jinko!”
He felt Atsushi’s hands grip his waist harder, and the fangs prick in a bit deeper. He let out a small gasp just as a muffled No escape the mouth that was refusing to part with his pale skin. His entire shoulder started to prickle; his spine shivered. He was still going to sound mad about it regardless of how nice it made his whole body feel.
“Jinko what the hell are you doing.”
He felt that feral mouth finally lift itself away, but the sparks didn’t dissipate as he was instantly subjected to the sensation of Atsushi nuzzling into him yet again. His voice was slow, almost a whine as he continued to mumble sleepy words right by Akutagawa’s ear.
“I don’t know.”
“Well stop it.”
“But it feels good.”
“You truly are a beast.”
“Fine, I’ll stop.”
Akutagawa suddenly remembered what he had felt like when he woke up this morning. It was cold. It was cold and it was wet. And it had been entirely too early. He remembered the cloud of resentment, the dread that followed his through his workday. The way his lungs were burning, his muscles sore, and any and all motivation to do his weekly meal prep being washed away in the rain like a sad chalk drawing on cement.
But then he had seen Atsushi. And then they had come here. And then they cooked and they bickered and they ate. And now they were here. And it wasn’t cold anymore, it wasn’t wet. And everything felt just…good.
So instead he shifted their position on the couch, smirking at Atsushi’s crumpled appearance and messy hair. His eyes narrowed, looking far too cat like as he tried to protest the change in position with obvious disagreement. But Akutagawa was relentless, and not one to ever roll over for the likes of this silver haired idiot. It wasn’t long before he had tucked his own head under Atsushi’s jaw, tickling his chin with his obsidian hair. He heard the weretiger’s grumbling start yet again, felt his hands readjust to start to gently caress his back. The shivers returned full force, and Akutagawa would cut off the fool’s limbs before he would let him escape, before he let those hands stop rubbing those soothing circles. So he grabbed him, he tangled their legs further, and he nuzzled as far into that special space between his neck and shoulders as he possible could.
And then he bit him right back. Because he wasn’t just anybody. He was Akutagawa. And he absolutely knew he could.
And all Atsushi could think in that moment as a strangely comforting sense of intimacy spilled over his entire body like a vibrant indigo shade of ink was…
Huh. Today had been a really good day.